We need to teach the highly educated man that it is not a

Host: The room is quiet, save for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall and the occasional rustle of paper. The evening light has faded, leaving behind a deep, dusky blue that drifts through the window. Jack and Jeeny sit across from each other, the conversation having turned toward something deeper. The books and papers scattered around them are all reminders of ambition, of striving for something more — but today, it’s not success they’re talking about. It’s failure.

Jack: “Charles Kettering said we need to teach highly educated men that it’s not a disgrace to fail, that they must analyze every failure to find its cause. He said failure is one of the greatest arts in the world. And honestly, I think that sounds like nonsense.” Jack leans back, his tone a mix of skepticism and curiosity. “Why would anyone want to embrace failure? Isn’t the goal to avoid it, to succeed?” He shakes his head, clearly conflicted. “I get that failure teaches you lessons, but... there’s a difference between learning from failure and celebrating it.”

Jeeny: Her eyes meet his with a soft, knowing look, the edge of her lips curving into a thoughtful smile. “But that’s just it, Jack. We’ve been taught that failure is something to fear, to hide from. But Kettering isn’t saying failure should be celebrated. He’s saying we need to learn how to fail intelligently — to understand it, to learn from it, and to use it as a stepping stone rather than something that knocks us down for good.” She pauses, her voice softening. “Failure isn’t a dead end, it’s an opportunity. But only if we’re willing to look at it honestly, without shame.”

Jack: He runs a hand through his hair, clearly torn between the idea of failure as a tool for growth and the cultural expectation of success. “I get the idea in theory, but how do you learn to fail intelligently? It sounds good on paper, but it’s hard to embrace when every failure feels like a personal defeat, a blow to your ego.” He looks at her, the words coming out with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “What happens when you fail and it doesn’t feel like a lesson? It just feels like a reminder that you’re not good enough.”

Jeeny: She leans forward, her gaze steady, like she’s trying to reach him. “I think that’s part of the problem, Jack. We equate failure with being bad at something, with being less than we think we should be. But what if failure is just part of the process? What if it’s not a reflection of who we are, but of where we’re trying to go?” She pauses, giving him a moment to absorb her words. “When Kettering talks about analyzing failure, he means that we shouldn’t just feel bad about it. We should ask ourselves: what went wrong? What can I learn from this? What can I do differently next time?”

Jack: “So, you’re saying failure doesn’t mean I’m not good enough? It just means I haven’t figured it out yet?” He sits up straighter, the realization beginning to dawn. “I guess if you think about it that way, failure isn’t the end. It’s just another step in the process of figuring out how to get it right.” He rubs his chin, almost like he’s reflecting on the idea for the first time. “But how do you keep from getting discouraged? How do you keep going after you’ve failed, especially when everything in you tells you to stop?”

Jeeny: “It’s not easy, I’ll admit that. It’s hard to keep going when the world feels like it’s telling you that you’re not enough. But that’s where the intelligence comes in. When you fail, it’s about understanding that it’s not about being perfect or getting everything right on the first try. It’s about persistence, about learning, and about being willing to fail again until you get it right.” Her smile is gentle, but there’s a quiet strength in her words. “The most successful people don’t always get it right on the first try. They fail, they learn, they adjust, and then they try again. And they don’t see failure as something to be ashamed of. They see it as a necessary part of the process.”

Jack: His face softens, a slight change in his expression, as though he’s starting to understand what she’s saying. “So, failure isn’t about being weak or not good enough. It’s just part of figuring it out. You learn from it and keep moving forward.” He takes a deep breath, almost like he’s releasing something that’s been holding him back. “Maybe I’ve been seeing failure all wrong. Maybe I’ve been too focused on the idea of never failing instead of learning how to fail better.”

Jeeny: “Exactly.” She smiles again, this time with a touch of pride. “It’s not about avoiding failure. It’s about embracing the lessons it offers and using them to get better. It’s about giving yourself permission to fail and still believe in yourself enough to try again.”

Host: The room feels lighter now, as if the weight of the conversation has shifted, and with it, a deeper understanding has taken root. The rain outside has stopped, and the air feels clearer, like a fresh start. Jack and Jeeny sit in the quiet of the moment, each of them reflecting on the nature of failure and the importance of not just learning from it, but using it as a tool for growth.

Jack: “Maybe I don’t need to be afraid of failing so much. Maybe I just need to figure out how to fail intelligently. See it for what it is — a stepping stone.” He looks at Jeeny, a small smile forming on his lips, his eyes a little brighter. “Thanks for helping me see that.”

Jeeny: “Anytime, Jack. We’re all learning as we go. And sometimes, failing is just the best way to figure out what works.” She smiles, the warmth in her eyes reflecting a shared understanding, one that transcends the fear of failure and moves into the territory of growth.

Host: The room is quiet again, but the stillness feels different now. There’s a new perspective in the air, one that allows room for imperfection, for mistakes, and most importantly, for learning. The rain has stopped, but the ground feels just a little bit firmer beneath them, as if both Jack and Jeeny have discovered something important about the process of growth — that failure, when understood and embraced, is not an end, but a beginning.