How is play for disabled children understood by parents/carers and professionals in the early years? How do these understandings of play either enable or limit disabled children? Do understandings of play need a rethink?
We are asking these questions as part of a two-year project called 'Does every child matter, post-Blair: Interconnections of disabled childhoods'. Our aim is to try to make sense of what it is like to be a disabled child in Britain. We are exploring with disabled children and their parents or carers their experiences of family, school and community. Disabled children's play has already emerged as a key issue.
In the UK, play is considered to be extremely important for children, especially in the early years. Play has been described as having instrinsic value as something that children do spontaneously, for fun and without interference from adults (Lister, 2006, p321-2). Play is also understood to have instrumental value in terms of children's learning and development (Moyles, 2006; Davenport, 1994).
Play is often defined as children's 'work', as preparation for adulthood, and as a key tool for development (Brodin, 2005). The importance of play to developmental psychology is reflected in the amount of attention play has received from key theorists in psychology including Piaget, Vygotsky and Bronfenbrenner.
Play appears to allow adults to access children's thoughts and feelings. However, our study suggests that for disabled children, play has become the primary method of assessment, diagnosis and therapeutic intervention. The helpfulness or unhelpfulness of play as a mechanism for assessment, diagnosis and therapy is not the focus of this article. Rather, we are interested in how these approaches to disabled children's play might impact on the ways that children are understood and the play opportunities made available to them.
Do disabled children play?
Jennie Lindon, in Understanding Children's Play, often a key text for early years practitioners, asks 'Do disabled children play?' (Lindon, 2001, p79). The answer she gives is that, of course, disabled children do play.
However, the fact that Lindon felt she had to raise the question points to two common perceptions. The first is that disabled children and their play is very different from non-disabled children. The second is that disabled children's play is not only different, but also deficient.
This notion of deficiency emerges in a range of academic literature. For example, one study found that in most cases, disabled children did not match up to the recognised standards of play (Almqvist, 1993, cited in Brodin, 2005 p636).
The focus on standards, plans and therapies constructs play for disabled children in a number of ways. First, a disabled child's play is seen as lacking, and so a disabled child requires intervention to correct and normalise their play.
Notions of 'good' and 'bad' play are determined and applied by adults and imposed on disabled children. 'Standards' of play are based on a notion of 'normal' childhood, which is never fully explained. As a consequence, we know a lot about the disabled non-playing child, and this literature builds up a picture of the 'disabled (not) playing child', while the 'non-disabled (very) playful child' remains in the background.
Parents as therapists
A further consequence of the focus on intervening and correcting disabled children's play is that parents/carers (usually mothers) become the therapists for their child. They are expected to ensure that the child meets the developmental goals prescribed by others.
The demands of programmes and individualised plans can mean that, for some parents/carers, opportunities for spontaneous play are put out of reach as they focus on meeting targets. Parents/carers in the study described the frustrations of trying to 'normalise' their children's play:
The thing that didn't work was trying to make her do pretend play. No, she is really not interested in giving a drink to the dolly, she has no interest in dollies! NO, no, this is not, NOT working! - Sarah
Therapy seemed to dominate some families' lives.
For many years on our holidays we used to take the therapist with us. They could do therapy and stuff like that while we were away and make it education, which we couldn't have done otherwise - Claire
Parents were sometimes sceptical about the work of 'play professionals' with their children.
The play person just used to sit on the floor and pick things up and play for him, rather than with him, and we thought, maybe it's us that's wrong, but we wanted him, if you like, to learn how to play independently from us.
It seemed as if they were coming for no reason - I don't know, they were told to come to somebody's house and show this family how to play with this and we knew that - we knew how to show him how to push a car along, you know, 'come on Robert, let's play cars or play in the sand pit' or whatever. But it was more developing his skills for playing that never seemed to come across - Lynne
This added to their frustration.
What about a rethink?
Given the misconceptions surrounding disabled children's play and parents'/carers' resulting scepticism and frustration, we urge a rethink about disabled children's play, in several ways.
First, following James and Prout (2001), we want to assert the intrinsic value of play for all children, including disabled children. There must be space for freely-chosen, self-directed and intrinsically motivated play in all children's lives. We want space for disabled children to 'be allowed' to get dirty, rock backwards and forwards and flap their hands.
Recently, inclusive play spaces have been the focus of research and revision of practice (Dunn and Moore, 2003; John and Wheyway, 2004; Play Safety Forum, 2002). Disabled children's right to play has been asserted. We support these calls for inclusive spaces and more outdoor play.
However, despite a focus on inclusive environments and accessible play spaces, it is still the case that disabled children are much more likely to be offered controlled activities, in segregated environments, than non-disabled children (John and Wheyway, 2004).
Sadly, more than any physical or structural barriers to play spaces, parents/carers of disabled children report that the attitudes of others are the biggest barrier to their children's participation in play.
In our study, Sarah talked about the 'pretentiousness' of other mothers at the playgroup, who talked endlessly about their children's play and achievements while her daughter lay immobile on the floor. Sarah and her daughter went to playgroup infrequently as a result.
Both Lucy and Sarah found a sanctuary at 'special playgroups' with other mothers of disabled children. Lucy explained that it was a place where she didn't feel 'odd'.
And, just as you go to a toddler group and you say 'oh, Jonny's doing this', you could go there and say'oh, we've hit another milestone, he's actually located his head'. I mean, something that to you is very important but to a parent of a 'normal' child, whatever you want to call them, would be 'oh'! - Lucy
Lucy McLaughlin et al (2008), in a recent study of the experiences of parents of disabled children, found that one of the biggest barriers for families was the rejection of the child in potential play areas by other parents (often of non-disabled children). This suggests that the psychological literature which characterises disabled children's play as deficient has trickled down into the wider society, and this might explain the rejection by these parents.
Finally, we urge early childhood practitioners to rethink their own ideas about development and disability and to allow disabled children some time and space to enjoy play for its own sake.
Dr Katherine Runswick-Cole is a research associate at Research Institute for Health and Social Change, Manchester Metropolitan University
MORE INFORMATION
'Does every child matter, post-Blair? Interconnections of disabled childhoods' is funded by the Economic and Social Research Council. For more information, see www.rihsc.mmu.ac.uk/postblairproject/)