Unexpected Play Time: When the Safe Room Became the Playroom

“Welcome to Nashville!” I was greeted warmly by the hotel staff when I checked in for the 37th Annual ATTACh Conference. Excited about the learning opportunities and social engagement of this year’s conference, I was equally enthusiastic to offer my part in the extracurricular offerings.

Setting up the Play Area meant organizing the space so attendees could engage and disengage with various activities with ease. There were sensory items such as balance boards, shaving cream art, and a Lycra band. Gross motor activities including parachutes and beachballs; fine motor activities such as mural coloring and Jenga; and multicultural individual and dyad games like Kendama and Mancala were also available.

With everything placed and ready to go, little did I realize how handy some of the smaller manipulatives and recreation items would become. I also did not realize I would be awakened by an emergency tornado alarm at 2 AM. There’s nothing like an unexpected lived experience to keep a person on their toes. (Can I get an “Amen” from everybody who knows what ATTACh stands for?)

Shuffling and scurrying, dozens of us poured into the elevators to the grand ballroom, the designated Safe Room. Half-asleep, half-panicked, and half-dressed, I was reminded of getting home after staying late at my internship to add the finishing touches to grad school papers. The concept of sleep was completely questionable.

Sharing space and battery life, we continued to check our phones for updates and were intermittently startled by the additional weather alert alarms extending the length of the “Shelter in place” orders. Slumped over screens and understandable bored, it finally dawned on me. Just outside the ballroom doors were dozens of play activities!

After providing various materials to multiple tables filled with caregivers, therapists, OTs, social workers, and other professionals, I saw a mother and (presumably) four daughters huddled on the floor. They ranged in age from approximately preteen to 18 months old, the youngest asleep on her Mama’s chest. These were hotel guests that were not a part of the conference.

Based on the looks of exasperation and exhaustion (the mother); annoyance and concern (the preteen); distress and comfort-seeking (girl about seven); and energetic enthusiasm and curiosity (girl about five), I hoped my offerings to them would be received in the manner they were intended—helpful tools to comfort, engage, distract, and fully occupy.

While the baby slept, those around her played. Was that family experiencing trauma? Maybe. Were my contributions helpful? I hope so. Did this experience enhance my conference? Absolutely!

And the moral of the story is: don’t stay in a glass-ceilinged hotel in a tornado zone without something to play with!