Everyone wants to talk about the entitled Millennial and the “Everyone Gets a Trophy” mindset. Unless they actually grew up in the 90s, I’m not sure they really get it. I was raised in a generation that praised mediocrity. As a five year old in soccer practice we all got trophies. What? What are we getting a trophy for? What did we do? *Shrugs.* I knew it was all BS, and I know I’m probably not the only one. For me, this meant growing up wondering what was actually of merit in a society where everyone receives praise. I’m not sure where this emphasis on feelings came from, but it wasn’t gearing us toward the real world.
Fourth grade was when I really started getting into writing. On the first day of class, my teacher left a thesaurus on every desk for us to use the entire year. I barely knew what a thesaurus was. Oh my gosh! It’s a way to find other words for words. My vocabulary skyrocketed. Each week, we had to use a vocab word in a sentence for a school-wide competition. It was called the “Love Bear” award, some rinky-dink discarded Valentine’s bear that would sit outside the hall of the classroom that won each week.
During the spring semester, I noticed that my cards kept getting voted best in class. Everyone was excited to see what I wrote. Over the announcements they said that I had won the Love Bear for my class that week, and read my sentence over the loudspeaker. Our whole class got to walk up to the front office and accept the bear and bask in our glory. Soon, I began winning them week after week. It almost became expected.
That changed one day when I got escorted to the principal’s office by my teacher. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I could tell on my teacher’s face that she looked worried. The principal assured me that I was not in trouble. She told me that my sentence would have won that week, but there was a boy going through some hard times in his life and they felt he needed a boost in his self-esteem. Essentially, they were asking me if it was okay to give the prize to him even though they acknowledged that I deserved it. Were they actually asking me this? How would the stupid Love Bear make him feel any better? I know you’re going through a rough spot. Here’s an award that you didn’t deserve. Imagine if he found out? I almost want to find this kid and ask him how the stupid Love Bear really impacted his life, because I can tell you how it impacted mine.
It showed me at a young age that recognition means nothing. It might as well be political. Recognition can be nice, but it means nothing unless you know in your heart that what you did was of merit. At the same time, I can take pride when I know that I did a good job even when no one else is there to see.
I have no idea what kind of parent I’ll make with this twisted mindset. Everyone is so focused on fairness, and we can’t even define what fair should look like. At the end of the day, being able to go to sleep at night not dwelling on the opinions of others and knowing my self-worth is invaluable. This might have been an early rude awakening to what things are like in the real world, especially for a 90s kid, but I’d rather be cynical and self-sufficient than needy. It’s not about who wins or loses. Are you proud of what you did? Did you do it to the best of your ability? If so, that makes you a winner.
