by David Thomas

So, want to use a game in your classroom. And you want to give prizes to the winners. Great idea! But before you go out and buy those trophies and Starbucks gift cards, let’s take a moment to consider the problem with prizes.

What problem, you ask? Doesn’t everyone like to win prizes?

The answer is yes! But also no. And to think through why this might be and what we can do about it, let’s go back and look at some classic sociological play theory. We’ll get back to prizes in a miniute

In 1958, Roger Caillois  wrote a perfectly insightful, if problematically titled,  book Man, Play and Games. In trying to understand the hows and whys of play, Callois invented a rubric of play with four basic types.

• Agon: Competitive play. Like chess or soccer.
• Alea: Games of chance. Like gambling.
• Mimicry: Roleplaying. Like playing house or Dungeons and Dragons.
• Ilinx: Disorienting play. Like bungee jumping or riding a rollercoaster.

Setting aside the interesting combinations of his play scheme (like alea and agon, aka Poker), something should stick out to you. Of the four fundamental play types in Caillois schema, only one has anything to do with winning, with prizes. In fact, this was one of the points that Caillois wanted to make, that we conflate agon with play. We think that games with winners are the only kind of play.  Not surprising then, games with winners remains our classroom-go-to when it comes to making teaching more fun.

Agon has it’s place. Games of contest are fun. The Superbowl or Jeopardy wouldn’t be popular if everyone got a medal. We love our competition, and in some contexts, it’s absolutely the right kind of play. In education, we need to be as careful as we need to be gentle. Too many programs and disciplines are already set up as quiet contests, competitions for grades on curves, for scholarships, for graduate school seats and eventually, jobs. There’s already a lot of agon swaggering around the halls of the ivory tower. So, when we bring competiion into the supposedly safe zone of the classroom, it’s no wonder that some students complain or, just as likely, zone out.

Which leads us to the question: What to do about prizes?

Fortunately, there are several good options.

First, look at Caillois’ four categories. You can invite play into your classroom through the non-agon doors. We know about classroom roleplays for a start. How can you enliven those acts of mimicry by making them more imaginative, more playful? And what of chance? Could a roll of the dice to select students in the class to respond to questions increase the playfulness of a typical classroom Q&A? Or what of Ilinx? Are you brave enough to have your class standup and twirl around? Or how about moving the desks around? I ran a class one semester where every class I set up the desks in a different configuration. My favorite was a long snaking line of desks like a rollercoaster. And then we watched roller coaster videos at the start of class. Disorienting? You bet. That was the point.

But what about prizes? What do you do when agon is the right flavor of fun? One option, the favorite of pee wee sports worldwide, is to give everyone a ribbon. If you finish, you win. That’s easy enough. However, that can be very unsatisfying.

A better solution is to pick a prize that is desirable, but relatively cheap. My fellow Professor at Play Lisa discovered that stickers are the perfect solution. They are cheap, so winning a sticker isn’t so much about the joy of beating other people as it is winning the game and getting the prize. And since students have laptops and water bottles, winning a sticker provides a visible way of showing off the accomplishment. And since stickers are cheap, Lisa is able to have lots of contests with lots of winners. It’s not so much that everyone gets a ribbon as it is that anyone has the chance to win.

Contrast this approach of having lots of contest and prizes with an approach that offers an iPad to the top student of the year. Which one is going to motivate the most learners? Clearly, the more likely it is that I can win, the more likely I am to want to play. When you think about it this way, there is no problem with prizes. Done right, prizes encourage play and play, well, makes learning fun.

By Lisa Forbes

2020 has been quite a year. Many would probably like to pretend that 2020 never happened. It’s been extremely stressful and exhausting for me too for several reasons but one amazing thing that has happened in 2020 was the creation of Professors at Play. It started with 5 people on a listserv which then blew up to 574 people. Then it became a website and blog. Then it became a virtual Playposium with 361 registrants. Then it expanded to have a social media presence and YouTube channel. All within five months. And for me personally, it’s become something I think about and do everyday. 

I think about play every. single. day.

Maybe the labor of Professors at Play has added to my stress and overwhelm within 2020 (because it is a lot of work). But maybe, just maybe, it’s helped me emotionally survive 2020. Play has a multitude of benefits including being a buffer against stress. 

