Growing up, I learned that mistakes are bad. Success in school was measured by the things you got right, and there were very few chances to try again after making a mistake. I did my best to avoid making mistakes, because it always felt so shameful to do the wrong thing. Then I had an experience that gave me a different perspective…

Students consistently work to the best of their ability, noticing on their own when their product doesn't fit their vision, fine-tuning their skills until they reach a satisfying level of mastery. Spelling and other skills are gradually perfected over time, in an atmosphere of non-judgement.
I was in elementary school, and we were given the assignment to illuminate a short text, as monks did in medieval times (The text, mysteriously, was “Money is the root of all evil”). I remember it clearly, to this day, because of the unprecedented thing that happened while I was working on the assignment. I remember using my pen and ink and starting the “M”, (with a snake wrapped around it), and then quickly realizing that I should have done it a different way. I knew that it would look much better if I had a chance to re-draw it. I must have said so out loud, although I didn’t expect to be granted either the time or permission to start again. But, shockingly, the teacher responded by saying “It’s ok. You may have another piece of paper.”
ANOTHER PIECE OF PAPER!!! I couldn’t believe my ears. In all my schooling, I don’t think I’d ever had the chance to start over after making a mistake! We were always in a rush to move to the next thing, whatever it was. I started afresh, and this time the drawing matched my vision more closely. I remember being deeply satisfied at having this time to correct the mistake and to integrate a new skill into my brain and hands.
Of course, this happy incident only occurred because I had been pulled from my regular classroom to attend an enrichment program for gifted kids (whatever that was supposed to mean). It would never have happened in my home classroom, where mistakes simply earned you a bad grade. But because of this mistake, and the offer of a fresh piece of paper, I learned in my bones what a gift it is to have time, space, and permission to mess up and try again.

Video games require constant trial and error. Mistakes (or "epic failures," as I often hear them called) are taken in stride until the game is mastered.
During my time at Rising Tide School, I’ve had the chance to get more and more comfortable with mistakes. They don’t feel as scary to me, because we all make them all the time, and because the school gives us time, space, and permission to see our mistakes, learn, integrate an improved way of doing things, and move forward.
Here are a some of us from Art Corp., mistaking our way through our first time silkscreening.
The goal of the project was to learn how to use our equipment, so that we could teach and certify others. Some parts of the process went smoothly. Polly created the design (she did several drafts before coming up with one that was just right).
I prepared the screen, after watching some Youtube videos and reading the instruction manual. I installed the hinges backwards at first.
Then, following the instructions, I transferred the design to the screen. It worked! The drawing fluid washed out and the screen filler stayed on. That was exciting.
Then we began to print. The first print, on scrap paper, came out pretty well.
The next one was trickier. Orianna experimented with spreading the ink different ways, trying for a smoother result. I had a go, but for some reason didn’t have much luck getting the ink to transfer fully to the paper. The screen seemed too loose, and the ink was coming out with a funny texture. Polly persisted, and discovered a few tricks that made the prints come out better.
We ended up with a nice pile of posters for our December fundraiser, Winterfest. They have a handmade, funky look that I really like.
Tomorrow, we’ll finalize the certification that we created through this learning process. Because of the mistakes that we made and corrected, we’ll not only be able to help others learn to print, we’ll be able to help them troubleshoot when things don’t go right. What’s more, because nobody was grading or assessing the project, we were able to relax and enjoy the whole process, understanding the inevitable mistakes as what they are–an integral part of any learning process.
posted by Abbe







This is a beautiful essay, which I have forwarded to others in my “systems thinking” community, most of whom know Russell Ackoff and his teaching that mistakes are essential to learning.