Unpopular opinion: Give the participation trophies

Recently I attended the graduation ceremony of my oldest son, Ben. No, not from high school, not from college, nor grad school. I am the proud parent of an elementary school graduate.

Now, I didn’t know elementary school graduation was a thing — it certainly wasn’t when I was in school — but I understand the transition from elementary to middle school can be a big deal for kids. Elementary school is a child’s first introduction to the structured learning process. It’s about building relationships with peers and learning routines and behavioral expectations. For many children, it’s their first time learning how to navigate a situation without the ever-present guidance of Mom and Dad. In short, it’s all new.

The graduation ceremony was sweet, the kids sang a song and crossed the stage one by one, accepting their certificates, medals from the award ceremony held just prior dangling from their necks. And as proud as I was of Ben crossing that stage, his medals for Science and Honor Roll and Music clinking as he walked, there was another little boy my eyes went to.

I didn’t know his name (nor would I tell it here even if I did) but he crossed the stage quickly, didn’t pause in the middle for photos like the other kids did — and he had no medals around his neck. Not one. And I realized, he didn’t pause for photographs in the middle of the stage, because he knew there wasn’t anyone there to take his photo. This little boy didn’t look proud of his accomplishment, he looked sad. And it broke my heart.

The medal presentations took far longer than the actual commencement itself. They were given for just about everything — perfect attendance, Honor Roll, Art Club, Music Club, student council, physical fitness awards, reading awards, math awards, “classroom leadership,” — you name it. The kids proudly collected scores of medals, happily comparing the different color ribbons. It seemed every kid there received at least one, most kids had several.

Which is why I can’t understand how this one little boy was left out.

Now the easy answer from the crowd who disdains the dreaded so-called “participation trophies,” is simply, well, he didn’t earn one. To which I whole-heartedly reply, SO WHAT.

Maybe his home life sucks, maybe his parents don’t have the time or resources to enter him in extra-curricular clubs — heck, maybe he doesn’t have parents.

Maybe he’s super shy, maybe he’s dealing with developmental challenges, or maybe it’s none of those things. Maybe he’s lazy with no interest in his school or classmates, maybe he’s just a little jerk — a bully with no friends. The point is, I don’t care why he didn’t “earn” a medal. Here was an 11-year-old little boy looking sad and alone at a time that should have been celebratory.

“Participation trophies” — or I guess in this case I should say “participation medals” — aren’t the bad thing they’ve been made out to be. I would argue the opposite. It’s a tangible piece of validation and encouragement.

Giving that little boy a medal (even if it wasn’t earned) takes away nothing from the other kids. But by not giving him one, you have taken away something — his pride, his sense of belonging, his happiness. Intentionally or not, he was singled out — the one kid who didn’t win anything.

Would a medal have made any difference to this little boy? I don’t know. Perhaps he didn’t even want one.

But maybe, just maybe, it would have made all the difference. Maybe he would have crossed that stage with a smile and gone home that day to show his parents (or whoever) his medal with pride.

Isn’t it better to side with the “maybes?”