Jumping to Conclusions

jumping to conclusions

My 8th graders are finishing up a unit on geometric proofs. This material has even my live-and-breathe-math kids questioning, “When will we ever have to use this?”

And I’m honest with them. I confess that they will never be asked to write a two-column proof justifying why two triangles are congruent in order to clinch a job interview. No romantic interest will ever look over their paragraph constructed to show that a quadrilateral is, in fact, a rectangle and criticize the fact that they failed to correctly use the slopes to show right angles. In fact, the only time that this exact skill will come in handy is if they happen to become math teachers. (In fact, I’m kicking myself now for making my way through 9th grade geometry in a zombie-like haze.)

But I don’t stop there.

“Forget the content for a moment,” I advise them. “What does this process, as painful as it may be, actually teach you?”

There are confused looks. A few random and half-hearted attempts to answer my question. And then I hear it from the back corner –


“It teaches us how to think. How to move from one fact to another and not jump to conclusions.”


When I was four, I had not yet had the benefit of geometric proofs to teach me how to think. At my grandmother’s house, I would spend hours sitting by her side as she narrated her way through countless family photos. Photos, that were for the most part, in black and white.

So I reached the obvious (well, to a four-year-old at least), conclusion: the world used to be in black and white.

That made sense. But I still struggled to understand how my grandmother, who sat next to me in full color, could have become pigmented as a young adult. I wrestled with this dilemma for a time until I finally solved the problem (and felt quite proud of myself for my powers of deduction) –  Rainbow Brite was responsible for bringing color to the world.

Well, it sure seemed reasonable then.

I had leaped from one fact – photos had transitioned from black and white to color over time – to a completely arbitrary conclusion that was based solely on the information generated within my own mind.

That particular assumption was harmless (and humorous). But that’s not always the case.


Once we believe something, even if we leapt recklessly to that opinion, we then proceed to ignore that which doesn’t support our conclusion. 


We become willfully blind. Feeding on an information diet filtered through confirmation bias. Conclusions, like habits, are much more difficult to shape once they’ve hardened into place. The time to be careful is when you’re laying down the initial layers. Jumping to conclusions has a tendency to keep you in one place.

And that’s what my students are learning. Just like you can’t claim that an angle is right because it “looks” like 90º, you can’t assume things in life just because it “feels” a certain way. 

It’s harder in life than in the classroom. After all, the stakes are higher when you’re you’re talking about real life instead of a poorly drawn polygon. Yet the lesson is still the same as we learn how to not carelessly jump to conclusions:


Base everything on the facts.

Move from one fact to another. No jumping.

Accept that there may be more than one correct way to link these facts and don’t be afraid to explore these options.

Ask for another person’s opinion. Sometimes a fresh set of eyes will see something you do not.

When you have enough facts, make a conclusion.

If you find other facts that refute your conclusion, be ready with the eraser.

In fact, actively look for ways that your reasoning may be wrong. That’s how you test its strength.

It’s okay to make temporary assumptions to test a theory, but refrain from putting it in writing until you can prove it using facts.


Here’s an example of how I put this into practice in my own life as it pertains to learning to trust again after betrayal.



Assuming Intent

The year was 1997. Accomplished chess player Garry Kasparov was again facing a unique opponent, the computer known as Deep Blue. When the computer made a move that appeared irrational to Garry, he grew agitated and visibly upset. Understanding that the computer was programmed to “see” all of the possible outcomes many moves into the future, Gary assumed intent behind this seemingly nonsensical decision. Frustrated, Garry walked away, forfeiting the game.

Only later to find out that the strange move by the computer was driven not by advanced programming, but rather by a glitch in the software. Garry had assigned intent to the move, when it was actually just a random action in response to an error.

I found myself thinking of Garry yesterday when I was attempting to navigate the icy roads of Atlanta after a surprisingly large snowstorm. A car suddenly cut in front of me in order to move from the far right lane to far left. At first, I was angry, assuming that this person knew about the cars behind him and intentionally made the decision to cut them off, slippery roads not withstanding.

And then a red light allowed me the opportunity to study the man behind the offending car. Far from the cocky and arrogant demeanor I expected from someone who apparently believed they had the run of the road, he seemed lost. Confused, even. I had been assuming intent behind his actions, when his countenance made it seem more like it was a random (and careless) action in response to an error.

How often do we fall into similar traps? Assigning meaning to the meaningless… Believing in intent when it’s accidental… Envisioning targets on our backs when really we just happen to be standing in between the arrow and its goal…

When we see the outcomes, we easily believe that we also understand the motivations. We assume intent and often act on these assumptions. Yet when we do so, we’re responding not to the reality of the situation, but rather our premature understanding of it.

