And trophies for all
If only I had vision, I would have bought stock in some company manufacturing anything that holds or displays athletic awards. Because even years ago the writing was on the wall that ten-year-olds from Trophy Club, TX to Silver City, CA would be assembling piles of competition-based bling, and they would need some way to store it.
See, nowadays, kids are generously re/awarded for nearly anything — just look at inflationary tooth fairy rates. This is nowhere truer than in the world of youth sports, where kids get tangible representations of almost every moment spent on a field or in a gym.
A few years in the future, a young man stares with disgust at a little disk hanging around his neck. “When I was nine, I won a tournament with three other nine-year-olds, and I got a battery-powered, three-foot tall, jewel-encrusted trophy declaring me king of the world,” he accuses, tears welling up in recognition of the big lie. “I just won gold in the Olympics, and this is all I get?
Long before they even have to remember a locker combination, many kids who have participated in the most rudimentary athletic adventures have vast holdings — ah, back to my failed dream of stock riches — of glittery, marble-based tributes to their feats.
I think adults should get in on this.
You get to work on time on a quasi-regular basis? Trophy. Topped with Hercules, the god of perseverance.
You try really hard at work? Three-foot trophy, adorned with golden wings and embossed with gritted teeth, symbolic of your determination.
You plant some grass seed, even if all the grass dies anyway because you forgot to water it? Medal with a spinning tractor.
Paid your taxes on time for a few years? Participation award, with etched language remarking on astounding civic responsibility.
No arguments this year with neighbors about unraked leaves or yapping dogs? Plaque featuring two shaking hands.
Didn’t drive through any red lights lately? Bobble head of smiling police officer on motorcycle.
You get a pile of certificates for all other accomplishments. These certificates will be on thick paper and feature colorful borders, a big gold sticker, inflated diction, and a signature line. We can create a political office for the purpose of getting these things signed.
Adults need to be part of the award phenomenon because, after all, without these concrete representations of our deeds what are we really?: Just a bunch of intrinsically motivated suckers, bumbling through life for the rewards of the now, of the journey, seeking some vacuous sense of fulfillment?
We might wonder, future scoffed-at Olympic medals aside, what these badged and festooned nine-year-olds are going to have to look forward to, but we can’t blame them. This is what they expect.
Last year, I was awaiting notice that I had received tenure at my university. Look, in my line of work, tenure is a really big deal. At last, I received notice of a certified letter at the post office. I knew this letter announced officially that I received tenure and promotion (or that I was getting fired). I happened to pick up the letter with my sister-in-law and her eight-year-old daughter. After I signed for the letter, I ripped it open and, on impulse, read it out loud to the two of them, filling the car with its rich, congratulatory, formal language (I was not getting fired). I turned around to my niece and said, “Well, what do you think about that?”
She looked at me, wide-eyed, processing, and said, “Are you getting a trophy?”
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Scott —
I completely agree about the trophy ridiculousness; though, I see the reasoning for the trophyosity trends. I do think it is cool to give the tiniest little athletes — T-ball age — trophies just for playing. It gives them a concrete reward for something that was, for them, a big accomplishment: getting there and playing through a handfull of games. But after that, when they have a real concept of winning and losing, trophy goes to the winners and to the best, I say. (Wiffleball MVPs, for instance.) We’re not good at transitions, in America.
Awesome … I think you should tell her you’ve won a marshmallow.
I love this article. I’ve always been a stauch opponent of “participation awards.” Hey, let’s congratulate our youngsters for their parents getting them to practice on time and being able to not play in the dirt for the entire hour. WOOHOO! Good job little Timmy! Timmy’s world is going to really suck when he gets to high school and weeps openly because he didn’t get a trophy for not getting stuffed in a locker. As I stare up at my three Wiffleball MVP trophies and feel the palpable pride swelling in my chest, I wonder how our kids will ever learn that feeling.
Didn’t win – try harder next year. Then the marble based icon topped with the image of God himself (in my case, swinging a wiffleball bat) will really mean something.
I’m sensing a tiny bit of trophy envy, Dr. Warnock. I’m sure it’s all your mother’s fault (somehow), but it’s probably time to deal with that little issue. I’ll bet there’s an app for it on your daughter’s new iphone. . .
n.b. Anyone read Alfie Kohn’s “Punished by Rewards”? It speaks rather eloquently to this point.
Karen
Well, Karen hit the nail on the head. No trophies for little Scott..just a watch at Graduation that said “Life is yours..Go For It! Too many trophies …all the time .hum, now what do we look forward to? The reward is playing the game!!!!!!!!
Scott, Scott, Scott – I guess our like-mindedness is apparent at this point. It’s all really amazing to me.
As president of our baseball softball organization, I’ve continued the “NO participation trophy” beliefs of my predecessor, Jim Q. I’ve also continued the annual rite of spring that, coincidentally, started at the same time – the receipt of COMPLAINTS for NOT getting a participation trophy!
It is truly mind-boggling how much some parents NEED to have a trophy for their child. Its as if the parent’s genes are now validated as being A-1 athletic stock – cause it says so right here!
We were, at one point, considering elimination of the 3 Sportsmanship & 1 MVP awards that we do give to each team after a particularly ugly incident. One parent, of suspect upbringing and intelligence, decided that HIS child deserved one of these 4 trophies at the ripe old age of 8. Of course Dad’s pride in his son’s potential receipt of such a prestigious award didn’t compel him to attend the awards ceremony, but I digress. It did compel him to verbally threaten the coach after junior arrived home empty handed. Thankfully, this genius made these threats on the coach’s voicemail system – making the proving of said threats easy to prove to the police.
I’d bet at some point in our childhoods we all had that “when I have kids I’ll do thing differently” moment after being scolded for some misdeed. My-oh-my what Dr. Spock has wrought!