A Scottish Tale of Improv and Haggis

I spent part of last summer in the Highlands of Scotland, teaching in a small rural school, while living with a family whose children were students at the school. It was one of the most fantastic, enriching experiences of my life, and I deeply treasure the memories of my time there.  I have a number of friends who have also taught or studied in Scotland, and they too remember their time there with great fondness, and the same wistfulness I have to go back. So, when I realized that Robbie Burns night was the end of January, I decided it was a perfect time to engage in some merrymaking, and celebrate the beautiful country I now love.  Robbie Burns Night is every January 25, on the birthday of the great Scottish poet, Robert Burns.  Admirers of Burns the world over host Burns suppers, and celebrate his life and poetry, and, by extension, all things Scottish.

I invited several  fellow “Caledoniphiles” over for an informal version of a Burns supper, which has a traditional sequence of activities and rituals that we loosely followed.  We ate the traditional meal of haggis (ordered fresh), neeps (turnips) and tatties (mashed potatoes), after marching the haggis in to bagpipe music, while someone read Burns’ “Ode to a Haggis”, after which we toasted the “Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin’ Race” with uisge beatha raised high. The meal and afterwards was filled with stories of our time in Scotland, Burns’ poetry, toasts to him and “the Laddies”- and laughter. Lots of laughter. Then came cups of tea and Scottish desserts while we listened to more Scottish music, looked at photos, and told more stories. The evening ended in the traditional Burns supper way: singing Auld Lang Syne together.  It was a fabulous evening that did justice to our love for Scotland!

What this night got me thinking about was a comment Dr. McMullen had made after reading this blog last week. It had to do with who we choose to play with, if our partners in play matter in the enjoyment we feel, and if so, how much? I personally think this is a very important part of how we play. For example, if I had invited a bunch of people over who had no connection to Scotland, and who were either incapable of entering into the ritual and improvised action of the evening, or simply chose not to, the evening would have been extremely different, and not nearly as meaningful, fun, or playful as it was. The women who came were as invested as I was in enacting a Burns supper and celebrating Scottishness.  They read the poems and told their stories with expression.  They cheered at the presentation of the haggis. They even improvised when it was time for the speeches we hadn’t planned, and sang loudly and beautifully when it was time for Auld Lang Syne.  In other words, they had “buy in” for this play event, and without it, the evening never would have been more than a “meh” dinner party. I chose these women to play with because we had something in common we cared about, because I knew they were people I could trust to play along, and who wouldn’t be afraid to be expressive, and even sometimes silly with me. It seems to me that when our play centers around something really important to us, something that makes us vulnerable, I think that we choose who we will invite into our “playground” carefully. We are exposed when we play in certain ways-such as being silly or imaginative-and we need to know that we can trust who we share those things with; that they won’t ridicule us when we show parts of our playful selves we won’t show others.

This event also brought to mind some of the things that our speaker taught us about improvisation last week in class: that you have to be spontaneous as you play off other people, that the scene is one of collective creation, and so everyone is equally responsible to make the scene a success, that everyone’s contribution is valuable. The way I see it, in order to engage this way, you have to trust your improv partners. You have to be willing to go out on a limb with them, and believe that you will help each other out to make the scene successful. You have to trust that your “offers” will be accepted, that the answer will be “yes, and….” , and that you in turn will extend and enrich their offers, too.  Robbie Burns Night showed me that certain kinds of play are rather like this sort of improvisational event. Thankfully, I had improv partners willing to go out on that limb with me,  and we all ended the night feeling blessed for having such great friends to play with.  And so, I end with a toast to my Scottish-loving, haggis-eating improvising play mates- cheers!

PS: Some of you reading this are totally wondering what the heck haggis is, and why anyone would write an ode to it. Google haggis, then watch this awesome recitation of the poem. It's in the original Scots language, with the English translation subtitled. C'mon, you know you want to.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3kzYaIphbzU

Potluck Power

Leaving class last week, I was rather perturbed after thinking about how play hasn't been much part of my life of late, and how I am struggling with taking the time to play when it isn't an assignment. I consider myself a very playful person, and from what my friends tell me, I would say they also agree. So what's my deal? I believe very strongly in play for all ages, as my second "schema" post urges. After class, I was bothered by the disconnect in what I said in my post, and what I said in class about struggling with play. And then I realized what it was. It isn't that I need permission to play because I think I shouldn't play as an adult, or find it shameful, or ridiculous; rather, I need permission to give up the time that I should be doing all this doctoral program work, in order to play. In other words, it isn't the act of playing I feel bad about. I feel neither guilt nor embarrassment to be a grown up who plays, rather I feel guilty for taking time to play during grad school when I have a list as long as my arm of assignments, proposals, presentations, service work, grading and class prep to do. What I wanna know is, do others do it? How do they find time? Am I just that slow at getting work done, or is it that actually most of us don't play? And if people do, how do they get all their work done?

