On failures and setbacks
There is a difference between setbacks and failure. Most of the time, that difference rests with you. How I wish I’d known that as a student!
The word ‘failure’ has had a lot of bad press lately. Most people who have ‘made it’ will tell you there is no such thing as failure, only ‘learning from experience’. I don’t know how I feel about that. After all, if something is not working out for you after years of trying, it may be a good idea to label it a failure and move on to something new. The important thing is not to get hung up about it.
But often we are quick to label something a failure when it is a mere setback. I certainly was. As an undergraduate, I got so used to instant positive feedback (high marks for essays; respect and encouragement from lecturers; great performance in exams; awards and rewards) that I became a reward junkie: I needed the positive feedback to reassure me that I was on the right track, sure - but I also needed it in order to feel that I was a worthy human being. Do you see how this was going to guarantee me a hard time later on?
Fast-forward a couple of years. I am a graduate student in linguistics at Oxford University. To my surprise, I find that enthusiasm and dedication aren’t getting me the results I’m used to. I’m struggling in phonology. Lecturers are too busy with research to bother with encouragement (one tells us up front: ‘I don’t enjoy teaching and I’m bad at it.’ Talk about inspiration.) And the more I read, the farther I seem to get from formulating an idea for a thesis. At this point, there isn’t much positive feedback in my academic life. But remember, I have come to rely on positive feedback to reassure me I am doing the right thing. I need outward manifestations of progress to assure me that progress is being made. So I take the absence of positive feedback as a sign that I am failing. If I’m honest, I take it to mean I am a failure.
What a recipe for disaster! By the time I am applying for doctoral programmes, my ego is in tatters. Five or so places decide they aren’t going to fund my research. Unable to stand rejection, I decide not to try again the following year.
It will take me five years to be able to think about this time in my life without bursting into tears. It will take me ten years to stop tensing up every time someone mentioned doctoral studies. Twelve years on, I am able think, talk, and write about it perfectly calmly - so voilà.
I wish I had a study coach back then - NOT because I would have ended up doing a PhD (things worked out in a different way), but because I could have survived those years with my sense of self-worth intact. Here is what I would have told myself:
It’s a setback, not a failure
You can treat it as a failure and move on to something else, or you can treat it as a setback and try again. One is no better than the other, just make sure what you choose aligns with what you really want.
It’s not a judgment of your intelligence
It’s the proposal they are rejecting, not you! If you let it mean that you’re not good enough, you might as well throw in the towel. If you take it to mean the proposal isn’t good enough, you have a setback you can work around.
Be your own progress indicator
People can be too busy, too self-engrossed, too miserly, or just too absent-minded to praise your efforts. That’s their shortcoming, not yours. Don’t let it mean that you’re not progressing.
So here’s my message for today’s students: Don’t be a reward junkie. Don’t think anyone is qualified to judge your intelligence from afar. And don’t let ‘failures’ mean anything about you. If you don’t, they’re mere setbacks!
At my graduation from Oxford in 2012. I was inwardly convinced I was very dumb.