Wedged in the deepest, darkest corner of the musty PE shed I lay forgotten, abandoned, waiting. There was a time, long ago when I was the centre of attention. The star of every play time, the creator of joys of laughter and ear-to-ear smiles, but as the years went by, I found myself pushed aside by newer, shinier, more novel equipment. Equipment that was “easier”, faster to set up. My once vibrant colours faded, and layers of dust settled over me and I was relegated to live with the mis-matched bibs, deflated footballs, behind the ancient high jump mat with its stuffing seeping out of its seams. 

Me, the old Frisbee Golf net. The one with the rusty stand and the frayed net. The game that tamariki used to love so much, set up themselves and play until the bell called them back inside. I knew the new cohort would love me if only I was given another chance. Instead, I watched from a distance as classes came and went, and the once familiar faces of excited children turned into distant memories. The laughter and shouts of my games became echoes, replaced by the silence of the PE shed. I wondered if I would ever feel the thrill of being out in the fresh air again, the rush of competition, and see the joy of self-motivated success again.

Then, one day, the door to the shed creaked open. A beam of sunlight pierced through the darkness. I blinked, my slightly rusty surface absorbing the warm rays I remembered so well. Two pairs of curious eyes stared at me with a mixture of intrigue and amusement. It was a Physical Activity Leader (PAL), sent to clean out the PE shed. “Hey guys, look at this! What is it!?” I heard. In raced 3 more PALs - the new generation of students, their faces eager to explore the forgotten corners of the PE shed, the forgotten pieces of equipment.

Above: Selwyn Park School tamariki playing frisbee golf.

One of the students reached out and picked me up, dusting off the layers of “forgotten” that coated my surface. I was overcome with excitement, a long-forgotten feeling that exuded through my metal core, my frayed rope net. The students examined me, turning me around and asking each other questions, making inferences about what I was used for and considering my potential.

“This thing is ancient!” one of them exclaimed with a grin. 

“Yeah, but it looks like it could still be fun,” another replied. And just like that, I was brought back to life. 

The group carried me out of the shed and onto the school’s field, where a makeshift Frisbee Golf course was marked with cones and some hand-crafted signs. Other students joined in, their faces lighting up as they saw how fun this relic could be. As the games began, the rhythmic thud of feet and the whoosh of frisbees filled the air.

When the bell rang, I was back in the hands of the student who had found me. They were sweaty and muddy and had a triumphant smile plastered across their face. They looked at me with a newfound appreciation, a recognition of the memories and experiences I held, the fun I could bring.

As they carried me back to the PE shed, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. I might have spent years in the shadows, forgotten and neglected, but I had been given a second chance. I had been the main character in the joy of play once more, the fun and connection that would stay with those students long after the game had ended. 

With that, I settled into my NEW place in the PE shed, not quite front and centre but no longer wedged in the deepest, darkest corner. The shed door was slid shut, the bolt slid across and there I sat, “this is so fun” “let’s play this tomorrow” ringing in my ears, knowing I would be sought out again. 

I was no longer just a forgotten piece of equipment. 

I was new, exciting and novel again; a cherished memory rekindled.

Story Written by Sport Northland Healthy Active Learning team.