Journal Entry #2 - Childhood Games

Does anyone remember how their childhood was? For me, I remember that it was all about reading as many books as I could. From Enid Blyton to Nancy Drew, from Beatrix Potter to Harry Potter, I devoured them all. My mother was extremely supportive of my reading habit, and made it a point to bring me to the neighbourhood library at least once a week.

But books weren’t the only thing that played a big part in my childhood. Just like any other kid, I loved running around and having fun. Games like “Catching” and “Ice and Water” were considered “must-plays” to children like us.

How many recess periods were spent in the school field, merrily running after our friends as the “Catcher”, or running from the “Catcher”, all the while yelling and screaming with childish delight? How many afternoons were spent running in the hot sun as someone counted down from 10, looking for that perfect hiding spot? And when we found that “perfect” hiding place, we would immediately duck into it and put our hands over our mouth, trying our hardest not to burst into giggles and give ourselves away as the seeker walked closer, ever closer, to where we were hidden in an attempt to find us.

 In my opinion, those games we played were what made my childhood so memorable to me. The books I read as a child will always be there for me to peruse again, but the games I played as a child will, unfortunately, stay only as memories that I hope will never fade.

The thing is, as we grow up, there seems to be some part of us that starts thinking that maybe we’re getting too old to be running around like 6-year-olds, and that it would be a much better idea to start acting like all the mature adults do. So we start walking slowly instead of running, keeping quiet instead of saying whatever we felt like saying, smiling stiffly instead of grinning whenever we felt like it.

What happened? As kids, we would swear to never stop having fun. Each day was lived to its fullest. Why did we stop? Were we suddenly aware of how judgmental society could be, perhaps? Maybe we were on some level afraid that others would label us as “weird” if we didn’t start acting like everyone else.

For me, the transition from primary school to secondary school was a slightly shocking one. In primary school, I was one of the girls who enjoyed playing soccer with the boys, or playing the various schoolyard games during our recess periods. In secondary school, I found myself surrounded by people who considered playing such games “childish” and “immature”. All of sudden, I was being pressurized to fit in, to spend my recess eating and gossiping instead of running in the school field like I wanted to.

As I grew older, I got used to it. Fine, I was no longer in primary school. I was expected to behave like any self-respecting girl would, and not run around like a 6-year-old. I was to study, read, and hang out with my friends. I was not expected to play games like “Catching” or “Ice and Water” since those were considered to be games only the childish primary school children would play. I didn't quite mind, after a while.

Sure, I got used to acting my age, but that didn’t stop me from missing that feeling of running around and playing with abandon. The fact that I lived directly opposite a primary school did nothing to help – every time the children had recess, I would stand at my window and watch them playing, somewhat wishing that I could join them.

Now I am a polytechnic student, and as expected, most people here act like the mature young adults they are expected to be. It's maddening how some people can be so responsible. Don't they ever want to just act like children again?

It appears that I’m not the only one who misses my childhood, though. While walking with a friend a few days ago, I commented that the empty school concourse would be perfect for playing “Catching”. To my surprise, my friend’s eyes lit up and she enthusiastically started talking about how much she would love to play “Catching”, at least one last time.

I guess a small bit of childishness remains in most of us, don’t you think?