Lucky Socks

The elementary school where I taught physical education was holding its annual end-of-year
races. Standing next to a second grader who was trying to hold back tears, I asked. “What’s the
matter?”

“I forgot to wear my lucky socks. I’m a lousy runner. Last year I came in last and everyone
laughed at me. I need my lucky socks so I can run fast.”

I was stumped. I couldn’t argue with him that socks don’t matter when he so clearly felt they did.
And, it didn’t feel right to say that this year he was bigger and stronger than last year so it was
likely he’d do better because how would I know?

Tony, a third graders came over to me and asked,” Why’s Jimmy crying?”

I didn’t know if it was my place to explain but since he asked, I said, “He’s upset because he left
his lucky socks home. Last year he didn’t do well so this year he was going to bring his lucky
socks. He thought they would help him run faster.”

Tony looked at Jimmy and then at me. “I came in first place today. Can I give him my socks?
They were lucky for me.”

I didn’t know if the socks would fit. And, they were sweaty. I hesitated. Tony didn’t. He walked
over to Jimmy and said, “I won the third-grade race. Want to wear my lucky socks?”

Jimmy didn’t hesitate. “Yes, please.” He sat down and the two took off their sneakers and socks.
I helped Jimmy put them on. A bit too big and too wide but he didn’t care. “They fit perfectly,”
he said, cheerful for the first time. Not quite.

I don’t know about other teachers but I carry bobby pins, safety pins, band aids, and elastic
bands, just to list a few items not normally found in a woman’s handbag. I pulled the socks up
and put elastic bands on each sock to keep them up. The last thing I wanted was for him to trip
on drooping socks.

Tony put his sneakers back on, sans socks. Tony and I walked him to the starting line. I worried
he’d lose and be upset that Tony’s socks weren’t lucky for him. Just before we got to the starting
area I said, “Jimmy, it’s kind of Tony to lend you his lucky socks, but you’re going to run well.
Not because of the socks. It’s because of Tony’s caring.”

Jimmy shook his head. “The socks were lucky for Tony. They’ll be lucky for me.”

The second graders raced around the oval, starting and finishing in the same place. Tony cheered
Jimmy on. It seems Jimmy heard him. I saw him start to run faster. Each time he passed a runner
he pumped his arms up in the air and ran a bit faster. He came in third. Beaming.

Wearing the bronze medal around his neck, he came over to where Tony and I were standing.
“You did it,” grinned Tony.

“Thanks to your socks,” said Jimmy. Then he looked at me, worried. “Was wearing Tony’s socks
cheating?”

“Socks can only do so much. It’s the runner who runs with all his heart, doing his best. That’s
what really matters,” I said. “Right Tony?” He nodded.

“It was the socks,” said Jimmy, looking at me anxiously.

I didn’t want him relying on so-called lucky socks so I said, “Socks are socks. What you think
about them is what counts. I bet you could run as fast as you did wearing your own socks.” He
shrugged. “Want to try?”

“Try what?” I told him to put on his own socks.

While he was doing this I managed to arrange for most of the 2 nd graders to run again, just for
fun. As Jimmy walked to the start line, looking distraught, I said, “Jimmy, you’re going to run
fast and well, I promise. Just do your best and that will be great.”

I held my breath as the runners took off. Once again, Tony cheered him on. This time a few of
them, Jimmy included, crossed the finish line in such a tight group it was impossible to say who
won.

I walked over to where Jimmy was drinking water with the other kids. He looked happy. That’s
all I cared about.


What is the power of belief?