Franklin principal defends the decision to ban tag at lunch recess, saying it has caused injuries. But many blame political correctness.
For now, Pat Samarge is "it."
The principal of Franklin Elementary School in Santa Monica became "it" when she banned the children's game of tag--for reasons that included issues of self-esteem--from the playground late last month.
To critics, Samarge is the latest example of political correctness run even more amok than usual in a city sometimes referred to as "The People's Republic," for its reputation of excessive governmental regulation and bleeding-heart attitudes. "This is the kind of foolishness that makes wonderful grist for the talk-show circuit," wrote Tamara Silver whose son is a fifth-grader at Franklin in an e-mail to Samarge. "Take it from someone who was teased mercilessly about her name, was overweight as a child and low on everybody's birthday invite list--I would have given my eyeteeth to be included in a game of tag. It or not It, being included with a group of kids in a playground game would have been heaven." The ban has been the focus of at least one radio talk show in which callers blasted Samarge's decision for about an hour. The idea that being "it," the one player everyone runs from to avoid being tagged and becoming the next "it," somehow damages a child's self-esteem struck many listeners as preposterous.
"It's laugh-out-loud funny," said John Kobylt, co-host of KFI's "John & Ken Show." "They're practically criminalizing an innocent child's game by applying terms like 'victim.' It's a game that everybody played as a kid. It's amazing. Where do they come up with this stuff?"
The hubbub caught Samarge off guard, and she has spent many hours since explaining, clarifying and justifying her action. To her, and to assistant principal Barry Yates, who helped impose the new rule, the episode has demonstrated to them how simple issues get blown out of proportion.
"I was pretty surprised by all the response," said Samarge. "Extremely surprised," added Yates.
The issue arose May 27 when Samarge informed parents via a weekly school newsletter that tag would not be allowed. But the new restriction, contrary to how it has been interpreted by some, was not an outright ban. Indeed, tag and other chase games are still played on campus, but under the supervision of physical education teachers.
The new prohibition only applies during the lunch recess of the kindergarten-through-fifth-grade school, when there aren't enough adult teachers and volunteers on duty to ensure that the game will be safely played, said Samarge. In the past school year, tag and other chase games have been responsible for two concussions, a couple broken bones and countless bumps, bruises and scrapes among the students, she added. (For similar reasons, flag football was also forbidden during recess but, like tag, is played during physical education classes.)
Most California school systems, including the Los Angeles Unified School District, don't have explicit policies regarding tag. It's left to the discretion of playground teachers and supervisors whether to initiate the game.
"The students being hurt weren't always the ones playing the game, either," said Yates, who is in his third year at Franklin. "The kids playing are rarely looking where they are going but are looking around to see who is chasing them. Then, they plow into somebody, usually a small kid."
The tag ban was only one part of a comprehensive program designed to improve safety on Franklin's campus of about 820 students. Recent upgrades include reconfiguring fencing, positioning a greeter at the school entrance and hiring crossing guards. The actions recently earned the school a top award for safety from the state PTA.
"This is all based on safety," said Samarge, also in her third year as school principal. "It has nothing to do with anything else except to reduce injuries for the kids."
But there was that statement in the school newsletter that seemed to trigger the debate. In the third paragraph of an article titled "Safety on the Playground," the piece reads: "The running part of this activity is healthy and encouraged; however, in this game, there is a 'victim' or 'It,' which creates a self-esteem issue. The oldest or biggest child usually dominates."
Such a connection between tag and diminished self-esteem is a hard sell as far as Deborah Stipek, dean of Stanford University's School of Education, is concerned. Stipek, who specializes in childhood education, said kids need to burn off energy, and tag accomplishes that goal. Tag also can help combat the rising tide of childhood obesity, she added.
"As with almost any game like kickball or football, it's not the game in and of itself, so much as how the game is played," said Stipek. "If it's played fairly where everyone gets to be "it," and when kids get tagged they aren't shoved into the wall, there's no deep psychological concerns lurking there."
But, when it comes to safety, Stipek sympathizes with the Franklin administrators. "I can see where safety can be a problem," said Stipek. "Kids can get distracted, and certainly in a school where there have been injuries you'd want to better supervise it or find alternatives."
