​If we already know how to do something, it appears that there’s nothing to learn. We are already expert, and in most organisations an Expert is a great thing to be. But if we want people to learn, then those people have to accept that there are things they don’t yet know.  
 
That’s relatively easy when it’s abstract - ‘oh yes, there’s always more to learn’ - but a lot trickier if what they don’t yet know is important stuff that would make them better at their job. That’s because it’s tantamount to admitting that they are not at the top of their game. And that is tough to do in a competitive arena where weakness is frowned upon or turned to your disadvantage.
 
If you want people to be curious, then ‘not-knowing’ has to be OK. How can that be encouraged in an instant-answer-now and an expertise-valued environment? ​

​In British schools until the mid-twentieth century, you could expect to be punished for mistakes. Not just for breaking school rules, but for getting things wrong academically; for example, if you got facts, sums or vocabulary wrong when you were supposed to know them by now. In Dickensian times, the punishment might be a harsh beating.

There is value in noticing when students make mistakes within a curriculum, as the errors may indicate the current level of learning. These assessments function as border indicators and alert the teacher and student as to where to put their attention for what to learn next.

This is the ‘trial-and-error’ method, in which under controlled conditions, you have a go, then see if your answer is right or wrong, close or distant; and you adjust accordingly to get back on track.

For that purpose, there’s no need for the mistake to carry any negative emotional charge. And few would now argue it’s a valid moment to reach for the birch, create a source of shame, embarrassment or any other special mention.