This commentary is in response to the recent pushback against the Richmond School District’s decision to remove ribbons from its track and field event. Critics of the new policy say that this will “coddle” children against failure and the “reality” that competition is a natural part of life.
When I was a kid, I was made to understand that I was not good enough to play sports.
I didn’t say I wasn’t good enough. I said I was made to understand that I wasn’t good enough.
My parents put me in piano, but never in sports. As a girl, I was rewarded for being quiet and demure. I spent all my PE sessions pretending to forget my gym strip or physically hiding behind my peers. I still recall the jock kids getting recognition in PE, but I don’t remember ever hearing a supportive word from adults when it came to my participation in sports.* My small child mind interpreted this as evidence that they were worthy of sports participation and that I was not.
So when my school asked me to be a relay sub at the Richmond elementary track and field event, I had no idea why. I was around eight years old. There had been no tryouts; neither had I elected to attend one. I don’t remember attending any practices or training. But I prepared myself for the track meet all the same: I readied my gym strip, sunscreen, lunchbox, and water, and committed to spending an entire day in the sun.
In the end, I wasn’t called to sub. I never even stepped foot on the track.
Nothing traumatic happened, but there was damage enough. I was made to understand, over hundreds of moments like these, that I wasn’t fit for or wanted in sports.
So I quit. Stuck to my books. Didn’t touch sports afterwards for years.
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I’ve had the immense privilege of watching my friend’s seven-year-old daughter, Paige, grow up in sport. Both the parents are professionally and personally involved in athletics, and they put Paige in sports programming as soon as she was three.
Her parents don’t just spend every weekend driving her to tournaments and practices—they also spend time attentively encouraging her through each win and loss. They intentionally seek programs and coaches which provide a nurturing environment. They watch sports together at home and buy tickets to games. Everyone in the family owns sports merch and equipment.
Despite having only around four years of sports training, Paige is already demonstrating strength and confidence in a variety of disciplines. I watched her skills compound year over year. Her skating abilities are already well beyond what the majority of adults will ever achieve. Not only is she visibly muscular, but she’s also won awards from her hockey team, and regularly earns attention and praise from adults in her community for her skill and capabilities.
If eight-year-old me could compete against eight-year-old Paige, who do you think would win?
And if the answer is Paige, would you say that her win was entirely due to merit?
And if you then teach Paige that she won because she was a better athlete due to her own merit and perseverance, and that losing kids like me should just work harder and be more resilient, what are we really doing?
If we truly believe that ribbons are essential because it helps children understand that competition is “a reality in almost all facets of life”, then why don’t we test and pit children against one another for acceptance into preschool, and publicly rank and post everyone’s test scores, like they do in Asia?
If, as a child, you chose not to join the district math competition, does that mean you were “coddled” against failure? Why are the parents of athletic children especially intent that other children must learn about failure on their terms, in the arena in which their children already have compounding advantages? Why couldn’t we have had a district music competition where I could’ve made the athletic kids learn about failure?
I am not for or against the ribbons. The ribbons do not matter. What the debate around the ribbons reveals is that many people believe that competition should be the dominant value that should be imposed uniformly on all children. And it’s exactly that kind of controlling attitude that can deter people away from sport. For some, that will go on to become a lifelong struggle with healthy physical activity.
If eight-year-old me had had a chance to run that day, I wouldn’t have started imagining that I was just as talented as Paige and the other jock kids. I wouldn’t have concluded that I don’t need to strive for high performance. I wouldn’t have hallucinated that I was deserving of first place.
But I might’ve learned that trying things that you aren’t good at is a worthy pursuit and that exercise could have a place in my life. I might’ve discovered the joy of running with my peers. Instead of developing a fear of physical activity, I might’ve instead cultivated an understanding of exercise as a way of having fun, of improving my health and confidence, of gaining skills, and of celebrating teamwork and community.**
But some people see sports only as a vehicle for competition, as if the other benefits of sport don’t count as personal development. And to assume that people who choose or benefit from lower-pressure environments are uninterested in and incapable of understanding competition, discipline, success, excellence, failure, and self-improvement is, at best, misguided. It insinuates that qualities like perseverance are exclusive to sport, which is simply untrue.
If your child is truly incapable of understanding the value of working hard and doing their best without the reward of a ribbon, I don’t think the ribbon is the issue.
In response to the new policy, Richmond councillor Alexa Loo said, “In the Olympics, the average skater has fallen 20,000 times. Do you know what that means? They got back up 20,000 times.”
Alexa Loo is a former snowboarder and slalom athlete, both notoriously expensive sports. She essentially had the financial means to get back on the mountain 20,000 times. She most certainly had coaches, and various forms of material and emotional support throughout her athletic career.
That just isn’t true of every child.
We talk about merit as if all things are equal. It never is. She is demanding that kids pull themselves up by the bootstraps when some kids never got boots.
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If you live in Canada, the truth is, you have benefited from inclusion at some point, whether you want to admit it or not.
Unless your parents were rich enough to send you to private school and you happen to have been immediately good at everything you’ve ever tried, you’ve benefited from inclusion. If you were permitted to try a beginner activity at any point, whether it’s pottery, skating, or choir, you’ve benefited from inclusion. If you or your family were permitted at some point by the government to immigrate here, or if you’ve benefited from the Canadian healthcare system, you‘ve benefited from inclusion.
Heck, if you as an adult have received a participation medal from the Sun Run or BMO marathon, or you’ve played in a rec league, you’ve benefited from inclusion.
What the opponents of this inclusion policy tend to downplay is that the Richmond elementary track and field changes feature both a competitive and a recreational division, so that the children who want to can still compete in a high-performance environment.
It is a fact that some performances rank higher than others. Some kids should be celebrated for coming in first. Other kids should be applauded for trying something outside of their comfort zone or for doing their best.
All of these are wins. The idea that everyone should win doesn’t mean a lowering of standards. It means that each child receives and learns the lesson that is appropriate for them.
The kids who excel at track and field do so because they already have regular support for sport in their extracurricular activities. Is the public school system only for serving their needs?
The other kids deserve to feel that their participation is meaningful, too.
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* I do not blame this on my teachers. I was terrified of gym class and resisted participation, they had dozens of other children to look after, and I did everything I could to avoid attention.
** Here is an article on the Norwegian model of youth sports education and how its emphasis on everything except competition is a significant part of what enables the small country to consistently dominate at the Olympics.
Alex Tse was raised in Richmond, attended Richmond schools, and is a self-employed recording artist at Alex See Music. Follow Pancouver on Bluesky @pancouver.bsky.social.
