My son sent me a commencement speech that was recently given at a high school in Pennsylvania. It was a rather lengthy speech, but if it had to be summed up in a few words, these would be them: None of us are special. While that may fly in the face of all the self-help gurus we have here in the Golden State, it is true. We are part of the world – it is not part of us.

The speech touched on something near and dear to my heart – participation trophies. My father used to tell me that virtue was its own reward, that we did not receive accolades for doing what was expected. As usual, at the time I did not have a clue what he was talking about, but the older I get the smarter he becomes.

During my son’s first T-Ball season – well over 20 years ago – near the end of the season the team mom called a meeting to discuss the year-end party. I expected to be asked for a donation for the coach’s trophy, but when I was told that the contribution would include an amount that would cover trophies for all the kids, I immediately protested.

 I said that trophies were for accomplishment and not participation, and the team mom placated me and then said that if there was a problem with the money side of things, it would be covered for me. I just shook my head as I could see that this was an argument I was going to lose. Little did I know just how far on the wrong side of history I was about to be.

 Recently, I covered a travel baseball tournament for an Internet site. There were age groups from 10 to 13, with one of the first-place prizes for each group being a ring for each player. A ring? For grammar-school kids? I just cannot make this stuff up.

Mass recognition dilutes true accomplishment, and like it or not, not everyone gets to be the quarterback, or the pitcher, or the shooting guard. Life needs linemen, right fielders and power forwards, or else there is no venue for the true stars to shine.

And when everyone is special, then everyone thinks that the rules do not apply to them. Actions bring consequences, and for an example of that we need look no further than an hour to our north and McClatchy High School in Sacramento. Recently, a group of 30 seniors was implicated in what they considered to be high jinks – but one man’s high jinks is another’s vandalism – and their penalty was not being able to graduate with their class.

 A number of these children have protested because they say that only a few actually vandalized – glue in locks, paintballs and graffiti – and the rest – toilet paper strewn about and peanut butter on the hand rails – was all relevantly innocent.

Nobody could have foreseen the girl who had a peanut allergy and sustained a reaction to what was spread around, so I am not going to use that to sensationalize things. But even the supposed innocent vandalism was anything but. District personnel had to clean up after those knuckleheads, and despite the rationale of the girl who complained about how disappointed her family was that she would not be able to walk across the stage, I think that the punishment definitely fit the crime.

 One of the mothers said that she thought this was a terrible life lesson for those who vandalized. I think it is a wonderful life lesson. There are consequences for actions, and as children morph into adults about the time they graduate, those consequences become more ominous every day.