The Freedom of Failure
Having been accustomed to success- or rather, not failing, it was with supreme bemusement that I viewed the result of my assignment. The figure, scrawled in pencil with definite sadism, punctured me to the core: 20%. Twenty. Percent. Stunned, I clutched the feedback sheet in a tight fist and backed out of the secretary’s office. I unfurled the paper from my clenched fingers and examined it more closely. Below the ignominious grade was a line cutting through the marking scheme. The line, much like the line’s creator was imbued with venom.
Below this, a note. It read: “Impossible to attribute marks. This was a rambling reflection not based on any real evidence or reference materials. You can write. Next time read so you’re your writing has convincing content.”
I leaned against the wall opposite the office, suddenly awash with mirth. This was my first time failing anything. And I failed spectacularly. I felt more liberated than I had in a long time.
Angie Mullins ©