In counseling, some therapists conceptualize change from a triangle of cognitions, emotions, and behaviors. Some believe, if you change your thoughts, your emotions and behaviors will follow.* So, I wonder if by thinking about play everyday, my emotions become more playful and happy and when I have playful, happy emotions, I do more playful and happy things. In adult life, it’s easy to get sucked into developing tunnel vision where you can only see stress and seriousness. Stress and seriousness are inevitable facets of life but I don’t think that’s all life has to be. So, as I think about play every day, I can feel it grounding me, providing some levity, and keeping my stress in perspective. I have definitely been better about stepping away from the computer to play.

And that rubs off on the people closest to me. 

One example is my son. He is one of the most social kids I know – he is an 8-year-old diehard friend. A lover of playdates. The kid goes to school only looking forward to seeing his friends. That and the day he gets to buy pizza. He struggles academically so you can imagine how grateful I am that his school had 12 weeks of in-person learning. So, last week, my son’s school transitioned to fully virtual learning due to rising COVID numbers. The first week was tough. 2nd graders should not be in front of a computer for 5 hours a day, especially my son. No friend time. All academic time through a tiny computer screen. By Thursday, he was very grumpy. 

I had found this fun drawing game and instead of engaging in my son’s grumpy-ness, (because I already tried validating him and it only seemed to make it worse) I invited him to play the game. He was initially annoyed and didn’t want to play but as he sat on my lap and played the game, his mood instantly shifted. After he finished the first round he said: “I want to play again!” Then he and I took turns playing the game. We sat there playing, laughing, and talking for 20 minutes. You can imagine with such a robust social life that he has, it’s rare for me to get such precious snuggle time with my little man anymore.

That’s the power of play. Play instantly improved his mood. Play united us and provided us a moment of connection and bonding. I even felt lighter after that.

So, here’s one thing 2020 has taught me: if you give in to the stress and seriousness, it will swallow you whole. But, if you allow a little play into your day – even a 20-minute silly game – you can approach the seriousness and stress from a more centered and lighter place.

Go on, give it a try: https://quickdraw.withgoogle.com/ 

*Disclaimer: As a counselor, I don’t usually suggest this model of change until we have deconstructed the role that larger systems have had in mandating the client’s thinking. It’s important for clients to understand how external oppressive and restricting messages can become internalized. Without this discussion, suggestions to simply “change your thinking” can be dismissive and pathologizing. But in this case, bringing more play into your thoughts and life – it’s safe :). 

by Amy Nichols, M.A. Ed., Guest Author

I remember an illustration I was once told.  In the story, a group of kindergartners are asked, “who is a good dancer”.  All hands fly into the air, students jumping out of their seats to demonstrate their dance moves.  Okay, Okay, wait a minute”, said the teacher, “how many of you are good artists?”  Again, hands shoot to the sky waving the air like miniature flags -but this time heads duck as students reach into their desks to grab their art supplies to draw a new masterpiece for the teacher.  “Wait a minute,” the teacher laughs, “I need to know who is a good singer.”  Once again, all hands reach for the sky, only this time accompanied by little voices singing, “MEEEEEEEEE”.  

A few decades later, this same class, now adults, gathered for a reunion.  The teacher, beloved by all, was the honored guest.  She wanted to see how her students had developed.  “I have a question for you,” she said. “Who is a good dancer?”  The teacher was bewildered to see that one hand sort of raised in a half hearted way to the hip of its owner.  The teacher was surprised because she knew that at least two of the students had danced on Broadway.  “OK, who is a great artist?” She asked with more expectation, she knew that two of the murals in the school had been painted by a few of these students as adults.  She was shocked when not one student raised their hand.  Perplexed, she asked her final question to her former students, “who is a good singer.”  One proud student raised her hand, she was a Tony winning actress, so not totally unexpected, but the teacher knew there was a successful songwriter and a voice teacher also sitting in the audience. Mystified, the teacher sadly left the podium, remembering each adult as a child, frantically waving their hands in the air, desperate to be chosen to show off their talents, and she wondered “what happened?”

This story reflects some hard truths about life.  We all believe, as children, that we have so much potential to achieve, and somewhere along the line we learn that we may not be that good.  How sad for those students who take those barbs into their hearts and stop following a passion.  We as educators need to provide time for students to explore and play!  We need to let them find their passions and work on them.  

