When I first encountered The lore and language of schoolchildren, I was in my early twenties and beginning feel a solidification and increase in that characteristic and unavoidable alienation that is a core feature of the modern human condition.
The book is a work of anthropological fieldwork by a husband-wife team; and it records the songs, rhymes and games of children of the 5-10 years age, mainly; from primary school playgrounds mostly - across several regions of Britain.
This book made me realize, probably for the first time consciously, that in my young childhood I had participated in an archetypal world - a world that was essentially universal; and in some respects went back across centuries - and perhaps millennia.
And this world emerged whenever children gathered to play - even in that most tightly-regulated, formal and artificial world of school - where during playtimes we reverted to a mode of consciousness that was primal and spontaneous.
What I got from this book was that the songs, rhymes and games that I had learned "orally" and by joining-in from other children, constituted a kind of national "underground", a "secret world". Shared by other children we had never met and knew nothing about.
And not written down, not taught by adults nor approved by teachers (because they were unaware or indifferent); handed on by direct child-to-child contact - it was just there.
It seemed, too, that this world derived from a common stock - so that children everywhere had their own versions of the same basic themes; although where that stock originally derived from was a mystery, and we weren't interested by that kind of question.
We participated in rituals that had an effect on us, so we wanted to join in and repeat them - and play them well; but whose meaning was unclear and that we did not understand - even at the time, I found this strange and compelling.
Examples would include such rhyme/ song/ dances as "Oranges and lemons", "The Farmer's in his den", "In and out the dusty windows".
We played such games - yet we did not know why we did it; and the effect was a kind of nagging almost-awareness of some sort of significance.
Nowadays, I would term this Original Participation - that spontaneous, unconscious, immersive sense of participation in reality.
But more exactly, the lore and language were a product of the phase when OP began to emerge into awareness and become systematized.
This stage of childhood corresponds to the "totemic" era of human developmental history when symbol, ritual, story and song began to crystallize, become relatively fixed, and was preserved and disseminated by interpersonal and oral means.
And stored in memory- such that group rehearsal and repetition became a mechanism for perpetuation; and with such "devices" serving to work as as a transitional means for the incipiently isolated individual to re-enter the paradisal bliss of Original Participation.
I would now infer that this was what we were up to, in those playtimes - and following the enforced alienation generated by classroom schoolwork.
In exchanging and chanting rhymes and songs, in playing ritualistic games; I think we unconsciously-sought to return - for a while - to that phase of being from-which we had so recently emerged; and where we knew ourselves to be part-of our family, a group of kids... the world and universe.
Hence the mystery, hence the fascination.
8 comments:
George Orwell evokes such nostalgia as you describe doctor in his 1984, in a scene between Winston Smith and an old antiques shopkeeper (who of course is actually a member of the Thought Police). They talk of childhood rhymes, of old London churches, of boys’ physical games- barely remembered now and all belonging to the past. “Here comes a candle to light you to bed, Here comes a chopper to chop off your head”. Or: “Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St. Clement’s/You owe me three farthings, say the bells of St. Martin’s.”
@Jason - For me, it's more than nostalgia - it's important knowledge.
"In exchanging and chanting rhymes and songs, in playing ritualistic games; I think we unconsciously-sought to return - for a while - to that phase of being from-which we had so recently emerged; and where we knew ourselves to be part-of our family, a group of kids... the world and universe. "
Interesting.
@NLR - It can be understood as a spontaneous form of ritual magic, and with the same objective of purposively achieving a particular form of consciousness.
I attended a 2 room school in a New Hampshire town of 400 in the late 40s and have recognised that the games we played came down through a separate children's oral culture that was rigorously separate even from our own later adult consciousness. The iron clad separateness of that culture was confirmed when we attended the yearly town meeting as a civics lesson and immediately checked the Town Report for the police activity to see who had actually been caught sexually molesting their children. We snickered among ourselves because we knew or thought we knew considerably more on that subject! The most memorable 'ancient' game we played when it snowed was 'Fox and Geese" where we stomped out a circle divided into four quadrants with a safe home area in the centre. It was a variation of the game of tag and whoever was 'it' had to tag one of the other children who could not go outside the marked paths but could be safe if they made it to the centre area. I agree with you that this corresponds to the totemic era of human development and is a spontaneous reenactment of Original Participation. It reminds me of an Aboriginal elder in Port Hedland who was the last speaker of his language and last person who knew the 'law' of his people. He chose to let them die with him because his son was too Westernised to properly receive the law and to change the law to suit the new generation would make it entirely lose its power. Lose its Original Participation. In a certain way that is why children know not to share certain information with the 'grown ups'.
@Igude - Very interesting - thanks.
Fascinating. This makes more sense than any psychologist's explanation of why children are so joyful ("still innocent," blah, blah). I also ponder why very old people are often called "cute" or the like. Would you say, "He/she is so cute," about a 50-, 60-, or even 70-year old? No. So why? Is it possible we subconsciously know they will soon return to Original Participation?
I got the book by the Opies and will get back to you after I see how much these childhood games and sayings are familiar to me and to friends here in Western Australia.
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