Failure Is A Good Thing Practice
Failure Is A Good Thing Practice
Closely read the following “This I Believe” post by Jon Carroll. Note:
Originally written and then shared over the radio in the 1950’s, This I Believe essays touch on a wealth
of issues that are relevant today. The essays are part of an international project that publishes the
essays in books, are shared on the radio, and featured in weekly podcasts. They are written by people
in all walks of life – both well known and unknown – and have been compiled into a collection which
gives you as the reader, a glimpse into the authors’ personal philosophies of life.
Adapted from the invitation sent to essayists featured in the original This I Believe series. Excerpted from This I Believe 2,
copyright ©1954 by Simon and Schuster.
Once you’ve read through the essay the first time, re-read and complete the following:
1. Analyze the rhetorical situation. This includes the rhetorical triangle, the rhetorical mode,
and the rhetorical appeals.
2. Write a thesis statement (Dodge Durango style) articulating the effectiveness of the essay.
3. Identify any rhetorical terms at work.
4. Identify any components from LAW (Chapters 1-5 and 8-10)
5. Write a paragraph articulating out the rhetorical situation (specifically the appeals) and the
rhetorical terms FUNCTION to build the purpose. A good example of this is on page 66-67
of The Language of Composition (the analysis of the Dodge Durango advertisement).
Failure is how we learn. I have been told of an African phrase describing a good cook as "she who
has broken many pots." If you've spent enough time in the kitchen to have broken a lot of pots,
probably you know a fair amount about cooking. I once had a late dinner with a group of chefs, and
they spent time comparing knife wounds and burn scars. They knew how much credibility their
failures gave them.
I earn my living by writing a daily newspaper column. Each week I am aware that one column is
going to be the worst column of the week. I don't set out to write it; I try my best every day. Still,
every week, one column is inferior to the others, sometimes spectacularly so.
I have learned to cherish that column. A successful column usually means that I am treading on
familiar ground, going with the tricks that work, preaching to the choir or dressing up popular
sentiments in fancy words. Often in my inferior columns, I am trying to pull off something I've never
done before, something I'm not even sure can be done.
My younger daughter is a trapeze artist. She spent three years putting together an act. She did it
successfully for years with the Cirque du Soleil. There was no reason for her to change the act —
but she did anyway. She said she was no longer learning anything new and she was bored; and if
she was bored, there was no point in subjecting her body to all that stress. So she changed the act.
She risked failure and profound public embarrassment in order to feed her soul. And if she can do
that 15 feet in the air, we all should be able to do it.
My granddaughter is a perfectionist, probably too much of one. She will feel her failures, and I will
want to comfort her. But I will also, I hope, remind her of what she learned, and how she can do
whatever it is better next time. I probably won't tell her that failure is a good thing, because that's
not a lesson you can learn when you're five. I hope I can tell her, though, that it's not the end of the
world. Indeed, with luck, it is the beginning.