No Name Calling

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“Success is going from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm.” – Winston Churchill

About ten days ago, a week before my daughter’s elementary school let out for the summer, there was a school Field Day where the entire student body of 400 kids played games at 28 stations to earn food and prizes. They were looking for volunteers so I tended the soccer kick station with another parent.

It was an easy 10 feet kick into a goal. We had a lot of kids come by – Kindergartners who had feet about the size of a deck of cards, differently abled kids that came by with their instructional aides, and most of the student body including the 5th graders who looked like they were ready to take on the world.

Everyone was displaying great spirits until one girl, perhaps in the 4th grade came by with a friend and gave the ball a kick. I shouted “Wuhoo” and she said, “Don’t say ‘Wuhoo.’ I’m a failure.” And I said that she kicked the ball with lots of strength and she repeated, “I’m a failure.”

Her ball hadn’t gone in (we didn’t really require that) but most kids could get it in, even the little Kindergartners. So I gave it her the ball again and said, “Kick it again.” And she did – without even really trying and it didn’t go in. She said, “See, I’m a failure.”

I was flummoxed. Her assertation that she was a failure was a wall that seemed to keep everything from going in. With that up, it didn’t seem like anything could penetrate.

With the first post I wrote about confidence, I can, I quoted author and psychiatrist Neel Burton who distinguished confidence from similar concepts by explaining confidence is feeling “I can,” self-esteem is feeling “I am” and pride is the feeling of “I did.”

When the little girl came to the soccer kick station, she both asserted that she couldn’t and that she was a failure. And once that was in the air it seemed to operate like a foregone conclusion for which there was no quick fix.

Because we can fail over and over again and still be confident. Here are some examples.

“I’ve missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. 26 times I’ve been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.” – Michael Jordan

“Failure is only an opportunity to begin again more intelligently.” – Henry Ford

“A woman who never gives up can’t fail.” – Abby Wambach

The distinction seems to lie between admitting we’ve failed without calling ourselves a failure. I hadn’t thought much about that small difference until I heard researcher and author, Brené Brown tell a story about when her daughter was in pre-school. The pre-school teacher told Brené that one day after Brené’s daughter had been doing art at the glitter table the teacher said to her, “You are a mess.” And the daughter retorted, “I might be messy right now but I’m not a mess.”

In the retelling, Brené laughed and said that her roots as a shame researcher were visible. We can describe our current situation without calling ourselves names. No name calling is a rule in my household since I heard that story, and I apply that to the conversations I have with myself as well.

My daughter overheard me telling my mom about the little girl who called herself a failure at Field Day and was fascinated by the story. It was a great opportunity to talk with her about what happens if we believe the names we call ourselves. I hope the ripple effect is that she won’t call herself names and maybe even say something if she hears someone else doing it.

This is my fifth post about confidence. Here are the others:

I Can

Fear and Confidence

Growth Mind-set

Bossy Pants – Confidence and Leadership

32 thoughts on “No Name Calling”

      1. Indeed! I re-read the paragraph about Brenee Brown’s daughter because it sounded to me so much like something YOUR daughter, Wynne, would say ❤

        Your great post reminds me of the quote "If you think you can or think you can’t, you’re probably right"…

        Liked by 2 people

      2. You are so right, EW, I bet my daughter would say something like that. But only because I heard Brene’s story and then realized I need to make that distinction for my kids too!

        What a great quote — you are right on. When that little girl thought she couldn’t — she was right, unfortunately.

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  4. When I was treating adolescents I’d encounter kids who had given up some time before. Whether due to their relative difficulties in learning, ADHD, or criticism and belittlement from an external source was important to determine. But I came to understand that at some point the lack of effort and preemptive self-blame could be a defense against the internally even more painful experience of caring about their performance and failing once again.

    Liked by 5 people

    1. Wow, that’s an interesting revelation. I could see how that could be a defense – but it has repercussions too, doesn’t it? I would think that hopelessness that forms when we don’t believe we have agency would set in. So hard to hear that from children – bless you for your work to help them unpack it.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Yes, the consequences are not good, but we humans often put the short term before a long term that seems impossibly distant and impossible to know fully.
        Thank you for your blessing. That means a lot.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Rosaliene. I feel for her too – I can hope it was just one event on a bad day but it felt more pervasive than that. I hope someone sees it and intervenes in a positive way.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Very true points. I was drawn in by the story of the little girl, and was hoping to hear a happy ending. I was one of those kids when I was young, due to the severe criticism I got, I withdrew into myself and became self critical. Encouragement from an outside person can go a long way. My brother had a teacher who believed in him so my mother threw hew support behind him, while I didn’t have the same outside support. My mother took that as proof that I was unworthy. Sometimes an outsider can change a parent’s views of their child, and this can change how a parent interacts with their kid.

    I remembered this lesson when I was an adult, and had an opportunity to build a group of inner city kids up when I taught an art program. At the end I matted their artwork and hung it up in the area where parents visiting the open house for all the programs could see them. I happily watched as parents looked in amazement from their child’s artwork to them and back again, seeing their perception of their child change dramatically in those few moments.

    Parents who damage their children are damaged people themselves. Sometimes an outsider can help change that cycle!

    Liked by 3 people

    1. What an insightful comment, Tamara! And I got goosebumps reading about your art program. What amazing work you have done!

      And the whole idea about how an outsider can change a parent’s view – that is a wonderful perspective. I wish I’d had more than a moment with that little girl but she kicked it twice and then she and her friend melted away. I’ve thought of her often since then – and hope someone who has time with her can change that self-talk as I know you must have done with those kids you worked with!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Becoming aware of how we can have an impact on random kids is really interesting isn’t it? Too often we think our words or actions may not have a perceptible impact, but we just never know how our words can be cherished by someone! Heartfelt compliments can be cherished for years and be someone’s light at the end of the tunnel. Kids who come from abused homes hold onto those nuggets for a long time! I have no doubt that your encouragement and your demeanor have more impact than you may realize!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. What a lovely thought, Tamara. Two words that stand out especially from what you said – “heartfelt compliments.” It’s making sure we are genuine with what we say and not just sugar coating it.

        Like

  7. An excellent post, Wynne.
    I like, ” The distinction seems to lie between admitting we’ve failed without calling ourselves a failure.”
    I had a troubled student (who had a lot going on in his life) who would display his anger and frustrations by lashing out at others or the furniture in the classroom. He was an adorable 8-year-old child with beautiful eyes framed by long eyelashes.
    As the staff was aware of his situation, they tried to handle him with kid gloves. Whenever he had one of his displays of anger, My partner teacher and I would take him aside, put our arms around his shoulder and compliment him on his achievements and try to calm him down. But, no matter how hard we tried to convince him about all his positives, his burden was so heavy that he remained unconvinced.
    Once when I said to him that my partner and I love him. He turned to me with blazing eyes and said, “Why do you care? Because no one else cares about me.” His statement broke my heart.
    At the end of the year, though his troubles continued, he was respectful. And though still defensive, he started showing little affection towards my partner and me.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. What a beautiful story, Chaya! So heart-breaking – but his behavior started to change and he listened. Amazing work that you and your partner teacher did. Wow, wow, wow! I bet you made a difference in that boy’s life! Thank you for sharing that story.

      Liked by 1 person

  9. Great post, Wynne. I feel sad for the names the young girl believed about herself and I’m hoping the words of encouragement you provided her today will help change that negative self talk around.

    Liked by 1 person

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