Dec. 31 is one of those days that causes many of us to pause and reflect as we transition to the start of a new calendar year. It sits in the epicentre of the past and the future, of progress made so far, and of future goals. Or even what we haven't done yet but will resolve to do.
Typically, goals focus on finances, career, health and relationships as per the North American formula for happiness. But the search for meaning has become much more arduous the longer I live, as I consider the deeper truth of failure and success over time. Both are necessary like day and night, ebb and flow, inhaling and exhaling. It's a paradox because both are needed for the other to exist.
My failures started early in life. Years of ear infections plagued me to the point of deafness. It was the nurse who lived next door that alerted my mother. Deafness at an early age impeded my ability to read and set the stage for years of academic struggle. Finally, at age 14, I was drawn into a novel far enough to get past the work of deciphering words and symbols. My imagination was lit as I gained entry into the author's world. Subsequently I read every book this author wrote but the damage was done.
To accomplish a high school diploma, I attended three different high schools in Calgary and, as a result, I learned to negotiate. In fact, a principal at one of the high schools flat out denied me entry due to overcapacity.
"Where would you like me to attend school, then?" I asked during the office standoff.
He had no answer. The chip on my shoulder grew as I completed the enrollment forms. The remainder of high school was a mix of minimal effort, skipping classes and tormenting teachers with endless questions as to the relevance to life in general of any given subject matter.
Academic life really began in university because nobody cared anymore what I thought or had to say. I attended because my mother insisted and my parents could afford it. The first year was a complete shock and a battle that required tenacity and fortitude I did not know I had. They must have been a byproduct of a painful formative education. Eventually I grew to achieve academic success and, ironically, earned a teaching degree.
Fast forward 16 years after a baby, when I did not want to go back to work teaching. The cost of childcare and limited incomes forced us to get creative. After purchasing a RESP, I made a quick career change and started selling RESPs myself, with my baby on my hip. To my surprise and excitement, Prince George afforded me a second-place win for new sales representatives right across Canada. I know deep down my passion for education is rooted in my own story, that post-secondary education can become a reality with encouragement and provision, even for a below average student like me who believed it was never a possibility.
So, as I move into a new year and decade, I will soldier on with the hope of success with the regular resolutions. However, it seems as though in the grand scheme, we learn very little from success and volumes from failure.
In fact, failure may be the best teacher of all.
