I was working at my friendly local game store one day, and a little boy of about nine or ten came in. He clearly didn’t know anybody there, and he hovered at the front of the store looking lost. When I went over to see if I could help him with anything, he told me that he wanted to start playing Magic. Why did he want to start playing Magic? Did the other kids at school play or something? Did he pass by and see us in the window? Well—he explained—he used to have some Magic cards, but he gave them away when he was about six and didn’t know any better. These cards belonged to his dad when he was a teenager, and the dad willed them to him when he passed away.

That kid’s story made me think . . . someone who played as a teen has a ten-year-old son? Man, this game is old. More relevantly, it got me thinking about the role Magic plays in children’s lives. I didn’t really start playing until I was nineteen, so I feel I have a different perspective. Magic never held prominence in my childhood like it did for so many other people. Instead, I focused on other things—playing pogs, trading Pokémon, and watching my computer-savvy dad play A Link to the Past.

In a way, these hobbies might seem similar to Magic. For one, they’re all pretty geeky. Yet they differ in a very important way. In the cases of all of the hobbies I listed, I was playing with my friends, cousins, or dad. And many kids do play Magic with their friends, cousins, and dads. But the Magic scene is so much more. Yes, the Magic scene is kitchen tables and school courtyards. But it’s also local game stores and convention centers and Magic Online.

So, What’s the Difference?

When children walk into the local game store for the first time, they’re no longer playing just with their friends and their cousins and their dads. They’re not even just meeting new kids—like they do at most sporting events or summer camps. They’re meeting new people of all ages, and they’re expected to interact with those people as peers and be treated as peers. Unlike at home or at school, they don’t have to put up with, “Because I said so,” from every adult they see.

Likewise, the fact that the kid is twelve doesn’t mean we assume he can’t handle mature competition. As a judge, I have given a game loss to a child for drawing extra cards at a Grand Prix Trial. Before I took the kid’s money, I sat down with him and his dad for a quick chat to make sure he understood that the event was competitive and would be judged more strictly, and they both agreed that they understood. When that boy received his game loss, he took it like a boss. I have seen a player twice his age start throwing around homophobic slurs because the judge ruled against him in a game-ending situation. This boy apologized, thanked me, and shuffled up for Game 2.

American culture frequently insists on grouping people by how many years they’ve been alive. This insistence is based on the painfully erroneous assumption that everyone develops at the same rate. Physically, the absurdity of this claim should be obvious to anybody who remembers the locker room in junior high school. Mentally, it’s no different. The book Dual Diagnosis and Misdiagnosis of Gifted Children and Adults points out—quite accurately—that it can be difficult for gifted children to find peers. The book notes that:

Gifted children also try to find peers by seeking out older playmates, or even adults; at least here the child can enjoy conversation and camaraderie. Adults usually discourage this, however, preferring that the child remain with age peers rather than ‘interest’ peers. In the name of “peer friendships,” a bright child can be put in an untenable and very lonely position. (Webb et al. 23)

The book instead suggests that the true peer of a gifted child is “someone of any age who shares interests with the child and is at about the same skill level” (Webb et al. 23). Unfortunately, our society is often suspicious of a friendship between a child and an adult who is neither family, a friend of the family, nor an authority figure. When I proposed bringing a twelve year old from our local game store into our Dungeons and Dragons group, I was met with resistance both by both group members and outsiders. “How do you know him?” people asked. “Are his parents playing with you, too? Will it be at your apartment? Isn’t that weird?” As a result, children tend to meet people who are a good match with their parents—not with them. Magic tournaments provide a friendly, fun, structured way for children to interact in a relatively egalitarian way with adults. These events also take place in public spaces—which should assuage parents’ concerns.

Who Cares?

The awesomely and Europeanly named sociologists Peter Uhlenberg and Gunhild O Hagestad claim that “settings which facilitate mutual socialization between young and old are necessary to ensure that the young grow up with an awareness of history and cultural heritage” (647). Instead of being isolated recluses—like people my age were—young geeks are entering a community with a rich heritage of media, traditions, and icons. By sharing common interests, young people can feel a sense of belonging to something larger than themselves or their immediate social groups. For a lonely child, this can be a lifeline.

Hagestad and Uhlenberg also claim that having a wide age range among people in your social network is important for healthy development. “Among network members,” they say, “information and contacts are shared, ways of thinking and seeing the world are fostered, and identities are shaped and sustained” (644). Have the people who endorse the current age-segregated system really considered what happens when young people’s modes of thinking are mostly being shaped by other young people?

