The Crisis of Confidence Among Young Quran Contestants

Introduction: When the Flame Flickers

Year after year, as the season for Quran competitions arrives, there is a buzz—an air of reverence mixed with anticipation inside the mosque walls and community halls. I have spent the better part of a decade involved with these competitions, wearing many hats: at times a judge, at other times an organiser, and most commonly, a teacher coaching youth for their moments of recitation. The sight of dozens of hopeful youngsters, their parents silently mouthing prayers, the constant shuffle of papers—it is a scene that would seem heartening to any observer. Yet, beneath the surface, a troubling pattern grows clearer with every passing year: a crisis of confidence is quietly hampering the spirit of many young Quran contestants.

This is not a minor matter. Beyond pronunciations, tajwid rules, and memorisation, what I see most often—especially amongst the teenagers and pre-teens—is uncertainty, self-doubt, and fear. These aren’t the jitters one might expect before a performance, but a pervasive lack of belief in themselves that can undermine genuine love for Quran recitation and, by extension, their wider relationship with the Quran.

What Does the Crisis Look Like?

If you have ever watched a room full of contestants waiting for their turn, you will recognise the signs. For some, it’s the darting eyes and shaking hands, for others, the hesitance to approach the microphone, and for a few, the tears shed after a small slip in recitation. I once witnessed a young girl—by no means underprepared—break down minutes before her presentation, whispering to her mother, “What if I am not good enough?”

No matter the scale of the competition, from local mosque events to national platforms, the underlying anxieties and feelings of inadequacy appear remarkably similar:

• Fear of making mistakes—especially in front of authority figures and peers.
• Comparisons with others—leading to the feeling that they are not as capable, smart, or religious as their fellow contestants.
• Pressure to impress family or community, overshadowing the personal, spiritual purpose of participating.
• Lack of honest feedback—many students report confusion about why they score as they do, eroding their trust in their abilities.
• Perfectionism—the belief that any mistake negates their entire effort.

Where Does Confidence Falter?

Understanding where the cracks first appear is crucial. In my experience, there isn’t a single culprit but rather a mix of intertwined factors:

• Overemphasis on Competition: The well-intentioned spirit of healthy rivalry too often morphs into cut-throat competitiveness. Children as young as seven are acutely aware of “winning” and “losing”, and before long, Quran recitation transforms into yet another arena where only the outstanding feel valued.
• Lack of Preparation Time: Many participants feel thrust into the spotlight with inadequate time to internalise and perfect their portions. This sense of being rushed breeds uncertainty.
• Inconsistent Standards: Marking schemes can vary widely, even within the same organisation from year to year. The lack of clarity makes children feel as though the ‘rules’ are subjective and arbitrary, feeding their self-doubt.
• Scarcity of Encouragement: Not all teachers or judges have been trained to provide constructive or compassionate feedback. Harsh or public criticism—even if meant to be instructive—can corrode confidence for years.
• Absence of Individual Attention: In larger competitions, personal coaching is rare. Many promising youths never get the chance to explore their own strengths and address specific weaknesses before being evaluated.

The Role of Parents, Teachers, and Judges

One of the most painful moments I’ve witnessed was not a stumble at the microphone, but a father, frustrated at his son’s minor error, shaking his head in disappointment as the boy left the stage. The boy’s eyes downcast, every ounce of pride drained from his small frame. When the people intended to nurture confidence become unwitting agents of discouragement, the damage is deep and lasting.

Parents

• Unrealistic Expectations: Expecting flawless recitation or basing a child’s self-worth on competition outcomes creates immense stress.
• Public Critique: Negative feedback delivered harshly or in public is devastating to a child’s confidence.
• Conditional Praise: Focussing only on results, not effort or progress, reinforces the idea that love and admiration are earned only through perfection or victory.

As adults, we must remember: the Quran was not revealed as a means of dividing the “talented” from the “less talented”. How we frame these experiences for our children informs their relationship with the Book and with themselves.

