I am grateful for that.  There is something important, formative even, about well-managed exposure to competition at the right age: about wanting something, striving for it, and falling short. Perseverance cannot be taught as theory; it must be sought and caught, experienced in moments like these and reflected on.

However, woven into the afternoon was a more contemporary instinct: to protect, to shield young people from failure. Alongside numbered stickers for those finishing in the top three, there were star stickers for those who weren’t placed: a small but well-intentioned gesture designed to soften the disappointment. 

She comes from a competitive household. My partner is, if anything, even more competitive than I am, albeit rather more successful at hiding it in polite company!  So, imagine the surprise when, on the morning of the ‘big day,’ my daughter explained with disarming clarity that she did not want to finish first, second, or third. Why?  Because “you only get a sticker with a number on it” and the real prize, in her mind at least, was the star sticker!

Perhaps her perspective was unique? Not at all. Standing ‘track side’ that afternoon, several parents shared similar stories.

In her first race, she acted on this curious logic. Skipping toward the finish in third, she slowed just short of the line, waited briefly for a friend, and they crossed together in fifth. No star sticker.  After finishing outside the places in the next race also failed to ‘earn’ the coveted reward, she recalibrated and promptly won the egg and spoon race. 

This was the only race all afternoon to feature a disqualification.  The skipping race was won by a sprinter who made no effort to skip.  The dressing-up race by someone who simply picked up the scarf, hat and bag and ran. In fact, my daughter was the second egg-and-spooner over the line, just behind a girl who had dropped her egg several times (participants were meant to sit down where it fell) before ultimately holding it onto the spoon with her other hand and running to ‘victory.’ When she wasn’t declared the winner, she burst into tears and was promptly awarded a star sticker.

It was in many ways, a delightful and memorable afternoon, but it was also a confused one.  We had competition, but inconsistent enforcement of the rules.  There were rewards for effort but also blurring of expectations about playing fairly and striving to do one’s best.

Children are extraordinarily perceptive.  They respond not just to what we say, but to what we do and the systems we create around them.  When rules are applied inconsistently, or when rewards send mixed signals, the unintended lessons can be powerful.

There is, of course, a balance to be struck. We should support children when they fall short.  However, we must be careful that, in reassuring them that winning isn’t everything, we don’t inadvertently suggest that striving to be the best version of yourself is unimportant. Equally, we should not shy away from creating opportunities for children to experience disappointment.  Learning how to respond to setbacks, to lose with grace, to reflect and to try again is vital.

In education, as in parenting, our intentions may be well-meaning, but the outcomes are not always what we expect.  The small choices, how we reward, how we enforce, how we frame success and failure carry real weight.  It is hard, but no matter how tempting, short-term comfort must not come at the expense of long-term development.

Sports day, it turns out, is about more than races.  It is a window to our values, and a timely reminder to ensure that they are as coherent as they are compassionate.