November 18, 2022

This week I thought a lot about the open-ended. Open-ended invitations to play, open-ended experiences, open-ended questions.

At its simplest, open-ended play is play without limitations or expectations. There is no predetermined sequence or particular direction the play has to follow, no set of rules followed or outcomes achieved that would define a successful session. Rather the "goal" is simply to engage, tinker, conjecture, fumble, create and destroy all in a low-stakes environment. The same is true for communication and questioning but in an intangible sense.

Our goal at school is always to provide open-ended experiences and this week that ended up looking like experimenting with syringes of colored water in gelatin, sensory bins filled with beans or compostable packing peanuts, empty boxes, nature blocks with all kinds of creatures, loose nature parts with cardboard, watercolors, and glue, clay with kitchen utensils, endless art supplies, and of course, dirt, boulders, sticks, water, wind, and falling leaves everywhere!

All of these activities cultivate our imagination, encourage independent play, and develop confidence, curiosity, vocabulary, patience, and resilience. Play is simply more fun when it has no particular objective (and then, by definition, is actually play) and it is the groundwork for building essential executive functioning skills that are so important for all future learning, traditional or non-traditional.

It also feels important to note that “open-ended“ doesn’t mean without foresight or intention on the part of the teachers. We always think about how our offerings will potentially engage a child and adjust according to what works in terms of logistics or safety for school. I think oftentimes adults can misinterpret the freedom and autonomy I suggest giving to children thinking it means letting kids be totally in control all the time, but it’s actually quite the opposite. It’s not about control at all, but rather creating an environment in which children can thrive by setting them up for success.

As an easy example, I received a huge box in the mail this week that came stuffed with (gratefully, compostable) packing peanuts. Initially, I intended to bring the entire box to school and then quickly realized that even as an adult, my instinct would be to hurl myself into the box and then fling the peanuts into the air like confetti. While this is absolutely fun, my intention wasn’t to be chasing packing peanuts down dusty dirt paths all day, so I rethought it and decided to put a reasonable portion of them into a sensory bin with some skewers and to bring the box empty for all the usual joy a large empty box brings children.

And, as imagined, our friends immediately begin skewering away! But how they did it surprised me. Some did so horizontally, some vertically, some made patterns, some cut them with scissors, some realized they could dissolve the packing peanuts entirely in water. The skewers of peanuts became pretend marshmallows for roasting, Christmas trees, mouths full of teeth, weapons, wands, and so much more. The skewers themselves became a tool to puncture holes in the box, which friends did in patterns, as a physical catharsis for whatever pent-up kid stress they’re carrying around and along lines of crayon they’d drawn on the box itself. One friend even poked holes to be a “5” to represent his age.

We also made the box into a fort; we colored the box; we stabbed the box repeatedly; we made it into a pretend package full of cookies for some storytelling; we hid in it for our circle time song.

This simple box of what is essentially trash, when presented in a particular way that worked for teachers and kiddos alike, occupied our friends for over an hour, and all the while they practiced their hand-eye coordination, fine motor skills, language development, and creativity. Open-ended activity: success!

I referenced this podcast once last year but think of it often: in a moving piece by Andrew Huberman on the power of play, he suggests that when examining the childhoods of many of the world's greatest thinkers— significant engineers, innovators, and creators— they were allowed to tinker. By definition, tinkering is working with something in an "unskilled" manner, and yet it's precisely the lack of skill children bring to things— and their concurrent willingness to fumble, fail, continue trying, and examine all possible outcomes— that itself develops skill in the long run! And alongside that skill an innate sense of motivation to continue exploring.

This is true play. It is messy, wild, free, enjoyable, and full of benefits.

As Maria Montessori said (and perhaps Piaget even before her?), and I will quote her again and again and again, "Play is the work of the child." We are working hard, we are learning so much, we are having fun, and the only thing that is closed-ended is our certainty that the answer to the question “Are we grateful?” is a resounding, unequivocal, “Yes!”