MVP (plural?)

A few years ago, my son's teacher had this brilliant idea to give out stars to her students. Sounds okay so far, right? The stars were big. Bright yellow. And said “I AM A SUPER STAR!” on them. When we had a meeting, the teacher said all her students were “super shining super stars!” All the students were the best. Isn’t that special?

No, it’s not.

I called my friend with "Seriously?!" and “Can you believe this?!” and “How preposterous!” and so on until she cut me off. I could practically hear her roll her eyes. She said, “That's nothing. Last year, my kid’s entire team got an MVP award. Every. Single. Player.”

So, “most” valuable player is now everyone? How does that work?

Why is it that coaches, teachers, daycare providers, principals, et al. feel this need to include every single child in the “best” category?

They are not doing these kids any favors. 

Children have strengths and weaknesses. We all do. Why are we telling them they are the best at everything?

Is this a confidence-building thing? Because, I have to say, if you told me I was the best singer you'd ever heard and I went on stage and humiliated myself, not only would my confidence be shredded but so would our friendship.  

I refuse to tell my son he is the best baseball player I've ever seen when he can't catch a single ball. I'm not praising my other son for being the most incredible dancer when he trips over his own feet just walking. (You don't want to hear about his dancing.) So there. I've said it. My kids are awesome. They are loved. And both of them are stars at a few things—but not at everything.  

Not every child is the cutest, smartest, most athletic, most musical, best this, best that, best everything in the world. They are not. This is something we must accept. They will too. And they'll be better off for it.

Methinks I'm not going to get a Most Valuable Blogger award for this post. What are your thoughts about this "every child is the best" attitude?

Nasty Nicknames

I have seen people do some stupid things in my life. I have seen parents act like idiots. But this one... Well it has me writing another "What Were You Thinking?" post. (BTW, it also qualifies as one of my "What is Pissing Me Off Today" posts.)

Apparently, my son’s soccer coach has decided to give all the kids on the team nicknames. Thing is, my son, and the rest of the team, know all these names now. Actually, the whole town probably does since this guy’s voice carries over about five fields. Not kidding. He is LOUD. So, you gotta be careful what you call these kids. You know, put a brain cell or two into it before you just shout it out.

So, coaching a team of 3^rd and 4^th graders, he decides to give the kids nicknames. That’s fine. Maybe he has trouble remembering names. Maybe he thinks it’s cute. Whatever.

At dinner tonight, my son told us one of the nicknames. I nearly dropped my fork. My husband looked wide-eyed. I am absolutely serious when I say this brainless coach called the only Mexican kid on the team “Senor Taco”. And, when the kid covered his ears and yelled at the coach “DON'T CALL ME THAT!”, Mr. Moron (which is my new nickame for the coach) did stop. Then started calling him "Taco". Way to go, moron. The rest of the kids thought it was so frickin’ funny, they started calling the kid “Senor Taco” as well. Finally, when the kid really got upset and told them “DON’T CALL ME THAT ANYMORE!”, they started calling him “Senor Burrito” instead. Awesome.

This kid goes to their school. He is on their bus. He is in some of their classes. The other nicknames Mr. Moron doled out have already made it to the bus and playground but since they are mostly just variations of their names, no harm done. I wonder what the hell is going to happen on Monday.

Rock on, Mr. Moron. Giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming you are not a racist bastard and you are simply an idiot, I will say this: I hope your son never has to deal with what this kid is now dealing with. This kid, who you have ridiculed and mocked, will suffer for your sheer stupidity. And make no mistake about it—it is your fault. The children are calling him names but you, Mr. Moron, a grown man, started it. What the hell were you thinking?