 How to Decide What’s Actually Worth Your Time When Everything Is Online
Hello! It’s a pleasure to support you as you navigate today’s endless sea of information. If you are a motivated, self-directed learner—someone who values depth, clarity, and purpose—you already know this truth intuitively: your time is your most valuable currency. You want to learn well, not just consume endlessly. You want resources that respect your intelligence, honor your lived experience, and actually move you forward. At the same time, the internet is loud. Tutorials, videos, threads, courses, and “experts” are everywhere. Distinguishing between high-quality learning and well-produced fluff is no longer optional—it’s a core digital literacy skill. And if you’re someone who tends to wonder, “What if I pick the wrong resource and fall behind?”—this conversation is for you too. Let’s talk about how to decide what’s worth your time with intention, confidence, and care. How Do I Decide Which Tutorials, Videos, or Resources Are Actually Worth My Time? 1. Apply the “Verify, Then Trust” ProtocolBefore committing hours to a tutorial, course, or video series, pause and evaluate the source. We live in an era of influencer expertise, where confidence and visibility often substitute for depth. Instead of assuming credibility, verify it. Ask:
2. Choose People Over Algorithms When Possible Algorithms surface what’s popular, not what’s contextually best for you. Instead, think of your network—online and offline—as a collection of living libraries. Ask thoughtful questions of people whose work you respect:
3. Prioritize Resources That Lead to Creation, Not Just Consumption If you learn best by doing—and many self-starters do—then the quality of a resource can often be measured by what it asks you to produce. Before diving in, skim:
4. Seek Out Culturally Relevant and Inclusive Examples If you value representation, cultural grounding, and context, you are not being “too picky.” You are being precise. Many standardized resources assume a narrow audience and erase lived realities. When possible, choose materials that:
5. Use the Layered Content Test Protect your time by entering content gradually. Look for creators who offer:
6. Look for Actionable Outcomes A resource is worth your time if it moves you from awareness to action. When you finish, ask:
A Closing Reflection If you are someone who values excellence, purpose, and intentional growth, remember this: You are not obligated to consume everything. You are allowed to be selective. You are allowed to trust your discernment. And if you’re someone who quietly worries about choosing “wrong” or missing something important—know this: learning is iterative. Thoughtful choices compound over time. By curating what you engage with, you ensure that every minute you spend learning is aligned with who you are becoming—not just what the algorithm suggests. Your education is not about speed. It’s about direction. And you are allowed to choose that wisely.
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 Self-Directed vs. Unsupported: How to Lead Your Learning Without Burning Yourself Out
Hello! It is a pleasure to continue this conversation with you. That question--What’s the difference between being self-directed and being unsupported?—is a profound one. In many of our communities, we are taught to be resilient, independent, and strong. We learn early how to figure things out, how to push through, how to “handle it.” But there is a fine—and often invisible—line between leading your own journey and carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders alone. Let’s name that line clearly. And let’s talk about how to protect your peace while still honoring your ambition. What’s the difference between being “self-directed” and being unsupported—and how do I protect myself from burnout? 1. Self-directed means you hold the steering wheel; unsupported means you have no gas Being self-directed is about agency. It’s the posture of “I did it because I can.” You are making decisions. You are asking questions. You are seeking resources rather than waiting for permission. Being unsupported, however, feels very different. That’s what happens when:
That doesn’t mean you failed. It means you recognized a gap and responded with wisdom. 2. Be all parts of you, not just the worker Burnout often shows up when you try to live as only one version of yourself. Only the student. Only the employee. Only the high achiever. I often remind my nieces: “You are human, not Superwoman.” Even God rested—and you are not required to outwork your humanity. To protect yourself, you must engage multiple parts of your being. For me, that meant stepping away from academic writing to:
3. Adjust your relationship with time: slow is not failure Many of us burn out not because we are incapable—but because we are trying to meet timelines that were never designed for our realities. I once planned to complete my PhD in four years. It took seven. And that was okay. I learned—sometimes the hard way—that slow and steady really does win the race. There was a semester when the combination of Chemistry, Physics, and Calculus made me physically ill. I lost weight. I was failing. I had to withdraw—not because I lacked ability, but because I valued my health. Choosing your well-being over a deadline is not quitting. It is discernment. 4. Use the “big to-do list” to prevent paralysis Large goals can quietly exhaust you just by existing. When everything feels urgent, the brain freezes. One strategy that helped me was creating a layered to-do list:
I also learned to time-block my calendar:
