On a warm early summer afternoon many, many years ago, I sat in a semi-comatose state star-gazing out of a dusty window at an even dustier horse chestnut outside and was vaguely aware of our form master saying that he had the list of prizewinners.

As if from far away I heard his sonorous voice calling out the winners and then, I heard my name. For a split second I was electrified – I had won a prize and suddenly my form master had all my attention. Of course this euphoria lasted no longer than it took me to see that everyone was congratulating, by means of face pulling and strange animal noises, my best friend, whose desk was next to mine. I caught the sadistic gleam in my teacher’s eye and his exact words, which had somehow penetrated my half-conscious mind, came back: “The academic prize winner is sitting next to…”

and then my name.

He had noted my day-dreaming state and had recalled me to the hard, cruel reality of my true condition. I was not a prize winner, nor was I worthy of a prize and I knew this with perfect clarity. I had spent the year “getting by”, but for a moment I had been filled with excitement at the thought of getting a prize.

For some inexplicable reason, my friends and I considered it not quite the done thing to try hard at any endeavour. We adopted, for a short spell, a laid back nonchalant sort of pose that was very amusing to us and, no doubt, frustrating to our teachers. I was lucky, therefore, that during a history lesson, my teacher said something that fired my imagination.

I turned to my sister, two years older and taking what were then O-Levels, for elucidation.

She gave me a book to read and was patient enough to explain some of the passages that my “tell-me-in-a-few-words” philosophy of study, could not cope with. It was a small start, and one that my friends appeared to experience at roughly the same time, and school never seemed quite so boring again.

When, eventually, I did win a prize, I was even more astounded than I had been back on that summer afternoon so long ago.

That same sister when she was small had hated sports day. She had never won a race, more often than not finishing last or thereabouts.

Although this did not worry her unduly, she did not like to be thought of as slow and lumbering, which she was not; she was just not very competitive.

Taking her problems to my mother, she was given some excellent advice. My mother told her to think of the winning post being five metres further away than it actually was and to run full tilt at that new, distant goal. It was pointed out to my sister that even quite famous athletes seem to slow down before the tape, but if she kept on running towards her imaginary finishing line, she might overtake some competitors who were slowing down. At that year’s sports day, my sister shot past the finishing line and when, eventually, she stopped running and came back, the race official gave her a third place card. She was overjoyed.

However one views the giving of rewards, I know that in our human state we are more content when we do our best, whether we win prizes or not.

If we do pick up a prize on the way, I know that it is inordinately gratifying – far beyond the intrinsic value of the book or what-have-you.

For advice to those who have never won anything, I would repeat that which my sister received. Move your goals further away and keep running towards them with all your energy and enthusiasm and I am sure you will find your endeavours rewarded. At least you may earn the end of term comment “This pupil should go far”.

Damian Ettinger, Headmaster, Cokethorpe School