LATE in the 19th century, while investigating chicken cholera, Louis Pasteur infected some birds with bacteria that he confidently believed would kill them. He was wrong not only did the chickens survive; they were completely immune. Pasteur had made a mistake. But in doing so he had also found a vaccine.

After inoculating several dishes with the bacterium staphylococcus, Alexander Fleming forgot to cover them up before going on holiday. On his return, one of the dishes had grown mould. Fleming observed that the bacteria around the mould were all dead, thus discovering that the mould Penicillium had antibacterial properties.

In 1492 Christopher Columbus set sail westwards intent on discovering a new route to Asia. Miscalculating the Earth's circumference meant he actually landed in America, opening up trade links between the old and new worlds.

In 1839 Charles Goodyear accidentally dropped some india rubber mixed with sulphur on to a hot stove, discovering the vulcanisation process which made possible the commercial use of rubber. Chef George Crum invented crisps in 1853 when a customer at a restaurant in New York returned his fries to the kitchen. In anger, Crum sliced them as thinly as possible, over-fried them and doused them in salt. The customer was delighted and the crisp was born.

Fast forward to the 21st century. France, the country that gave the world the father of modern medicine, is no longer quite so ready to see the benefits of getting things wrong, according to a growing number of intellectuals and education specialists.

They claim the French school system is leaving children bereft of creativity, flexibility of thought and — crucially — confidence in their own mental abilities.

In an attempt to counter this culture of 'intellectual timorousness', a group of academics from the country's elite institutions is hosting a festival in Paris this week with a rather unusual mission its participants are being encouraged to make as many mistakes as possible.

“A large part of the French school system is based on the idee recue that errors are negative, when in fact it is by this very process of learning ... that you make progress,” said Maelle Lenoir, of the Association Paris Montagne.

“The French system is founded on a strict learning of knowledge, rather than on creativity or innovation. And yet it was Einstein himself who said that 'the only sure way to avoid making mistakes is to have no new ideas'.”

Observers of the French school system, while praising certain key successes, have repeatedly highlighted the shortcomings of an educational process which is highly 'top down' and results-driven, and which, they say, puts far more emphasis on having the right answer than the thought process by which a pupil might explore the question being asked.

“I'm a scientist. I had nothing to do with education. But then my six-year-old boy went to school and his teacher told me, 'He's a nice kid, but he asks too many questions',” said Francois Taddei, the author of an education report published last year for the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD).

“This is the problem of the French system,” he added.

“You are supposed to know the right answer. You are not supposed to express your own opinions or ask questions.”

One teacher who has attempted to rebel against the national model is Girolamo Ramunni, a lecturer at the National Conservatory of Arts and Crafts in Paris, a higher education establishment specialising in science and industry.

Organisers of the self-declared “festival of errors”, which began on Wednesday in the Ecole Normale Superieure in central Paris and continues until Saturday, hope to demonstrate to young participants the potential wonder of making mistakes through a series of science-based workshops.

—The Guardian, London