The Way We Play
And why it isn't dysfunctional
Image Credit: Steve Asbell
#neurodiversity #autism #actuallyautistic
When I was 18, I was working in a pre-school. It was a requirement for getting into the school where I ended up studying social pedagogy. One day, I was reading childrens' developmental reports, including the one of a 2-and-a-half-year-old girl diagnosed with GDD -a global developmental delay. One phrase stuck out to me: “dysfunctional play”.
Now, I had seen this kid – let's call her C – play before. She liked walking the stairs up and down with help (fairly typical for a child currently learning to walk stairs). In the morning, she often sat on my lap with a picture book, pointing at the pictures to prompt me to say the corresponding words. She wasn't interested in the stories, but still – doesn't seem odd for a child currently learning her first words, right?
But she also liked to play by throwing things. Or by turning the wheels on a toy car. I don't remember the details of C's play, but I do remember the conversation that followed my reading of the reports. “What about her play is 'dysfunctional'?”, I wanted to know. “The function of play is fun, right? If she's having fun, it's functional.” The teacher I was talking to happened to agree with me, but the ones who wrote the report clearly didn't. And I still had no idea why.
Since then, I've been learning more about child development and education, and I'm beginning to understand.
Maybe if I had had this conversation with someone else, they would've told me my initial premise was wrong: play isn't only about fun. At least not to educators. Play may be defined as a purposeless (not pointless) activity involving fun and relaxation. But it comes with some pretty neat side effects: Learning.
Our school system has led us to believe that you can't possibly enjoy something and learn at the same time. But the opposite is true: Nothing teaches children more than free play. Playing is essential, not just for relaxation, but for learning cognitive, social, emotional, and all kinds of other skills.
Imaginative play teaches empathy and helps children to process their experiences. Losing a board game teaches frustration tolerance. Drawing teaches fine motor skills. Picture books are used to teach about all kinds of topics – and they're a stepping stone to learning how to read.
So, whenever someone calls a child's play “dysfunctional”, what they're saying is “This child isn't playing the way I'm used to, and I'm worried they're not learning the skills they need”
It's a reasonable enough concern, but why are we so quick to assume that atypical play doesn't teach any skills?
Being told that free play is the number #1 way of learning should be comforting. Parents want the best for their children, and that includes a good education. And many are worried that they are not doing enough – maybe their kids should visit more classes, play another instrument, maybe learn a third language? And, in my experience, people in early childhood education (primary and secondary might need another second...) will usually say the same thing: let them play. Answer their questions. Maybe provide them with materials and experiences that match their current interests.
No child learns the same thing at the same time or in the same way – so we don't know when the right time to teach a child a certain skill is. But here's the thing: They do. The best time for children to learn a skill is when they're interested in it, and they will show you that through their questions and their play. It's not always conscious (look up “play schema” to see common play patterns in toddlers and what skills they teach), but the bottom line is: Trust your child. Let them lead the way.
But that trust apparently does not extend to neurodivergent children.
In the case of C, I know that she learned through play. She never would've learned to walk the stairs if we hadn't practised together. And her pointing at picture books was eventually followed by her mimicking sounds and, later on, entire words.
But the logic of “dysfunctional play” isn't just applied to C, but to children with all kinds of developmental disabilities, everyday. All the time, children are assumed to play in ways that don't teach them anything – even when, in my opinion, we have evidence to the contrary.
Let's look at two things we know about autism, for example:
- A typical way of autistic play is organizing objects in patterns. This, too, is often described as “dysfunctional”
- Autistic people are very good at recognizing patterns
Now, I'm no expert, but shouldn't we be looking into this before deciding that lining up toys is a waste of time that needs to be trained out of you? Or do you need autistic pattern recognition to see the possible connection here?
Different ways of organizing objects also require patience, motor skills, memory, focus, attention to detail (another thing autistic people tend to be exceptionally skilled at) and surely a variety of other skills I didn't even consider.
But, as Luna Rose points out, so-called “repetitive play” isn't just about the activity you can observe. She concludes that lining up toys isn't productive – but the thoughts that accompany it are. I disagree with the first part of that statement, but the second part is important. Not just when it comes to lining up toys, but to other forms of “repetitive” play too.
As a child, I could sit on the swing for hours on end. Now, I can't do that without getting dizzy, and my swinging has been replaced with pacing. But what both have in common is imagination. I was (and am) thinking about all kinds of scenarios, from imagining fantasy worlds to “re-playing” (and processing) conversations I had earlier that day. And I know from other autistic people that I'm far from the only one who uses my imagination to practise social skills. At other times, I'm imagining teaching an audience about topics that interest me – including pedagogy, which is probably how I got all A's on my final exams. Mental infodumping makes up 99% of my studying.
Actually, just think about how much autistic kids might be learning while engaging in their special interests.
It probably won't surprise you that the more I think about this, the more I disagree with the very concept of play being “dysfunctional”.
Afterall, why would neurodivergent children (and adults) have any less of a talent at detecting what their brains want to learn? Our play might be different, but that just means it teaches different skills (or the same skills in a different way), not none.
Besides, even if it didn't teach anything, that still wouldn't excuse the conditioning some kids are exposed to to get rid of a perfectly harmless behavior. Sometimes it's okay – and important – to do “unproductive” things for fun or relaxation. (Honestly, that's a contradiction in and off itself. If it relaxes you, it's productive in my book. But that's another discussion.)
Conclusion
Trust your child. Let them lead the way :)