On Tuesday I was preparing one of our vans for National Play Day. Filling it with various loose parts of different sizes, shapes, colours and whatnot.
But prior to filling the van with these things I first had to empty it of contents from our summer playschemes. It was at this point when two boys I knew came over and asked if they could help. By all means they could help; and immediately they jumped into the back of the van and began throwing everything out of it. Not the most methodical of ways to empty a van but effective nevertheless.
They both emptied the van whilst another playworker and I carted the loose parts onto the playground.
Within minutes they van was completely empty and these two lads were asking for brushes to get the sand, grass, dirt and whatever else had accumulated on the van base.
We continued to transit the loose parts onto The Land when two more lads passed us. "Is the playground open?" they asked. It wasn't at the time but they quickly found their way into a container I and my colleague had been using. We left them to play and continued our loose part ferry.
Jump forward half an hour and there were now several more children in the van, many had made their way into the front, and others were in the back. The two boys who had been playing atop the mountain of cardboard in the container had also made their way over to the increasingly busy van. My colleague and I had now finished shifting loose parts onto the playground. Now began the process of filling the van with different, fresh loose parts for Play Day 2014.
It soon became hard to keep track of the amount of children in the van, as each time we brought another loose part to the van there was a different face greeting us. Often there were five children squeezed into the front of the van, and at least ten stood in the back.
And with each additional loose part we brought the degree of playfulness increased. From a distance one could see the van rocking and voices coming from within, as now they had all closed and locked the doors.
I was shocked, worried and anxious.
But I felt alright and knew it would be fine.
Each time we reached the van the tribe of children would buzz with activity. Those sitting in the front would relay the message to those at the back "They're coming!" and when we were paces away the door would open. Multiple face would become illuminated from within the dark rear of the van and the children would take the loose part/s from us. The door would then close and I would here them shout "Go go go!!!", at which point the child behind the wheel would pretend to drive off at full throttle.
This playful, magical period continued up until the van was nearly full of what was needed. And as the clock ticked towards 3:30 I went out and told them that the playground was now open. That they needed to vacate the van. It took a few moments, and I accidently allowed the van to roll over a paint can; but they came out incredibly easily. Only one child kicked up a fuss, to which I replied "Come on, I've let you play in here for hours". He climbed out and I locked the van; they all flooded into the playground and the days session proceeded.
I was astounded at the whole thing in hindsight, thinking about what had happened and how it had happened. One of the most irritating things about children being in front of the van is when they beep the horn. It begs for a complaint. Yet on this occasion, with the multitude of children in the van at one time, not a single child pressed down on that horn.
And looking at the faces of the children who had been in there, I came to realise that at any one point in time each of the children had clashed with, and/or fought with, at least one other child who had been in the van. Yet there they all were, for well over an hour in a confined space, co-existing in a magical narrative.
Had they chosen to they could have locked the doors, cut wires, destroyed loose parts and just reigns havoc over the whole vehicle. But they didn't. They opened the door whenever I or my colleague got close and didn't inhibit our work in any way.
It was as though each of the children knew that what was happening was a special moment, that it hadn't happened before and wouldn't happened again. I think that this could be sensed too, that the air was full of playfulness. That being why I felt that it would be fine and that no intervention was necessary.
And although it existed on a knifes edge for the entire time, on that edge is where it remained. When it came to the point where I had to end it, they all understood. The moment was over, as all moments much be at some point.
It truly was a Unicorn of moments; where play reigned supreme and all else was forgotten.
