What Mister Rogers, My 9-year-old, and My Neighbor Are Teaching Me About Confidence
With the release of “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood” this past November, I have fully jumped on the Mister Rogers bandwagon. Or shall we say, “neighborhood trolley.” Even though “Mister Rogers Neighborhood” was on air for all of my childhood, my puppets of choice at the time went by names like “Cookie Monster” and “Big Bird” rather than the (rather scary looking) Lady Elaine and King Friday.
But with the benefit of hindsight, I now recognize that my 7-year-old self could have gleaned some valuable lessons. From tuning into the friendly neighbor with the cardigan and navy blue sneakers — lessons that, thankfully, with this recent “Mr. Rogers Renaissance,” I’m learning at age 40.
There Is Great Joy in Making Mistakes
One of the many mainstays of “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” was his proclamation, each and every episode, that his television neighbors (us!) “made this day a very special day. Just by being yourself. There’s no one in the world exactly like you. And I like you just the way you are.”
In one particular episode, Mister Rogers and Chuck Aber are dancing to a song called “Head and Shoulders” with folk singer Ella Jenkins. As the accompanying movements to the song accelerate, Mister Rogers has some trouble keeping on pace. But all the while, you never see his infectious smile and sense of joy and wonder diminish.
As the producer and ultimate decision-maker on what the final cut of the episode would be, Mister Rogers could have easily had his fumbles edited out. or smoothed over. There’s no doubt in my mind that, for the benefit of us neighbors, he deliberately kept that footage as is. Because he knew that making mistakes is part of life for all of us. Not only is it OK to make mistakes, we can actually do so with great joy and earnestness.
It’s Not the Size of the Girl on the Court
I thought about this on a recent Saturday while coaching my 9-year-old daughter’s basketball team. Elsie is a little on the short side for her age. This is accompanied by an exuberance and will to succeed at whatever she does. Once she crosses half court with the ball in hand, she will tirelessly weave her way to within shooting distance. She then heaves up anything remotely resembling a jump shot. Sometimes it is precise and well-executed (and goes in!), but often it is more of a whirling dervish culminating with an erratic shot that is nowhere in the vicinity of the rim.
As the coach (and her dad!), all my instincts compel me to utter something to the effect of “look to pass,” or “let’s get a better shot.” But then I see her running back to play defense with the same joy and determination that she displayed when weaving her way to the basket and hoisting up the ill-fated shot attempt. She exhibits zero signs of disappointment in herself, and zero hesitation the next time she weaves through the defense to do it again! She’s not so concerned with the outcome. Instead, she’s purely delighting in the joy that comes from trying her best.
Most of us grownups seem to forget how essential this mindset is. We begin to measure our worth in ways the world says we ought to: our academic achievements, our athletic endeavors, our careers, our income, our fill in the blank. What’s worse, when we tell ourselves that we don’t measure up, we judge others, or worse still, we quit trying with the earnestness and joy of a child.
The Pursuit Is Greater Than the Achievement
I was reminded of this again by my friend and neighbor this past New Year’s Eve. We were all reflecting on the past year. He was sharing his experience and the disappointment he had felt in not qualifying for the Boston Marathon. In the past, such a failure would have been devastating to him. He followed this up by sharing his recognition that while race day didn’t go as he had hoped, he’d appreciated and felt a sense of purpose and accomplishment in all the time and effort that went into his training. I can’t think of a better gift to receive from a friend than this powerful reminder on the precipice of a new year.
The older I get, the more I think that being the best kind of “grown-up” has far less to do with accomplishment and achievement and a whole heck of a lot more to do with pursuing life with the confidence and wonder that we are born with. You know, the confidence that we have before our first time falling off our bicycle. Before the first errant basketball shot. Before the first failed attempt at qualifying for the Boston Marathon. Or before the world tells us a million times over that our worth is tied to our performance.
I think Mister Rogers knew this too, and I think that’s why he spent a lifetime nurturing this natural instinct that we all have as children. By telling us we’ve made this day special exactly as we are, he told us all that it was OK to try, and even more OK to fail. And just how did he do this? By being himself. Exactly as he was. Cardigan, blue sneakers, bad dance moves and all.
This article was written by my friend Isaac Vogel. Isaac is co-owner of Roell Painting Company, a Minneapolis-based residential painting company.
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