Teach young people to separate failure from identity, reframe setbacks as lessons and create safe spaces to stumble and grow.

THERE is a passage in John C. Maxwell’s Failing Forward that has haunted me since I first read it – not because it is complex but because it is painfully true.

Maxwell writes that the difference between average people and achieving people is their perception of and response to failure. For the average person, failure is a dead end. For the achiever, it is a detour.

I finished that book inspired, not as a corporate guru, but as someone who has stumbled through enough mud to know that the taste of defeat is strangely nutritious. Yet, the more I looked around at the generation coming up behind me – Gen Z in particular – the less inspired I felt and the more worried I became.

We are raising a cohort that is, by no fault of their own, dangerously unprepared for the very thing that makes life meaningful – the rough patch.

I see it in classrooms, in entry-level workplaces and in homes. Many young people today feel entitled, not to luxury but to smoothness. They feel entitled to a life without anxiety, without rejection letters and without that gut-punch of a failed exam or a broken friendship. And when the rock inevitably appears in the stream, they don’t flow around it, they stop.

They are vulnerable, not because they are weak but because they have been denied the one thing that builds muscle, which is the struggle.

To understand why Failing Forward is more relevant now than when it was published in 2000, we have to look at two psychological theories.

First, Carol Dweck’s Fixed vs Growth Mindset. A fixed mindset says, “I failed the test, therefore, I am stupid”. A growth mindset says, “I failed the test; therefore I need a new strategy”. Social media has weaponised the fixed mindset.

When every post is a curated highlight reel, a single failure feels like a permanent stain on your identity. Gen Z does not just fail, they feel like a failure.

Second, Martin Seligman’s concept of learned helplessness. When young people are constantly shielded from discomfort by well-meaning parents, by grade inflation and by the dopamine drip of TikTok, they learn that they cannot cope. They learn that distress is danger, rather than a signal to adapt.

Maxwell argues the opposite: “The difference between average people and achieving people is their perception of and response to failure.” To train the young, we must reverse the entropy of softness. We must teach them to fail forward.

Here is a metaphor. A stream that runs through a flat, open field is tranquil. It is also boring and stagnant. But a waterwall, a cascade that crashes over jagged rocks, splits into foam and reforms in the pool below, is breathtaking. It is powerful.

It is beautiful because of the constriction. The rock does not ruin the river. It makes the music that adds meaning to the river.

So, how do we train our young to become waterwalls, not puddles? Using Failing Forward as our guide, here is a three-step prescription.

First: Separate the event from the identity

This is the core of cognitive behavioural therapy. A young person fails a driving test. The old script says, “I’m a loser”. The new script, drawn from Maxwell, says, “I failed a driving test. That is an event, not a soul”. Parents and managers must police this language mercilessly. You are not allowed to say “I’m bad at math”. You say, “I haven’t cracked calculus yet”.

Second: Reframe the “rock” as a “coach”

Resilience is not the absence of pain; it is the interpretation of pain. When a Gen Z employee gets harsh feedback, they often feel attacked. We need to train them to ask one question: What is this rock trying to teach me?

In Failing Forward, Maxwell notes that every failure carries a seed of equivalent to benefit. If you lose a competition, you learn where your opponent is stronger. If you get fired, you learn what kind of culture you don’t fit into. Don’t remove the rock. Thank the rock.

Third: Engineer “safe” failure zones

You cannot learn to swim in a boardroom. You learn in a pool. Schools and families need to create low-stakes environments where failing is not just allowed but celebrated. A weekly family dinner where everyone shares their “Failing Forward of the Week”, a mistake and the one thing they learned from it.

A classroom where the first draft is graded solely on effort, not accuracy. We must reward the attempt, not just the outcome.

To the Boomers, Xers and Millennials reading this, stop saving them from the rocks. I know the instinct: You love them. You remember your own suffering and want to spare them. But a river that is dammed at every rapid never learns to dance; it becomes a swamp.

The world is not getting easier. AI will disrupt their jobs, climate anxiety will weigh on their souls and politics will rage. They will need the spine of a mountaineer, not the fragility of a porcelain doll.

So, hand them a copy of Failing Forward. Then step back. Let them trip. Let them scrape their knees. Let them feel the cold spray of the waterfall.

Here is the truth you should remember: A smooth river leaves no memory but a river that crashes over rocks? That water splits into a million glittering droplets. And when the sunlight hits those droplets, a rainbow appears.

That rainbow is resilience. It is beauty. It is the visible proof of struggle transformed into something breathtaking.

You cannot get the rainbow without the rock. And you cannot raise a strong young person without letting them hit a few rocks along the way.

Dr Bhavani Krishna Iyer holds a doctorate in English literature. Her professional background encompasses teaching, journalism and public relations. She is currently pursuing a second master’s degree in counselling. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com

 The Sun Malaysia