The next time you find yourself assigning intent to someone’s actions, think of Garry and take a moment to consider that maybe what you’re seeing is just a mistake.




9 Ways Comparison Steals Your Joy (And How to Take It Back)

We all do it.

We see our friends’ vacation pictures on Facebook and suddenly feel worse about our own travels. Instead of celebrating our promotion, we focus on how we still don’t make as much as the guy down the street. We enjoy our home renovation until we enter a more upscale home, at which point we become aware of all the areas where ours is lacking. We find confidence in our new athletic achievement until we happen to catch a glimpse of someone in the mirror who just happens to be a little stronger, a little leaner, a little younger.

Why is it that comparison has such a propensity for bringing us down?

1 – Comparison Takes You Out of the Moment

Somebody walks up to you and unexpectedly hands you a check for $1,000. After a few moments of confusion and disbelief, the excitement sets in and you begin daydreaming about how you might spend your windfall. And then you notice that the stranger next to you also received a surprise check. For $5,000.

Instantly, you’re pulled from your fantasies. Your pleasant daydreams are replaced with irritation at receiving the lesser amount. Instead of thinking about your gains, you’re focusing on your (entirely imaginary) “loss” of $4,000.

2 – Comparison Can Lead to Demotivation

You vow to get in shape this year. You start by creating a Pinterest “motivational” fitness boards that universally feature people in the top 1% of physiques. You intend for it to inspire you to diet just a little more and to run just a little further.

Instead, the effect is the opposite. When, after months of dedicated diet and exercise, you feel defeated when the reflection in the mirror is still light years away from that of the fitness model. Believing you’ll never get there, you give up.

3 – Comparison Compares Internal to External

You’re alone on a Friday evening. Even though the thought of dining alone in public horrifies you, you summon the nerve to go out because you’re craving your favorite dish at the restaurant down the street. While eating your dinner, you spot another solo diner. Only this one appears confident and at ease with being alone.

“Why can’t I be confident by myself like that person?” you ask yourself, feeling even more awkward than before. Meanwhile, the solo diner has spotted you and is simultaneously envying your outward poise in dining alone.


4 – Comparison Leads to False Beliefs Based on Incomplete Information

Your friends seem to lead the perfect lives. According to the pictures they share on social media, their homes are always organized, their kids are always smiling, the vacations are epic and the marriages are perfect.

Behind the scenes, there’s a different story. The camera only comes out when the house is clean and the angles of the shots are carefully selected. For every one picture of smiling kids, ten more – with frowns, screams and frustrated expressions – have been deleted. The vacations had their idyllic moments and those are the ones selected to share. And the marriage, like all marriages, has its good moments and its hard ones.

5 – Comparison Prompts Cross Examination of Decisions

When it came to selecting a career, you left no stone unturned. You carefully inventoried your skills and interests. You calculated the income you needed to support the lifestyle you wanted and analyzed the demands of the job compared to the role you wanted it to play in your life.

And by all accounts, you made a good decision. You’re successful, you’re happy and you’re able to afford the life you want. And then you make a new friend who works in an entirely different – and to you, exotic, field. And you start to wonder if you made the right choice all those years ago.

6 – Comparison Lowers Satisfaction

You’ve been studying really hard the entire semester. When you see the “A” printed on the top of your test, you think, “Finally, all that hard work has paid off.” You’re feeling good about your effort, your progress and your standing in the class.

And then you happen to see the “A+” on the paper handed back to the person next to you. “I’m so stupid,” you think. “I shouldn’t even be in this program.”

7 – Comparison Contributes to F.O.M.O. (Fear of Missing Out)

It’s finally happening. You’ve scrimped and saved for two years to afford this trip to Hawaii and you’re on your way. Once you settle in to your hotel, you fire up the Wi Fi and see that your friends are having brunch together.

Suddenly, you question your decision. Hawaii is great, but what might you be missing back home. For the next week, you find that thoughts of what you may be missing out on keep intruding on your vacation.

8 – Comparison Contributes to Anxiety

Your partner got a new coworker recently. An opposite sex coworker. At first, you didn’t think much of it. And then you happened to see a picture. And then you heard about some of the new hire’s accomplishments.

And now you’re worried as you line your traits up against theirs and you find yourself lacking. You begin to question what your partner sees in you and you begin to question their interactions with their workmate.

9 – Comparison Increases Loneliness

You’re having a good day and decide to continue it by treating yourself to a rare pricey latte. While waiting for your drink, you engage in a little harmless people watching.

Only it turns out to not be so harmless. As your eye roves the patrons, you subconsciously compare something that you’re insecure about (your hair, your weight, your wardrobe) to that of another person. And as you tabulate these juxtapositions, you begin to feel as though you no longer belong.

