Books are my mom, play is my dad
and they are both dying
When you were a kid, the bestest thing in the world was pretend play. You got to pretend you were the most beautiful warrior princess in the world; fighting evil creatures by night, courting your handsome prince by day. With friends, you pretended you were grown-ups: a mom, a teacher, a doctor, and you took turns taking care of each other. It felt so nice when your friend-turned-hairdresser braided your hair, and you felt important when you healed your friend’s broken leg by applying moisturizer.
Unfortunately, sometimes you fought. Both your best friend and you wanted to be Stella, and you courageously sacrificed yourself by being Tecna last time, so you deserved a turn being Stella. It was very distressing, fighting with your best friend. But it was also okay, because somehow, without any grown-ups intervening, you always made up. You insisted that was only fair, and your friend listened, because you both wanted to play together more than you wanted to be Stella, and it really was only fair.
Over time, you realized the most effective way to get what you want in a game was to invent the game yourself. You can create the perfect character and make it a rule that only you get to play that character. Your game, your rules! There’s a catch, though: you should be very clever and invent a game that everybody wants to play. You are not a grown-up, so no amount of authoritative yelling will get your friends to play if you can’t make them want to play. To do that, you need to know your audience very, very well. Understand the power dynamics. Who is the most popular girl? What does she like? “You see,” you say to her, “in my game, there is this witch who can talk to animals and has a pet dog just like you. If we play, you can pretend you and your dog are best friends, and you can save the world together!”. If you read her well, she will be convinced, and you’ll get to be the fire princess and control the sun.
Knowledge is power, you see. You know about vampires, and they are not afraid of garlic like that girl claims. Why, you read a whole series about them, of course you know better. Your peers respect that. You are the authority on vampires now and should be consulted whenever a game involving them is constructed. You like to be respected, so you read and read and read until you know all the things. Why did the evil queen want to kill Snow White? She was jealous and cruel. Why did the little mouse come back to help the lion? He was good and loyal. Why is your friend mad at that boy right now? He is cruel and disloyal. He mustn’t have read the story of the little mouse and the lion, for he didn’t know he should’ve let your friend borrow his pencil after she let him borrow hers the other day. You and your friend will simply never let him borrow anything from now on, then he’ll see his mistake and apologize.
As I grew up to be a psychologist, it now seems obvious to me that I owe a lot of my socio-cognitive abilities to books and play. I learned how to regulate my emotions, how to resolve conflict, how to think abstract thoughts and apply them to real situations, and generally how to interact with the world, mostly from them. Always wise and loyal, books were there to guide my love and understanding, my compassion, my fairness and forgiveness. They taught me how to dream other people’s dreams, however alien and complex they may be. Play was wild; it required a lot of courage and cleverness. It threw a variety of balls at me and always demanded I throw them back. As fun and carefree as it may look, play was as intricate as court politics. I carefully hopped and skipped and hid, learning how to hide very well for success and very poorly for a good laugh.
For both kids and adults, the most rewarding activities are similarly stressful and complex. Managing to find joy and satisfaction in complexity is a big part of becoming an adult. And, let’s face it, Gen Z is finding it very hard to become an adult. Skirting the edges of the generation myself (26-year-old from a developing country, had my first smartphone during high school), I can see how scary the world can seem if you never had the simulation training. Books and play gave us a safe space to test out adulting, to observe and pretend without the risk of serious failure. As a kid, you lose imaginary money you never had to earn, read about battles you never had to fight, and lose a lot of friends while your parents are still there to guard you against loneliness. Then, when the time comes, you simply transition to the real deal. Walk the same tightrope without the safety net, if you will.
Video games, social media, and adult-monitored play could never replace that training. If a book is a glimpse into another’s soul, TikTok is their reflection in polished marble. If free play is court politics, play mediated by technology or adults is a tribal dictatorship. We should stop pretending they are good replacements just because we are afraid to let kids play outside, or lack the patience to read them a book.
Throughout my childhood, I played outside until it was dark if the weather was nice, and I snuggled under a blanket to read until I fell asleep if it was cold. My parents worked for long hours, so books were my mom, and play was my dad. I am afraid both are now on their deathbed, about to be forgotten by the next generation. Kids are touching life with gloves, never ready to live it. Anxiety, depression, and ADHD diagnoses among kids and adolescents are exponentially growing. They increasingly feel lonely and confused, afraid because they don’t know the world beyond the looking glass. We (I actually mean you, I am still too young) need to teach them. We needn’t even teach; we can just allow them to learn. Allow them to play, read, fight, lose, and find joy in the complexity of it all.
I say, maybe we need to accept that we are not doing a very good job raising the new adults, and recruit back books and play for the job.