EVERYTHING
FOR YOUR FAMILY
KID
QUIPS
During last July’s 5.8 earthquake, 3-year-old Bronwyn told her 1-year-old sister, “We’re going for a wiggle.” READ MORE
Get In The Game
|
||||
|
I have a box in the garage where a few dusty but revered trophies of mine hang out. They’re all from high school: an MVP trophy, a first-place medal, along with a couple junior varsity trophies and some second- and third-place medals. The highlights of my sports career fit neatly into a standard-size packing box. My 9-year-old son and 12-year-old daughter, on the other hand, already have a combined total of about 30 medals and trophies, some nicer than mine. My daughter, in particular, who plays sports year-round, has three trophy shelves in her room. And our family is just about average. My daughter’s friend has her own trophy room. What happened in the span of one generation? Why are the rewards for a winning effort (or any effort, win or lose) suddenly so much more copious? Shouldn’t recognition be a little harder to come by? Trophies for all The culprit in the eyes of many is the “participation trophy.” Show up for an entire season of a team sport, and no matter how many splinters you gathered on the bench or how many ladybugs you captured in deep right field, you get a nice trophy. Every player on every team gets a trophy in most children’s sports leagues today. Last place? Congratulations! There is a deep divide of opinion about whether participation trophies are building self-esteem or just raising the expectations of our kids regarding easy future rewards. A recent Wall Street Journal article on the subject quoted one coach as saying that participation trophies are “softening up” our kids. In reaction to trophy overdose, some Little League clubs are getting rid of participation trophies as much as possible, especially for players over age 10. It is much more typical these days to hand out trophies only to the first-, second-, or third-place teams. However, parents of lower-placed teams routinely go out and buy trophies for the after-season party. Whether you feel that participation trophies are harmless or that they will be the undoing of this great country, one thing is for certain: Don’t blame the kids. The kids I talked to didn’t ask for so many trophies. They just want some parental recognition after they put forth a noteworthy effort. A well-timed “you did great!” from mom or dad goes as far as a medal or statue and they are getting bigger, by the way. Children chime in My son, for example, doesn’t have the sentimental connection to his participation trophies for baseball, basketball, and soccer that I do. I like them mostly because his picture appears on them. My real favorite is his first winning medal, from a Big Wheel race when he was 4. I’m looking at an old photo of him wearing that medal as I write this. The medal itself is long destroyed, carelessly pulled apart, bent up, and tossed out. He apparently wasn’t too impressed with winning a Big Wheel race. He also has a first-place boxing medal from summer camp that I found in my bathroom drawer among some old toothbrushes. He seemed a little more interested in that one. When I told him I’d found it recently, he said, “It’s the one with the blue ribbon, isn’t it?” My daughter doesn’t place much importance on the participation trophies on her shelves either. She was disappointed when the basketball trophy she got after an undefeated season was the same as the trophy that every other player in the league received. What she treasures are several wooden plaques bearing her softball nickname, Tiger. Hanging from each plaque are strings of beads representing singles, doubles, triples, and homers. She says, “I don’t care about the trophies that much. The plaques with the beads mean more to me because they were handmade by team moms.” Other athletes in our neighborhood seem to have a balanced sense of each trophy’s. Twelve-year-old Courtney told me she has several softball tournament trophies. “I think the ones that you earn in a tournament mean more than the ones where everyone gets a trophy no matter what.” Yet, a first-place trophy is not necessarily of greater value than one for a lesser finish. “It’s not really about winning or losing. My favorite trophy is a third-place one from when I played with the Blazers. That was my favorite team and the trophy reminds me of it.” Knowing the difference The more trophies our children receive, the more they perceive that there are fine shadings to the meaning of each one. The trophies that are unique or hard to earn evoke a greater sense of pride. Our children choose to savor the trophies that have personal meaning to them, and regard the other trophies as little more than ornaments. These athletes are well aware that some trophies are given out regardless of the outcome of a game or season, and some trophies are earned based on performance. There seems to be little reason to worry that our children are fooled by all the participation trophies. I’m reminded of a brief vignette I recently saw on the TV show “The Simpsons.” Bart, while contemplating his total lack of achievements in comparison to his sister Lisa, glumly stares at an “Everybody-Wins-A-Trophy Day” trophy on his bedroom shelf. As they grow, our children understand that a trophy won’t bring a talent scout from the Angels to the front door. They all can’t be Lisa Leslie or Tom Brady. Parents who have felt the reassurance of a well-earned trophy, of a winning moment turned into a small golden statue, want their children to have the same experience. So we reward them a little too frequently, with a little too much fervor. Perhaps this rule: After the age of 10, when children can better perceive when the wool is being pulled over their eyes, the bar for trophies should be raised. Those 11- and 12-year-olds don’t appreciate being patronized, and a pat on the head for a job-not-well-done will just annoy most 13-year-olds. Life is a battle, and not everything is a win. David Kries writes from Mission Viejo. |
||||
RSS Subscribe
Digg This ArticleSEARCH THE SITE
