One thing I’ve learned from my daughter is that there are two ways to fail: one that increases and builds confidence, one that erodes it.

My daughter is a dog lover. A real dog lover. She was bitten by the dog bug when she went to the Seattle Kennel Club dog show when she was 8 years old. We succumbed to her wishes for a dog, and our journey began. We had many dogs throughout our children’s childhoods. I could tell many “dogs as life curriculum” stories, but since I’m focusing on the topic of “failure” I will stay on that topic for now. At around age 10 Sarah got a miniature poodle she named Chassi. Chassi was smart as poodles go, but we were not smart as owners go. We learned from 4H and obedience schools (a little too late for Chassi) how to train dogs. Sarah desperately wanted to compete with her at dog shows and did so on a regular basis.

Sarah learned about what it takes to win based on how well her dog met the standard for how poodles should be built. Chassi didn’t come close. It seemed heartbreaking to me to enter in a show, go through the rigors of competing, and then be told her dog would never win. She directed her attention to training Chassi for obedience trials instead. Because poodles are smart, there was no reason she couldn’t get Chassi to win for her. Chassi began her training a little late so was unreliable in the ring. Once, her last time in the ring, she attempted to bite the judge. Performing really stressed her out, and she made her needs known the best she could. Sarah was undaunted. A little embarrassed maybe, but she never lost her ideal. You have to pass an obedience trial 3 times to win a title of Companion Dog. Chassi won once. Once was enough to be Sarah’s “companion” dog.

A new sheltie puppy, Micha, brought hope for future success in the dog show world. She turned out, like Chassi, not to be a good standard for the breed, but unlike Chassi, she was trained from the beginning. Micha earned her companion dog obedience title in a few short years. The next step in obedience competitions involved retrieving, but Micha did not like things in her mouth. It was hard to be a retriever when she really was a herding breed. Sarah trained her every day to accept things in her mouth. Her patience eventually paid off because she got Micha to hold things in her mouth and retrieve them even if she never really retrieved enough to compete.

During this time she worked with a poodle groomer and learned the trade. She asked professional breeders if she could show their dogs, and gained experience in the ring. She had her own grooming business and eventually went to work for a professional dog handler/breeder. Sarah quickly went from grooming assistant to showing professionally. She was showing dogs that won championships at age 16 and was paid to show them at major shows, including the Seattle Kennel Club. She went to the Westminster Shows in New York’s Madison Square Garden as an assistant and showed dogs at the companion “National”competition in Atlantic City. She showed exceptional dogs and won. Sometimes she even beat her mentor.

In addition to her dog life, she was an accomplished pianist, trained in ballet for 10 years, was on a competitive dance team that traveled and performed, played softball and soccer with the local junior high team, performed in drama productions, participated actively in 4-H, and she rode horses well enough to became an accomplished jumper. (We did not succumb to her wish for a horse, in case you wondered—she had friends with horses.) She took tae kwon do and regularly went backpacking with her dad. She was a summer camp counselor and enjoyed river rafting and canoeing in addition to her duties as a horseback-riding instructor.

She graduated from the UW at 20 with a degree in Communications where she continued her love of performing. She went through the common dilemma of choosing a career. She spent two years in Florida working at the Southeastern Guide Dog School in Palmetto, Florida. She wanted to do more with her dog training and thought this would be a good match, however, she couldn’t support herself on the income.

She went on to work as an assistant trainer in a service dog organization. This wasn’t the right fit either.  She went through the grueling process of entering the police department in the Tampa suburb of St. Petersburg.

It always amazed me how often Sarah would put herself in situations where failure was a good possibility and in some cases inevitable. She’d even say to me at dog shows, “This judge doesn’t like young handlers so I know I don’t have a chance to win, but the experience will be good for me.”

 

She decided what experiences would be good for her. She decided what things she was willing to try and fail at in order to improve. Even though she was a fluent reader of encyclopedias at age 3, she did not find any satisfaction in reading. “I’d rather be doing those things myself, I don’t want to read about other people doing things.” Academics were always easy, but not satisfying. School was just something she had to do and was happy to get it over within a few hours a week.

I talked to my daughter when she was in the academy training pretty regularly. I found her perspective insightful. On one occasion she described the physical test she had just taken which included holding the push up position for 40 minutes. She was one of only 3 out of 36 who made it the whole time. She was elated and described to me pretty clearly how she did it.

“In any sport you have to look ahead to the next step—in horseback riding the next jump, in dog handling the next move. You keep going in ballet in very painful positions until everyone gets it right. You make yourself even if you are dying. But you do it; you work through the physical pain, frustration, and challenge because you want it. You don’t want to be kicked out of the class.

 

In the classroom now, for the first time, I care what is being said. I care about all 8 hours of lecture. I read things I don’t have to, because I want to know it. I’m a sponge. I can’t get enough. I know if I don’t learn this I’ll be in trouble. Memorizing was always easy for me, so getting it right just didn’t mean anything.

 

Being able to do physical things is all in your head. A lot of people in the class are strong and certainly bigger than me. I physically pushed myself all my life, even if it meant falling off the horse, which I did a lot. You have to learn to trust yourself on a big horse. You have to trust the horse, especially when you are jumping. You gain that physical confidence. Just because you are tired and don’t think you can make another jump doesn’t mean the horse is going to stop for you. You hold on and find the strength to do it.

 

I am not afraid of things most people are and am surprised by what people are afraid of. I’m not afraid of snakes or alligators. They’re everywhere and I often have to rescue someone who is freaking out afraid.

 

I’m not afraid of people yelling at me because I know it is not about me.

I trust myself to know how to be safe, so I don’t often feel fear.

I have self-discipline. I can make myself do what needs to be done, when I want to.

I am confident. I know I can try, mess up, and then try again. Eventually I will get better.”

 

We are the sum of all of our experiences. The most important learning does not always happen in a school. Chrysalis honors learning experiences that occur other places.

It never hurts to try something and quit when you discover you have learned all you want to learn about that subject. Sometimes you’re only at it for a short time. At Chrysalis we don’t think that this is “being a quitter,” it’s being a quick learner.

Trying and failing are important parts of the learning process. If you knew everything or never tried to do anything, you wouldn’t fail. None of us knows everything. Chrysalis encourages risk taking.

Choosing where you want to try and fail builds confidence, and is what independent learning is all about. Failing at something where you had no choice is not only defeating but humiliating, and offers little opportunity for personal growth.

Learning is a process. A natural, fun process. Pursuing a subject, hobby, or activity you enjoy will give you the tools you need to learn anything. At Chrysalis we teach students that learning is not hard or awful or irrelevant to their life but that it’s challenging and exciting, and that everyone will be good at it.