Mistakes are opportunities to learn.
Our words are powerful. They teach children who we are. And they teach children who to become.
In my child development and cognitive development classes I offer my undergraduate students two phrases to guide every interaction you have with a child. The first one is
Mistakes are opportunities to learn
I find this an incredibly powerful reminder to be present with the child in front of me, and to use this moment — each moment — to help them walk toward being the best person they can be.
“Mistakes are opportunities to learn”
Like most truisms this one is both simplistic and profound at the same time. It’s so easy to say that we want to learn from our mistakes. It is quite a different thing to act on that and to live it every day.
Advice like this abounds, especially in Silicon Valley’s start up climate. The idea of learning from failure is at the heart of any entrepreneurial endeavor. It’s even emblazoned on the wall at the Tech Museum.
Still. It can be hard to do for those of us who weren’t raised that way.
At the elementary school my children attended this phrase was repeated daily, everywhere. The teachers really lived by it. They modeled it for their students. They guided them to walk through it when something went wrong. Gently and lovingly, yet also with purpose. When mistakes were made, it was seen as a good thing — sometimes even to be celebrated!
Weird, huh? Also really, profoundly, wonderful.
The kids got it easily
After a while I noticed something. Any time we discussed something they had done wrong, I would hear my children start the discussion with this phrase. At first I thought they were just parroting something they’d heard in school. That’s not uncommon. And honestly at first that’s all I thought it was.
Slowly I started to appreciate that they were internalizing this idea — that it meant more to them than just a slogan.
I could see that it was sinking in by how they conducted themselves in their conversations with me.
My kids were not just quicker to own up to what they had done wrong — they were more comfortable with it. They were more engaged in thinking about what would make the situation right again, or at least better. They were genuinely interested in seeking solutions.
Learning from my kids
I ultimately embraced this phrase and its philosophy because of how my kids were using it. I found it was liberating.
No need to hide from mistakes, or to hide them from anyone else. It was so much better — in my relationships and out in the world — to be open about what I had done wrong/badly/unthinkingly/ineffectively. Acknowledge it not to get past it, but to help myself look at it with curiosity. To look for the ways in which it would help me grow.
It was a very different perspective from the way I had been brought up.
“Native” language
I loved that my children were hearing this phrase and internalizing it for guidance in their own life. Then another parent shared the idea that while we adults might be learning it like a foreign language, our kids and their classmates were growing up native in this language of mistakes as learning opportunities. It was obvious that it was easier for the kids to adopt it, to live it.
Every time we use a phrase, it shapes how we think about the world, and how we act in it. The neuroscience is pretty clear here — ‘neurons that fire together, wire together.’ The more we practice a skill, the more robustly that neural pathway is enhanced.
We adults had to work to rewire our thinking. But our kids were growing up with this idea at their core.
And they didn’t just use it for themselves.
I saw that it was easy for my kids to encourage and support others in embracing the approach. They simply saw life this way, and carried it into all their interactions.
I began doing that as well.
Seeing it change someone’s life
The turning point for me personally came through my university teaching. I needed to confront one of my undergraduate students who I had caught plagiarizing a paper. This happens about once a semester. It’s never a comfortable meeting.
As usual, I lined up my evidence, scheduled a time to talk, and sat the student down to show her what I had found and the conclusion I drew from it. She had submitted a paper that had borrowed heavily from someone else’s work. Plagiarism is a form of cheating — you’re using work that’s already been created and passing it off as your own new idea in order to get credit. It has a heavy cost.
This meeting took a different twist.
My student — let’s call her Nancy — was very open with me. She said she had been dealing with a lot outside of school (very common for students at SJSU). She told me she had freaked out, and, as she put it, had “cut corners.” She told me she was a very good student and had never done anything like this before (possible, but yes you do hear that from students in these moments). She was distraught (again, very common).
I looked at her and told her I had something to say that might sound corny, but that I truly believed. Then I offered “mistakes are opportunities to learn”.
Nancy looked surprised. We talked briefly about what would happen next (spelled out from day 1 in the course syllabus, plagiarism results in a zero for that paper plus an academic integrity report to the University — which is a big deal because if you get 2 of those they throw you out of school).
After reviewing these somewhat grim repercussions, I encouraged Nancy to use this as the opportunity it could be for her. I reminded her that this did not mean that she was failing the class. I tried to assure her again that I would not penalize her in any way after this. She left shaken.
I was delighted and a little surprised when Nancy appeared in class the next day, ready to learn. I’ve seen students vanish after encounters like this — either too embarrassed to face me or too unwilling to face themselves.
But Nancy showed up. She worked hard all semester. She didn’t give up. She also didn’t settle for being angry with me — for the bad grade or the embarrassment of being called out for cheating. She wrote an outstanding term paper (Turns out she really was a good student!).
And then, on the last day of the semester, after the final, Nancy bowled me over. She gave me a huge hug and said thank you. She shared that she had taken what I said to heart, and used it. She had wanted to tell me how much it had meant to her. Wow.
Mistakes are opportunities to learn.
This plagiarizing incident could have gone so many other ways. What made the experience such a powerful learning opportunity? Is it that my student Nancy believed this phrase? Or that I did?
Either way — what we say to kids (and even young adults) shapes how they see their world. Our words teach them who we are, and who they are to become.
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