I Failed

Remember that math test I was pretty sure I failed? I did, in fact, fail. What's weird is, I felt better, not worse, when I saw my grade. In fact, I felt a lot better. I felt relieved. I don't exactly know why, but I think it's something like this:

• I hadn't failed a test in my adult life previous to this, so now I've set a record... and a bar. It's okay to make mistakes. It's okay to fail. It happens sometimes. I know I've been pretty busy and had a lot of crazy stuff going on in my life lately, so I don't take this one too personally. And, so far, I've only failed this test, which came at a bad time for me and included a lot of difficult stuff and, it turns out, everyone else did surprisingly poorly as well. Which brings me to the next point.

• It was an anomaly. I got A's on my other two tests in that class. I've gotten perfect or near perfect grades on the homework. It wasn't a surprise, because I went into the test knowing that I wasn't really prepared. Still, it was an exception, not part of a trend.

• No one was upset with me. Some people expressed some sympathy (or empathy, since anyone who has ever tried to get a college degree has probably failed a test), but no one was disappointed. That includes my professor. She recognized that this was unusual for me and the rest of the class and is offering us an opportunity to get some extra credit by reworking the problems we missed and turning the test back in on the day of the final.

I will still probably get a B. Like I said, I did really well on the previous two test and all of the homework and I'm not too worried about the final. I just need to study this weekend.

I failed a test and it was okay. It means I'm trying something new and difficult.

So, here's what I learned about parenting, and this is an important topic that a lot of people seem to be talking about lately: It's important to teach your kids that failing is... not only okay, but essential. If you are pushing yourself, trying something new, expanding your boundaries, you are going to fail sometimes. It's important to see that failure for what it is and learn from it. You don't have to feel bad about it. Feeling bad about it is a waste of your time and emotional energy. Besides, there's really nothing to feel bad about since everyone fails sometimes.

I think I expected disappointment. I expected to be disappointed in myself, but I also expected everyone I told to be disappointed. I don't want to disappoint people I care about, so I had an uncomfortable lump of fear. When no one reacted the way I expected, I thought, "Well, of course. I'm not in compulsory school anymore. My failure or success is entirely my own and no one has the power or reason to berated me for my shortfall anymore."

But why does anyone berate anyone for their shortfalls? Why do we breed fear of failure in our kids? They get pressure from every different direction. Their siblings judge them for being less capable in some way or another. Their teachers pressure them by giving them definitive grades and expecting them to learn at the set pace of the classroom (this reminds me of a blog about the pressure of grades I wrote over a year ago). Their peers label them for struggling with a concept. They don't need more pressure to perform... it just becomes more fuel for fear of failure.

I want my kids to fail, because I want them to be trying. I want them to be changing and growing and pushing the limits. I want your kids to do the same. The kids who don't fear failure will be the future innovators who stand on the edge and say, "we can make this jump". Maybe they fall, but they can get back up, armed with new information and try something else. They will be the leaders who change everything because they're not afraid to try.

Ask your kids what they failed at today... and be proud of them. Talk about what they learned and be glad that they tried. Make it a friendly, comfortable topic. Destroy the fear.

It's Okay to Cry

(I wrote this on Wednesday)

I'm pretty sure I failed a math test today. I could give you a lot of reasons why. I feel like I need the reasons because I did so well on all of the previous math tests this semester. I don't think the content was more difficult. I think I'm just wearing myself out.

I'm not getting quality sleep lately. My nose gets stuffy when I lie down... but only in the winter I guess. So I'm tossing and turning and waking up and stress dreaming. Plus, I started (or tried to start) this gym routine that has me getting up at 5:30 on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Needless to say, it has been very sporadic. It seems like my gym buddy or I have some reason we can't at least once a week. Still, we try.

My math teacher put together a review for us and we worked through some of it in class, together, on Monday... but I was too tired to understand what she was explaining. In fact, when I was driving to campus that morning, I had repeated feelings of being in a dream instead of actually driving. Apparently, that's called depersonalization and is a form of anxiety attack. Sleep loss increases anxiety, my good friends. Fun times.

So, I studied. I put it all on myself. "I must have just forgotten the stuff we went over several weeks ago." It was logarithms and completing the square. It's not simple stuff, and it had been a while since we talked about it. Review would surely help.

Last night, while the girls were with Daddy, I sat with Papa and reviewed the stuff I couldn't remember. But what he was explaining to me often didn't make sense and I'd have to ask him to start over. This stuff I learned several weeks ago was not coming back to me. It was like I was learning it for the first time... again. I cried a bit and got a little angry... as I am known to do when I come up against a wall I don't know how to climb.

We didn't have nearly enough time to go over everything I was struggling with, but we worked on every problem in the review, one by one, until I understood how and why we did each step... until we had to give up and go to bed.

Then, this morning, I skipped the gym so I could hopefully sleep a little more... but I had tossed and turned all night and spent hours lying awake, panicking about all of the school-related obligations creeping up on me. So, I left the house a little earlier than usual, planning to get to class earlier so I could jog my memory by studying the problems we had done last night.

When I opened my notebook and looked at the study guide... none of it made sense... again.

Then came the test. There were whole problems I couldn't even begin to work. There were problems for which I could find a solution using my calculator, but couldn't show my work because I didn't know the first thing about how to manually solve them. I wrote a note to my teacher on the scratch paper she provided. I explained how embarrassed I was by this test and that I studied but I couldn't understand or retain a lot of it for some reason.

After the test, I cried. I called Papa. I vented about how difficult it is to study, how tired I am, that I'm doubting my motivation and resolve to even get this degree. Why am I doing this?! Why am I making myself so miserable and stretching myself so thin? I want to show my kids that college and a career are viable options... I don't want to teach them that torture is how you get there.

Papa says I don't have to go full-time. I don't have to graduate in as few semesters as possible. But I don't want this crap to be a part of my life for any longer than it absolutely has to be. It was just one test, but it broke me.

Having calmed down, I know I am more than a sum of my failures. It's okay to fail sometimes. I've obviously over-extended myself. I was tired, and I have been for weeks. I am over-burdened and have been for a while now. I'm okay. I just need a break. Good thing Thanksgiving vacation is coming.