Playground Supervision

I got a job.  Yay me!  It's working as an assistant for an out-of-school care program at one of the local elementary schools, which means I am a well-educated, grossly overpaid, glorified babysitter.  There were several things to recommend this job: it's close, it pays well (because I already have an ed degree, I get extra hourly pay - thanks, government!), it's more than I'd make working elsewhere, and for fewer hours.  But there are some things that make me wonder how well I can do this job; things that, when I ponder them, make me think "I have a bad feeling about this..." 

One of those things is playground supervision.

I am a horrible playground supervisor.

No, really.  Horrible.

As a middle school teacher, "playground" supervision required little more than standing around and glowering at the students; for the most part they just walked around and talked; occasionally someone's mouth would write a check their fists couldn't cash, and I'd have to break up a fight.  This was very rare, and honestly half the time I forgot it was my turn for supervision duties.

While working as a sub, I was sometimes assigned to take over the teacher's playground supervision duties, but there was usually a whole slew of adults around who knew the playground rules better than I did, and the kids were often so well trained that I didn't really need to do much.

Now, working at the out-of-school program, I am doing playground supervision at least once a day, often with only one other person, for 45 students.  The playground at the school is one of the huge, new, colored plastic affairs that are so common down in CA, but a rarity up here (usually it's still the old wooden and metal deals).  As far as "safe" structures go, this one is pretty cool: it has four slides, five sets of monkey bars with varying shapes, four or five different ladders/slidey poles, a tire swing, a wobbly bridge, and a zip line.  You could play the most AWESOME game of lava monster on it.  But the kids who are part of the program often find "unsafe" ways of playing on the structure, which I think is pretty common; the safer the structure is, the more boring it is, the higher the likelihood of kids finding "unsafe" ways to play.

Here's where I have a problem with playground supervision: half the time the kids are playing in "unsafe" ways, I don't even really register that it's "unsafe".  Instead, I'm usually thinking "That looks like fun!"

Examples:

--When the kinders are on the tire swing and trying to make it swing as high as possible, I want to go over and show them how to sit so the weight is distributed for maximum momentum, as well as the proper form for "pumping" to get it going.  What I should be doing is encouraging them to keep it at a reasonable height, one where if a kid falls out, he doesn't have far to go to hit the ground; after all, the higher you pump a tire swing, the more it tilts on its side.  Which is what makes it FUN!

--When the older girls took their shoes off to make a line, then climbed up to the highest platform, then climbed over the railing to jump down and see if they could jump past their shoes, I wanted to tell them that they'd need to stand on the railing in order to make it that far.  I didn't, never fear, but I had a momentary struggle with my inner child before the adult took over and told them to put their shoes back on and also stop jumping from the platform, even though I'm sure it was FUN!

--The kids are required to wear shoes at all times.  This I understand - after all, many mornings I am in charge of conducting the sweep of the playground for suspicious objects and/or persons.  There could be drug users' needles buried in the sand!  That being said, I also understand why some of the kids prefer to run around shoeless.  I loathe walking through the sand in shoes; it's a pain.  The kids end up dumping out a ton of sand from their shoes every time they go inside; I'd want to skip that, too, were I them.  I feel a little guilty every time I have to remind them to put their shoes on.  Going barefoot is FUN!

--I am tempted to applaud the efforts of students who climb on top of the monkey bars, rather then tell them they are for climbing across only.  I mean, heck, I had a first grader who got halfway across, then lifted himself through two bars on to the top of them.  Kid's got major upper body strength, which I was impressed with; it pained me to have to chastise him for such a feat.  Also, my siblings and I used to play on the tops of our monkey bars at home all the time (remember "cocoon"?), and it was great FUN!

--The zipline is held up by a large crossbar.  Often the handle will end up in the center of the line, where it cannot be reached from either end, and I am too short to knock it from the middle.  When this occurs, I allow the students to monkey across the support bar (technically a no-no) in order to retrieve the handle.  I refuse to jump up and down to retrieve it.  That's not FUN!

--Sliding down slides feet first gets boring.  I sympathize with the kids who want to climb up the slides, or slide down headfirst, or upside down headfirst, etc.  The first few days I supervised the playground, I let them play on the slides however they wanted, until I realized that all the other supervisors would yell at kids who weren't sliding in the appropriate fashion.  Duds.  Don't they know that climbing slides is FUN?!

I think part of the problem stems from the fact that, as a person with no children of my own, I have yet to acquire the parental "safety monitor" instinct.  Instead I must rely on my common sense as an adult, common sense that is in a perpetual struggle with my childish side, which wants to have FUN! and safety be darned.  I am slowly picking up cues from the other supervisors on what can be allowed and what should be stopped, but sometimes I wonder if they don't go a little overboard.  I want to keep the kids safe, too, but telling them they can't play tag, or run around, or dig in the sand, or make up silly troll games under the bridge?  There's a line between keeping kids safe and being an imagination-killing fun-sucker.  I'm trying to find the balance, but it's hard when most of my co-workers are firmly on the fun-sucker side.  I have a bad feeling about this...