The Lottery Ticket Lesson

In a small village, there lived a boy named Raju who dreamed of winning the local lottery. Each week, he watched as people bought tickets, some with hope and others out of habit. Raju saved up his pocket money for months and finally bought ten tickets for the grand annual draw.

On the day of the draw, Raju sat eagerly in front of the radio, clutching his tickets, confident that this time he would be the lucky one. As the numbers were announced, he matched none. His heart sank as he realized that despite buying ten tickets, he hadn’t even come close to winning.

The next day, he told his teacher, Mrs. Rao, about his disappointment. "I thought if I bought more tickets, I had a better chance of winning," Raju said.

Mrs. Rao smiled and took out a jar filled with 1,000 pebbles. "Let's try something," she said. She handed Raju a small handful of 10 pebbles, each marked with a number from 1 to 10. "These are your tickets," she explained, "and this jar represents all the possible combinations in the lottery. Now, if I shake the jar and pull out a pebble, what are the chances I'll pick one of yours?"

Raju looked at his small pile and compared it to the huge number of pebbles in the jar. "Not very good, I guess."

Mrs. Rao nodded. "That's right. Your chance of winning is small because, even though you bought more tickets, there are still so many possibilities. It's a game of probability. Even with ten tickets, your odds are just a tiny fraction of the total chances."

Raju thought for a moment. "So, no matter how many tickets I buy, I might never win."

"Exactly," Mrs. Rao said. "That's the nature of probability. It's not about guaranteeing a win, but understanding how likely—or unlikely—something is to happen. The more possibilities there are, the smaller your chance, even if you buy multiple tickets."

Raju left the class that day with a better understanding of probability. He realized that while buying a few tickets gave him a chance, it didn’t guarantee anything. And he learned that some things, like the lottery, are long shots no matter how much hope you invest in them.