This past Fall, my son Tyler, decided to run for the position of Treasurer at his Elementary School.  He told me that since his grandfather was in finance for almost fifty years and his father (your’s truly) was in finance for almost fifty minutes, he felt it was in his blood.  The school approved him as a candidate and the campaigning began.  I helped him with his speeches and his older sister, Kayla, helped him with his posters.  He seemed to relish in every moment of this endeavor.

Running for office really seemed to agree with Tyler.  As a doting father, I was starting to daydream of him winning not only this election, but others to come….High School, College, Mayor, Governor, and why not…President of the United States of America!  (I was envisioning my perks as First Dad already) On the day of the election, I was conducting a writing workshop at another school, so I couldn’t be home to see his smiling face and to hear his victory speech.  Once I knew he’d be home, I took a quick break and called.  I figured I’d still be able to hear the excitement in his voice even if I couldn’t see it in his expression.

Tyler picked up the phone on his end.  “Hello,” I greeted him.  “I’d like to speak to the newly elected Treasurer.”  “I’m sorry,” he replied.  “I’m afraid you have the wrong number.”  He had lost.  Up to this point, I hadn’t even considered this a possibility, but it had happened.  It was one of those moments when you don’t know how a 9-year-old is going to handle this kind of rejection, but want to be there for him however you can.

“Dinner.  Your choice,” I said.  “Where do you want to go?”  Tyler chose his favorite Mexican restaurant in town.  When I got home, we drove there and he ordered his usual…French fry tacos.  He seemed to be his normal cheery self.  He even joked around during our meal.  “Are you sure everything’s OK?” I finally asked him.  “Yeah,” he replied.  “Why?”  “Because you lost today,” I stated matter-of-factly.  (I know, I know…this was not my finest ‘dad’ moment)

“Yeah,” he said.  “But I had a fun time running for office.  Not too many other kids got to hang up posters and stand on stage and talk to all the students in the school.  I did!  Besides, the girl that beat me is in 5th grade.  I’m only in 4th.  Next year, she’ll be in Middle School and I’ll get to run again.  Only this time, I’ll know how to win.”

“How?” I asked, now very intrigued.  “Well, when the girl who beat me finished her speech, she did a cartwheel on stage.  Everyone cheered for that and I think that’s what helped her win.”  “Can you do a cartwheel?” I asked.  “No,” Tyler admitted, “But I have a whole year to learn!”

All I chose to see was the disappointment and failure that I perceived to come with Tyler not winning the election.  And all Tyler was reflecting on was how much he enjoyed the experience and how much better prepared he’ll be for the next time he decides to run for office.  What’s wrong with this picture?  How did my son have such a better handle on the situation?  I’m supposed to be the dad.  The adult.  The voice of reason.  But where I saw failure, he saw success.  Success in the fact that he is better off now than before he ran for office.

Our lives will always to be filled with ups and downs.  They will be labeled by the worldly standards of successes and failures.  But those are society’s standards, not ours’.  The only times we will fail is when we don’t look for the positives in our perceived low points.  And, trust me, there are always positives.  When we recognize and learn from those, we don’t fail.  We’re one smaller success closer to a bigger success.

Don’t let the world define your failures.  Stay positive and keep working on your cartwheels.