I’m now sitting in Collier Library at Bryn Mawr, writing my homework for fall break with three other girls in a study room. Just two days ago I was lying in an apartment of Manhattan with my friend reading Zadie Smith. And two weeks before that, I met Zadie Smith and got a signature on my NW. If I go a little farer back to August, two months ago, I was in my hometown in China, and I knew nothing about this place I’m now sitting, or the people I’m sitting with, or how to take the greyhound bus to New York, or who Zadie Smith is. But now here I am, writing this paper, trying to think something out of these two months.

“Smells good.” “Keep up! It’s too crowded here. We have to stick together.” “That’s 5 dollars. Spicy or mild?” Noises of people chatting in various languages. A Latin jazz band played at the end of the street. A girl gave out questionnaires and orange bracelets that said “Latin Jazz for All”. I had to carefully avoid food dripping on the ground when I struggled a way through the throng.

It was Night Market in Chinatown. I went with several Chinese friends, hoping to find some reminiscence of my life back in China. Among many Mexican food stalls there were some Chinese ones, though not run by Chinese people. And it was the first time that I saw people in such density in America, so that reminded me of China, too. But it was just different, not what I expected of a night market.

Night markets, originated in Asia, are street markets for people to stroll, shop, and eat, and are more leisure compared to more businesslike day markets. Vendors gather every night. Besides food, there are many other every-day life objects: in residence neighborhoods, they sell pajamas and plants; in tourist sights, there are cultural products like paintings, stamps, and Peking Opera performances; around schools, one can find jewelries, card games, and comic books. Food relieves the weariness of shopping and walking around, and shopping is an enjoyable thing to do while eating. For many people, going to a night market is a relaxing and entertaining choice for a walk after diner.

In order to have a clearer picture of something as a whole, a person has to look at it deconstructed into parts. In the first half of this course I have looked at the city and writing in scattered playful components.

When we first went into the city, we road in by the Septa and saw the outside environment change from suburban, to a bit urban, and then underground as the train deposited us under the city. We emerged from Suburban Station to see some the city’s biggest landmarks within walking distance. We were given maps with landmarks and streets that we eventually attached physical memories to. These memories were not only made up of the landmarks and streets, but also of the homeless population and other demographics in Center City. By the end of the trip we had a clearer idea of Center City; and in later trips we gained a greater understand of some of the neighborhoods that branch off from there. We built up a clearer picture of Philadelphia by looking at its components of buildings, streets, and people.

Quiet volume deconstructed the way we think about words by playing with how we comprehend letters, words, sentences, and paragraphs. Visiting the mosaics in the Magic Gardens provided a platform for us to dismantle the way we view the city and ourselves, and the two interacting together. Then when writing, we were given room to recollect our raw and deconstructed thoughts.

When I think about the last two months in this class, the first scene that appeared in my mind is that I walked into Mark’s class. After he finished the roll call, I realized I was not supposed to be there. Mark took me to the right classroom. Mark led me to a classroom with chairs in lines ( and later we made it a circle) and that’s how my Play in the City journey began.

Play in the City: an interesting concept. To discuss what play is, means, can be, and to then go out and try it in a city as varied as Philadelphia. I had hoped, going into this course, that when I walked out I would walk out with a different way of thinking about the world- a difficult demand to be sure. Thus far I have not been disappointed. Ant Hamilton’s Quiet Volume changed how I thought about libraries, reading, even silence. Isaiah Zagar’s Magic Gardens helped change how I think about silent art forms like mosaic and painting, and to the canvas and materials themselves. The trip into Bryn Mawr proved that these lessons I am learning apply everywhere. It is clear that my experiences in this course have changed how I think about the world, given me more tools with which to think about the world, and that can only be positive.

When I was looking over the list of Emily Balch Seminars the first one that caught my attention was Play in the City.  Not only because I was thinking about being a Cities major but also because I’ve always wished I knew Philadelphia better.  This was going to be the perfect class: I’ll learn how to negotiate the city and how to write in college.  Killing two birds with one stone (or class, as the case may be).

