Confessions of a (Recovering) Perfectionist

The Myth of the Gold Star Student

There are a lot of things to love about spring: the world is defrosting, the sun is making a comeback, and flowers are beginning to bloom. Spring feels like the world is finally starting to thaw after icy winters, and I start to remember, “Wait, I actually do like being outside sometimes.”

Honestly though, spring hasn’t always felt like flowers and butterflies and sunshine for me. From the ages of about 14 to 23, spring felt like the grimmest time of the year. Why?

Finals season. 

Just as animals were coming out of their hibernation, I was entering mine. Whether high school or college, March and April were filled with late-night study sessions, mental crashes, and lots and lots of anxiety. Anxiety to the point that my eye would twitch. Anxiety to the point where I had a literal nightmare about my high school calculus class that woke me up in the middle of the night. The first time I got an A- (freshman year French 201, thank you very much), I thought about moving to a remote cabin in the woods to rethink my entire identity.

In school, perfectionism felt like a badge of honor. After all, grades are what’s measured, and perfect grades are celebrated. I think we all have something that induces our perfectionist tendencies, something where we constantly want perfect and polished results. But for me, there was no off switch. At all times, I had to give more than 100% or it would be a failure in my eyes.

Maybe some students come to mind with these same tendencies. Maybe you’re just like me. So here’s the real question: what happens when students can’t be perfect?

 It has taken a lot of time and work, but I’m finally starting to be comfortable with failure.

Starting to. 

Failure: The Feedback We Never Asked For

Second semester of my sophomore year of college, I took a business class for my minor. For the entire semester, we would be writing and workshopping a paper on a social issue that was important to us. Let me tell you guys–I was cocky. The thought of a 15-20 page paper that made other students groan felt like a piece of cake to this English major. I could write 10 of those pages in my sleep and not even worry.

Or so I thought.

After my first draft was submitted, my TA ripped me apart. Not in a malicious sort of way–her feedback was actually really helpful and constructive in the long run. But I came away from that first draft of my paper with a C, definitely on the lower end of the class’s spectrum. Getting C for a grade isn’t failing, but I felt like a failure. Me, the English major, the one who has to write essays every week, the nearly straight-A student, failed at the one thing I was supposed to be good at. 

I was frustrated. I felt defeated. I felt like I couldn’t come back from it. Perfectionist me got a C on a paper.

I went back into the second draft with a determination to work harder. I was going to research more. I was going to talk to my TA more. Because I realized something important: failure isn’t about being bad. It’s about becoming better.

And this is where I think classrooms, teachers, parents, and all of us, really, can improve: We need to learn how to fail better. We need to understand the value of grit and work and getting up again.

The Instant Answer Era and Why It’s Ruining Our Tolerance for Struggle

I’m not one to talk about the woes of the digital age: I’m a Gen-Z born on the cusp of the technological revolution. I can remember playing my High School Musical 2 CD on the stereo, but I also remember having an iPad to keep me entertained on road trips.

There are pros and cons of technology, and we all know that. But one of the biggest cons is that technology has made us uncomfortable with not knowing. If we try to Google something and the answer doesn’t come up instantly because of spotty internet, we get frustrated. If our answer doesn’t appear through Google or Siri or TikTok or AI, we lose interest. We give up and move on. Technology has its benefits, but it’s made the process of knowing feel less necessary.

That’s something you may see in students today: an urge to give up after a try or two, the need to move on if something doesn’t work out, discomfort with failure. Neuroplasticity is the brain’s way of making more pathways and neural connections throughout life, and it increases when we are properly challenged. Essentially, the brain doesn’t grow when you’re right—it grows when you’re wrong and stay curious. We have to bring back the value of the struggle. 

When Effort Isn’t Worth It

One of my biggest hurdles in my perfectionism rehab is simply learning when to let go. There are certainly times to strive for perfection and give 100%. An open heart surgeon probably shouldn’t decide the day of a big operation is a good time to ease up a little bit.

But for me, being perfect in everything led to the ultimate burnout. My senior year of high school, I was so overwhelmed with clubs and activities and sports that I shut myself out from some opportunities I think I really would’ve benefitted from. So where’s the line between letting go and giving it our all?

