{"id":16778,"date":"2021-10-06T00:08:47","date_gmt":"2021-10-06T00:08:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/?p=16778"},"modified":"2021-10-05T20:09:52","modified_gmt":"2021-10-05T20:09:52","slug":"playing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/2021\/10\/06\/playing\/","title":{"rendered":"PLAYING"},"content":{"rendered":"

By JoEllen Collins<\/p>\n

\"\"
JoEllen Collins\u2014a longtime resident of the Wood River Valley\u2014is a teacher, writer, fabric artist, choir member and unabashedly proud grandma known as \u201cBibi Jo.\u201d<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The other day I had a chance to work with small groups of young children in a class setting, and I found it a delight. I wasn\u2019t really PLAYING with them, but it felt like it, and at the end of my time with them, I was inordinately happy. In thinking about it, \u201cplay\u201d is part of a way young students learn at school, and normally I would not use that term when I work with upper school students. However, somehow I feel as elated after I\u2019ve been with teenagers as well as with second or third graders. I simply like the openness of my interactions with young people.<\/p>\n

I have been reviewing why I am so joyful about these instances.\u00a0Certainly, playing with my grandchildren provides me an inexplicable sense of delight, even though I\u2019m not very good at ice-skating, pickleball, or almost any sport requiring hand-eye coordination. Never have been.\u00a0But unexpected blessings happen when I interact with them. Children instinctively know how to make a grown-up feel good.<\/p>\n

Several months ago, I was throwing balls to my grandson on the slanted spot of grass in front of his San Francisco home.\u00a0When he tossed them back, I often missed, but after I had a run of three good catches, he shouted, \u201cOh, Bibi Jo, you\u2019re a natural!\u201d That is the most unabashed, unknowing falsehood this klutz has ever heard, as I remember usually being the last kid picked on any relay team.<\/p>\n

I also appreciate how eager children are to share almost anything with trusted adults.\u00a0When I was a school\u2019s administrative assistant, I had to pull a deep splinter out of a second-grader\u2019s left hand.\u00a0I was upset that I was hurting him, so I kept telling silly stories and assuring him that we were \u201cgetting there.\u201d Soon I felt his right hand tap my shoulder. When I looked up, he said, \u201cPlease don\u2019t worry. I\u2019ve seen WORSE.\u201d\u00a0He made my day, week, and perhaps year due to his kind and sympathetic response.<\/span><\/p>\n

I know I\u2019ve been afraid of \u201cplay\u201d as I have grown older and even less proficient in physical games, but now the times I spend with children remind me that I need more activity, even though it won\u2019t be cycling or rock-climbing. I find being around younger people a miraculous way to revive the excitement and openness of youth. I\u2019m lucky I can love, talk, comfort, and sometimes play with generations following mine. Keeps me happy.<\/p>\n

At school lunch last week, I noticed two small boys exchanging insults and a punch or two. I went over to them and told them that when my two daughters were little and started to argue or hurt each other, I would say, \u201cNo laughing allowed\u201d more than once, and soon they would forget the anger and reluctantly start to laugh. The boys did laugh! I believe that being around children offers a way to avoid negativity. How can I be upset when I see the smile on a dear young face?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By JoEllen Collins The other day I had a chance to work with small groups of young children in a class setting, and I found it a delight. I wasn\u2019t really PLAYING with them, but it felt like it, and at the end of my time with them, I was inordinately happy. In thinking about […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":7944,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","_pvb_checkbox_block_on_post":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,22],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-16778","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-commentary","8":"category-on-lifes-terms"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16778","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=16778"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16778\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16779,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16778\/revisions\/16779"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/7944"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16778"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16778"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16778"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}