GRATITUDE FOR FAILURE

             In seventh grade I felt obligated to try out for the baseball team.  I had an athletic older brother and Mom taught health and physical education at the high school.  Surely playing on the baseball team would earn me affirmation.

             I can still remember the emotional sting when I looked on the final list of names--and mine wasn't on it.  When I went to high school the next year, I thought maybe I'd do better at basketball, so tried out for the eighth grade basketball team.  Again, my name did not appear on the roster.  And that time I vowed I would never again try out for a team.

             But both cases freed my time and attention to pursue other interests.  As a seventh grader, I discovered debate and forensics.  Although the school did not have a team, we did a mock debate as part of English classes and I mopped it up.

             In eighth grade, although I couldn't formally compete at the interscholastic level yet, I did most of the research and in the scrimmages with seniors on the team, well, let's just say they were glad they were graduating.  I found theater, public speaking, won a county-wide essay contest sponsored by the Daughters of the American Revolution.  Telling stories and a gift for writing made me a great marketer in my fledgling egg business.  I could walk up to anybody and ask "would you like the best eggs in the world?"

             In this Thanksgiving week as I'm revisiting some things to be thankful for, and with mature hindsight, I look gratefully on those two failures in seventh and eighth grade.  Those emotional stings steered me to my strengths:  communication in all its forms.  Had I frittered away my time in sports, I would not have the fond memories I have today of fantastic English teacher mentors and a wall full of debate trophies.           

             I rehearse this story to children and young people routinely so they will look on failure as part of learning about their strengths and weaknesses.  As children our hearts' desire is to satisfy the expectations of adults and older siblings, along with establishing our place at the performance table.  This can often prejudice our real strengths and hold us back from discovering early on what makes us tick.

             Sometimes talent is a surprising self-discovery.  You have to poke around numerous options out there before finding your groove.  That's why an eclectic exposure is so important:  math, science, and language along with gardening, hunting, building, crafting and other activities.  Video games must be the biggest waste of time in the world.  Do something; don't play something.

             One other point on this:  the "everybody gets a ribbon" doesn't help shape anybody.  Early failure not only builds character; it helps channel our energies to strengths.  It helps us find out who we are, where we can contribute.  Finding that early and honing skills in that area give us a head start over everyone who floundered in indecisiveness for years.  Few things propel us to success like early failure and early practice in our talent field.

             Can you think of a failure, gratefully,  that helped steer you toward success?