Then I come back to Dr. Artin Gönçü's visit to class, and his insistence that play is an important necessity for healthy living.  As Dr. Gönçü, a well known scholar of play, said in his awesome lecture the following day, "Play should be an integral part of life...If there is no play in life, then questionably, there is no health in life." And I think I am increasingly feeling that. Last semester was the hardest, most intense semester I have ever had in my academic career, with little time to sleep, let alone play. I spent most of the winter break just trying to recover from that, with a mushy brain and exhausted body that could do little more than sleep and vegetate. And in some ways, I am still working through that crash and burn. What I realize is that somehow, I have to find time to rest, and play. I am beginning to realize more and more that play, at least as I define it, is fundamental to my character and personality.When I try to live without it, I am unbalanced, and an important part of who I am withers. With that, I lose a sense of the joy and beauty of life, and feel even more tired and overwhelmed. While I'm not wholly sure yet how to find the time to incorporate more play, this class couldn't have come along at a better time, because the assignment to play is a great starting point to try to once again find balance in my life. And the visit from Dr. Gönçü this week had an incredible effect on me as well, as I saw how a well-known, respected scholar incorporates play into his own life, and how much he values it. He is an example that it is possible to be a successful academic, and not lose sight of the playfulness of life. I am grateful that we have Dr. McMullen and Dr. Lackey (and Dianna, our soon to be Doctor!) committed to the same here at IU, and that this class is an invitation to consider how to live playfully and healthfully as a scholar.

So, with these ideas in mind after this very thought provoking week, I set out to play some more, this time with other grad students, including Winnie from our play class. Ever since the first semester as a masters student, I have tried to have occasional potlucks with my international women friends, as well as internationally minded Americans. While there's only two of us left from the original crew, the current group is a wonderful mixture of grads and undergrads from 5 different countries who like to eat, have fun, and laugh. We spent the greater part of this afternoon "eating across the world", learning about and from each other, drinking tea, and yes, playing. One fun game we did had to do with passing a small parcel around as we played music. Whoever ended up with the box when the music stopped had to either answer a question, or ask a question of someone else. Through this game, we learned more about each other, and laughed a ton! What was so great was that we got to see each other as more than academics, adding dimension and substance to what we know and appreciate about each other. For me, it was my chance to get to know people at a deeper level, and develop friendships that I hope last a lifetime. I felt enriched, relaxed, and joyous after spending an afternoon with such amazing, intelligent, fun, interesting women. And from this, I was once again reminded of how much I need times like this; times to play and feed my spirit with the things that matter to me. By the time everyone left, I felt more energized, free, and happy than I have been in days....reminding me about what I learned from Dr. Gönçü this week, as well as Dr. McMullen, who wrote on her blog about pursuing well-being. In fact, I was so happy this afternoon that as I began to clean up, I had to take a break to dance to the last song we were listening to while we played the game. And that, my friends, is potluck power, and the power of play. : )

PS: Here's the song....dance along if you like! (I LOVE the part at 2:49 on.....)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6CD51uTTJ4s

Not Bedazzled (Goin' Old School)

In all fairness, you should know that despite my last post urging every adult to be free and play, I am not immune to the influence of our culture that says play isn't really for grown ups. When I got the syllabus for my play seminar, and saw that one of the requirements was to play every week, the first thing I did was some whooping and fist pumping. But in true obsessively perfectionistic, precise, academic, grad student style, the next thought was: "What do they mean by that? What counts as play? Is there a list I should look at to pick from?" Sigh. Turns out, I can rest easy. Because no one really exactly knows what play is. Brian Sutton-Smith wrote a seminal book on play. He says in the first sentences of that book: "We all play occasionally, and we all know what playing feels like, but when it comes to making theoretical statements about what play is, we fall into silliness. There is little agreement among us, and much ambiguity." (p.1) Later in the chapter, he gives a list of activities associated with play that range from daydreams to kayaking. Turns out there's a lot of "play" (yeah, pun intended) in the definition, and part of what we're doing in class is exploring just that. So, starting with this post, I'll be sharing with you the variety of ways I have or will incorporate play into my own life, and how that connects with other people's experiences of play, communal play, what I am learning through the coursework and readings, and how it applies to me in my personal as well as academic life.

