The 0.25 Second That Makes All the Difference. Daniel Coyle.

When it comes to errors, most of us share a passionate and simple opinion: we

dont like them very much. We strive to avoid them, to conceal them, to avoid
repeating them. As a species, we are all essentially allergic to mistakes.
But theres another way of thinking about error, and it begins with a story I heard
recently about Marina Semyonova, a master teacher at the Bolshoi Ballet in the
fifties.

The story goes like this: Every year, Semyonova would hold a tryout for the
Bolshoi, which was (and still is) one of the worlds greatest ballet troupes. You can
imagine the scene: dozens of brilliant young dancers milling about, years of
experience holstered and ready, their dreams on the line.

At first, the tryout would proceed like any other: the dancers would try to show
their abilities and vast repertoires. But then Semyonova would surprise them. She
would stop the audition and teach them one new move something theyve never
tried. They werent big complex moves to the contrary, they were quite simple. It
was as if the top-level audition suddenly was replaced by a beginners class.

The beginners class section took only a few minutes. But it was by far the most
important moment of the audition, because by the time it was over Semyonova
knew precisely which dancers to pick and which to pass over. And as the record
shows, she proved to be right far more often than not.

Semyonova wasnt a neuroscientist, but she was onto something. She wasnt
interested in measuring levels of skill which changes over time and can be
frustratingly unpredictable. She was zeroing in on a tiny slice of time that makes a
massive difference in our learning ability that primal instant right after we make
a mistake.

That instant whichthis very cool brain-scan experiment shows to be about 0.25
seconds is a fork in the road; the moment when things tip one way or the other.
Either the mistake is judged as a verdict and thus blocked out or its seen as a
piece of information to be used. And indeed, in the experiment referenced above,
the students who used their mistakes (whose brains processed them deeply in that
magical 0.25 seconds) ended up scoring higher than students who didnt.

In other words, the old chestnut proves out to be true: its not the mistakes that are
good or bad, but rather our reaction to them. And this reaction which we might
deem our error-reflex is in itself a kind of meta-skill, a measurable quality that is
an accurate indicator of potential, and which can also be improved.

So the question becomes, how do we improve our own error-reflexes? How do we

make more of our 0.25 second window? Here are a few ideas:

Depersonalize our mistakes by picturing them as navigation points. Because

thats what they are, literally, inside your brain neural circuits whose
wrongness nudges you in the right direction.
Break the reflex down into component parts. Every action is really three
actions the action, the recognition of the mistake, and the response. Each
should be insulated from the others.
Expect to feel a bit disoriented because its a tricky balancing act,
emotionally speaking. One moment, you have to put all of yourself into a
sincere move the next moment you have to pull back and evaluate. It
requires an emotional equilibrium that helps you lurch between hot
commitment one second and cool analysis the next.

That all reminded me of a sight Ive seen while watching the World Cup these past
few weeks: a player making a mistake (missing a shot at a wide-open goal, for
instance), and then smiling about it, as if it somehow didnt profoundly affect his
future or the happiness of millions in his home country.

These are gargantuan, life-changing, career-altering moments and yet a

surprising number of the erring players (even the Germans!) react with the same
understanding, nearly bemused smile that we never see on the faces of similarly
erring stockbrokers or lawyers or politicians.

Id like to suggest that their smiles can be traced to the essence of the game,
which is built on the essential difficulty of controlling a ball with parts of our body
least suited for control. Its very, very tough to score goals, or even make five good
passes in a row, never mind get past 10 enemy players and a goalkeeper. As a
result, soccer players are good friends with error. They live in a world of constant
screw-ups. They understand mistakes deeply, and thats precisely what makes them
such marvelous and resilient talents.

PS: Speaking of errors bright side, you should check out Being Wrong, by Kathryn
Schulz. Shes a brilliant and funny guide to how errors are gifts, and how screwing
up is key to our happiness and success.