Not that a teenager or child can’t have good insight, but it can turn into a feedback loop in which teenagers reassure each other that their perceptions are correct and adults have simply lost touch with the challenges of being young. Mixing with friendly, non-threatening adults can help break this cycle.

Is It Really That Simple?

My husband Richard and I were relaxing between rounds at a regional prerelease one day when I decided to strike up a conversation with some teenagers next to us. When I asked them what grade they were in, one boy (much to his friend’s dismay) announced that his friend was planning to drop out of high school. As the first boy doubtlessly intended, my husband and I had a long chat with the second boy about his life plans.

It’s easy for a teenager to tune out an authority figure. I’m sure the boy had heard the same lecture a thousand times before. However, Richard and I are young, we play Magic, and Richard makes video games for a living. We’re old enough to have a fresh perspective, but we’re culturally connected enough to be relatable.

Within a few minutes, the boy who was planning to drop out had stood up from his seat and turned his back to us. We continued to discuss the topic with his friend, loudly enough for the boy to hear us easily. When I casually mentioned that I have ADHD, he dropped what he was doing and raced over to give me a high-five. I don’t know if we made a difference or not, but he was listening. If there are people younger than you at your LGS, especially if you’re friendly, a judge, or someone who wins a lot, you’re probably a role model as well.

But Why Should I Care?

Research suggests that this kind of interaction is not only good for kids, it’s beneficial for the adults, too. Sociologists study a phenomenon called “generativity,” which is described as:

The extent to which adults feel that they are sought out for advice, that other people need them, that they have made unique contributions to society, and that they have had a good influence on the lives of many people. (Rossi 116, as cited in Hagestad and Uhlenberg 648).

Although research has primarily looked at middle-aged and elderly adults, there is evidence that this is important for people in their twenties and thirties as well (Ackerman, Zuroff, and Moskowitz 35). It’s never too early to start contributing to your community. And in a world in which it’s often difficult to find a job or even a date, this is one place that you can definitely make a positive impact. I began working part-time at a game store while I was straight out of college, adrift, waiting to hear from grad schools. Filling out those endless applications forced me to simplify myself to a series of summaries and statistics—and not all of the statistics were what I wanted them to be. Helping the kids each week reminded me that I was so much more.

I Want in on That!

It’s not difficult. The next time you’re at your local game store or a tournament, strike up a conversation with the child or teenager next to you. Offer to look through his or her deck, give the player a handful of junk rares for a Commander deck, or share your thoughts on careers or college or life. Be a member of the community. In the words of one player:

You know, I think most people that play Magic . . . feel like they have the ability for something more. And when you're able to pass on some of your knowledge to someone else that is going through some of the same things you did, it’s the closest thing to time travel that we have. You're doing something, you always wish someone could have done for you (Matic).

And if the role of “wise mentor” suits you, that’s great! But what if you don’t feel like a mentor, or even a competent adult? That’s the best part: The children don’t realize that! The kids at the store don’t know or care that I still can’t drive a stick shift, or that I recently drank milk out of a measuring cup because I was too lazy to wash a glass. If you don’t feel that you have anything brilliant to say to them, just ask their opinions. Children and teens want to be taken seriously as much as anybody else . . . possibly more so because it happens so rarely. What do they think of the new set? Do they have any good tournament stories? What are they enjoying in school?

We have this valuable resource here that is available very few other places—a setting where people of all ages can get to know each other. Science says that’s good for us. Let’s make the most of it.

Works Cited

• Ackerman, Sarah, David C. Zuroff, D.S. Moskowitz. “Generativity in Midlife and Young Adults: Links to Agency, Communion and Subjective Well-Being.” International Journal of Aging and Human Development 50.1 (2000): 17-41. Web. 23 November 2011.
• Hagestad, Gunhild O., and Peter Uhlenberg. “Should We Be Concerned About Age Segregation? : Some Theoretical and Empirical Explorations.” Research on Aging 28.6 (2006): 638-653. Web. 20 Feb 2011.
• Matic, Matt. Personal Interview. 27 November, 2011.
• Rossi, Alice S., “Domains and Dimensions of Social Responsibility: A Sociodemographic Profile.” Caring and Doing for Others: Social Responsibility in the Domains of Family, Work, and the Community. Ed. Alice S. Rossi. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001. Pp. 97-134. Web. 20 Feb 2011.
• Webb, James T., Edward R. Amend, Nadia E. Webb., Jean Goerss, Paul Beljan, and F. Richard Olenchak. Misdiagnosis and Dual Diagnoses of Gifted Children. Scottsdale: Great Potential Press, Inc. 2005. Print.