When my daughter was young, she had a ruthless Eastern European piano teacher. Ruthless.
My girl was learning to overcome some shyness and self-consciousness, and we had hoped learning to play the piano would instill confidence.
Not with this instructor, though.
Our daughter practiced and practiced, playing the same song over and over again until she could play it perfectly. Or as perfectly as a 7-year old could.
The day came that she was to play this song for her teacher. She was nervous, but knew she could do it. Under the glaring eye of her teacher, however, she stumbled … once. One stumble in an otherwise lovely little ditty.
So, her teacher said to her: "You played that song perfect … but NOT QUITE perfect. So I am going to give you a gold star, but I am going to RIP one of its arms off so that when you see it on your paper, you will always remember that you played it perfect, but NOT QUITE perfect." (Picture a super thick accent)
Cue the tears.
Cue the really pissed off mom.
Cue the immediate firing of said piano teacher.
Who does this kind of devastating stuff to a child? Focus on the tiny imperfections rather than the overall beauty of a performance or of an effort? Who does this?
Apparently every commentator covering almost every Olympic athletic performance.
"Oh, she stepped out of bounds after doing a triple-double, the hardest gymnastic stunt in the world, and that is going to cost her a .1 deduction."
Star with ripped arm …
"Wow, he hopped on his landing. Too bad. That was his best routine ever, but that one tiny hop and he's out of medal contention."
Star with ripped arm …
"Ok, she has trained for 4 years of her life, devoted every ounce of energy to this sport and because her first step was slightly off, she is relegated to the 'losers' column."
Star with ripped arm …
No wonder we mortals struggle to see the overall good in ourselves and others and instead focus on the smallest of imperfections. No wonder we beat ourselves up for all we think is wrong with us and refuse to simply celebrate all that is right. No wonder we drown in self-criticism, rather than buoy ourselves up through self-encouragement.
No wonder.
Guess what, though? We can make it stop. We really can.
Let's celebrate imperfections. At the very least, they mean that we have tried.
I am giving each one of us a perfect gold star, every arm of it intact, simply for being us; for being our perfectly imperfect selves.
What if it is actually our imperfections that make us beautiful?
What then?
