Parenthood: Give your children the gift of failure

“Failure is a stepping stone to success”

These are some of the staple quotes that we grew up with, yet do we really live our lives acting as though failure is an important and natural part of life? Do we allow our children to fail? And when they do, what is the message we give them?

The reality is that most of us fear failure for our children. We rush to save and protect them from any circumstances that may cause them discomfort. As parents, we all want the best for our children and believe in making our children’s lives as comfortable as we possibly can. We do not want them to face the difficulties and challenges we may have faced as children.

Even if we do think that children may learn something from failure we are also often left wondering which failures to allow and when to step in to help. This is an area of confusion as most parents want children to experience some difficulties, but also fear that it can affect their child’s self-esteem when they do badly at something.

As a parent, I have agonised over this, and some days it is hard to watch my children fail, as It takes a lot of effort and restraint to separate their pain from mine. Often when I pitch in and solve the problem it is to ease my sense of discomfort as much as easing the child’s.

So, what are the thumb rules or guidelines that can help us navigate through this unfamiliar territory of failure and learning? Jessica Lahey, author of the book Gift of Failure, states that we can help children thrive and learn through failure by providing them with an environment that promotes autonomy, competence and connection.

Autonomy according to her definition is like independence, but with control over little details. Practically, this would mean that we can lay the broad rules like — everyday homework needs to be done, vegetables have been eaten, etc. After that, we need to give children the space to decide when and how they would like to do these things.

Competence is a conviction in their ability, and differs from confidence as its not delicate and cannot be broken. Competence is built by giving children tasks that are just a little out of their reach but doable. She calls them ‘desirable difficulties’. They challenge the brain, hence, the information is absorbed more deeply, as against when we provide a solution or give a very easy task. What would this look like practically for our children? To me it meant watching silently when the puzzle piece was turned over ten times to fit into a space that it was not meant to go in, not taking over with homework and project work. Staying out of the kitchen, when my 10-year-old who had helped me bake many times before, attempted baking her first cake. To trust that she would figure out the measurements and recipe, and not rush at the first shout for help. The beaming smile on her face when it was all done made me recognise the difference between competence and confidence. She knew she could bake a cake. Competence is a gift that we can never give by swooping in.

Connection one wonders what connection has to do with failure, but look further into the way we interact with our children. We should especially examine some of the ways in which we respond to our children when they do fail. Do we withdraw love when they perform badly? Or shower more love when they do well? It also helps us to reflect on how we respond to our own failures, what is our inner chatter? How do we look at ourselves as parents and individuals when we fail?

John Holt author of How Children Fail, states that success and failure are very adult notions. Babies who learn to walk do not think “I failed again” when they fall, or “I am succeeding” when they walk. The joy is in the act of walking itself. He also believes that children are eager to try new things, and have a remarkably accurate sense of what they can and cannot do. When they are constantly fussed over, they tend to either become too reckless or too timid as they are not accustomed to using their own judgment.

I considered myself as someone who allowed my children to falter and learn at their pace. My daughter’s skating class proved otherwise. I was there giving unhelpful instructions like “be careful”, “go slow” or “look forward”. It wasn’t until the instructor asked me to sit on the bench, that I realised how I was coming in the way of her learning. When it comes to growth, failure is a part of the process. I found that when I substituted the word ‘failure’ with ‘learning’, it always helped me shift my thoughts and actions. Do you have any alternative word that would work for you?