If comparison makes us feel worse, why do we do it?

I tease my students about not being the “slowest zebra” to encourage them to stay focused on their work. And it’s effective. They don’t want to be the outlier, the one left behind and in danger of being eaten by the watchful lion.

We have evolved to constantly question and gauge our status. We want and even need to know where we fit within the group.

When humans lived in smaller social groups, this comparison was relatively harmless. Maybe you’re the worst in the village at collecting water but you can feel confident in being the best hunter.

Yet in the modern world, there is no limit to the number of people we can compare ourselves to. And not just in an abstract, yeah I know Billy makes more money than me way, but in an in-your-face with never-ending pictures and video way on our devices.

And here’s where biology has become cruel. We are rewarded with a little squirt of dopamine for each image we view or each status we read. Even though we feel worse after our social media survey.

We are literally rewarded for doing something that makes us feel worse.

Is comparison ever advantageous?

I teach accelerated math. As in the smart kids that are working a couple grade levels ahead of the average student. Throughout the year, they are only able to compare themselves to other students in their class. And so they can easily become down on themselves when they struggle on an Algebra II assignment. In 7th grade.

In preparation for the state tests, I lowered the rigor and brought in on-level materials. I loved seeing my “struggling” students light up when they realized how easy the grade level math was. By comparing themselves to the larger group, they realized where they really stand.

The opposite can also hold true. When you’re the big fish in a small pond, it’s easy to feel over-confident. And once you’re introduced to larger waters, the shock can be overwhelming. In my mind, this is one of the (few) benefits of large-scale standardized testing – you get an idea of where you (or your children) stand.

Comparison can also serve to highlight gaps or areas of need in your own life. I often pay attention to when feelings of envy rear their ugly head. Then I dig into the underlying reasons. And then I do something about it.

For example, I realized that I was having major jealousy when I saw or read about vacation trips. And once I made the down payment for my fall trip to Costa Rica, the need to compare and the bitter feelings around it disappeared.

Comparison, when approached carefully and mindfully, can also lead to motivation. Rather than seeking out those who are so far from you as to be in another category altogether, look for mentors that are a few steps ahead.

How can I keep comparison from stealing my joy?

Think of comparison like desert, not like the vegetables. It’s best to indulge only occasionally and consciously.

When comparing yourself to others, ensure that you’re only comparing your external to their external. When we compare our internal dialogue to what we can see in someone else, we are using a false metric.

Rather than look to those who are at the pinnacle of where you want to be, look for those whose story you can identify with. It’s a more realistic comparison and one that can give you useful information.

Remember that when the pool is large enough, there will always be those who are better than you in some way. When you’re feel despondent about your rank on one characteristic, make the effort to note an area where you excel.

And finally, be wary of the comparison rabbit-hole of social media. Pay attention to your mood before and after time spent online. If you’re feeling worse, comparison (even if it’s done subconsicously) may be the root cause.

Take a breather. Take a step back.

Remember that others don’t change who you are.

And take back your joy.



Let Go (But Never Give Up!)

Life is a balance of effort and ease. Of fighting and surrender. We’re told to “never give up” and also guided to “let go.”

So which is it?

Should we dig in our heels, strengthen our resolve and keep working at it? Increasing the pressure in an effort to move the pistons.

Or, should we instead take a lesson from water and allow gravity to move us while depositing any burdens that are too great to carry? Finding acceptance in what is in a desire to move our mindset.

Trick question.

The answer is both.


Let Go Of…


When I booked the cabin for our annual Thanksgiving trip last summer, I selected a location that offered easy access to tons of prime hiking trails, our holiday tradition. Over the next few months, I gathered information about the hikes and created a list of trails, organized by difficulty and distance.

And then reality rudely collided with my dreams.

Not the weather this time, but an injury that my husband sustained in October that prevented him from doing much hiking.

Vacation blown.

Or so I thought, until I was able to release the trip I thought we would have and instead accept the trip we had.

Expectations happen when we create a narrative where life is fair and effort always pays off as we intend.

When we lead with expectations, we miss the life we have because we’re so busy looking for the life we think we should have.


I had to face this one the other day when my new (and hard-won) car sustained its first injury. The touch-up paint is sitting out waiting for a warm day and I’m actually looking at the wound with a smile now. Accepting that my car is no longer prefect relieves a lot of the pressure of taking it out of the safety of the garage each day.

An expectation of perfection happens when we believe that only the flawless deserve to be loved.

When we lead with an expectation of perfection, we fail to see the beauty in the things we easily classified as flaws.

