Notes from a Workshop: A Piece of String and the Future

Children with pieces of string tucked into their waistbands as tails take part in a theater workshop about the future and making choices.

Good morning, children.

While preparing this short workshop on the theme “Possible and Impossible Futures,” I found a sentence that struck me:

“When young people are struggling, they think about the future and dream that it will be better. When they are doing well, they do not think about the future—and if they do, they fear it will be worse than the present.”

You are older children now—you are in fifth grade—and you are about to become teenagers. I am therefore curious to see what attitude you have toward the future.

Today, to begin, we will play a very simple game that will help me gauge that attitude.

Take a piece of string and tuck one end into the back of your waistband so that it sticks out like a tail.

At my signal, you will walk around the space. When I say “GO!”, you must try to steal the tails of the classmates closest to you.

Be careful: you will have no more than three seconds. No one will have time to run, and running is forbidden anyway.

As soon as I say “STOP!”, you must immediately sit down exactly where you are.

We will award one point for every tail you have in your hand.

I want to see which approach you choose, because you essentially have two options:

• try to steal one or two tails;

• protect your own tail.

The first approach is braver, but also riskier: you might try and fail, while still losing your own tail.

You could choose to protect it instead, but then you certainly would not collect any others.

Let us see what happens.

The children, excited and amused, begin walking around slightly nervously, following and chasing one another, laughing and looking in every direction. They skip, spin around suddenly, stay close to the edges, weave in and out, and constantly change direction.

I let them carry on like this for a few minutes: they seem to be enjoying themselves. After a while, one of them asks without stopping:

“Mirko, when are you going to say ‘GO!’?”

I have them sit down and ask:

“What would you say if I told you that, as far as I am concerned, you have already completed the exercise?”

Puzzled looks.

“With this game, I wanted you to think about the future, and you did. You were all waiting for my command, excited by the idea of what might happen. You carried on for several minutes, enjoying the anticipation of what was going to happen.”

“Now we will start again, and I promise that this time I will give the command.”

The children start again as before and, at a certain point, I say, “GO!” After three seconds, I say, “STOP!”

We discuss what happened: only a few children managed to steal a tail; most chose to protect their own.

I point out that, as I had explained, only those who have a tail in their hand score points. I therefore invite them to take a few more risks.

Through a comic imitation, I also show them how they were moving: noisily, frantically, and chaotically.

I suggest trying again in silence, concentrating and paying attention to the space and to all their classmates—even those behind them.

“Like ninjas,” I suggest.

We try again. The children follow my advice: they are silent, aware of the space, and focused on their classmates.

They enter an ideal state for working.

I give the command and stop them. This time, many more of them have a tail in their hand, and it does not matter whether they have lost their own.

“Now I challenge you to work out the fastest and safest way to make sure you always have at least one tail in your hand while preventing anyone from stealing yours.”

The children suggest paying closer attention, but I invite them to think differently.

Sometimes someone figures it out: the only way is to pull out your own tail the moment I give the command.

We try one final time and, in my ideal world, the instant I give the command, every child grabs their own tail and waves it overhead.

Please note: this is not what we might call a standard session. In fact, I do not have standard sessions.

This account is therefore not intended as an example of an exercise, but of an approach. That is why the post does not appear in the “Exercises and Activities” category.

I ran this session with fifth-grade children whom I had been working with since first grade; I probably would not offer it to children at the beginning of their theater experience.