What Are Little Girls and Boys Made Of?

For the better part of a decade, I taught in a Jewish private school, primarily at the primary level. One part of my class which my students loved best was the timeless subject of recess. And, in addition, I would occasionally give my students an extra portion of that part of my class which they loved best.

On one occasion, when my sixth-graders were playing in the schoolyard, under my supervision, I recalled a game that my peers and I had played when we were in that very same grade: whip-ball, which was simply a spin-off of sports played against a wall, such as handball and racquetball.

One player begins by "whipping" a tennis ball against said wall. The player next in turn must catch the ball after it has struck the wall, before it has bounced three times. If he fails to do so, he is eliminated. If he catches the ball, he then whips it against the wall, and the next player must now catch it. And so on. The last player remaining is thee winnah.

I walked over to the boys and explained the game to them, and, eagerly rising to the challenge, they began a very rousing game of whip-ball. Not surprisingly, the most audible segment of the game was when one of the participants failed to catch the whipped ball, and was eliminated. As the boys got the hang of the game, that event was met by those combatants not yet annihilated with an increasingly loud chorus of roars, eruptions of Yes! and triumphant fist-pumps, fully worthy of a band of pillaging Vikings.

A few days later, I introduced the game to the girls, and they too enthusiastically launched into a round of whip-ball. At one point, a girl whipped the ball against the wall with sufficient force to propel it quite a distance, and the girl whose turn it was to catch the whipped ball ran valiantly after it. Once bounce. Getting closer. Two bounces. Just a couple of feet away. Summoning all of her energy, she lunged for the ball. But oops! Three bounces. No! She deftly managed to snag the ball just nanometers before the dreaded third bounce.

This feat of derring-do was greeted by the rest of the female participants with a chorus of applause and cheers. Yay! Good job! You go, girl! And the game then took a very interesting, and for me, unexpected, turn. From that point on, every single successful catch of the game was similarly received with a cheery round of accolades.

I couldn't help but notice this stark contrast between the boys, ferociously rejoicing over every fallen soldier, and the girls, gleefully reveling in each successful catch of their fellow sisters.

Vive la différence.