In Marketing, There Are No Mistakes, Only Indicators

People don’t connect with perfection.

We connect when something feels honest, small moments where we feel seen, understood, or simply human.

That truth shows up everywhere, including in the way people respond to our content.

And something I often wonder about is this:

Why is it that when a post doesn’t perform the way we hoped, our instinct is to see it as a mistake, something we did wrong, even when our intentions were pure?

When the intent is genuine, to grow, to connect, to serve, there are no mistakes in social media. Only indicators.

And the difference is simple:

A mistake says, “You did something wrong.”An indicator says, “Look here, something important just happened.”

A mistake stops the process. An indicator guides the next step.

A mistake focuses on the content. An indicator focuses on the audience.

And once you start interpreting your work this way, everything changes, and posts don’t fail; they teach. They show you what your community responds to, what they scroll past, what they feel, and sometimes what they don’t. These small indicators reveal how to connect more deeply.

Your audience will always show you what resonates if you listen.

I learned this the hard way (and the best way): through experience.

Take the reel with the sweetest dancing clip. I adored that footage. I didn’t want to cut a single moment. While families already in the community loved it, the reel didn’t reach as many people as it could have.

Not because it was wrong.

But because it showed me something: 

Prospective parents needed a clearer hook. Current families wanted the full moment.

That wasn’t a mistake.

It was an indicator, a clue about how different audiences enter a story, and once I learned to move the full “cute moment” to the end and lead with a stronger hook, the story reached exactly who it needed to reach.

Every post is data. Every reaction is a clue.

There was an event with so many beautiful layers of testimonials, kids' creations, and joyful moments that I shared it all. Not because of an algorithm rule, but because storytelling requires testing.

That’s how I learned what resonated most deeply with that specific community, not through strategy decks or theories, but by watching the impact. 

Even the times that should’ve felt like mistakes weren’t.

Once, I only captured the ending of a moment. The part I intended to film was long gone. So I reframed the story with a strong intro hook: “Here’s why this moment mattered.” As you can imagine, it performed better than expected. That’s when something clicked for me.

It taught me that a strong, honest entry point is often more powerful than a perfectly executed story. People don’t stay for flawless sequencing. They remain when the opening pulls them in.

Sometimes the most connecting moment is the human one:

Like the day I misspelled a word, and engagement exploded. Not from criticism, but from participation. Everyone wanted to be helpful. 

My first instinct was to take the post down because it made me, the creator, look careless. I felt that sting of embarrassment we all feel when something slips through. Before I removed it, I noticed something amazing in the comments. People weren’t criticizing; they were participating and being helpful because they cared enough to point it out.

What I thought would undermine my credibility actually created community. I thanked them for noticing, acknowledged the typo, and left the post up, trusting that more content would follow and that it would get lost in the feed anyway.

Instead, that moment brought genuine connection. The comments turned into a conversation, and we even gained new followers from the exchange.

It was the most unmistakable evidence that communities aren’t looking for perfect creators. They’re looking for real people who respond honestly. Realness invites connection.

Patterns emerge when you pay attention.

I’ve noticed that simple videos of kids walking, entering a classroom, lining up, and moving through a space consistently perform well. The movement creates anticipation. The viewer stays because something is unfolding.

That’s not luck. It’s human nature.

And human nature is the foundation of all good marketing.

I’ll never forget what a camper once told me, “The more people I get to know, the more I start seeing them everywhere.” 

In her 10-year-old innocence, she was sharing how excited she was to come to Crown Heights and spot familiar faces and new camp friends once summer was over.

She had no idea how profound her words really were.

It hit me recently what she meant: Once you tune your mind to a pattern, it reveals itself everywhere.

That’s what happens when you start paying attention to indicators. Your intuition gets sharper. The patterns get clearer. Your strategy becomes more aligned with what people actually feel.

This isn’t just marketing. It’s communication done well.

Posting isn’t about filling a feed. It’s about listening.

Just like a comedian adjusts to the energy in the room, we adjust to the reactions we see. Not because something was wrong, but because the audience gave us information.

If we focus only on the program, the event, or the idea, and not on how people experience it, we miss the real opportunity.

This opportunity is a connection.

When your intent is rooted in care, and you genuinely want to grow your program, strengthen your community, or help families understand the value you offer, every post gives you something. A clue. A direction. An insight into your audience’s needs, desires, and emotions.

There are no mistakes in that kind of work. Only indicators. Only learning. And if we do it right, we will only have the next chance to connect more deeply.