American poet and literary icon Audre Lorde once said, “We are all in the process of becoming.”

I’ve always admired this quote’s spirit of growth, especially as a student of America’s highly structured education system—it’s uplifting to think that learning isn’t confined to a high school or college classroom. Be that as it may, college still represents an enormous opportunity for growth and self-adjustment, and I would argue that one of the best ways to realize this growth, in and out of Bowdoin, is admitting ignorance. That is, we should act as if we may not understand things, because we probably don’t.

Bowdoin students, faculty and staff are exceptional six ways from Sunday. But oftentimes, when I find myself talking to students, I hear someone speaking as if there’s no possibility that he or she could be incorrect. For instance, I recently had a conversation with a friend that went about as follows:

“Hey, what day is this Sunday?”

“It’s the 15th.”

“… Really?”

*scoff* “Yes.”

Bowdoin students have good reason to speak in declaratives—we made it this far for a reason—but sometimes, it turns out that Sunday is the 14th, and sometimes, we make mistakes. There’s nothing bad about occasionally being incorrect. However, if your friends find that you tend to speak with the tone and confidence of a middle school boy—likely one who feels his authority being questioned—something may be off base.

If we want to learn from our peers, to act with empathy and, really, to become well-adjusted, it is crucial to acknowledge the constant possibility that we could be wrong. Even if you feel like an authority on something, think about speaking as if you’re not. This mindset of humility will allow you to own up to mistakes more easily and make you a humbler, more well-rounded person. Recognize that most situations have nuance that needs to be considered. Or, as I’ve heard from relatives in my home in the Deep South: “It ain’t necessarily so.”

Deriving happiness or knowledge from ignorance is not just a chance to grow, it’s a marketable skill. Anyone who has ever worked in high-pressure workplaces (think: restaurants, startups, J.P. Morgan) can tell you that the worst kind of coworkers are only sometimes rude and annoying, but they are always unable to see beyond their own limitations. On the other hand, working with someone who recognizes the limits of their knowledge and authority tends to be refreshingly easy: You know what you can ask of them and have no fear of something catastrophic happening without supervision.

Every year we age, the consequences of being wrong get more significant. When you’re twelve, forging your mom’s signature for a field trip might result in a detention; when you’re thirty, the consequence for forgery constitutes a little more than that. I don’t want to scare people or to serve as a bad influence. Rather, I want to emphasize that now is the time to be wrong, regardless of age: Publicly mispronounce “Sufjan Stevens” and say, “My bad.” On a Saturday visit to Gelato Fiasco, insist on looking for parking on Main Street, waste five minutes of your friends’ time and own it. In the midst of a class or conversation, realize that a deeply-held belief might be off base and accept it.

Please don’t think I’m throwing rocks from a glass house—I promise, I have been publicly arrogant, overconfident and flat-out wrong more times than I (or my friends) can count. But despite this erroneous behavior, I like to think that I’m in the process of becoming. That for every moment where I come off as pompous and self-centered, there are at least two other moments where I come off as earnest and open to learning something new.

This article is not an excuse to be rude, demeaning or offensive; rather, it’s the opposite. I want to invite all ages of the Bowdoin community to “cooperate with others for common ends”: Speak softer, act bigger and relish in your collective, unique ability to err and learn.