5. Curate your peace (especially digitally) Burnout is not only about workload. It’s also about what you consume. Part of being self-directed is curating your environment—especially online. If a person, account, or space consistently makes you feel:
Your digital space should support your purpose, not sabotage your nervous system. Curating your peace is not avoidance—it’s strategy. 6. Know when it’s time to pivot Self-direction includes knowing when a path no longer serves you. I once believed I was meant to become a medical doctor. Later, I realized that path did not align with my joy or gifts. Changing your mind is not quitting. It’s recalculating. If burnout is persistent, ask yourself:
A closing reminder—for those who often carry too much alone (and for those who value community impact, reading quietly) If you identify as a highly capable, resilient woman who often carries too much alone, hear this clearly: Being self-directed does not mean you must suffer silently. And if you identify as a purpose-driven, high-achieving woman who values education, representation, and community impact—someone doing “everything right” but wondering why it still feels heavy—let this spark curiosity rather than concern: Burnout is not a personal failure. It is often a signal that something needs to change. You are capable of leading your own way. Just remember--you are the most valuable asset in your portfolio. Protect yourself. Pace yourself. And never confuse exhaustion with excellence.  You Are Not Learning Alone: How to Take Charge Without Carrying Everything by Yourself
Hello! It is a joy to continue this conversation with you. If you identify as a self-starter—ambitious, thoughtful, and culturally grounded—you likely feel a strong pull to take ownership of your growth. You want to learn deeply. You want to do well. You want your education to mean something. But here’s the tension many learners don’t name out loud: Taking charge of your learning can sometimes feel lonely. I want to be clear about something from the start: Ownership does not mean isolation. At Black-Liberation.Tech, we are grounded in Ubuntu--“I am because we are.” That philosophy applies not only to community life, but to learning as well. You can be self-directed and supported at the same time. Let’s talk about how to take charge of your learning without feeling like you’re teaching yourself everything alone. How do I take charge of my learning without feeling like I’m teaching myself everything alone? 1. Build your own Digital Council of Elders You don’t need direct access to someone to learn from them. One of the most powerful shifts you can make is realizing that mentorship doesn’t always begin with a meeting—it often begins with attention. Use platforms like LinkedIn, Instagram, podcasts, blogs, and X to intentionally curate a feed of “remote mentors”: Latinas, Afro-Latinas, and Black women who are already doing work that sparks your curiosity. Pay attention to:
2. Use AI as a collaborative co-pilot, not just a search engine Late nights and complex topics can make learning feel especially solitary. This is where AI can function as a thinking partner, not just a tool. Instead of asking AI for quick answers, invite it into dialogue:
3. “Phone a friend”: two heads are better than one When you hit a wall, resist the urge to suffer in silence. Some of the most powerful breakthroughs don’t come from more reading—they come from talking it out. Reach out to:
Study groups, writing circles, or even standing check-ins—where the goal is simply to hold space—can turn independence into shared momentum. 4. Go straight to the source: you have not because you ask not Taking charge also means being bold enough to ask. If you are struggling to find data, clarity, or context, go directly to the people or institutions that produce the knowledge you’re using. Authors, researchers, agencies, and organizations are often more accessible than we assume. I once contacted the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics when I couldn’t find specific data on Black women and Latinas in tech. Not only did they respond—they emailed me unpublished tables that transformed my work. Help is often available. Initiative is the bridge. 5. Find community outside the classroom Not all learning support comes from academic spaces. Some of the most sustaining encouragement in my own journey came from my church choir and volunteer communities—spaces where people didn’t need to understand the technical details of my work to believe in me. Connecting through shared interests like music, art, sports, or service reminds you that:
6. Leverage Open Educational Resources—you don’t have to start from scratch You are not meant to design your learning in isolation. Open Educational Resources (OERs), like Black-Liberation.Tech, exist so you can build with what already exists, remix ideas, and adapt learning to your needs. When you use OERs, you’re joining a wider ecosystem of learners walking similar paths. This is collective learning in action—knowledge circulating freely so you don’t have to reinvent the wheel. A final reflection—for the motivated self-starter (and for the purpose driven learner, reading quietly) If you identify as a motivated self-starter who values education, empowerment and cultural representation, hear this clearly: Being self-directed does not mean being self-contained. You are allowed to lean, ask, remix, and reach. And if you identify as a purpose-driven, high-achiever who values education, representation, and community impact—someone doing “everything right” but still wondering if she’s missing something—let this spark curiosity rather than concern: Learning how to build support around your independence is not a workaround. It’s a lifelong skill. You have the power to define your path. Just remember--even the most independent trailblazers need a village. Curate yours intentionally. Use your tools wisely. And never apologize for asking for the support you deserve.  How to Know What to Study When the Structure Is Missing
