Ten years ago, I entered my name in a drawing at the parade of homes. When we came back, I waited by the phone (it sounds so cliche, but it's true) and waited for them to call me and tell me I was the winner. My mom found me.
I explained the whole situation to her, and, unfortunately, she explained it right back at me (in a caring, 'don't-want-to-break-it-to-her-but-have-to' manner.)
"There are probably thousands of names in that drawing," she told me. "You don't have a very high chance of being picked."
But I didn't understand. "I have the same chance as everyone else though."
"Yes, but somebody else is going to win most likely."
"What makes them so special? Aren't they thinking the same thing, that they have no chance? Why will they win?"
"Because somebody has to."
"Why can't it be me though??"
I was really frustrated.
To this day, I still can't comprehend probability. It's just one of those things, you know? Some people don't understand eternity, some people don't understand fate vs. free will... I don't understand first grade math.
Person A could put their name in the bowl 99 times, and Person B may only have one entry, but Person B could still get picked. It's not right.
I find it difficult to communicate my frustration. My dad explained it very well, and I'm happy enough with what he told me.
Out of 100 students (nice number, huh?) in my geography class, the teacher took MY name out of the pile of index cards to get spotlighted.
Thanks to dad, I was able to look past my frustrations concerning probability and appreciate the irony.