A couple of summers ago, some children emptied a load of soil from the planters and spread it near the front entrance. They were drawing pictures in the dirt. It was messy, and they were completely absorbed in their own world. It was, however, inconvenient for people coming in and out of the building.
Two interactions stood out to me that day as I walked my dog around the courtyard: one of frustration and one of connection.
One man walked past, saw the soil, looked at me, rolled his eyes, muttered a curse, and continued inside.
The next man, arriving with two children of his own, joked about the mess with the culprits of chaos. He suggested they find a broom and clean it up. They dashed off, retrieved one, tidied up the entrance, and the play resumed away from the doorway.
Maybe the first man was having a bad day. Maybe the second man’s relaxed attitude came from being a parent himself. But I think it points to something deeper that’s dividing our communities and affecting everyone, adults and children alike.
In many British housing estates, often in lower-income or historically under-resourced areas where social housing is more common, children’s play has become increasingly policed. Courtyards like ours often display signs that say “No Ball Games” or “Children Must Be Supervised At All Times.” These signs aren’t backed by any government legislation. They are thought to have come into use in the 1960s and 70s as local councils tried to discourage damage and reduce complaints. But they’ve come to symbolise something else. A broader cultural shift that sees children’s presence in shared spaces not as a sign of community, but as a problem to be managed.
At the same time, parenting norms have shifted. We now live in a time where letting your child walk to a friend’s house alone, or play out front unsupervised, can feel risky. Not just because of traffic or strangers, but because of judgement. There are stories, from both the UK and the US, of parents being reported to the police or social services for allowing their children age-appropriate independence.
Sociologist Penny Wilson calls this the rise of an “us vs kids” mindset: a cultural divide where children are treated as an inconvenience to adult life. Their noise, creativity, and need for space are seen as threats to tidiness, order, or peace. In our courtyard, this mindset surfaces in Facebook groups, WhatsApp groups, and emails to the building management. It sends a clear message to children: you don’t really belong here.
But children’s play isn’t just innocent fun. It’s essential learning.
Psychologist Peter Gray describes free play, play that is initiated, directed, and ended by children themselves, as the foundation of human development. In play, children make rules, settle disagreements, take risks, and invent solutions. They learn how to lead and how to follow. How to bounce back when things go wrong. And how to cooperate to keep a game going.
When kids play out in our courtyard, you can see it happening: one child argues over whose turn it is with the ball. Another suggests a compromise. They try it out, and it works. That’s conflict resolution in action. Or a small group might gather sticks and stones to build a pretend café. One decides to be the chef, another the customer. A roleplay unfolds. When someone knocks the structure down by accident, they either rebuild it or storm off, only to return 10 minutes later to begin again or play something new.
These moments are the most important learning. They’re how children develop decision-making, social negotiation, self-regulation, and empathy. All building blocks of adult life. These are the kinds of skills that aren’t easily taught in classrooms but are absorbed and refined through everyday play.
When these moments are interrupted by constant adult oversight or restricted by fear and rules, children don’t learn how to manage uncertainty. They grow up having followed directions, but not necessarily knowing how to adapt, lead, or make sense of conflict. This is why researchers increasingly link a lack of free play with rising levels of anxiety, depression, and low resilience among children and teens.
But children’s play doesn’t just benefit children. It changes the entire atmosphere of a neighbourhood.
When children are visible in a shared space, research shows that the space is perceived as safer. Adults start talking more. One neighbour might comment on a child’s chalk drawings; another might sit outside for a moment longer to watch the game unfold. These small exchanges create deeper trust. We learn each other's names. We exchange numbers. Communities come together through these daily, low-stakes interactions.
But for these benefits to truly reach everyone, the play must include all children. Too often, disabled children are excluded from communal play opportunities due to inaccessible spaces, inflexible norms, or a lack of adult understanding.
The presence of children also gives many adults a sense of shared purpose. There’s more casual checking-in, more looking out. Not just for one’s own child, but for the wellbeing of others. A culture of responsibility and mutual care can emerge naturally when we feel connected. Of course, not every adult relates to children in the same way. For some, their presence may bring up difficult feelings, or simply not hold personal meaning. But even then, the liveliness and rhythm that children bring to a space can foster a greater sense of place and belonging for everyone. Children, in this way, become a bridge between people, regardless of age or circumstance.
Parents, too, begin to lean on one another. A simple hello can lead to offers of help with school runs, spontaneous invitations for tea, or shared supervision. In working-class and multigenerational communities, this kind of informal childcare and emotional support has always been fundamental. Play rekindles it in other communities where these support systems may have changed or weakened.
Even older residents, who are sometimes the most isolated, feel the difference. A neighbour who may not have much social interaction might begin to feel more engaged just by seeing children pass beneath their window. On our estate, one woman often sits on her balcony with headphones on. She always stops me to ask about my son, offering both stories and parenting advice (some more helpful than others, admittedly). These brief conversations make us feel less anonymous.
And then there’s the most important shift: children learn that they belong. Not just in their homes or classrooms, but in the wider world. They feel rooted. Safe.
Just a few days ago, the Raising the Nation Play Commission called for a ban on “No Ball Games” signs across the UK. That’s a start. But the deeper change will come when we stop seeing play as disruption to adult life or a distraction from the 'more important' scheduled 'learning' and activities. And we begin to see it as fundamental for children and communities.
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