As an education professor, I am frequently asked by my students, “why don’t my other professors teach me the way you do?”  One of the reasons is we have forgotten to play.  We have forgotten to build into our lessons engaging ways for our students to learn, ways to make them laugh and learn at the same time.  We expect our students to sit and listen as we spout words of wisdom.  The problem is that after a while, we start to sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher.  Play and movement bring life to the class, it encourages students and gives them a vehicle to explore their passions.  Play engages and reignites passion for potential and for product.  This year has been difficult for all, but more difficult for some.  I fear that this year, and possibly next, will be known as “the lost years of education”.  We need to pursue our students relentlessly, affirming that we believe in their gifts, allowing them to be creative, and encouraging them to play.  This pursuit will produce adults who are stronger and more fearless as they step into the world that is waiting for them.

by Lisa Forbes

Embodying Playfulness

Oh boy, this is a big topic here. Embodying playfulness. In my recent study, the student participants described an important aspect of their experience of play in learning – the faculty embodying playfulness. Some student participants seemed to think the playfulness within the individual faculty member was an important part of making play in learning so effective. Some students said they have had other faculty in the past attempt to use play in learning but that it didn’t feel genuine and congruent to the faculty’s way of being so it didn’t land as well. 

I don’t fully know what the student participants meant by “embodying playfulness” but I have a hunch that it’s having an unwavering belief in the power of play. I believe we have to fully commit to the power of play to really receive all the benefits it has to offer. I also wonder if embodying playfulness is about congruence, genuineness, and simply not taking yourself so seriously. A big part of being playful is being human and authentic. From my data, I began seeing that one of the most powerful aspects of the process of play in learning is that it develops relational safety which ignites this amazing learning process.

Within the counseling field, it is commonly understood that the therapeutic relationship is the most important and powerful factor to effective therapy. That is, the strength of the therapeutic alliance largely determines the quality of the counseling experience for the client. It is through the relationship that the therapeutic theories and interventions become effective. So, I think the power of play in learning is, in large part, created from establishing safe and trusting relationships within the classroom. From the safety of those relationships, students are freer and more confident to speak up, take risks, make mistakes, and engage in their learning. The stronger the relationships, the higher the buy-in and investment in the learning process which makes students more intrinsically motivated to learn. 

But here’s the rub…this culture and academia tend to communicate a narrative that says: 

• In order to be a serious academic, you must be serious.
• Play is childish, trivial, and a waste of time.
• Being playful is at odd with being professional

…and other outrageously untruthful statements. I think the first step to anyone embodying playfulness is to deconstruct the societal narratives so you can re-story “professionalism” and open up to play.  If you believe any of the above statements, embodying playfulness will not happen and or it will be incongruent because it is at odds (or partly at odds) with the narrative you currently live by. So, I invite you to consider the dominant narratives that currently guide your professional practice. Might they be hindering your playfulness or your ability to cultivate relational safety in the classroom?\

How come you don’t like to play?

By Lisa Forbes

Last night I was tucking my 5-year-old into her bed and out of the blue she said: “mommy, how come you don’t like to play?”

You know in the movies when the music stops and the record screeches? That’s what it felt like happened. Play is everything to me. I value it. I infuse it into my classes so how come this child perceives me as not liking play? With my kids, I’m goofy and have dance parties and play practical jokes, so what gives, tiny human?

So, I said: “I love to play but maybe the way I play is different than the way you play.” That was the nice way of saying: “I don’t find playing make-believe unicorns all that fun.” 

This got me thinking about how the type of play that adults enjoy also varies and that got me wondering how that impacts how we implement play in our classes. I then thought about the book The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman. 

Basically, there are five different love languages (words of affirmation, quality time, gifts, acts of service, and physical touch). We all have varying love languages and when it’s “spoken,” it makes us feel loved and appreciated. Sometimes within couple relationships, the love languages match and sometimes they don’t. 

For example, my top love language is quality time so if my partner cleans the house, fills my gas tank, picks up the dry cleaning – all that is nice, I’m grateful he did it but it doesn’t make me feel extremely loved. To me, it feels more like logistical things that needed to happen. But if he wanted to spend time with just me, without the kids, that would feel loving and as though he appreciates me. 

Long story to say, maybe we all have play languages too. My play co-conspirator, David, thinks playing dungeons and dragons is a grand ol’ play time but for me that sounds pretty miserable. So considering this idea of play languages, how does this help us or hinder us in designing play into our classrooms? What even are the play languages?