The world of school sport struggles with the tension between performance and participation. Do games exist to provide opportunities for all, or to allow the most able to excel in competition? Or can you have both? This dilemma is never more evident than in the annual Sports Day. Few indeed are the schools that do not engage in some form of this annual ritual - usually at this time of year. Even schools that have no programme of Athletics to speak of feel the need for this inevitable event in the school calendar. So, what's the point of Sports Day?
For many schools, the aim is to showcase something as close as possible to the Olympic Games. Often a stadium is hired to emphasise this focus. The events are confined to those of elite track and field meets: this often dictates the content of the PE programme for previous weeks, in the haste to cover technical events such as shot and javelin, so as to avoid the embarrassment of dismal performance in the public eye on the Big Day Itself. The structures of the competition mirror Olympic protocols, with heats, qualifying and finals. Even the officiating reflects this, with time consuming competitions and complex rules. High jump bars creep up at funereal pace, and discuss throws are measured to several decimal places.
What's the disadvantage of this format? Principally that it limits participation on the day, and, at its worse, reinforces the labelling of "sporty" and "non-sporty" pupils. Selection mechanisms might provide for all to get involved, but often eliminate the majority in "heats" that are held our of the public eye before the Day Itself. This is in the interests of keeping the competition acceptably brief, despite the slow moving nature of the occasion. Field events particularly establish an entry barrier of technical competence, or a high level of potential embarrassment for those yet to master the complexity of triple jump and hurdles.
The discredited alternative is the approach popularised by the London Borough of Brent in the 1980s. Terrified of the evils of competition, low impact events were intended to make everyone a winner, though arguably achieved the exact opposite. It created an approach to school sport which made everyone a loser. Attitudes to winning complicate the landscape of schools, usually by adopting a narrow definition of what success means. 10,200 people competed in the London Olympics. Only 300 won gold medals. Did that mean the others were all losers?
So, who loves Sports Day? The same kids who dominate the rest of the programme. And who doesn't? Two types: the ones who would like to take part, and are excluded on grounds of ability. And those forced to participate in events where their incompetence causes public embarrassment.
Does it have to be like this? The structure of a sports day reflects the culture of sport in a school. It can present the stellar achievements of a small number of elite athletes, or it can allow everyone to participate and structure the occasion to minimise the embarrassment, maximise activity and celebrate involvement. Freed from the constraints of strict adherence to IAAF event protocols, wider participation should be possible. A 20 x 40m relay would involve more pupils, but without exposing the unathletic. Other mass participation events can add to the Olympic style showdown, rather than replace it. Creative approaches to the programme, and to the culture of encouraging participation, can allow schools to deliver a range of outcomes without undermining the legitimate efforts of a small number to beat school records in established events.
This presupposes that the vital debate has taken place - what positive outcomes are we seeking to deliver through Sports Day, and how will this public event reflect what we value in our sports culture? Then the secondary consideration is devising a creative programme to deliver these aims. It is a choice which lies in the gift of every school.
But it probably needs a bit of thought.
