On failure
Dear parents and colleagues,
I still remember my driving test. The first time I failed because I did not stop properly at a roundabout. The second time was far more memorable, though not for the right reasons. It was a typical British day, grey skies and relentless rain. Halfway through the test, the windscreen steamed up completely and I couldn’t see a thing. In a moment of panic, instead of using the auxiliary controls to clear the mist, I opened the windows. The examiner and I were instantly soaked. Needless to say, I failed that test!
It is interesting how early in life we learn to divide experiences into two simple boxes: pass or fail. Passing means success, competence, approval. Failing means the opposite, disappointment, embarrassment, sometimes even shame.
And this is exactly what I would like to reflect on this month, the concept of failing.
In a school environment like ours, especially when public examinations are approaching, the words pass and fail still carry enormous weight. But if we step back for a moment, we can see that failing is a much broader idea. It is not limited to test results; it includes the everyday moments when things don’t go to plan, when we make a wrong decision, when our best intentions lead us somewhere unexpected or when life simply reminds us that we are human.
Recently, I spoke to our Year 10 and Year 11 students in assembly about the Ancient Greeks and how they believed in exercising both the body and the mind. This led me to look more closely at how the Greeks understood the idea of failure and it is absolutely fascinating. In many ways, they were far more advanced in their understanding of human experience than we often are today.
The Ancient Greeks gave us the concept of tragic art, what we now call tragedy, which first appeared in their theatres in the sixth century BCE. These plays often told the story of a hero: someone noble, admired, perhaps a king or a celebrated warrior, who moved from prosperity to ruin and shame.
The fascinating part is that their downfall rarely came from cruelty or wickedness, but from something small and recognisably human. This could be a moment of pride, a sudden burst of temper or a careless impulse.
The Greeks wanted their audiences to see themselves in these characters. The hero’s misjudgement or flaw was not shown to invite condemnation, but understanding. The audience was meant to think: “This could be me.”
Because of the highly relatable nature of the error, people did not respond with moral outrage, but with empathy and reflection. They felt pity for the unfortunate person they had just seen ruin his life in a few simple steps, and at the same time they were reminded of how easily any of us, even with the best intentions, can make choices that lead to painful consequences.
So what can we learn from these ancient Greek tragedies?
I believe there is a very important message here, one that speaks directly to us as parents, educators and members of a community. It is a reminder to resist our instinct to judge others harshly and instead to approach human failure with kindness and humility.
Today, our modern “theatres” are often the news and social media, where the failings of others are reported and shared instantly, often stripped of context or compassion. We are encouraged to label people quickly as wrong, as bad, as undeserving rather than to recognise that failure, in its many forms, is part of being human.
The Greeks still have much to teach us. Wrongdoing does not belong only to the cruel, good people fail too. What defines us is not the mistake itself, but the honesty and courage with which we face it and the generosity with which we respond when it happens to others.
Perhaps that is the real lesson, that failure is inevitable. If we can show our children that even the rainiest moments can teach us something, then we will have helped them understand one of life’s most valuable truths.
I certainly learnt never to open the car windows in the middle of a downpour again!
Francisco Escobar
Principal & Head of Pastoral Care