On the Fear of Failure and Progress

We had parent-teacher conferences at the boys' school last week. I've heard it said that if the parents are paying attention and the teachers are doing their jobs, there should be no surprises at this annual ritual. Since I'm an attentive parent, and I have every confidence in my kids' teachers, I walked in knowing exactly what I would hear: Rock has no problems academically, but he can't sit still. ... and ... HardPlace is a great kid, but he's not motivated. He could do the work if he tried. ¹

I was only half right: My second-grader IS a handful and a half. His report card was straight A's except for handwriting, effort, and conduct. But my sixth-grader's teachers stunned me. I was prepared to moan and groan and say "What can I do?" I was left speechless when his teachers had nothing but words of praise and enthusiasm. His report card wasn't stellar, but the teachers were utterly thrilled with the progress they have seen from last year to this.

He's laughing! He's smiling and telling jokes! He's participating in group discussions! He asks the most interesting questions! He props his chin on his hand, leans across the table, and says, 'So, Mrs. Jones, how was your weekend?'

His academic performance? Oh, we're not too concerned about that. He's doing his homework this year, and his classwork is fine. When he decides that he wants to get A's on his report card, he'll start studying for tests, and he'll get them. We're just so pleased to see how comfortable he's gotten with himself! ²

I walked out of the classroom shaking my head, not sure what to make of it all. A few conversations with family and friends later, I realized that HardPlace is struggling with Fear of Failure: What if he studies and doesn't get a good grade? What if he tries and can't do the work? What if he's not as smart as he thinks he is? as he's heard people say that he is? What if what if what if?  I recognized it because I, too, suffer from that particular form of perfection disorder. (No, "perfection disorder" is not a real diagnostic term, but it should be.) If I can't do something well, if I can't get it right the first time, I wind up procrastinating and rationalizing -- and more often than not, I don't do it at all.

For example, I agonized about writing for 50-Something Moms. Can I make this commitment? Do I have enough interesting things to say? It's one thing for my friends to want to keep up with my life, but are strangers who read this popular blog going to want to know what I have to say? I've also been talking for years about wanting to write, about "having a book inside me." And I've always been plagued with uncertainty about doing so. What if I can't do it? What if I can't finish it? What if nobody likes it? What if I fail in one of the myriad ways there are to fail? What if what if what if?

It's so much safer to say, "Well, I never really tried. If I'd tried, I'm sure I could have ... " Enough of that. I've made the commitment to write here, and I've registered with NaNoWriMo.  If I want to call myself a writer, I have to write. And as I sit here writing, HardPlace is across the room -- working diligently on his math homework. We're making progress.

¹ Rock and HardPlace may not be my boys' real names, but those are their true identities.

² A little background seems necessary: We moved across the country about one-quarter through fourth grade. HardPlace was pretty much shell-shocked all year. By fifth grade, he'd gotten his bearings and was starting to feel more secure with the new environment. He has the same team of teachers this year as he did last year. Apparently, this year, he's found his groove.

This is an original post for 50-Something Moms. Alicia regularly blogs at Forever Changed.