Teachers

• Teaching to the Test: When lessons are geared solely around anticipated competition questions, deeper understanding and love for the Quran can be sidelined.
• Ignoring Individual Pace: Some children need more time to master rulings or memorisation; others bloom quickly. Equating speed with ability does lasting harm.
• Feedback Without Guidance: Merely pointing out mistakes without showing children how to improve leaves them feeling lost and overwhelmed.

Judges

• Intimidating Demeanour: A stern or unapproachable judge’s panel increases anxiety and dampens self-assurance, especially for first-timers.
• Opaque Marking: When the tallying of marks feels mysterious, contestants may internalise their marks as a reflection of worth, not just performance.
• Neglecting Praise: Sincere acknowledgment of effort and skill, even where there’s imperfection, can transform a contestant’s experience.

In every interaction, adults wield immense influence over a young performer’s confidence. A tender word, a smile, an explanation—these small gestures accumulate into deep reservoirs of assurance or, conversely, reservoirs of doubt.

Cultivating Authentic Confidence

So, what can we do—practically and intentionally—to reverse this trend? Drawing on what has worked in my own experience, both as a mentor to contestants and as a judge behind the scenes, I offer several approaches:

• Reframe the Competition’s Purpose
  Remind contestants early and often: Their value does not hinge on results. Participation itself is an act of devotion. Regularly anchor sessions in the higher objective—closeness to the Quran, not trophies.
• Encourage Honest Self-Assessment
  Create safe spaces for students to reflect on their strengths and areas for cultivation without fear of derision or punishment.
• Provide Individual, Practical Feedback
  Avoid generic comments (“work harder!”). Instead, specify: “Your makhraj for ق was very clear, but let’s revisit your elongation on the mad letters.” This empowers students to improve, not just ruminate on failure.
• Model Vulnerability
  I often share stories of my own early mistakes or the nerves I still feel when reciting in public. When respected adults normalise imperfection, it taught my students that stumbling does not preclude excellence.
• Celebrate Effort Publicly
  After every competition, highlight not only the winners but also those who made marked progress, demonstrated discipline, or persevered despite setbacks.
• Gradually Increase Exposure
  Many students do better when exposed to the ‘stage’ gradually—starting with presentations in small, familiar circles before moving to public forums.
• Standardise Marking and Communicate the Process
  Consistent, transparent criteria demystify judging and reassure contestants that their efforts are fairly acknowledged.
• Create Support Networks
  Encourage camaraderie among participants. Let them witness each other’s growth and become one another’s support, not just rivals.

Lessons I’ve Learned Along the Way

The most confident contestants I’ve encountered invariably came from environments where Quranic recitation was treasured and mistakes were treated gently. One brilliant reciter told me, “My father always said, ‘Your real goal is to be able to recite this for your children one day. Just do your best!’” Another, who struggled in her first two competitions, later flourished—not because she never made mistakes, but because her teacher emphasised that progress, not perfection, is what matters most.

Conversely, I have seen exceptionally talented children withdraw from Quran circles altogether when their early faltering was met with harshness or ridicule. No victory in these competitions is worth the loss of a young heart’s enthusiasm for our Book.

At its best, the world of Quranic competition builds a generation of not just proficient memorisers or readers, but confident, resilient servants of the Quran. At its worst, it leaves wounds that take years to heal.

A Message to Young Contestants

To any young reader or reciter stumbling upon these words: Your journey with the Quran is just that—a journey. Competitions can be exhilarating and, at times, intimidating. But they are not the measure of your devotion or potential. Embrace your nerves; they are a sign that you care. Remember, even the greatest reciters began somewhere, with trembling hands and mispronounced words. Each step—each misstep—in your journey has value in Allah’s sight.

And to the families, teachers, and mentors: Nurture, support, and believe in your children. Make confidence the legacy they inherit from you alongside their love of the Quran.

If you need help with your Quran competition platform or marking tools, email info@qurancompetitions.tech.