Movement and Memory: Lessons from Childhood (aka:Baby it’s cold outside…)

I seem to be quite affected by the weather. Sunny days give me energy and I get a lot done. It’s so much harder to get out of bed when the temperature is not far from zero degrees.

I spent my childhood mostly ignoring the cold. Mum would tell me to put on a jumper or a coat and I would not see the need. Cumbersome clothing made it harder to climb trees and run and jump or swing on the bars. Swinging on things and climbing on things was all I wanted to do. If I wasn’t twirling myself around something, jumping or climbing I was building something to jump off or climb.

Movement was everything to me. I was constantly being told to ‘stop fidgeting.’ Aunties would say, ‘you’ve got ants in your pants.’

Now, of course, we know that developing brains require movement.

When I was little I loved the really cold weather because it meant the snow wasn’t far off and snow was the best. Ice was pretty cool too. I loved finding frozen puddles and trying to skate on them or to see how much effort it took to crack the ice. Slipping and sliding on frosty footpaths and fallen trees was so much fun. It didn’t matter that I might be late for school, there was frost all over the footpath and sliding as far as I could was more important. Sometimes we got to walk across frozen lakes. Always terrifying and exciting in equal measures. Our dog fell through the ice once. Thankfully he was still on the lead and dad hauled him out freezing cold and dripping wet. I was glad it wasn’t me.

On weekends my brother and sister and I would drag our sled endlessly up snowy hills so we could go racing down to the bottom, on repeat. We weren’t the only ones. The hill would be crawling with kids from all over the place. The baby boom of the fifties meant plenty of kids to play with.

When it got too cold we would head home. Red-nosed, breath like dragons, mittens sopping wet from making snowballs arguing about whose turn it was to drag the sled behind us. Once we were back in the warmth of the house, we would dump all the wet gear and pester mum in the kitchen. We were always ravenous and raided the biscuit tin mercilessly while we willed our mother to cook the dinner faster.

I think the only time we really felt the cold was in school. School assemblies, where the headmaster made the whole school do jumping jacks to keep warm, before sending us off to our class where one little gas heater valiantly tried to warm the room. The mandatory bottled milk would arrive in a crate. Often it would be frozen solid and we’d have to leave all the bottles lined up along the windowsill to defrost. They were often still icy when we drank them adding to the chill of the classroom. In the UK pupils would have a cooked lunch. I hated it. More sitting still and eating stinky cabbage covered in horrid white sauce. School lunches were not designed for fussy eaters. Naturally my favourite time at school was recess. We could finally run and jump and move without the restriction of desks.

Why do we keep teaching children in static settings when movement is an essential part of learning and developing?

Not long after I started writing this piece, I saw a young girl in town twirling around a metal handrail outside a shop. Just like I used to. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone twirling around bars there before. Today, because I’m remembering how much I loved it, I see a young girl doing the exact same thing. Weird how that happens isn’t it? I wonder if she was singing like I used to. Instinctively putting music and movement together.

The other constant in my life was music, which I spoke a bit about last month. Music and movement go together don’t they? Both music and movement are good for our brains, especially when they are combined.

According to Dr. Google: ‘The combination of music and movement provides a powerful avenue for enhancing neuroplasticity, leading to cognitive, emotional, and motor improvements across the lifespan.’

In other words, it makes us feel good and keeps our brains functioning and developing.

Times change, the need to move, twist, twirl, turn and spin, for people the world over, never changes. It’s how our brains develop. When we were young we never knew play was vital to our brain development, it was just fun. Now, thanks to being clever grown ups and the latest neuroscience research, we know how good movement and music are for us.

Perhaps that’s why our memories fade as we get older because we’re not moving like we used to.

Maybe we could set up swing sets in retirement villages so people can still experience the joy that swinging brings. Remember pushing the swing to its limit and feeling like you would go right over the top, if you pushed any harder, and doing it anyway? Then jumping off as-high-as-you-could-without-killing-yourself was the next bit.

when we were young, gravity was the enemy. We spent a lot of time defying it. Trampolines, diving, swimming, skipping, hoola-hooping, throwing balls and kicking stuff all while we pushed against the very force that held us to the earth. I still remember the feeling of freedom my first pair of roller skates gave me. Going fast was amazing until you hit a rock and came to an abrupt halt. I spent a lot of time with scabs on my knees from all the grazes.

Then came the freedom of riding bikes. We could go anywhere, we felt invincible. The only thing better was riding a horse. You could go fast and better yet you had someone to talk to who never asked questions or judged you.

Now I have all the time I need and the freedom to do as I please. Pushing life to its limits these days looks very different. I still enjoy music although I play the guitar with less dexterity, than I once had, and dancing these days is more of an embarrassing jiggle. It’s fairly obvious that the lack of movement, due to arthritis and old age, with the added restriction of cold weather, is why I feel like hibernating and hiding from the world. I’d much rather turn back the clock and be young again with that freedom to move and run and jump without caring how cold it is.

For now, I will give in to the hibernation and content myself cozying up with a good book, a hot cuppa and a warm snuggly blanket.

May you find a warm hearth and a kind welcome wherever you are in the world.