Misspelling Success

Misspelling Success

John Paul Derryberry

A wonderful surprise arrived at my office this past Wednesday -- an exquisitely-carved wooden nameplate with my name and new title engraved on it. It is a sleek, simple design signaling that the person who sent the gift understands my taste. My dad had a nameplate on his desk, and as a child visiting his office, I always thought it was such an essential fancy thing to sit on your desk. Upon opening it, my first thought took me back to when I was little kid who thought my dad was important because his desk had his nameplate on it. It was a wonderful moment, a solitary moment in my office, to be linked with my dad again.

Upon further inspection, I realized my name was spelled wrong on the nameplate. I let out a giant laugh at the irony of a misspelling on my nameplate. The laughter isn't about someone screwing up my last name; it's about a gift signaling my most significant professional achievement having my biggest weakness engraved in it. It's no secret to those close to me that when I take my ideas and attempt to put them into a written language, it gets all messy. Often it comes out as meaningless, as I usually write with little to no understanding of sentence structure, screw up homonyms, misspell words, and make some other mistakes my editor would probably like to mention here.

The well-intentioned gift giver is well on their way to having a new nameplate, with the correct spelling crafted and delivered to me. Part of me wants to display the one with the misspelling. We all are, after all, the collection of our strengths and weaknesses. The best version, the worst version, and the versions of ourselves that land in between is what makes us, us. We often want to diminish the embarrassing side, and let me the first to say my misspelling has had me the butt of numerous jokes. We never want to credit our weaknesses as propelling our success, but they do in many ways. And even more rare is the public acknowledgment of our less than shining traits. We must present perfection to our audience, especially if we dare to lead in the public forum.

I'm here today, not despite my inability to grammatically structure a sentence. I'm here today because I knew that was a weakness and said, I'll forge ahead anyway. It forced me to think about how I communicate, seek out help, and realize that one can only improve a weakness so fast. It hasn't stopped me from writing, an activity I enjoy immensely, but I have accepted that my rough drafts will have more red ink on them than the actual factory making red ink pens.

Our weaknesses can have a way of owning us, instilling doubt; we can only climb so high. That perfectly misspelled nameplate tells a different story. Maybe your anxiety spurs you into action. Maybe your impulsive behaviors have made you more patient with your impulsive child. Perhaps your doubts slow you down from making a choice you will regret. It's entirely possible that if my grammar and spelling were perfect, I would have achieved faster, but I wouldn't have been mature enough to handle that type of success in my 20s.  

So if you stop by my office, you may do a double-take at a misspelled nameplate. But it's a daily reminder, and I'm here today because of all of me, my strengths and my weaknesses. It's an important reminder, no matter what situation we find ourselves in. There are many ways to spell success; sometimes it's the right way, even if it is misspelled.