Learning to Fail

The other day, my class was busy writing. We were working on the thing I dread all year: informational reports. They were working away on their five paragraph essays. It was hard to do, but they were working! “Oh goodness,” I stammered, “we’re going to be late for technology class! We’ll finish this later. Go ahead and line up.”

Up they lined. Down the hall we trod. When we got to the tech room, it was dark. It was empty. Where is Mr. Dillon? We wondered.

I figured he must have gone to the bathroom, or up to check his mailbox. We stood. We waited. We tried very hard to be silent. Getting 20 kids to wait silently is nearly impossible. We were all getting antsy.

“Mrs. Miller,” one brave soul piped up, “we’re thirty minutes early.”

Well, I’ll be.

I had interrupted a class of eight-year-olds who were ENGROSSED in SILENT WRITING to take them to a class that didn’t exist. The chance of me getting them back to the room and into the groove again was slim to none. I had just blown it.

Teacher fail.

“Oops!” I said with a chuckle, “Silly me! I made a mistake. Oh well.” They smiled, rolled their eyes, nudged one another with their elbows. They fell in love with me a little more. I was silly. I was imperfect. I made mistakes; just like them.

Back up the hall we went, not a bit silent. They wiggled, skipped, tried to walk but couldn’t get their legs to obey. They couldn’t hide their happiness. Mrs. Miller made a mistake. Mrs. Miller made a mistake!

Kids make mistakes all the time. It’s part of learning and living and trying to negotiate their place in the world. I see kids each year who can’t handle even the slightest failure. They blow up, exploding with anger and self-hate and rage. All over simple mistakes: a tear in a paper, a wrong answer to a math problem, a bad move in Checkers.

The loving adults in their lives need to show them how to make mistakes with grace. We need to give them the ultimate teachable moment: being imperfect, and knowing that’s OK.

Adults: give yourself permission to make mistakes. Fail. Show your kids how to handle it. You’ll make them smile, laugh, and remind them not to take life so seriously.