Maybe I should repair my car with gold paint:)
Maybe I should repair my car with gold paint:)


I’ve realized something about myself recently – I find it easier to approach strangers with non-judgment than people I know well. With strangers, I have no knowledge and I give the benefit of the doubt. With people I know, I have just enough information to be dangerous; it’s easy to assume the worst by assembling what I know. And I know myself the best and judge myself the hardest.


Yes, I’m still learning🙂

Judgement happens when how things are doesn’t jive with how we want things to be. It is a twin attack of should and shame.

When we judge others, we are superimposing our beliefs on them. We rob them of an opportunity to be understood and we rob ourselves of an opportunity to learn.

When we judge ourselves, we focus on our perceived shortcomings rather than our gifts. We rob ourselves of an opportunity to accept and love ourselves and we rob others of an opportunity to see our brilliance.

Comfort Zones

I’ve noticed a disturbing trend in 8th graders over the last several years. When I first started teaching, those young teenagers could not wait to get their driver’s licenses. They yearned for the freedom and escape of being able to get out on their own. Now? They no longer seem to have a drive to drive. They’re content to stay where they are.

Because they’re too comfortable.

Comfort zones happen because we dislike being vulnerable and we seek to avoid the risk of failure. We fear the unknown more than we want to change.

When we stay within our comfort zones, we are living in a pot too small to allow growth, stunting ourselves through self-imposed limitations.

 The Danger of Holding On

And Never Give Up On…


My biggest fears were always losing my husband and losing my financial security.And I lost them both (along with so much more) in one text almost 7 years ago.

I collapsed. I cried. I couldn’t imagine ever being okay again.

But I was determined to try.

And now, I’m not only okay, I’m happier than I ever was.

Never write yourself off.

You are stronger and more resilient than you’ve ever imagined.


My dad moved across the country when I was 11, and our relationship grew distant as well. And then, to my surprise (and probably his as well), he ended up being my first responder when my tsunami hit. We’re closer today than perhaps we’ve ever been. And if either of us had given up on that possibility, we wouldn’t be here today.

There are no crystal balls. You never know what is in store.

Just maybe, the best is yet to come.


I dreamed of being an architect. And then I wasn’t accepted into the program. I then dreamed of being a physical therapist. And then I lost all my credits when I moved across the country.

I never dreamed of being a teacher. But then I realized that it fulfills my dreams of being able to problem-solve creative ways of helping people.

You will probably never become a pro football player, the president of the U.S. or the PowerBall winner.

And that’s okay.

Instead, look to the core of your dreams. The seed that is comprised of your values and your beliefs. That’s the dream to hold on to.

Dream it. Then do it.


Hope that everything is going to be okay.

And make your hope an active verb!

Goodbye Perfect

My new car has its first battle wound. A 4-inch scrape on the rear quarter panel that I spotted after work on Thursday.

My first response was disbelief, how could this laceration be there? Yet its reality was confirmed when it failed to rub off with an improvised buff from the corner of my jacket.

I then became angry. How dare someone assault my car in the parking lot and fail to leave a note? I entertained the idea of driving back to the gym where I had just returned from to look each car in the eye, scanning for guilt.

And then we noticed there were no signs of foreign paint on the car’s body. No lipstick on its collar. So maybe the injury occurred under my watch, even though no reverberations were ever felt nor screeches heard.

I became frustrated with myself.

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

As I surveyed my car, all I could see was the bare metal taunting me through the alien-green skin.

I became overwhelmed as Brock talked body shops and estimates, trying to figure out when I would have time to make a call or take it in. Phone in hand, pulling up the calendar to locate the next school break.

“Take my car tomorrow and I’ll take it in to get an estimate.”

I argued. Dismissed. Both then and through dinner. Not wanting to impose and, even more, not wanting to pay. The release of funds still linked to a release of anxiety.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The estimate arrived via PDF the following afternoon.


Ouch. That hurt almost as much as the wound.

“Don’t worry about it,” I emailed Brock. “I don’t want to pay that much.”

I thought about securing a vinyl tattoo for my car to embrace its scar.

Once I arrived home, Brock walked me through the proposed procedure. On a whim, he continued talking and listening while he located a can of spray polish and vigorously scrubbed the injured area.

And simply by removing the minor associated scuffs, the task at hand seemed doable.

“How about I just order some touch-up paint and we do this ourselves?” I questioned, noting the lack of any deformation in the curve of the body.

“I think that’s a great idea.”

I relaxed.

I realized that I was pushing back against the professional repair for more than just the cost.

The body shop would have restored my car to perfect.

And with perfect comes the pressure to maintain perfection.

Goodbye perfect.

I no longer listen to your siren song.