How many parents are wearing a loom band right now? I got five for Mother’s Day in all different shapes and sizes, and this morning I had coffee with a friend who was wearing one as a ring.
The craze has only just hit these here parts, which is pretty incredible considering schools around the country have already been there, done that and banned them. Apparently they were the cause of all sorts of fights, as well as some crafty insider trading and price hiking. And then kids started flinging them in each others’ eyes.
I’ve got one thing to say about this whole scenario; actually I’ve got three things to say: and that’s yo yos, clackers and pogo sticks.
If you think a lousy little rubber band is going to hurt someone, try these teeth-breaking, scar-making schoolyard fads from days gone by. Or a round of British Bulldog on hot bitumen.
When I think of it, British Bulldog was a kind of Game of Thrones for primary school kids back in the day, the trophy being the skin off a kid’s knee.
I heard this week that our primary school is one of the few remaining learning institutions in the state that still allows kids to play with sticks.
I don’t know if this is true but if it is, what a strange idea to ban something that falls from a tree.
My heart bleeds – not only for the poor soul who landed the job of collecting all the sticks and twigs from the ground and putting them out of harm’s way – but for all the opportunities kids have lost at playing with something doesn’t come in a plastic bag.
Our kids spend a lot of time collecting them, fashioning them into elaborate cubbies, swiping them from other cubby co-operatives and then negotiating their return. This week the grade 6s spent their lunchtimes using them as pretend food in a game of MasterChef. They are pretty important currency, sticks, which is why our principal allows them to remain where they fall. Thus far no one has lost an eye.
What is a childhood without sticks, scars, scabby knees and chipped teeth?
I know firsthand that a chapter of The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe read out loud by a lisping teacher went that little bit faster if one had a scabby knee to pick or a few swapcards to trade. I know we have a duty of care to protect our children from hurting themselves, but how far do we go with this? Can we confiscate their skateboards and scooters and running? Should we not teach them to sew in case they prick themselves, or cook because they might burn their fingers?
And technically, every piece of food is a choking hazard, every step they take an opportunity to fall over.
Anyway, loom bands. When I sweep or vacuum I find a dozen of them on the floor. They come home in colourful little knots at the bottom of lunch boxes and, just today, a bunch of kids were playing skippy with a giant loom band on our front lawn. (Oh my, I should put a stop to that, now I think of it. Someone may have fallen and hurt themselves.)
One wonders how long the loom band craze will last, but I’m hoping for a while, because it’s cheap, it’s good for their fine-motor skills and it keeps them busy, which is the main thing.
No one here has thought of flicking them in each others’ eyes, yet.
