"It takes a village to raise a child," that's how the saying goes. And since it takes a village, the village all thinks they can have a say about how to raise children. I've read countless blogs, articles, social media posts all dedicated to raising the perfect child who will never talk back and will not grow up to be a little you-know-what. "Don't spoil them!" they say. "Don't give them too much sugar!" they say. "Don't let them eat GMOs!" they say... and God forbid, "Don't give them medals just for participating!"
Just for a minute, I want to take a second to think back a few years ago to my experience in high school and junior high sports. As a student athlete, I was never bad at sports, but I was never great either. Just like the majority of other students, I went to practice for an hour or more at least five days a week, bought the team tshirt, had my parents make snacks to bring to tournaments, went to all the games whether I was allowed to play or not. Sports was at least a part time job in junior high and seemed like a full-time job in high school. Many times, it was a thankless, overrated, tiring, draining, and depressing job. Other times, I had some of the most fun times I've ever had. So, what was the purpose of all of this?
Athletics, and other extracurricular activities are supposed to be fun. They foster teamwork, team spirit, humility (supposedly), work ethic, and most importantly: life-long health and fitness. So if athletics are so fun and healthy, why are so many children overweight? Why are many kids opting out of participating in sports, or choosing to specialize in only one sport?
In junior high, I ran the 2-mile. Since I was the only one dumb enough to participate at such a young age, I usually got a top-three place at the meet, and was rewarded for my placing... not because I was wonderful at it, but because I was brave enough to train, and eventually race in front of onlookers. In high school, I ran the two mile, and came in dead last every time. What did I get? A pity clap from a few parents at the end of a greuling 17 minutes and 9 seconds, a pat on my back from a coach who had other athletes to attend to, and sore muscles. Guess how long I ran the 2-mile in high school. I raced and performed to the best of my abilities, but myself and the other average, hardworking students saw others excel almost effortlessly. They had natural talent, and were probably working just as hard as we were, but they got all of the glory, and all of the rewards.
Someday, God willing, I will have children of my own, and for that I am scared to death. I am afraid that one day, my child might decide he likes tennis, but be discouraged because he isn't a star athelete. I'm afraid my girl will love to cheerlead, but won't make the cut because she's a little heavy, or doesn't have the right last name. I'm afraid that my children might give up on fun team sports because they were taught that you should only be rewarded for winning, and not for hard work.
It's great to excel at something and to pursue that, but it's even greater to try and maybe even fail at something. I can't imagine something that takes more courage than a young kid trying something that they might not be good at, working hard to improve, and showcasing their effort in front of a society that only cares about you if you win. That is bravery, and that deserves to be rewarded.