This week, I decided to start with something I don't do often: video games. Another person in class mentioned them as part of her play memories, with a shout out to Tetris along the way. It's probably been decades since I played it, so I figured, why not? As I shared this idea with my sister, she suggested I also check out another really popular internet game called Bejewelled. No problem; there are free versions of both available online. Getting on the Tetris site and playing a few games was fun, and reduced stress, once I got the hang of it again. There's something rather comforting for scrupulous people like me to fit all those pieces together, and watch the completed lines disappear. Of course I played it at the baby level- when the pieces start coming down at the speed of light, it's too stressful, and the games are too short. : ) It was a good trip back to old school gaming and fond memories of when I played as a teen. But Bejewelled? No. No way. Talk about feeling like a total idiot! I couldn't find the matches most of the time without the game kindly giving me "hints", and even then it took me a minute. Seriously, any 7 year old with decent visual discrimination could have kicked my tail at this game. What I realized is that part of the issue is my eyes; I have pretty severe astigmatism, and all the rows of jewels were too much visual stimuli, too close together. I was ready to stop playing this game pretty quickly, and returned to a few more rounds of soothing Tetris instead. 

My experience with these video games illustrates the importance of the player in understanding what play is all about. As Sutton-Smith says, "The ambiguity of play...owes some of its force to the...diversity of the players...all of whom play somewhat differently." (p. 5) What is one person's play may not be someone else's. And to me, that is the beauty of the ambiguity of play. Play is elastic enough to include my sister relaxing with a game of Bejewelled, while I "old school" it with Tetris. Just don't expect either one of us to join y'all at a Halo party.

Messing with Someone's Schema

So a few days ago, I was out with other grad students to celebrate a special event in the life of a mutual friend. Talk turned to what we are all working on at the moment, and I shared a little about my seminar on play. When I told the group about how we are going to have the opportunity to interview other people about their "play stories", one woman piped up, and asked me what my play story was. Now when someone spontaneously asks me a question like this, it's like the question sucks all possible answers out of my head before I can grab onto one, and I am left with...nuttin.' It's the same sort of thing that happens when people ask me what I want for Christmas, and I can't remember one thing until 15 minutes after I have opened my gifts on Christmas Day. Anyway, the one thing I could remember was what I shared in class; how as an adult my friends and I have always "played" by having wacky themed parties. I told her about the "Come as Your Favorite Cheese" party, the "Miss Marple Solves a Mystery," the "Redneck Birthday".  The woman was intrigued, almost disbelieving, and so began the questions:

• Were you all intoxicated? (No, no one was)
• How old were you? (in my thirties) Was everyone else significantly younger? (Nope, we were all around the same age)
• Did this involve illegal substances? (None whatsoever)
• Were you into theater/drama? (Not really)
• What did these people do for a living? (Several teachers, an insurance adjuster, a health care administrator, video game designer)

She shook her head at my answers and double/triplechecked about the intoxication and illegal substances. When I assured her that really, no, we were all in our sober right minds, and that there wasn't even alcohol at some of these events, she just looked at me as if I rocked her world. At one point she said something like, "I am trying to fit you into my schema, and it's not working!"

And that, dear readers, is precisely my point. What I think this story illustrates is that we as adults have lost some understanding of what it means to play, and the freedom to do so. It is so rare to see adults play imaginatively that the only answers that fit many people's schemas is drug use, extreme youthfulness, or being a dramatic artiste of some sort. What does this mean for our creativity, our ability to express who we truly are? Moreover,what does it mean to be educators to young children who haven't lost that gift, and long to be able to express it and have it affirmed in the life of school? How much do we shortchange ourselves and the students we care about by stifling this sort of imaginative play within ourselves? I can hear some of you say, "Yeah, but that's not who I am." And that's true. This sort of play doesn't resonate with everyone, and that's ok. What I'm saying here is you should feel free to play the ways that you love, the ways that free you to be who you truly are. Don't stifle who you are as a playful person because now you are "too grown up." So here's the deal. Technically, you don't need permission to get all "ludic", but if your grown-up self has to hear it, well then here it is: Go ahead. You have permission to play. So get out there and mess with someone else's schema.

To Begin

I can't start a blog without a good name, one that expresses my personality, and hints at what's going to show up when I post. So when I came upon this elegant phrase, "ludic turn", in the acknowledgements of the textbook for my class...I had to get out the dictionary and figure out what the heck it meant. And once I did, I knew it was perfect for the start of this new adventure in playful blogging. I know, I know, I've started a few before, and after enthusiastic and effusive beginnings, they sorta, well, fall silent, but this one is going to be different. At least for this semester. Because I have to blog, and that's a good thing. Otherwise, I'd feel naughty and guilty for not doing "work"...but thankfully, this is an assignment. Yes, folks, that's right. I get to play and I get to write about it!  And hey, if you're reading this, you've been invited to come along on this frolicsome journey into the myriad ways to play, and see how they affect my life. Oh, and yours as well. Who knows? Maybe on the way, you might decide to take a ludic turn, too. ; >