When Failure Turns into Success

When I was very little, my father’s job took us to Paris where we lived for two years.  During that time, I attended kindergarten and started the first grade in French schools.  According to my mother, I spoke French fluently (but don’t ask me to speak it now.)  I was halfway through the first grade when we returned to the United States.  Unfortunately, I did not have the reading foundation in English to excel.  For two years, the teachers made the decision to move me forward in school because they insisted I was smart enough to catch up; however, by the end of the third grade it appeared that I was sinking dramatically, and my future looked grim.  As a result, the decision was made to retain me.

This hurdle could have been conceived as failure, but my parents and teachers approached it with a positive attitude.   As a result of my August birthday – instead of being the youngest student in the class, I suddenly became the oldest.  The teachers gave me leadership duties and empowered me to think like a role model.   In more ways than one, repeating the third grade became a turning point in my life.  Not only did I gain the necessary tools and time to build an academic foundation sturdy enough to eventually catapult me up the ladder of success, it also opened the door to a new friendship.

It was during this particular year in my life that I met Debbie, who eventually became my best friend.   Her father was a diplomat, and they had recently moved to my neighborhood.  The teacher asked me to befriend the new student and help her adjust to her new school.  Debbie and I immediately formed a bond.  But – even better — together — we created a community!

When her family moved to Alexandria, they came with an assortment of gigantic wooden packing crates that – once emptied – were destined for the garbage. However, I had a better idea.   This creative endeavor started small – just two enormous boxes.  Debbie and I – as a team – pushed and pulled them to the wooded area behind her house.  With cloth and rods, we made doors for privacy.  We used her parents’ left over paint to change the color of the crates.  Asking our mothers’ permission, we collected discarded kitchen items.  With hammer and nails, we constructed  tables and chairs from the boards of smaller boxes.   Using orange juice cans and waxed string, we connected the two “homes” with a make-shift telephone line that only worked through our imagination.

As other children in the neighborhood watched our progress, they became fascinated by our creation.  Eventually, they asked if they, too, could be a part of it.  Before we knew it, a dozen kids were participating – each with his or her own “residence.”   We connected each location with paths lined by stones, and every “home” had its own garden with flowers and small bushes.  On a daily basis, the area was filled with the sound of laughter and children at play.  We called our new town – Valley-Go-Boom.   Please don’t ask me why or what inspired that unusual name – because I cannot — for the life of me — recall.  However, I do remember the many years of creative play this masterpiece of packing crates and imagination gave to a group of kids who enjoyed spending time together.

When I reflect upon these childhood adventures, I know in my heart that none of it would have occurred if not for the insightful wisdom of my teachers and my parents who saw me floundering in school and made a choice to change the direction of my life.  Yes!  Repeating the third grade felt like a failure at the time; however, the manner in which it was handled gave me a better foundation and increased my confidence.

I am convinced that I would not be the person I am today if those adults in charge of my life had not made the decision to give me an extra year in the third grade.  As a result, a little girl — who was extremely small for her age and overshadowed by her own insecurities – eventually became a leader among her peers and created a community enjoyed by the entire neighborhood.

We even made the local paper.

FYI — As a child, I was known as Teresa “Tesa” Ranney 🙂

I will end on a final note.  Lynda Resnick once said . . . “You will learn more from your failures than from your successes.”  Have you ever felt as if you were a failure  . . . then transformed the situation into a success?   Did it make you stronger?  More confident?  More determined?  Did you bring others along with you on your journey?

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