It was the start of half term. With the elder child off to tea at a friend’s, the younger one and I were walking into town in search of some celebratory junk food. 

“So, what did you do at school today?” I asked, bracing myself for the usual response of, “Nothing.”

“I played with Pavel,” he said. 

“What do you two play?” 

“Today we played Pet and Pet,” he told me.   

“What’s Pet and Pet?” 

“Well…Pavel’s a pet and I’m a pet,” he explained patiently. “I’m a husky and he’s a bunny rabbit.” 

Rescuing things

“OK,” I said. “And what do you do?”

“We rescue things,” he said. “From earthquakes and volcanos and t’salamis.” 

“What’s a t’salami?” 

“You know - a t’salami,” he said, shaking his head at my ignorance. “It’s a great big wave.”

“That sounds very brave,” I said. “Who do you rescue?”

“We rescue all the baby huskies and the baby bunny rabbits and then we get a medal and that’s the end of the game.”

I was impressed. I even found myself wondering if we could pitch Pet and Pet to ITV as a new Saturday-night TV show. 

When the children are in charge

I love children’s playground games. They are one of the few things in education that seem resistant to change. Playtime might be a time for cross words, scraped knees and general aggravation, but it’s also a time where children are genuinely in charge. 

Years of playground duty (once you’ve learned to say no to the endless requests to peel oranges) gives you plenty of time to observe how children play.  

There’s a surprising amount of rules and structure involved: the last one to sit on the wall is on. If you tag someone beyond the yellow line it doesn’t count. The area behind the bin is jail and the yellow netball circle is the safe zone.

Interestingly, the children who are most resistant to rules inside the classroom are often the first to uphold them most zealously in the playground.

Merciless, repetitive and endlessly entertaining

Modern playtimes are a bit more structured than back in the day, when we were left to hang upside down over concrete on a rusting iron climbing frame.

With one eye on tackling bullying and the healthy-school initiative, you now get buddy benches, play leaders and organised activities.

This is great, so long as adults realise that nothing they can do will ever come close to the ingenuity and creativity of the games children devise for themselves. 

From the mad and bad to the downright eccentric, children’s playground games can be merciless, deadly repetitive and, in some cases, endlessly entertaining. 

Children in the playground also take charge of their own curriculum enrichment. It’s not uncommon to come across a horde of raiding Vikings, or to have to dodge a fleet of Restoration firemen trying to save London. 

Back to reality

I remember, when teaching in a faith school in the lead-up to Easter, having a staffroom discussion over whether we should put a stop to the crucifixion game that was currently sweeping the playground. 

Sometimes, the game is so all-encompassing, children find it difficult to transition back to reality. 

The other, day the Reception teacher had to tell a little boy off for running on to the forbidden patch of muddy grass while they were playing cowboys. 

He looked at her earnestly, still clutching his imaginary reins. “I’m sorry Miss,” he said. “My horse wouldn’t stop.” 

Jo Brighouse is a pseudonym for a primary teacher in the West Midlands. She tweets @jo_brighouse