trust the process

  

 

Here’s something I’ve had to relearn: the more I obsess over the end result, the more the whole thing falls apart. Every time I sit down with a picture of the “perfect” outcome in my head, I might as well hang a “mental block” sign on my brain. Because nothing shuts down creativity faster than trying to make something flawless before you’ve even made anything. It’s like expecting the first pancake to be the good one. No. It’s always lumpy and weird looking. but that its job

But when I stop grading myself in advance, the work suddenly becomes… well, workable. I loosen up. I play. I try that idea I was half-afraid of, because it might not look polished. And you know what? Sometimes it doesn’t. But sometimes it leads to something unexpectedly good. Curiosity has a way of unlocking doors that perfectionism would rather keep sealed shut with industrial-strength glue. 

And this is exactly what I wish we could bottle and sprinkle around every classroom. Because somewhere along the line, a whole lot of students started believing their worth is measured in points, percentages, and whether the rubric says they’re “proficient.” They get so tangled in the scoreboard that they stop actually learning. Instead of asking, “What am I figuring out here?” they ask, “Will this hurt my grade?” And once that happens, the goal isn’t growth anymore—it’s damage control. Nobody learns well in damage-control mode. 

The best learning moments I’ve ever witnessed had absolutely nothing to do with grades. They happened when a student took a wild swing at a new idea or asked a question that changed the whole direction of the lesson, or boldly said, “I don’t get this… yet.” Those moments don’t fit neatly into the grading software, but they’re the moments that build thinkers. And ironically, when students stop chasing the A and start chasing understanding, the grades usually rise anyway—because the learning finally comes alive. 

So maybe the challenge—for teachers, students, and the rest of us wandering through this life—is to shift the spotlight. Let grades be the byproduct, not the target. Let the process be messy and interesting and full of “Wait, what if we try this?” Give students permission to learn instead of performing. And maybe give yourself that permission, too. Because results matter, sure—but learning? That’s the part that stays with you long after the gradebook closes.