For now, Pat Samarge is "it."
The principal of Franklin Elementary School in Santa Monica became "it" when she banned the children's game of tag--for reasons that included issues of self-esteem--from the playground late last month.
To critics, Samarge is the latest example of political correctness run even more amok than usual in a city sometimes referred to as "The People's Republic," for its reputation of excessive governmental regulation and bleeding-heart attitudes. "This is the kind of foolishness that makes wonderful grist for the talk-show circuit," wrote Tamara Silver whose son is a fifth-grader at Franklin in an e-mail to Samarge. "Take it from someone who was teased mercilessly about her name, was overweight as a child and low on everybody's birthday invite list--I would have given my eyeteeth to be included in a game of tag. It or not It, being included with a group of kids in a playground game would have been heaven." The ban has been the focus of at least one radio talk show in which callers blasted Samarge's decision for about an hour. The idea that being "it," the one player everyone runs from to avoid being tagged and becoming the next "it," somehow damages a child's self-esteem struck many listeners as preposterous.
"It's laugh-out-loud funny," said John Kobylt, co-host of KFI's "John & Ken Show." "They're practically criminalizing an innocent child's game by applying terms like 'victim.' It's a game that everybody played as a kid. It's amazing. Where do they come up with this stuff?"
The hubbub caught Samarge off guard, and she has spent many hours since explaining, clarifying and justifying her action. To her, and to assistant principal Barry Yates, who helped impose the new rule, the episode has demonstrated to them how simple issues get blown out of proportion.
"I was pretty surprised by all the response," said Samarge. "Extremely surprised," added Yates.
The issue arose May 27 when Samarge informed parents via a weekly school newsletter that tag would not be allowed. But the new restriction, contrary to how it has been interpreted by some, was not an outright ban. Indeed, tag and other chase games are still played on campus, but under the supervision of physical education teachers.
The new prohibition only applies during the lunch recess of the kindergarten-through-fifth-grade school, when there aren't enough adult teachers and volunteers on duty to ensure that the game will be safely played, said Samarge. In the past school year, tag and other chase games have been responsible for two concussions, a couple broken bones and countless bumps, bruises and scrapes among the students, she added. (For similar reasons, flag football was also forbidden during recess but, like tag, is played during physical education classes.)
Most California school systems, including the Los Angeles Unified School District, don't have explicit policies regarding tag. It's left to the discretion of playground teachers and supervisors whether to initiate the game.
"The students being hurt weren't always the ones playing the game, either," said Yates, who is in his third year at Franklin. "The kids playing are rarely looking where they are going but are looking around to see who is chasing them. Then, they plow into somebody, usually a small kid."
The tag ban was only one part of a comprehensive program designed to improve safety on Franklin's campus of about 820 students. Recent upgrades include reconfiguring fencing, positioning a greeter at the school entrance and hiring crossing guards. The actions recently earned the school a top award for safety from the state PTA.
"This is all based on safety," said Samarge, also in her third year as school principal. "It has nothing to do with anything else except to reduce injuries for the kids."
But there was that statement in the school newsletter that seemed to trigger the debate. In the third paragraph of an article titled "Safety on the Playground," the piece reads: "The running part of this activity is healthy and encouraged; however, in this game, there is a 'victim' or 'It,' which creates a self-esteem issue. The oldest or biggest child usually dominates."
Such a connection between tag and diminished self-esteem is a hard sell as far as Deborah Stipek, dean of Stanford University's School of Education, is concerned. Stipek, who specializes in childhood education, said kids need to burn off energy, and tag accomplishes that goal. Tag also can help combat the rising tide of childhood obesity, she added.
"As with almost any game like kickball or football, it's not the game in and of itself, so much as how the game is played," said Stipek. "If it's played fairly where everyone gets to be "it," and when kids get tagged they aren't shoved into the wall, there's no deep psychological concerns lurking there."
But, when it comes to safety, Stipek sympathizes with the Franklin administrators. "I can see where safety can be a problem," said Stipek. "Kids can get distracted, and certainly in a school where there have been injuries you'd want to better supervise it or find alternatives."
