growth

Confidence Isn’t a Synonym for Competence

/ Dave Eberwein / 2 Comments

Have you ever watched someone speak with absolute certainty about a topic, and you knew that they really had no clue about what they were talking about?

It’s uncomfortable, isn’t it?

We have all likely been that person at some point — where our confidence exceeds our ability. What is that strange gap between confidence and competence? That’s the Dunning-Kruger Effect — and it shows up more often than we think, especially in the workplace. For a few people, it can be a daily event.

Dunning-Kruger Effect: A cognitive bias where people with low competence in a skill tend to overestimate their own abilities and knowledge in that area. This lack of metacognitive awareness prevents them from accurately assessing their own performance, while high performers often underestimate their abilities.

It’s not arrogance — it’s a lack of self-awareness. And ironically, the more skilled you actually become, the more you realize how much you really don’t know. It’s a humbling paradox: ignorance breeds confidence, while knowledge breeds humility.

In the workplace, this can manifest in subtle but impactful ways:

Confidence does not Always Equal Competence
  • Take the new manager who’s just stepped into a leadership role. They’ve read a few books, maybe taken a course or two, and suddenly they’re convinced they know how to lead a team. But leadership isn’t theoretical –it’s relational. Without emotional intelligence, listening skills, and the ability to navigate conflict, that over confidence can quickly erode trust.
  • In politics, a new leader speaks from a place of confidence yet includes statistics and events that are not true or highly exaggerated to make their point. Their presence presents itself as arrogance — yet it’s uninformed arrogance. Being familiar with the topic, you soon lose trust in the leader. You question their integrity, intentions and ability.
  • Or the school district leader, who’s just attended a one-day workshop on a new pedagogical approach to language instruction. They return to their school district, energized, ready to overhaul their system. But, without deeper understanding or support, the implementation falters. Staff are confused, students are frustrated, outcomes may drop, and the leader feels disillusioned. The intent was good, but the execution lacked depth.

Understand this effect isn’t meant to shame anyone. It’s about recognizing a pattern — and learning from it.

The real danger of the Dunning-Kruger Effect isn’t ignorance itself — it’s the illusion of knowledge. When we think we know more than we do, we stop asking questions. We stop listening. And that’s when growth stalls. Arrogance takes over and learning stops.

So how do we move forward as an organization?

NORMALIZE NOT KNOWING

  • In a culture that rewards certainty, admitting “I don’t know” can feel risky. But it’s actually a sign of calm wisdom. The most competent leaders I know are the ones who ask the most questions. They’re not afraid to look foolish by not knowing, because they know that learning is messy — and worth it.

BUILD FEEDBACK-RICH ENVIRONMENTS

  • Whether it’s in a classroom, the boardroom, or a team meeting, feedback helps us calibrate our self-perception. It’s not about criticism — it’s about clarity. When we invite others to reflect back on what they see, we gain insight into our blind spots. And that’s where real growth begins.

INVEST IN REFLECTION

  • Think about a time you were sure of something and later realized you were completely off base. What led you to that conclusion? What did you miss? Reflection isn’t about beating ourselves up — it’s about building self-awareness. Self-awareness is the antidote to the Dunning-Kruger Effect.

LEAD WITH HUMILITY

  • Humility isn’t weakness — it’s strength. It’s the quiet confidence that comes from knowing your limits and being open to learning. When leaders model humility, they create space for others to do the same. And that’s when teams thrive.

The Dunning-Kruger Effect isn’t a flaw — it’s a feature of how our brains work. But when we understand it, and pay attention to opportunities when it might happen, we can move from unconscious incompetence to conscious growth.

So, stop pretending to know when you don’t … admit when you don’t know something … and look for those opportunities to gain the knowledge you’re missing.

Be genuine … Be transparent … Be humble … and seek knowledge.

Why wouldn’t we want to do that?

(This post was inspired by the author prompting AI, however, the majority of the writing is the author’s own work.)

The Day I Became “Sir”and Other Signs I’m Not 25 Anymore

/ Dave Eberwein / 5 Comments

I remember it clearly — the time someone first referred to me as ‘Sir’.

I was a first-year teacher — fresh from university — and could easily pass for Grade 11 or 12. When a student in my class addressed me with that formal little word, I was stunned. “Sir?” I thought. “That’s what you call someone’s dad — not me.”

Fast forward a couple of years to present day, and ‘Sir’ is now a regular part of my daily soundtrack — at the grocery store; on the sidewalk; even at my favourite coffee shop –though the baristas there now greet me with my name, which might be a sign I’m spending a bit too much time caffeinating.

Something to reflect on.

Even the man in the mirror every morning — who’s sporting a few more grey hairs than should be there — doesn’t have any answers either for the regular reference to ‘Sir’. He just stares back, amused, as if to say, “You’re not 25 anymore, Dave. Let it go.”

Now, before you leave this post because its looking like a vanity post (and maybe it is a little), please stick with me. Because, I want to talk about transitions, especially those affecting our students — those inevitable life shifts that sneak up on us, whether we’re ready or not.

Every one of us goes through them.

Some are joyful — marriage, kids, landing that first real job. Others are harder — illness, loss, unexpected detours. And in between, there are the subtle ones — the slow realization that you’ve changed, that your role in the world is evolving, that you’re no longer the ‘young one’ in the room.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on my own life transitions — both personal and professional. Were they good? Did they lead to growth? Would I have done anything differently if I’d known what was coming? These questions don’t have easy answers, but they’re worth asking. Because transitions shape us. They challenge us. And they remind us that nothing stays the same forever.

Which brings me to our students. If we, as adults, find transitions tricky, how are we preparing young people for the ones they’ll face? Are we helping them build the resilience they’ll need when life throws them a curveball? Are we giving them the tools to navigate a world that’s changing faster than ever — where AI, climate change, social media and social upheaval are part of the daily news cycle?

The truth is, life in 2025 is complex. And while every generation has faced its own version of ‘hard‘, today’s challenges are uniquely unpredictable. That’s why education matters more than ever — not just for teaching facts, but for helping students develop the mindset to adapt, to persevere, and to thrive.

Education is that critical ‘people builder’ space where we have the privilege of providing the children and youth of our community with the abilities of thinking critically and creatively, being compassionate and welcoming of others, and engaging their curiosity to be life-long learners. We hold that power and responsibility.

As we head into another new school year, the importance of transitions continues in its importance for our students.

And for me?

I’m still in the game — loving what I do. Still passionate about public education. Still learning. Still growing. And yes, still secretly hoping someone will check my ID when I order a glass of wine — just once, for old time’s sake.

(This post was inspired by the author prompting AI on the idea of the importance of life transitions. The personal stories and anecdotes are real and written without AI.)