Personal Introspection: Examining What We Believe

By Erika Leak, Ed.D.

Personal introspection is not confession or blame. It is the ongoing necessary work of examining our lenses through which we make assumptions and interpret events.

A system cannot consistently and intentionally cultivate brilliance if it cannot recognize it. Personal introspection calls educators to examine how we interpret student expression, behavior, ability, and outcomes—and how those interpretations determine the opportunities students receive.

"Our professional obligation is to examine that lens so that we can see students and families..."

Interpretations Matter

Several years ago, I taught in a high school inclusion classroom alongside a knowledgeable, warm, and experienced special education teacher. One day, while students were working in small groups, one student became agitated and began loudly berating his classmates. My co-teacher, trying humor, firmly directed him to settle down and reengage with his group. Instead, the student grew even more agitated, raising his voice even louder, turning his frustration on us.

This was not my first encounter with an angry student. By then, I had been teaching for several years, and profanity-laced expressions of frustration were uncommon but not unfamiliar. What had changed was my ability to separate my feelings from the moment unfolding in front of me.

I grew up in an authoritarian household where respect was explicitly expressed through both verbal and nonverbal behavior. We did not raise our voices to our parents. We did not use profanity—or even words that were considered by my parents to be adjacent to profanity, such as “shut up” or “stupid” especially around adults. Violations were considered disrespectful, and disrespect had consequences. That was the culture in which I learned what respect looked and sounded like.

As a teacher, however, I had begun to examine the expectations I carried from my own upbringing into the classroom. I had learned to ask whether a student’s behavior, although inappropriate, meant exactly what I instinctively assumed it meant.

As the student continued his tirade, I actually listened closely. Beneath the anger, I heard something interesting: a creative way with words. Vivid analogies, inventive word choices,  alliteration, imagery, and other literary devices I had been teaching appeared almost effortlessly in his outburst. It was all there and masterfully so. 

When he finally paused for our reaction, my co-teacher asked him to leave the classroom but I intervened. “I need you to write down everything you just said,” I told him.

Another string of creative language indicated his initial resistance. I explained, “What you said is important. If you have a complaint and it stays in this room, no one else will ever know. If you write it down, perhaps we can share it with someone who can respond.” 

Begrudgingly, he moved to the back of the room and began to write. He looked up with a smirk. “You said you want everything I said, right?”

“Everything,” I replied.

When he finished, he approached me with a pleased, defiant expression. “You said everything,” he reminded me. He had, in fact, written everything. I read the page, smiled, and told him how creative his language was. The writing was not grammatically polished, but it was alive and quite witty. I pointed out my observations to him and asked whether he had anything else to add.

“There’s more where that came from,” he said.

“Then add it.”

He snatched the paper back, returned to his seat, and continued writing.

"Having a lens is not a flaw; it is part of being human. Our professional obligation is to examine ..."

Accountability and Opportunity

After class, my co-teacher remarked on the way I had handled the situation expressing concern that I had allowed the student to get away with unacceptable behavior. I assured my colleague that accountability would follow; he would need to apologize to the entire class. I simply believed that removing him from instruction was not necessary in that moment.

Indeed, the student’s behavior was disruptive, and the harm it caused could not be ignored. Yet by keeping him in the classroom and redirecting his energy, we discovered something his behavior might otherwise have concealed: a gift for creative writing. In fact, he produced more writing during that class period than many students who completed the assigned group activity. I continued working with him throughout the year, and his interest in writing grew.

Ultimately, my co-teacher and I witnessed the same behavior but interpreted it differently. The difference was not that one of us cared about order and the other did not. The difference was not even that one cared about kids and the other did not. The difference was that prior personal introspection had helped me recognize the cultural origins of my own expectations. Without that work, I might also have removed him—just as I had earlier in my teaching career removed other students, perhaps for less.

The way educators interpret and respond to student behavior affects consequences, access, and opportunity. Had this student been removed, he likely would have missed grade-level instruction and incurred an additional disciplinary consequence. By remaining, he was held accountable while also being invited to use a strength. One decision did not transform his life, but it changed what was possible in that moment.

Personal Introspection as a Professional Obligation

Personal introspection is not a mental accounting of everything an educator has done wrong. Nor is it an invitation to excuse disruptive, harmful, or abusive behavior. It is a disciplined examination of the lenses through which we interpret students and make decisions about them.

Those lenses are shaped by our families, cultures, education, professional training, and lived experiences. Having a lens is not a flaw; it is part of being human. Our professional obligation is to examine that lens so that we can see students and families more fully—and avoid overlooking, diminishing, or misreading what they know, what they need, and what they may become.

In my classroom, I initially understood respect through the norms of my upbringing. Yet once the student calmed down, listened, and agreed to put his concerns in writing, he was communicating a form of respect and trust—even while he remained frustrated. I could recognize that only because I had learned to consider that shows of respect may differ across people, families, and cultures.