Honestly, I don’t really have the answer for this. But what I can tell you is that it starts with where my ultimate goals lie. We’re constantly juggling our goals and tasks. Some of these tasks are like a glass ball—if we drop it, it breaks. Other tasks we juggle may be like a bouncy ball. It’s okay to drop it for a time and let it bounce on its own for a while. When we feel like we have a hold on things, we can pick it back up again. A perfect juggler doesn’t have to balance everything at once, all the time.

Slowly but surely, I’m learning to focus more of my energy into things I value and areas I want to grow in.

And this isn’t just “teaching according to Ryann.” The Manhattan Psychology Group actually identifies planning and prioritizing tasks as an executive function skill. Executive function means those mental skills that help us set goals, achieve tasks, and solve problems. Tools that help students plan and prioritize—like digital planners or adaptive learning platforms—can go a long way in helping them build that executive function muscle. When we have strong executive function, our physical and mental health improves, as well as our quality of life. We’re equipped with the thought processes and tools we need to overcome challenges, whether perfectly, good enough, or after failing a few times. 

Growth Mindset ≠ Just "Trying Harder"

Now that we know the times when we do and don’t want to strive for our best, we need to figure out what to do when our best still doesn’t quite get us there.

What’s a perfectionist’s answer to failure? In my case, after curling up in a ball and having a minor existential crisis, my answer was to typically grit my teeth and just try harder and harder. This usually led to that burnout we talked about earlier. 

A growth mindset is so much more than saying “just try harder and you’ll get it!” No matter how hard I try to make two plus three equal four, it will never work. We should always be telling students to try again, but not necessarily always to try harder. A growth mindset tells us that things like skill, intelligence, and excellence can be achieved through effort. So, instead of telling a student to rub some dirt on it and give more effort, it may be a matter of where they concentrate that effort. 

When we fail, someone with a growth mindset might use questions like these:

• What worked and what didn’t in my approach?
• What does it look like to do this successfully?
• How can I approach this differently?

When I got a C on my business class paper, I didn’t just write harder. I wrote differently. I approached my research differently. I sought feedback from other people in other majors with different skill sets. By the end of the semester, I produced a paper I was really proud of. A big part of the success I felt at the end of the semester is how much growth I saw from where I started and where I ended up. 

Bad at It, Still Doing It

At the end of last spring, I decided I wanted to run a 5k at a town event at the end of July. It was a fun, low-stakes thing, but I wanted to do something that was a little out of my comfort zone. I was training regularly, and I felt good about my progress along the way. But truthfully, when I got to the 5k, I did pretty bad. I wasn’t expecting Olympic-style speed, but I had a certain time marker I wanted to meet and I… didn’t.

But despite my failure with my own personal goal, there were still so many ways I grew along the way. There were numerous micro-goals I did achieve. I could generally run farther and longer than before. I was treating my body better. I was more hydrated. I felt more confident. Even “bad” outcomes can be meaningful wins. Learning is the same way: students often want to be good or be the best right away. But the real value is in becoming better, not in being the best. 

Sometimes the best way to overcome our failures is simply through perspective. Will it matter in five days? Five months? Five years? If the answer to those questions are all no, then that’s a pretty good indication that we can let go of a failure or our imperfections. If something does matter in five days, months, or years, then that is the motivating factor we need to get back up and try again. 

This mindset shift has helped me in more than my own education; it has also helped me in my creative work and collaboration with others. Letting go of my perfectionism has helped me be more receptive to feedback, more willing to listen to other ideas, and more able to change course if needed. When perfection isn’t the goal, sharing ideas gets a lot easier.

What I’ve learned from my struggle with perfectionism is that it thrives in silence and self-isolation, but progress thrives in community and feedback. That is the culture classrooms can build, whether through peer reviews, brainstorming sessions, or whatever beautifully messy learning moment makes you go, “Well... we tried!”

Rewriting the Narrative

My perfectionism hasn’t gone away overnight. In fact, my perfectionist tendencies are still a very core part of who I am. However, I’ve learned to coexist with failure, not run from it. I’ve learned to see failure as a tool for propelling myself forward, not a road block that bombs my self-worth. Being imperfect, as a teacher, as a student, as a leader, can actually model a lot of bravery for those around us. 

Instead of gold stars or an A+, let’s look for impact, curiosity, and sustainability. Let’s look for new ways of thinking and crazy ideas from our friends. Let’s look for opportunities to push ourselves forward from our pitfalls.

I’m not perfect at accepting my imperfections, but compared to past me, I do know now how to fail a whole lot better.