"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: It is the courage to continue that counts." — Winston Churchill

Recently, I wrote about today's youth's struggles—their battles with self-confidence and the immense pressure to succeed. The response was overwhelming. Stories from parents, educators, and young people worldwide flooded in, each echoing similar fears and frustrations. One comment, in particular, stood out:

"It’s a societal problem; I see the same behavior in the US. Is it a globally documented problem? Competition for college spots robs our children of the opportunity to fail in academics and activities because it’s all reviewed with a fine-tooth comb by the college admissions committees. If you’ve failed, they move on to the next candidate—or at least, that’s the fear parents have. So, no chances to safely fail today in the US."

This observation captures a fear that many parents and students in the United States know all too well. The relentless competition for college spots creates an environment where failure feels unforgivable, a flaw that might forever close doors. Reflecting on this from my terrace in Punta del Este, it strikes me how this fear transcends borders and weaves its way into the lives of young people worldwide.

During a recent trip to Tokyo, Hanoi, Bangkok, and Singapore, I saw this same anxiety in different ways. While the cultural contexts varied, the core challenge was the same: the fear of falling short.

In Tokyo, students prepare relentlessly for university entrance exams that seem to determine their entire futures. In Singapore, the education system prizes high achievers, often from a very young age, leaving little room for second chances. The specifics may differ, but the underlying issue remains: young people rarely have the opportunity to fail safely, learn from mistakes, and recover without judgment.

‍A Culture Where Failure Feels Like Defeat

In the United States, the college admissions process has become a game of perfection. Parents fear that every grade, extracurricular activity, and project is scrutinized to the point that a single misstep could jeopardize their child’s future. This fear permeates down to children, who play it safe, avoiding risks that might lead to failure—even if those risks could foster growth.

The pressure is no less intense in Asia. In Tokyo, the endless preparation for university exams takes a visible toll on students. Similarly, in Singapore, parents emphasize competition starting at a young age. As one parent put it, “You can’t afford to fail here; the competition starts too young.”

In Europe, educational tracking systems create a similar challenge. In Germany, for example, children are often placed into academic or vocational tracks by the age of ten, based on their perceived abilities. While this structure provides clear pathways, it limits flexibility for late bloomers or those who discover new passions later in life. A friend from Spain shared a poignant insight: “Once a child is placed on a vocational track, it feels like there’s no turning back. The system doesn’t reward late bloomers.” Even Finland, long celebrated for its egalitarian education model, is feeling the pressures of global competition creeping into its schools.

South America offers another perspective. In Brazil, the focus on university entrance exams (vestibular) is intense, with students dedicating years to preparation. Failure often feels catastrophic, as parents invest significant resources into private tutors and schools to improve their children’s chances. In Argentina and Uruguay, while the university system is more accessible, societal pressures come from a different source: social expectations. As another Argentine friend noted, “If your child isn’t a doctor, lawyer, or engineer, people think you’ve failed as a parent.” This cultural emphasis on prestigious careers creates its own form of pressure, leaving little room for alternative paths.

Across continents, the fear of failure has become universal, but its costs are deeply personal. Whether it’s the rigid tracking in Europe or the intense academic competition in Asia and the Americas, young people worldwide are often denied the opportunity to fail safely—and to learn and grow from their mistakes.

‍The Costs of Avoiding Failure

When failure is treated as a flaw, young people miss out on opportunities to grow in ways only setbacks can teach. Failure isn’t a dead end; it’s a necessary step in learning to adapt, innovate, and persevere. But when children are denied the chance to fail—whether because of overly critical admissions processes or societal expectations—they lose more than just a moment; they lose the resilience that comes from trying again.

This isn’t just about systems or policies; it’s about real lives. Consider the story of a student in Hanoi who dreamed of pursuing music but chose engineering instead to meet family expectations. Years later, after struggling in an unfulfilling career, they returned to their passion, eventually becoming a respected music teacher. Or think of a young athlete in Singapore who, after a devastating defeat in a regional competition, used the experience to rebuild their training approach, later winning on an international stage.

These stories show that, while systems can stifle failure, individual resilience and the willingness to try again can still lead to success.

Balancing this narrative with stories of personal growth helps us understand that failure is not merely a systemic issue but also a deeply human experience. By highlighting these successes despite the odds, we can counterbalance the negativity and demonstrate the potential within failure itself.

‍Moving Toward a Culture of Growth‍

The comment about U.S. college admissions highlights the heart of the issue: we need to rethink how we view failure as part of growth. We must move away from punishing failure and toward embracing it as an essential part of learning. But how do we do this in practice?

Consider a teacher who reframes failure in a classroom by celebrating effort over perfection. Instead of marking a wrong answer as simply incorrect, they encourage the student to explore why it happened, transforming the mistake into an opportunity for discovery. Teachers could also introduce "failure journals," where students reflect on mistakes, what they’ve learned, and how they’ll improve. These reflections not only normalize failure but also teach critical thinking and resilience.

Imagine a parent who supports their child’s creative endeavors—even when they result in a messy painting or a broken Lego tower—because they know these moments build resilience and confidence. Parents might also model vulnerability by sharing their own experiences with failure and how they overcame them, turning dinner table conversations into life lessons.

Think of a workplace where a manager shares their own setbacks openly, showing their team that even leaders stumble, but growth comes from trying again Some companies implement “failure forums,” openly discussing lessons from failed projects, fostering a growth mindset and innovation.

These actionable steps—whether in schools, homes, or workplaces—create the foundation for a culture that normalizes failure and encourages learning from it.

‍Failure as a Shared Journey‍

The ocean before me this morning mirrors life itself—unpredictable, always in motion, shaped by its ebbs and flows. Failure, like the tide, touches us all, reminding us that it’s not about avoiding missteps but about navigating through them.

What if we embraced this rhythm? Imagine a world where a struggling student isn’t judged but guided to find strength in persistence. Where a young athlete, facing defeat, sees not an ending but the start of a stronger journey. These aren’t distant dreams but choices we can make—individually and collectively—to rewrite the narrative of failure.

The question isn’t just whether we’re ready to create a culture where failure is safe. It’s whether we can inspire the next generation to rise after every stumble, turning setbacks into stepping stones toward a thriving future.