Much like cities all over the world our little Play in the City class welcomes people from everywhere.  We have students from many states in the United States as well as some who have lived in Europe and China.  There are students who have grown up in one place and some that have moved around their whole life.  These varying backgrounds allow our group discussions to have more meaning as there are many different perspectives presented.  We get to hear about how our adventures in the city compare to those had in cities all around the world. 

“There were more people than back in China”

“I’m used to this. I grew up in D.C.”

“I was overwhelmed.”

I love to play. Signing up for Emily Balch Seminars, the word “play” immediately caught my eye. My initial concerns about the class were that the play I’d encounter in the course wouldn’t be actual, fun play, and that the writing I would have to do would feel forced. Thankfully, the trips into Philadelphia that I’ve been on have felt genuinely fun and playful. I’ll admit, the writing sometimes does feel forced. I think part of it comes from a bit of confusion on exactly what the prompts are asking me to say. At first, the prompts seem vague and long, with somewhat of a disconnect between the multiple questions of each one. Only once I’ve written quite a bit have I discovered what I actually want to say. I think that that strategy is one I will end up utilizing a lot in writing throughout my life, and I like that the prompts with their vagueness have put me in a position where it is something I can practice. The class has also been helpful in sharpening my exploration skills. I’ve enjoyed seeing different types of neighborhoods combining to make the city into a whole. 

            I have always believed that play is one of the most important aspects of humanity due to the creativity that is ultimately involved in playing. Due to my strong belief in the benefits of playing, I am disturbed by schools that teach people how to work, while diminishing their ability to play creatively. After four years of traditional high school focused on working, I was greatly intrigued by this Emily Balch Seminar when I read its synopsis. I thought this class would be so unique and would give me a creative way to learn about this new city that I was moving near, but had only visited twice. I was initially interested by the idea of analyzing different states of play, and being able to play myself, the trips into Philadelphia just happened to be a perk to me.

            After the class began, I was pleasantly surprised by Mark Lord’s teaching style, and his general belief that that everyone has important individual thoughts and there is no “wrong answer.” This initially first pushed me out of my comfort zone of what a class conversation could entail, as I was no longer looking for the answer that the teacher or text book believed was right, but was instead looking for the answer that was most correct to me as an individual. Already without even beginning to “play” I was able to feel the outlets of creativity within the class opening, even in just the general opening conversations we had.

I had a few good English classes in High School. I expected my Emily Balch Seminar to be like them. The professor would lead the class in discussion, we would answer their questions and write a formulated essay. This turned out to not be the case. Anne does start the classes, we do try to answer questions, and we write essays, but all in a new, slightly different configuration.

Anne’s class definitely has a planned structure. She keeps the conversation going in the right direction. She asks a lot of questions, however she tries not to be in the typical powerful professor role. She makes us look at our classmates and speak to them, simplifying the conversation of the classroom. I love that we are in a circle instead of rows; it keeps me from hiding. The way the classroom is set up is an example of playing with structure. The construction of the class is deliberate in creating an unstructured place to play. Scaffolding we can fill with whatever we find most interesting. Anne might provide the questions, but she throws them out to the wind for us to run with.

/*I could have sworn this paper was meant to be six pages. So I trimmed my six-page essay posted earlier to 4 pages, which is slightly better.*/

Phoenix

mlord

Play in the City 028

Sunday, October 20, 2013

Playing Differently

            The purpose of visiting a city is to experience something new, or to experience something familiar in a new way. If our course Play in the City was itself a city, then our hometown must be our everyday experience of academia, in secondary school and in our other Bryn Mawr classes.

First, we played with the concept of a city, with the help of Lewis Mumford, George Simmel, and Sharon Zukin. This is a highly academic version of play, and, though mildly interesting, not different from my hometown of ordinary academia. Second, we played with Robin Henig and Cass Sunstein about serendipity and the science behind play. I preferred these. Despite the familiarity of reading and applying essays, the subjects were interesting and unusual. Serendipity is not an oft-discussed topic in my hometown. Furthermore, the topics were not overly theoretical, the opinions were easily understood, and the explanations were simple.