The assumptions most in need of examination are often the ones that feel routine: Which families are “engaged” in their children’s education? Which students possess leadership potential? Who is ready for advanced work? What does intelligence look like? Who is cooperative, motivated, mature, or deserving of another chance?

These are not abstract questions. The answers give way to recommendations, interventions, and exclusions. Over time, essentially they become the student experience.

"Students who are not invited into leadership, service, or enrichment opportunities remain absent from those circles. "

Start with Belief

Recent research reinforces the need to examine the relationship between adult interpretations and school decisions. In a 2023 study published in Educational Researcher, David Markowitz and colleagues analyzed more than 3 million office-discipline records from over 4,000 schools. Their analyses revealed that educators’ written descriptions were longer and contained more negative emotion when documenting incidents involving Black students than White students, particularly Black girls. The researchers concluded, cautiously, that “teachers may perceive and process student behavior differently depending on student identities.” These findings suggest that educators’ interpretations are associated with observable differences in how behavior is documented which may influence later disciplinary decisions; they do not establish that individual beliefs alone cause disparities.

Educators understand that beliefs influence practice, and practice influences results. In Culturally Responsive Teaching and the Brain, Zaretta Hammond describes the role of academic mindset in students’ engagement, effort, and performance. Experienced educators have seen students persist because they believe they can succeed—and withdraw because they have concluded that they cannot.

The same principle applies to adults. Our beliefs about achievement, behavior, culture, and potential shape what we offer students. Assumptions about a student’s readiness may influence the rigor of an assignment. Judgments concerning behavior may determine whether a student is invited into an enriching extracurricular activity. A belief about a family’s interest may determine whether—and how persistently—an educator reaches out.

The chain is consequential: assumptions shape expectations; expectations shape opportunities; opportunities shape student experiences.

Those experiences then become self-reinforcing. Students who are rarely challenged with rigorous, meaningful work may come to believe that such work is not for them. Students who are not invited into leadership, service, or enrichment opportunities remain absent from those circles. Adults may then misread that absence as evidence that the students lacked interest or ability all along.

Consider the roster of a gifted and talented program. It may include students whose potential was noticed early, students whose strengths match what the system is prepared to recognize, and students whose families know how to navigate the identification process. The roster is not merely an outcome; it is also a mirror. The same is true of patterns in discipline, advanced coursework, extracurricular participation, and family engagement.

Question Who Gets Invited

Personal introspection asks us to investigate the assumptions behind our decisions—not to presume that every decision is wrong, but to understand how it was made.

Think about the last students you recommended for a special opportunity: a conversation with the school board, induction into the National Honor Society, an advanced course, a leadership program, or a selective community experience. Why did those particular students come to mind? Which students did not? What qualities did you recognize as evidence of readiness or worthiness? What other forms of readiness might you have missed?

When I first taught Advanced Placement English, I noticed that although our countywide school was diverse, my class was composed mostly of White students. There were no Black boys and only a small number of Hispanic girls. Given the school’s demographics, that pattern demanded examination.

At the end of the year, several current AP students and I visited tenth-grade English classes to explain what Advanced Placement meant, describe its benefits, and speak honestly about its rigor. I had been advised not to visit the special education classes. I went anyway.

I questioned the assumption that teacher recommendations or prior grades alone could predict a student’s capacity or effort. I also considered my responsibility to provide scaffolding and support for students who chose the challenge. The following year, my AP classes included a more diverse group of students—not because the students had suddenly acquired potential, but because more of them had been seen, informed, and invited.

The Questions That Open Possibility

Personal introspection begins with curiosity. It does not require educators to abandon their values, cultures, or professional judgment. It requires us to examine patterns and remain open to what those patterns may reveal.

When discipline outcomes repeatedly fall more heavily on one group, question the pattern. When one group consistently outperforms another in a classroom, question the pattern. When some families are routinely labeled disengaged, question the definition of engagement and the methods used to invite their participation. When students from one racial, cultural, gender, language, or disability group rarely audition, enroll, try out, or sign up, ask what messages, structures, and prior experiences may be shaping that absence.

The essential questions are simple but demanding: Whose strengths are we prepared to recognize? Whose behavior receives context, patience, and another opportunity?

Whose potential is cultivated? Whose greatness are we nurturing?

Systems cannot consistently cultivate strengths they have not learned to see. Before we can nurture greatness in students, we must be willing to examine what we believe about them—and what those beliefs make possible.

Where to Begin

Conduct a Belief-to-Practice Review

At your next leadership or instructional

team meeting, select one consequential student outcome—discipline referrals, enrollment in advanced courses, gifted identification, extracurricular participation, or family engagement. Begin the discussion by asking the team members to discuss what their beliefs are in that area. Resist the urge to accept surface level responses. Then display or distribute the data for that outcome. Discuss the following:

1. What pattern do we notice?

2. Do our beliefs align with our outcomes? 

3. What beliefs or definitions may have influenced this pattern? 

4. Which students are being affected? In what ways? 

5. What is one practice we can change during the next 30 days? 

6. What evidence will we use to determine the impact of our change?