Sit Down!

Look, I’m just going to come right out and say it: Telling your child that she should work hard so that she can be Number One is just stupid.

Because, by definition, only one person can be first. It’s arithmetic. As easy as–forgive me–one, two three. If your child is first, then somebody else’s child isn’t. That’s all there is to it.

Having your child focus on being Number One is stupid, damaging, harmful, and demeaning. Because if she fails to achieve Number One-ness, then she has failed in the eyes of her parents. And if she does make it to Number One-ville, then she has learned to treat her classmates as objects.

A few examples will make the point: I went to a Dolphin’s game the other day. I was sitting comfortably in my chair enjoying my unobstructed view of the contest when the man in front of me stood up to get a better look at the field. Not his fault–he stood up because the person in front of him had stood up. You can see where this is going. In less than a New York Minute, every soul in my section of the stadium was on his or her feet. Where we had all been fine before, ensconced on our tushies and able to see just fine, now we all had to stand in order to see. If everyone sits, we can all see just as well as if everyone stands. Of course if everyone stands, everyone’s feet hurt. If I wanted my feet to hurt, I would have gone for a run instead of to a football game.

Consider the SAT, which used to be known as the Scholastic Aptitude Test. To keep the arithmetic simple, I’ll talk about the math section. The math section of the SAT has an average score of 500 and the results are “normally distributed.” (You don’t have to know what “normally distributed” means to understand every word of this essay.) For every child who scores a 510–10 points above the average–there’s another child who scores 10 points below the average. For every child who scores a 600, there’s another child who scores a 400. Think about it: could every child score an 800, the highest score? No. The test would be useless. No student would pay $43 to take the test. No family would pay $11 to send their child’s scores to a college. No college would pay money to be on the College Board. “Oh, look,” an admissions officer would say. “This applicant ALSO has an 800 on the SAT Math.” (Think tulip bulb market crash in 17th century Holland.) On a norm referenced test like the SAT Math, if there is no variance, then there is no score.

As the test exists now, the only way your child can get an 800 is if someone else’s child gets a 200. In other words, it may be possible to raise the score of one child on the SAT Math, but it is not possible to raise the score of ALL children on the SAT Math.

Think about a “selfless” coach who works with an economically disadvantaged athlete from a third world country preparing the young man for big time baseball. Hour after hour, the dedicated mentor works on hitting, fielding, throwing and catching. Tirelessly, the coach helps prepare his young charge for every aspect of the competition to come, driving him to away games, teaching him strategy. And then, the great day comes, and the low income kid gets his chance in the show. And he gets a million dollar contract! And he does an after shave commercial! And he gives lectures to other low income young men about how they too can make it! That’s great, right? The coach has done a good thing! The alternative for this young man from the lousy neighborhood would have been a life of privation and hardship!

True, this young man now has a life.

But some other young man doesn’t.

Because there are still only 30 major league baseball teams with extended rosters of 40 players each. The patient coach didn’t invent another million dollars for his protege. In a very real sense, he stole that million dollars from some other hard working prospect.

***

Stacey is not just a substance abuser or an addict, she has become chemically dependent. Having put her last thousand dollars up her nose, she desperately needs and is ready to accept treatment. But all the programs that take her insurance are full with waiting lists of over six months.

Through my contacts in the drug rehab community, I am able to move her to the “head of the line” and get her into a quality program. I’ve done a good thing, right? There should be a parade in my honor, no? I have helped Stacey get a chance to kick the debilitating habit that is destroying her life and the lives of all those who care about her.

Nah. All I’ve done is keep some other poor deserving soul from getting the treatment that she too so desperately requires.

There are endless stories: My child is “Student of the Month!” Great.

Nah. My daughter’s “victory” just means that there are 23 other precious children in that kindergarten class who are NOT student of the month.

And don’t even get me started on those folks who want to put my website at the top of the search engines. Did we learn nothing from the Cold War?

Last example: what if it were possible for me to help your child become, say, the Number One Professor at Yale Law School? Heck, I’d be happy for your child, I can’t deny it. But somewhere, someone else’s child, would learn that she is not going to be that Number One bulldog (the Yale mascot.)

In a very real sense, emphasizing that your child be Number One is like suggesting that your child be the only one to stand at the Dolphin game. It’s not going to happen, not to more than one child anyway.

But everyone else is hiring tutors, looking for every advantage, trying to get the extra edge in admissions and in life; I would be a fool not to. Don’t misunderstand. I’m in favor of kids working hard, trying to be the best they can be. But taking unfair advantage to take the one Number One spot ruins the game for everyone. Ask Lance Armstrong. If you can get that lying, bullying, cheating drug crazed, psycho creep to return your call. (Hey, he broke my heart. I loved the guy; you can’t blame me for being angry.)

What’s the answer? How do we help our kids be healthy in a crazed, broken system of competitive sports and competitive classrooms? By helping our children to be the smartest, most compassionate, most well read, most able, most studious, most helpful, most pleasant children that they can be. By encouraging them to ignore everyone else. The competition isn’t the Visigoths come to plunder your village; the “competition” is someone else’s beloved child.