The Adventure Deficit in a post-Tom-Sawyer Childhood

Of late, I have been trying to develop the habit of going for an evening stroll to a park in my neighbourhood each day. In the parks of New Delhi, a common sight are the elderly men from the local community who gather each evening to share stories about their children and grandchildren, reflecting on the bygone days of their youth. Sometimes, these gatherings also include friendly card games, providing a space for camaraderie and the exchange of cherished memories. Amidst the rest of the park-goer population, one may encounter dog walkers, father-son pairs playing catch, the occasional jogger, and, of course, young children in small groups playing ball games. 

However, a demographic shift has recently become noticeable—one that was not commonplace until just a few years ago. Young mothers of 9-12-year-old children have emerged as a new presence, often seated on park benches, attentively watching over their children as they play with their friends nearby. 

As a child, I wasn’t too extroverted, so I do not have childhood memories of playing with large groups of children in parks. But I did grow up in a house that had a garden with a swing and a backyard, which provided ample space to play. Occasionally, I engaged in play with my cousins in pairs or trios, and more often found myself playing alone, whether indoors or outdoors. Interestingly, I cannot recall a single instance of my mother observing my playtime activities in either setting.

While I may not possess the credentials of a child psychologist or the experience of being a parent (at least not yet), something within me instinctively recognises the immeasurable value of the unsupervised play I enjoyed during my own childhood. One reason is that unsupervised play also tends to be unstructured for the most part, and this is especially important for group play. 

I believe that a child develops some degree of morality through his play experiences. Instances such as sharing toys, accommodating others' preferences in games, resisting arbitrary rules imposed by dominant peers, addressing cheating in a game of snakes and ladders, waiting for one’s turn, adhering to game rules, and gracefully handling wins and losses all contribute to the formation of a child's sense of morality. In the absence of adult supervision, children engaging in play collectively navigate these nuances, learning to negotiate and establish their own understanding of fairness and cooperation. While there may be instances where a child faces challenges, and adult intervention is necessary, particularly when physical safety is at risk, interfering in children's play dynamics, otherwise, could disrupt the natural progression of moral development. It is through these unstructured play interactions that children cultivate a sense of fairness, empathy, and cooperation, essential components of their evolving moral compass.

Even for solitary play, an absence of adult supervision can be helpful. I fondly recollect some summer afternoons from my childhood, during which I explored various corners of my house with the freedom to roam without my mother's constant awareness of my whereabouts. I spent hours digging for imagined "lost treasures" in my garden, attempting to cultivate a "pencil plant" by planting pencils in the backyard, and enacting hero narratives in make-believe scenarios. Most of these imaginative adventures unfolded without the need for adult guidance or supervision, allowing my creativity and independence to flourish unchecked.

In the contemporary landscape of childhood, a shift has occurred as coddling and overprotectiveness have taken centre stage, replacing the once cherished value of adventure, once a hallmark of youth. In the era of heightened safety concerns and a hyper-awareness of potential risks, parents and caregivers often prioritise shielding children from any perceived danger. 

As a result, classic children's books that celebrated and encouraged the adventurous spirit, such as Enid Blyton's books, the escapades of Tom Sawyer, of the elements explored in What Katy Did, may find themselves increasingly irrelevant. These literary works (that also happened to be some of my favourite reads as a child) once cherished for inspiring a sense of wonder and resilience, may now appear out of sync with a culture that values sheltering children over fostering their innate spirit of exploration and discovery.

The prevailing culture restricts the natural inclination towards exploration, risk-taking, and self-discovery that has historically shaped the transition from childhood to adulthood. The nurturing of resilience and problem-solving skills through adventurous undertakings is replaced by an environment that fosters more than necessary dependence on external guidance and avoids exposing individuals to potential challenges. Even in cases where autonomy is achieved, the mindset lingers, and individuals find themselves predisposed to crave safe spaces and trigger warnings rather than venturing into the unknown. The consequence is a generation potentially deprived of the transformative experiences that come with embracing uncertainty, facing challenges head-on, and cultivating the invaluable qualities of resilience and self-reliance. 

As we navigate this adventure deficit, let us not forget that sometimes the best adventures are the ones where the path is uncertain, the risks are real, and the lessons are etched in mud-stained memories. Let's not be afraid for our children to embrace a little dirt on the hands and a few scraped knees along the way, for it is in those moments that the magic of growing up unfolds—untethered, unscripted, and wonderfully messy.

Image Source: My Neighbor Totoro (1988)