Lessons Learned Template

Let me tell you about the time I tried to launch a community garden in my suburban neighborhood – and accidentally became the poster child for why you need a lessons learned template. Picture this: me, a sleep-deprived mom of twins, armed with Pinterest dreams and a Costco-sized bag of zucchini seeds. I’d convinced six families to chip in. By August? We had 12-foot sunflowers blocking street signs, a raccoon mafia living in the compost bin, and exactly three edible tomatoes.

The turning point came when my neighbor Sharon (bless her Southern honesty) said: “Honey, next time, write down what NOT to do.” Turns out, documenting disaster is the ultimate life hack. Here’s what I’ve learned after 4 years of trial/error – including that time my DIY car repair notes went viral in our Nextdoor group:


The Messy Truth About “Lessons Learned”

  1. Your first template will suck. Mine looked like a cross between a Shakespearean sonnet and a CVS receipt. I tried categorizing failures by moon phases (don’t ask). What actually worked? A 3-column Google Doc:

    • What exploded (figuratively…mostly)
    • Why it matters (spoiler: your ego isn’t a valid reason)
    • Next time, I’ll… (be specific: “Buy squirrel-proof bins BEFORE planting”)
  2. Timing is everything. I used to do post-mortems when the rage was still fresh – terrible idea. Now I wait 48 hours (or until the wine rack is restocked). The magic question: “Would this help Future Me or just make Past Me feel better?”

  3. Embrace the cringe. My most valuable template entry? “Stop explaining blockchain at PTA meetings.” Vulnerability builds muscle memory. I keep these gems in a password-protected doc titled “YIKES ARCHIVE.”


The BBQ Test™ (My American Litmus)

A good template should be like grilling burgers:

  • Simple (You’re not writing a TED Talk)
  • Repeatable (Works for work projects and your kid’s failed lemonade stand)
  • Shareable (Slack it, text it, carve it into a Jell-O mold)

My go-to format now lives in Trello. It’s just:

[ What happened ]  
[ Why it hurt ]   ➔  [ What I’ll change ]  

Example from last month’s Great Garage Sale Debacle:
“Priced antique lamp at $5 ➔ Karen resold it on Facebook Marketplace for $200 ➔ Next time: Google Lens first, then wine.”


The Unsexy Hack Nobody Talks About

Set a calendar reminder titled “Forget-Me-Not Fridays” (mine pops up with a taco emoji 🌮). Spend 10 minutes updating your template while memories are still warm. I do this during my kid’s soccer practice – the chaos keeps me honest.

Oh, and that garden fiasco? Our revised template became the blueprint for a thriving pumpkin patch. We even outsmarted the raccoons (hint: chili powder and classic rock playlists). Sharon brings her famous pecan pie now instead of side-eye.


Your homework (if you want it):

  1. Open Notes app right now
  2. Write one recent “oof” moment
  3. Add ONE thing you’d change
    That’s your template seed. Water it with caffeine and humility.

And if anyone judges your process? Tell them the raccoon story. Works every time.

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