Feel of Failure

There’s a lot of theory about failure and how good/useful/essential it is, but like many educational concepts it’s one of those things that hangs around at the back of my head: I might agree with its importance even if I haven’t given it a lot of thought on a personal level.

But paying close attention to my children when they’re trying new things—reading a more difficult book, doing more complicated sums or playing a piece of music for the first time—makes me feel for the importance of failure and the context we create around it.

Some things create real, palpable stress, whatever our stage of learning; I remember learning to play the piano—it was almost painful—I was trying to change my brain, my body. And I recognise that physical stress in my children when they’re trying to exercise sheer will over their abilities. Reading difficult new books makes my youngest agitated; I can hear it in her voice, see her shifting around and grappling with it.

At those times I become acutely aware of my response. It’s my job to take the pressure off. I don’t want her to give up but I want her to know that she doesn’t need to fear failing, making mistakes. Unschooling for us has been about many moments like this: a realisation that learning is intimate and in need of close listening, reflection, observation, awareness.

This connection with the vulnerability of another human being learning and adapting makes our unschooling journey even more divergent from formal education. It makes me reflect on the school environment and wonder how the need to pass tests—to succeed—can be at odds with the fragility of individual learning. In light of that contrast the real meaning of failure becomes clearer: it’s that human need to find a safety net in the moments when we are stretching in a new direction, looking for encouragement rather than judgement.