The Secret to Freedom is Courage

The children had set up a "diving board" by sliding one end of a plank of wood under the gate, leaving the long end cantilevered out over the short flight of stairs leading down to the playground.

They waited in a self-managed queue, taking turns without any adult intervention. When it was William's turn, he slow-walked out to the end, then stood there for a long time, summoning the courage to leap. The other children grew impatient, urging him to jump. When one of them tried to spur him to action by bouncing the board, he shouted at them to stop. The decision to jump or not jump is one that each of us ultimately must make for ourselves. A few children before him had already backed away from taking the plunge, a two foot drop to the ground. For the longest time, it seemed like he was destined to join them, but then, suddenly, he launched himself.

When we talk about risky play in preschool, more often than not we discuss it in terms of the development of the prefrontal cortex or as the way we practice keeping ourselves safe. We argue that risky play helps us develop resilience, executive functioning skills, and self-confidence. We defend risky play by asserting that it allows children -- through what is essentially trial and error science -- to learn their own limits. 

And this is all true, but what I found myself contemplating as the children after William plunged willy nilly off their jerry-rigged "diving board", was the classical virtue of courage.

We don’t talk much about courage today, maybe because of the excesses of the “don’t be a wimp” and “tough it out” style of parenting all too common when I was growing up. Courage and bravery and toughness were too often used to shame children for expressing perfectly natural responses to pain, fear, and anxiety . . . That's nothing to cry about. Snap out of it!

But that was always a gross misunderstanding of courage. William displayed courage exactly because he was afraid. The children who came after him were acting without fear, which is an entirely different thing. It's the fear, the anxiety, and the concern about pain that defines any act as courageous.

The ancients, and Aristotle in particular, provide useful analysis of courage. Like all virtues, it lies between two vices, one of excess, and the other of lack. Foolhardiness is when someone, far from being courageous, doesn’t value their life very much and takes reckless risks with it. Cowardice is when someone is so fearful that they can’t do what a brave person would do. Courage, in contrast, involves recognizing the dangers, and the real physical risks, experiencing fear, but nevertheless having the inner strength to act. Like William.

This is perhaps the most important thing we learn through risky play, to find that balance between recklessness and cowardice.

The thing about courage is that it can really only be understood in practice. You can preach about courage until you’re blue in the face, but courage is far too personal for that.

I’ll never forget a moment with my own daughter Josephine who was probably 8 or 9 at the time. We were on a father-daughter camping trip with other fathers and daughters. The campground had what they called “the giant swing,” which was made from bungee cords that were attached to the branch of a tree some 30 feet in the air. Several of the girls were enthusiastic. Most were nervous, but willing. Josephine and a couple of other girls wanted nothing to do with it.

Honestly, I wanted her to try it, but I made a conscious effort to honor her feelings, although I guess I didn’t do a great job of it because at some point she said, “Maybe I'm not brave about physical things. But I am brave about other things: I go on stage and act and sing!” That is indeed courageous. 

A normally timid boy once called out to me “Teacher Tom! Look at me!” He had his arm around the trunk of a tree and he was standing on a root that was – at most – two inches off the ground. Again, courageous.

Risky play – and courage – are defined by the person engaged in the act. Most children, most of the time, if allowed the opportunity to engage in risk without adult intervention, will find their own “just right” level of risk, one that locates their own sweet spot of courage between foolhardiness and cowardice. Of course, mistakes will be made, but that's where the learning happens.

Courage isn’t just acting in the face of our fears, but also having the faith that we will be able to live with the consequences – good or bad. Risky play is how we practice our own personal courage. 

Courage is the antidote to this age of fear and anxiety in which we live. And, as the Ancient Greeks knew: the secret to happiness may be freedom, but the secret to freedom is courage.

Risky play is the way we practice setting ourselves free.

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