SURVIVING THE STRESS OF SCHOOL SPORTS DAY: THREE TOP WRITERS OFFER ADVICE
It’s supposed to be a time of fun when children get a break from the classroom to take part in a friendly competition. But for those whose talents do not lie on the sports field, it’s a time of dread or even derision — and that’s only the mums and dads. T
Five words used to fill me with dread when my three boys Jesse (17), Korey (15) and Teo (13) were at primary school and that was: “It’s sports day tomorrow mum!”
When they were really young, sports day was a big deal. It took place on a Saturday and the whole town came out to watch but our inclement weather meant it was postponed so much, it eventually took place on a week day.
The Saturday event was great and meant everyone who wanted to could go along, but when it started on a week day it became more difficult.
One of my main problems with sports day was it coincided with a fancy dress parade and when they were that age my three always wanted to dress up.
Hands up, I follow my mother’s lack of creativity when it comes to ‘whipping’ up a costume with a few days notice.
I would break out into a cold sweat at the thought of material, paint and imagination.
They usually came up with some creation themselves and always ended up entering the competition.
One of my proudest moments was when Teo in P7, the anniversary year, went as captain of the Titanic wearing a construction he had designed and made himself.
He won first prize even though he could barely walk, get into a room or down the steps!
When sports day moved to week day mornings I was working on this paper in Belfast and it wasn’t always easy to take a morning or in my case three mornings in the same week off to attend.
That brought with it guilt and worry. Whose should I go to and whose should we divide up between grandparents and various members of the family.
At that stage, none of my children were particularly sporty so they weren’t winning races left, right and centre, but I always felt I wanted to be the face in the crowd they looked to and waved at before they ran their races.
I did manage, through understanding bosses over the years, to not miss too many of the days and for those I just couldn’t attend I had a valiant substitute.
Other than the getting out of work conundrum, there was always the worry about them coming last and feeling deflated.
I watched through my hands many times. Every year it was the same children winning all the races — they had just grown a bit.
Mine always seemed to do best in the novelty races like the egg and spoon or bean-bag-on-the-head races. We have plenty of medals for those.
I didn’t like sports day as a child and always hated running and maybe that’s why I never liked it as an adult. I felt their pain.
Now of course in secondary school the boys are flourishing and have found their place in sport. The older two in rugby and the youngest in rugby and cross-country running.
He recently won his first Mud Run race and came second in the long-distance run (which of course I didn’t see).
Sports day should be cute and fun but I found it neither; for me, all through my life it has been nothing but a stress and a worry.
‘It should be cute and fun ... but I found it stressful’