The Myth of Perfection
by Rick Gilbert

Years ago I learned a powerful lesson about speaking from—of all people—a music teacher. She taught me that expressing ourselves is not about being perfect. It's about the courage to make mistakes.

Like many people, my childhood attempts to learn music had been painful affairs. I remember, for example, a piano teacher, Miss Terwilliger, who would rap my fingers with a pencil and scold me for not practicing. At 37, though, I resolved to try music again, this time with the tenor saxophone.

It began at a music store in San Rafael, California. My saxophone teacher was a platinum blonde named Dena Pappas. She was the lead player in a group called "The All-Girl Rock and Roll Band" that played at The Condor Club in San Francisco's North Beach.

At my first meeting with Dena, she asked what I wanted to play. I said, "The tenor saxophone." She asked, "Then why do you have that little alto?" "Because my other teacher said I wouldn't have enough breath control for a tenor," I replied hesitantly. "What crap. Here, try this," and she handed me her huge, gold, rhinestone-studded, Selmer Mark VI tenor saxophone. When I played the scales, the low notes made my guts vibrate. I knew I was home. This is what I came for.

As I played the scales, I made lots of mistakes. Dena said, "Hey, keep going. Sounds great." Her encouragement was infectious. Dena thought music lessons should be fun. What a concept. She cared more about the feeling than about "perfection." This attitude prevailed throughout all my lessons with Dena.

Finally, I had mastered a song, When Johnny Comes Marching Home. As I practiced, Dena and I stood side by side playing together. I'd miss one note after another, and she'd yell: "It's not about perfection. Let 'er rip!" and off we'd go. Finally, I was having fun with music. Eat your heart out Miss Terwilliger.

Dena Pappas knew that learning a new skill takes courage and encouragement. When it comes to speaking, the same philosophy applies. In manufacturing we may strive to "get it right the first time." In speaking, however, perfection is not only unattainable, it shouldn't even be our goal.

The next time you get up to speak and feel those butterflies in the stomach, the dry mouth and the sweaty palms, remember Dena Pappas. Imagine her spirit in the room. Her saxophone blaring. Hear her shouting in your ear, "It's not about perfection. Let 'er rip!"