What's most tragic about all this is that the old, more macho, more (well, yes) dangerous playgrounds were much better for teaching our children about the way the world actually works. They taught us about social interaction. They taught us about group play and exploration. They taught us about Darwinian natural selection.

The seesaw is a particularly educational beast. You need to find a friend (or two) to use it with. This demands social interaction. You need to trust the person you're with; conversely, you're given the power to quickly jump off of your part of the seesaw, thus making your partner plummet to a loud, painful butt-smacking. The socializing usefullness of a seesaw is remarkable, even if the Newtonian physics behind it are elementary.

And, yes, seesaws are also educational in a more conventional sense as well, illustrating important basic concepts like gravity. And things balancing. And how things interact with other things.*

It's only a matter of time before we begin to wake up and unite as a nation to call for more violent, dynamic playgrounds, filled with potentially dangerous but morally-uplifting pieces of equipment. While things like the old spinning saw blade and the rope-swing over the pit filled with snakes should probably be left in the 1870s where they belong, there is ample room for the return of the beloved climbing structures, log constructions and net-romping things of our collective childhood. And, yes: there's room for the seesaw, too.

— James Norton (jrnorton@flakmag.com)