By Stephanie Abbajay

A week ago, Oskar announced that his school was having a talent show and that he wanted to try out. He can’t sing, dance or play an instrument, so he decided he would tell jokes. We spent the weekend reading joke books and searching the Internet for clean, kid-friendly jokes, ultimately settling on about a dozen that were sure to bring at least a half smile to most faces, if not a friendly groan or two. Sample 1: What does Geronimo say when he jumps off a cliff? Meeeeeeeeee! Sample 2: Did you hear about the cat that swallowed a ball of yarn? She had mittens.

Anyway, Oskar practiced his jokes and his delivery over the weekend and was excited to tryout. When I picked him up after school Monday, I asked him how the tryouts went. “Great,” He said. “I got in.” I was overjoyed. He had tried something new, something out of his comfort zone and got in! I was overjoyed and so proud. “That’s wonderful honey. How exciting!” I said. “Actually Mom,” he replied, “everyone who tried out got in.” He paused, and then, with a voice tinged with a weary disgust and resignation beyond his years, he added: “Yep, everyone got in because everyone’s a winner.”

He wasn’t crestfallen exactly, but at the age of ten, Oskar knows the truth, that everyone is not a winner, that everyone is not equally skilled, talented or experienced. The bloom was off the rose for him and the talent show. If everyone who tried out got in, he wondered, what does that say about him? Was he even good? What did it matter? Everyone was a winner.

These days, this concept seems to have taken firm root. The culture of praise, of building self-esteem by rewarding mere participation, by letting everyone win, has pervaded parenting and the way many schools, teams and other organizations handle things. Now kids get gowns, trophies and a ceremony for “graduating” from pre-K. Now lots of teams give everyone a trophy just for participating. But where’s the harm in that?

Well, I’m not sure, but it just doesn’t always feel right to me. Sure, I love the dance company that lets everyone be a ballerina, no matter how inelegant, ungraceful or simply large and untalented a dancer may be. I love that there are places where all kids can take gymnastics, even if they can’t do a cartwheel. And I love that at many schools, being thin and ponytailed is no long a perquisite to be a cheerleader. I appreciate that allowing kids who may not be as skilled or talented to participate in an activity is a great way to introduce them to different things in life, like a new sport or the importance of teamwork or the importance of just trying. How many new doors are opened this way? It’s wonderful. Amen to that.

On the other hand, I wonder where the seemingly constant act of rewarding and praising participation is leading? If the focus is on the sheer act of participation, will kids stop trying? Will they value their work and effort less? I know Oskar felt differently about his school’s talent show and participating in it once he knew that everyone got in. He didn’t know how to measure his effort.

Even at her tender age, Willa, too, smells a rat. This past summer, she participated in a great little soccer camp in Godfrey, with seven other five-year olds. The coach taught them the basics and by mid-week they were scrimmaging. The kids were divided into two, four-man teams, and each day the teams earned points for good behavior, following the rules, scoring goals and the like. On the last day, the teams faced off in the World Cup finals. Willa’s team lost by a wide margin and the final points for the week stood at something like 300 to 200. Not even close.

The coach announced the winner of the game and everyone cheered. But then, the coach announced that he was going to award Willa’s team 100 extra points for being such good sports. Now, both teams were tied. Everyone, it turned out, was a winner.

Except Willa and the other kids knew the truth. Her team had lost, by a lot. The other team was miffed because they knew they had won. At the age of five, all of the kids, the ones who showed up on time and the ones who came late, the ones who came ready and the ones who didn’t, the ones who tried hard and the ones who wouldn’t do anything, the ones who followed directions and the ones who didn’t, all knew better. They knew the score: If everyone is a winner, what’s the point of trying?