How I learned to own my mistakes
Ms. Ruth Goodwin is on the extreme left. One of my favorite teachers of all time. Tough but kind. Just what I needed at the time.
I studied hard for that social studies test in Grade 4. I was determined to get a perfect score. The last time there was a test, the teacher, Ms. Goodwin, offered a prize. She took every student that got a perfect score out for lunch. And this time the restaurant was one of my favourites, “White Spot!”
But it wasn’t really about the food, the Pirate Pak or the chocolate gold coin. It was about being perceived as the top of the class. In my first three years in school, I hadn’t been considered all that smart. My brother did really well and he was well-known for being one of the smartest kids in school. Not me. I was too social and too easily distractible.
I had been working on that since the last parent teacher meeting and this was going to be my time. I was committed to making sure that my mom didn’t feel uncomfortable at the next meeting.
I knew my stuff. I finished the test with 30 minutes to spare and plenty of time to check and recheck my answers. I was confident I had answered everything correctly. Waiting until the next day for the official confirmation was very hard.
The time finally came. The papers were passed back. I got mine and the first words I read at the top of the test, in red pen, were “Good Work.” Good Work?! Not “Excellent?!” Not “Outstanding?!” Then my eyes went to the bottom of the page where it said “18/20.”
My emotions were mixed. I was confused, angry, sad, hurt all at the same time. I waited until I was calm, which took until the end of the day, and I went to see Ms. Goodwin. Now you should know that I really liked this teacher. I still remember her as one of my favourites. But I wasn’t always sure if she liked me.
In those early years, as I was trying to shape my identity (or in business terms trying to define my personal brand), I was going through a phase of being class joker. I always had a witty retort or wisecrack at the ready. I wouldn’t say anything mean or hurtful I don’t think but, if I was successful, the class would laugh and that would disrupt things and perhaps embarrass the teacher. Ms. Goodwin actually put up with me quite well, as I think she knew that I was just trying to work out some things.
But as I headed to talk to Ms. Goodwin, I recalled that two days before I had tested her patience and she had let me have it in front of everyone. I had to stay after class that day and write lines. “I will not speak out of turn in class.” 100 times. Because of that, I launched my appeal with an apology for my previous behaviour. She replied with a slight smile and a nod and then I proceeded to make my case.
“Ms. Goodwin, question 12 says, “What is the name of the Queen of England?” I said as I pointed to my paper. “Yes.” she responded while packing up her things. “Well, I think there has been some kind of error in the marking, because I wrote ‘Elizabeth’ and I know that is correct.” I continued. Did I just say she made an error? Uh-oh!
She looked up at me slowly and said “There was no error. Her name is ‘Queen Elizabeth II,’ not Elizabeth. Elizabeth is her mother’s name.” Ms. Goodwin said. She paused and waited for me to react. I wanted to argue but did not feel I could or should. “If you had at least said Queen Elizabeth, I would have accepted the answer.” I walked away, tail between my legs and kicking myself for being so careless.
I complained to my friend, who tried to cheer me up by inviting me over to his place to play Battleship. I wasn’t in the mood so I just went home. No one was there. My mom was at work, and my brother had a lot of friends by that point so he didn’t walk home with me anymore. So I moped around.
Then the phone rang. An aunt usually called me after school to make sure I was home and then she liked to chat. I wasn’t in the mood to chat so I tried to ignore the rings. There wasn’t voicemail in those days, so the phone kept on ringing until the caller hung up. After about 10 rings, I couldn’t stand it, so I ran to the phone and answered.
To my disbelief, it was Ms. Goodwin. She was calling to tell me that, after I left the classroom, she went to the staff room and talked to a couple of the other teachers and recounted our conversation. She told me that her colleagues had persuaded her to reconsider her decision. She was calling to tell me that I got 20 out of 20. My heart leaped but I was speechless.
She then apologized and said that she had made a mistake. Up until that moment, I hadn’t heard a person of authority admit they had made a mistake. Before I could ask, she said that I was welcome to join her and three other students for lunch at White Spot the next day.
I still remember who was there, which table we sat at and, of course, that I ordered a Pirate Pak. It was an awesome day.
A White Spot Pirate Pak - my favorite meal in the 70’s
But the experience at lunch is not the most important thing I remember. What I remember most is the fact that Ms. Goodwin reflected on our conversation, discussed it with her colleagues, reconsidered and had the humility to call and tell me she had made a mistake. That lesson was so much more significant to me than getting a perfect score on a test or the prize that came with it.
Many years later, in my first job after university at Mohawk Oil, I was fortunate to have a boss, Jeff Mulock, who worked the same way. After being successful in the consumer retail side of our business, he was parachuted into this role on the industrial wholesale side. The seasoned, and older, staff that now worked for him were watching closely for every mistake that he made as he tried to apply his lessons from his past success to this new role.
Early in my time working for him, I witnessed a particularly tense meeting with the sales team where he was being challenged. Over the course of the next year, I watched as he strengthened his relationships, restructured, shifted strategy and improved business results. I remember him telling me one day that admitting a mistake, accepting responsibility, apologizing and learning from it liberates you to move forward. Hiding mistakes and clinging to pride heavies your heart, hurts your reputation and keeps you from growing.
These lessons from Ms. Goodwin and Jeff have served me well in my career. My wife will argue that I never admit my mistakes at home. She may be right :)…but in my career these lessons have helped me. In my first management position at Mohawk, and in every one after that, I had to lead people that were often more experienced and sometimes older than me. I have always found that by being honest about what I did not know, admitting when I needed advice and confessing when I made a mistake, I gained my team’s support. This support has earned me the attention when necessary to offer a new perspective, challenge convention, push in a new direction and have those tough conversations.
Was there a time someone in an authority position taught you a lesson by showing you their vulnerability or humility? Comment below or email me at shakeelbharmal@icloud.com. If you are interested in weekly insights and having this blog delivered into your inbox, please subscribe here.
One final note. At some point I am sure I will write about the lessons I have learned from my older brother. But given that November 18th is his birthday I wanted to acknowledge how I have always admired how he has sung to the rhythm of his own guitar. I have learned so much about creativity, influence, fashion and humor by watching him. Happy Birthday big brother.