The Fear of Failure

HollyandSusanMannschorus

A few years ago, I sat in a room filled with mothers and their teenage sons.  We were playing a version of the newlywed game, asking all the moms and our boys a variety of questions.  One of the questions asked what is your greatest fear?  Two boys from the same family both feared the same thing: failure.

Failure? 

I was pretty surprised at their answers.  I was more stunned that both boys feared the same thing. 

As parents and adults in general, we are definitely missing the mark if our kids are growing up scared of failure.  Don't misunderstand; I don't want to fail, and I certainly don't celebrate when I do.  However, my failures have been some of my greatest teaching moments.

In the 1990s, I was in high school and loving choir.  I loved to sing!  To my utter dismay, my choir teacher stood in front of the room and told us we would all have to sing a solo in front of the class, and the assignment would be graded.  I felt sick.  Sing a SOLO?!!

I talked with my teacher after class.  Surely, I could get out of this horrific situation.  She said I would be fine, patted my back, and walked away.  GAH!!!I went home and chose a song.  It was short and sweet.  Over the next few weeks, I practiced my heart out.  I was nervous, but I knew I was ready when the day of reckoning came.

My choir teacher called my name, and I walked dreadfully to the front of the room.  The music started.  I opened my mouth and started singing.  The noises coming out were minuscule and foreign-sounding.  Was this my voice?  Did I just burp?  Oh help.  My throat tightened up and my mouth was as dry as the Sahara.  I kept going with what can only be described as an impression of dolphin squeaks and clicks.The song ended.  I hung my head and slumped back into my chair.  I had failed, miserably, and in front of my entire class!  It was awful.

I was so embarrassed!  How could I ever show my face again?  I cried a lot that night and went to sleep.  Morning came as it always does.  I sat on my bed for a while.  Finally, I swallowed whatever was left of my pride, got myself ready, and walked back into school.

Man, I learned so much about myself from that failure.  For one thing, I'm not a soloist.  I clearly have some serious performance anxiety, and the remedy for me is to add a friend.  I have sung in many choirs, small groups, even duos and trios, and they all work out beautifully.  No solos.

Another thing I learned was that failures, even public ones, don't stop time.  Although I felt like my whole world came crashing down in humiliation, the real world didn't even skip a beat.  The day continued on and the next day came.  I realized I could remain in that moment, always looking back at what could have been, or what I wished had been...or I could move forward.The most significant lesson was that pride was my enemy.  My pride was making me so scared to sing a solo.  What if I failed? (I did!)  What if I sound terrible? (I did!)  It's also what made me want to run away forever after I had bombed so badly.  Pride makes us scared to try new things, scared to take chances, and scared to expose any vulnerabilities.  It robs us of the growth that happens when we fail, learn from our mistakes, and keep going.  Pride is no friend of mine.  I wish I could say that I never let my pride get in the way of my growth again...but I have had to learn and relearn that lesson many times throughout my life.

Failure is a great teacher.  I have learned and continue to learn so much from all the failures in my everyday life.  I don't fear it.  I don't think anyone should.  Be scared of actually frightening things.

Like snakes.(I'm the second one from the left on the front row.  This was about 9 years earlier, but the choir teacher was the same.  I didn't have to sing a solo in this children's choir, thank goodness.)