I've always hated the narrative that begins "Kids today . . ." You know the one I'm talking about. It goes something like this: "Kids today are so entitled. They're so supervised and sheltered, they have no idea how to survive. Everybody gets a medal just for showing up."
Looking back on just my own memories of childhood, that narrative suggests kids today would be better off if they survived near-drownings, serious head injuries, and the lewd conduct of boys who were old enough to know better.
Well, I don't buy it. I'm done being nostalgic about my childhood.
It's true, my neighborhood friends and I spent unsupervised hours roaming the neighborhood on our bikes, looking for adventure. It's also true that I spent hours ingesting sexist messages via television. The fact that no one called Gilligan's Island sexist doesn't mean it wasn't; it still taught me that being a Ginger was better than being a Mary Ann. I was in my 20's before I started to unlearn that lesson, in spite of the fact that I was also shamed for trying to be a Ginger. Damned if you do, dateless on prom night if you don't.
It's also true that our parents weren't hovering over our shoulders every minute--but lots of adults, even those in positions of authority, weren’t paying attention at all. That led to situations like the one I faced with Lena, a girl who stalked me for weeks in junior high. She tracked me down at least once a day so she could trip me (in the hallway, on the stairs), pinch me, yank my hair, or just growl in my ear I'm coming after you, bitch. I realize this behavior seems almost quaint now, given the fact that today's bullies have access to social media and guns, but it was terrifying when it went on and on. (My crime? I'd given her a "dirty look" in choir. I couldn't remember looking at her ever.)
Not a single teacher came to my aid in those weeks. They saw things happening, but mostly they rolled their eyes. When they said anything at all, they told Lena to knock it off and get to class. The situation resolved itself only when Lena became the target of another girl, the most notorious bully at school, and grew preoccupied with her own safety.
Did I learn anything useful from that experience? Did it make me a more resilient adult? No. It taught me how it feels to be terrorized, but I could have lived a long and happy life without knowing that. And it taught me not to ask for help—another lesson I've had to unlearn, over and over again, as an adult.
Lots of kids learned that lesson in the 70's: kids with eating disorders, learning disabilities, mental illnesses, and traumatic experiences they struggled through without the aid of counseling. (Or didn't. Let's not forget, some kids didn't survive their 70's childhood.) Most of us didn't even get the chance to ask for help before we were told stop trying to get attention or screw your head on straight or something equally helpful. We were expected to take care of ourselves, whether or not we were equipped to do that. We were taught that, even as a kid, you're on your own.
In stark contrast, my own children had a much more civilized and supervised childhood--my daughter even trained to be a Peer Mediator in middle school, helping other students learn how to settle their differences in productive ways. She now works as an online advocate for LoveIsRespect, a national hotline for young people struggling with abusive relationships. Taught how to solve problems—not pray for them to disappear—she uses those skills every day. Which, as it turns out, benefits a lot of people.
Where did she get the confidence to believe she could not only solve her own problems but help others with theirs as well? I’m pretty sure it started with those participation medals. They taught her to believe that just making an effort at doing something was worthwhile. Perhaps more importantly, they taught her that the grownups were paying attention. They were watching and willing to help her. They valued her willingness to take a shot.
And believe it or not, in spite of those medals, my kids still knew who the fastest swimmer on their swim team was. Participation trophies don't fool anyone into believing all kids are created equal. Did every boy who lettered in football when I was in high school believe he was the star of the team? Come on. We all knew the names of the stars, but even the benchwarmers lettered. Not much different from a participation trophy, when you think about it.
If kids today feel entitled to anything, it’s only the respect, kindness, and consideration children of every generation should have been shown. The fact that our country had laws against animal cruelty before it had laws against child abuse tells us exactly how good the good old days were for kids. Viewing those days through a sepia filter might make them look different, but it doesn’t change the truth about the lives we lived.
If a medal is what it takes to make a kid feel entitled to respect, I say give the kid a medal.
A slightly different version of this post appeared on She Dwells in Possibility.