Toys, memories and geometric shapes - Denny Scott editorial

Stop me if you’ve heard this before, but every week I spend a bit of time scanning The Citizen and taking in news from other sources to suggest topics for the editorial board on the page just to the left of this one. From the suggestions I make and those made by my editor Shawn Loughlin and Publisher Deb Sholdice, three ideas are typically tackled (two weeks ago we 
went with two because they were pretty important issues). That confluence of ideas and ideals typically results in a number of topics not seeing the light of day, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t of interest.

 

Last week, for example, I did some pruning of my list before the meeting, taking out a suggestion I had about reflecting on the importance of toys. The inspiration came from the fact that the Strong Museum of Play was petitioning the public for its newest recruits to the Toy Hall of Fame. It also came from the hand-crafted elastic-band gun my daughter had picked out as her souvenir from the annual reunion of the Huron Pioneer Thresher and Hobby Association (joining the hand-crafted sword, shield and magic wand she had picked out at previous events, all from the same vendor). 

 

My suggestion for the editorial board (and if it feels a little rough, it’s because it didn’t get that final polish) was about how important hands-on toys are to imagination, but not as a replacement for the kind of imagination and skills that screen-time can foster.

 

As I was filing my digital list of editorial ideas and deleting the suggestions that I didn’t print out for the meeting, I noticed 
that one of the toys up for a spot in the hall of fame was the Spirograph.

 

For those of you not familiar with the toy (which I’m hoping is few, as it’s been around for five decades), the Spirograph 
uses discs and gears to guide pens and pencils in making amazing geometric creations. Picture those art pieces made with a 
swinging bucket full of paint, but a little less chaotic and, in my opinion, a little more beautiful.

 

In my youth, I was a proud owner of a Spirograph set that I kept at my family’s cottage. It was the perfect distraction when I was separated from my treasure trove of electronic toys (not to mention cable television) when we were “roughing it” just off the shores of Lake Huron.

 

As long as I had paper (or as long as I could find something to draw on the back of), I had the geometric creations that taught me about art and math. As the museum says: “Educators found in the set a tool for improving hand-eye co-ordination and for developing creativity, design, and spatial thinking and planning.”

 

Honestly, for a person with a neurodivergent brain like mine, it was the perfect way to spend hours entertaining myself while finding a respect for math through experimentation. It was also the perfect way for me to finally understand more abstract art. I got, to a certain extent, most art, but the beauty behind simple geometric shapes eluded me until I could make them and see the math behind them.

 

That was until I ran afoul of a primary school teacher who embarrassed me right out of wanting to play with the Spirograph. (Suffice to say, he didn’t appreciate me using the Spirograph on the disposable foolscap workbooks the school provided me. Everyone’s a critic.) That incident likely led to me forgetting all about the Spirograph until last week when I stumbled across the Toy Hall of Fame ballot. It’s amazing what unlocks individual memories.

 

I probably haven’t thought about that incident or the Spirograph in the last 24 years, but seeing the toy was enough to bring back that memory and make me wonder: had my teacher not taken such umbrage to me wanting to decorate my boring, light-blue notebook, might I have found a path in the arts or mathematics? Who knows?

 

Regardless, seeing that ballot not only made me take 35 seconds and fill it out, but also remember how much fun those plastic discs were and how they made me see the world just a little bit differently.

 

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to scour Amazon for two sets: one for my daughter and one to decorate the boring brown back of every single notebook I use at work.