As the mother of a 5-year-old son, I often witness his struggles with frustration. He eagerly constructs elaborate structures using building blocks and Lego pieces, envisioning intricate designs that traverse the living room and ascend the sofa. I typically refrain from assisting him, as my engineering skills are rather limited. My role usually centers around reading stories and providing ice cream. Within a mere 10 to 15 minutes, however, I often hear his frustrated complaints from the living room, which can escalate into a dramatic collapse of his creation, followed by him storming off—tears included.
Yet, what strikes me is that he usually returns to the task at hand. His response to failure mirrors that of my partner: a quick burst of anger, some stomping, and then a temporary pause before they re-engage with their project. My partner often vents his frustrations about not having the right supplies, but both he and my son ultimately return to their endeavors, sometimes within the same day or even weeks later. They seem to separate the project from their self-worth; it’s simply a task, not an indictment of their abilities.
I can’t help but wonder if this dynamic would shift if I had daughters. Personally, I have often been quick to surrender in the face of even minor setbacks. For me, failure tends to feel like a reflection of my value. If a project, like building a bridge, collapses, I internalize it, thinking it signifies a lack of intelligence or capability. The fear of looking foolish stops me from attempting similar projects in the future, often leading me back to activities like reading, where failure feels less likely.
According to Rachel Simmons in Time, this tendency toward a negative interpretation of failure is prevalent among girls. Jessica Lahey’s insightful book, The Gift of Failure: How the Best Parents Learn to Let Go So Their Children Can Succeed, emphasizes that children benefit from experiences of failure, as it fosters resilience. Simmons notes that girls often see setbacks as indicative of their abilities—an attribute that is much harder for them to change—while boys generally attribute failures to more manageable factors. This disparity can stem from the feedback girls receive in educational settings, which often highlights their inherent skills rather than offering constructive corrections.
Another contributing factor is the socialization of girls, who are often conditioned to seek approval from others. Consequently, failing and disappointing authority figures such as teachers or parents can feel like a heavier burden than it does for boys. True success, for all children, hinges on cultivating intrinsic motivation rather than relying on external validation. Research by experts like Alfie Kohn has shown that children must find joy and satisfaction in their successes, rather than pursuing praise or accolades.
Girls may be more attuned to social feedback, which could cloud their understanding of their personal desires and goals. In contrast, boys, who are often less focused on external evaluations, may find it easier to pursue their interests without the nagging voice of self-doubt.
While I make it a point to praise my son’s efforts rather than his natural abilities (“You worked really hard” instead of “You’re so smart”), I also reflect on my own tendency to give up easily. It’s a reminder that I, too, could benefit from tapping into my intrinsic motivation, a goal I plan to pursue as soon as I finish my current book.
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In summary, the differences in how boys and girls perceive and handle failure can be traced back to societal expectations and the type of feedback they receive. While boys often separate failure from self-worth, girls may internalize setbacks as reflections of their abilities. Encouraging resilience and intrinsic motivation is essential for all children, regardless of gender.