September 21, 2015 - 16:50
Sometimes I worked at a fast food restaurant, passing imaginary meals to my sister through the window. Sometimes I was a famous singer, dressing up in my fanciest clothes and lip syncing to my favorite CD as the pretend crowd went wild. And sometimes, I was a lost child having to survive in the forrest all alone, the wildlife around me being my only comfort.
I would come home everyday, always in a rush to finish my homework so I could play before dinner. Play after dinner. Imagine I was someone else even in the bath, and then play again before bedtime. Perhaps my absolute favorite place to play was Grandma's house. Her house so antique and fancy, her yard so vast, her neighborhood so populated, I was never bored at Grandma's. Then there was recess at school; the best part of the day. Recess was what everyone looked forward to. At 11:00 a couple hundred kids hurrying to finish their meals, trying to maximize their time outside.
We were just playing that day. There seemed to be nothing harmless about it, it was all fun and games. But not when I was sent to the Principal's Office. It was just a game of tag, what was so wrong with that? Yes, my friends and I called him some names but did he really need to go tell the teacher? We were all having a good time running around tagging each other, what was his problem? My parents always told me to go use my imagination and play outside! Why was I being penalized?
If playtime during one's childhood is so beneficial, why were his feelings hurt? Why did he start crying? Most importantly, why did I think that was okay.