The Challenge of Failing

What types of small changes could you make within yourself to truly notice a difference?

This is one of the larger themes addressed in the first major writing assignment of the year in the English classes of yours truly. Everything we read in my class--HAMLET, THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO, THE LONGEST WINTER, BEOWULF, and more all chronicle the development of characters who undergo change in dynamic ways. Why not have students experience change for themselves?

The purpose of the assignment, I tell them, is, essentially, to accomplish nothing necessarily. But rather, I tell them, they should be cognizant of how a slight change that they aim to take might affect them in a certain way. Basically, I am asking them to come out of their comfort circles for a week, do something that challenges or scares them (within limits, of course), and write about it. Consider some of the following examples:

I AIM TO . . .

• not talk about anyone unless they are in the room with me


• refrain from soda for a week


• write creatively for an hour each morning


• maintain eye contact with at least three people in three separate conversations per day


• initiate a conversation with a total stranger while in a store


• address all my teachers (or bosses) as "sir" or "ma'am"


• refrain from using any profanity


• hug at least one person per day

You might begin to notice what I am talking about.

When I was a senior at UNH, Professor Tim Churchard assigned a project much like this, so I copied and modified the idea. His directions involved taking more of a personal "risk" or challenge. A student fearful of heights went skydiving in Lebanon Maine. A homophobic young woman went to Boston and patronized a "gay" bar. One young man, very athletic, borrowed a wheelchair from Health Services and rolled around campus for a week, confining himself to a wheelchair. One ultra-conservative Catholic girl--a good friend of mine, in fact--went to visit "The Fifth Wheel," an adult book and toy store in Portsmouth. She "handled" several "items," all of which were new to her. When I explain all this to students (minus the sex store part) they all ask the same question: What did you do?

I feared failing.

I don't mention this to sound arrogant, I tell them, but I graduated with a 3.8 GPA, which is all A's and one A minus. I sacrificed a lot socially so I could study. My buddies called me "grandpa," since I didn't frequent parties and went to bed early. I wouldnt settle for less than an A on an assignment. Anything less became a fear. So, for my project in Professor Churchard's class that senior spring, I decided the obvious thing--I would not do it. I would take a zero.

Instead, I enjoyed the beautiful seacoast New Hampshire weather--the arrival of spring, the beautiful downtown Durham main street, the taste of fresh draft Newcastle Brown Ale, and the twilight of my college career. It was fantastic. Along with the project itself, Churchard assigned us a 10-15 page reflection paper on the nature of learning and challenging one's self. I never even powered up my Dell. Instead, I visited "The Tin Palace" every afternoon during that week. The "Palace" was one of the more popular watering holes in Durham, renowned mostly for the sidewalk patio where one could bask in the spring sunshine, sip Redhook Hefeweisen, and watch the girls (or guys . . . or dogs) walk by. Instead of handing in my paper, I took each receipt--five to be exact, and each one containing proof of purchase for beers, nachos, or burgers--stapled them all together, put my name the first one, and passed them in.

When it came to "sharing time," needless to say, Churchard was stunned. Whether he gave me an A for truly "doing" the assignment, or "called my bluff" and failed me is immaterial. But I know I did something I otherwise would never have done. And for that brief moment during the spring of 2001, I learned something about myself that now seems to be long forgotten. I wonder if I could ever be so courageous today. Could you?