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The annual mandatory gathering where children shriek like Warrior’s on the edge of a battlefield. Athletes hurtle along white lined grassy straights in pursuit of the finish line.

Are they our future’s generation…

The quickest athlete is top of the kids. He’s heading for the big leagues, with a large heart to carry him there. The same way he carries his team forward.

They’ve got Clones. You know the types, matching hairstyles, co-ordinated accessories, prancing-mall-shopping-pre-teen-posers are over by the stands. Doing???…

The time keeper’s mix of kids are potential mathematicians, a secretary and a journalist. While a future stand-up comedian, the lad holding the megaphone, dodges the Principal’s frown.

There’s the loner, under the tree. The graffiti artist, behind the tree. The adventurer, up in the tree.

Overseen by all are the uninvolved sunburnt watchers, the eaters, and the drinkers. They’re showing predictable office-drone qualities, destined to watch life from the sidelines.

En masse, students of the Primary School sports carnival.

But one stood apart…

The starter’s gun blasts and a dozen girls leapt forwards. Equals, from the start, they sprinted. Leaders pull away from a lengthening pack. The leader stops as the spectators gasp. She turns and runs back while other runners tear past her. The crowd’s screaming, ‘…wrong way’.

She ignores them, running up to the last competitor. Clutches the hand of an intellectually disabled child and together they cross that finish line – true champions of the day.

Imagine what they’d be like tomorrow?

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