Hello! It is a pleasure to connect with you. If you’ve ever found yourself in a class that assigns little to no homework—or offers very little guidance—you’re not alone. And if that lack of structure has left you feeling unsettled, frustrated, or quietly anxious, I want you to know something important first: Your discomfort makes sense. Especially if you are a motivated, capable learner who wants to do well, unclear expectations can feel like being dropped into deep water without a map. But I want to gently reframe what’s happening—because this moment, while uncomfortable, is also an opportunity to build a skill that will serve you far beyond this one class. At Black-Liberation.Tech, we call this moment “No Homework Means DIY.” Let’s talk about what that actually means—and how to navigate it with confidence and care. If my class doesn’t assign homework or give much guidance, how do I know what I’m supposed to be learning on my own? 1. Adopt a “Do-It-Yourself” (DIY) learning mindset When a professor doesn’t assign homework, it doesn’t mean there’s nothing to learn. It means you are being asked—explicitly or implicitly—to design part of the learning process yourself. This can feel unfair or overwhelming at first. But rather than waiting for instructions that may never come, the DIY mindset asks you to shift from passive receiver to active designer of your learning. Think of it this way: If the structure isn’t being handed to you, you are being invited (or forced) to build one. That’s not a flaw in you—it’s a signal to step into agency. 2. Use the syllabus and textbook as your roadmap Even in loosely structured classes, the syllabus and textbook are rarely empty. They often tell you what you should be able to do, even if they don’t tell you how to practice it. Try this:
3. Test yourself before the exam—not during it One of the most painful learning moments is realizing during an exam that you didn’t understand the material as well as you thought. I once texted one of my nieces who experienced this exact moment. She wasn’t unmotivated—she simply hadn’t tested her understanding before the test. You can avoid that by:
4. Make your learning hands-on I believe deeply that your hand has a memory. Passive reading isn’t enough when structure is missing. Your learning needs movement. Try:
Your brain remembers what your hands do. 5. Be the “challenging student”—with intention Being a “challenging student” doesn’t mean being difficult. It means advocating for clarity when things are fuzzy. If expectations are unclear:
6. Leverage digital tools and community wisely If you’re comfortable with technology, let it support you. Use:
A final word—for the motivated self-starter (and for the purpose driven learner, quietly reading along) If you identify as a motivated self-starter who values education, empowerment and cultural representation, I want you to hear this clearly: A lack of structure does not mean a lack of ability. It means you are being asked to practice independence earlier than expected. And if you identify as a purpose-driven, high-achiever who values education, representation, and community impact —someone who may be doing “everything right” but still feels unsure—let this spark your curiosity: Learning how to design your own learning is not just for this class. It’s a life skill. No homework doesn’t mean no learning. It means you are learning how to learn. And that is powerful.  How do I trust myself when the next step isn’t obvious?
If you are a high-achieving Latina, Afro-Latina, or Black woman, you’ve probably been praised for having it “together” for most of your life. Good grades. Strong work ethic. Reliability. Leadership. So when you reach a moment where the next step isn’t clear, it can feel unsettling—almost like you’ve done something wrong. Let me say this gently and clearly: Uncertainty is not a failure. Very often, it’s just part of the research process of life. Here’s how I’ve learned to trust myself when the path ahead wasn’t obvious—drawing from my own journey and the lessons we explore through Black-Liberation.Tech. 1. Trust the Work Your Hands Have Already Done When the road ahead feels foggy, I remind myself of this truth: Your hands remember what your mind forgets. In biology, you don’t just read about cells—you draw them. Over and over. You label, sketch, revise. And when test day comes, your brain remembers what your hand has practiced. Life works the same way. You’ve been studying. Leading. Building. Solving problems. Creating. Showing up. Even if you can’t immediately see how it all connects, your body and mind have been developing muscle memory for success. When the next step isn’t obvious, trust that the work you’ve already done is stored inside you—ready to activate when you need it. 2. Treat Your Journey Like Research—It’s a Process I often tell my nieces that research is like doing my hair. You don’t start at the roots. You start at the ends. You work through the tangles slowly, section by section, until eventually you can move from root to tip without breaking anything along the way. Your life and career are no different. You don’t need to see the entire picture to move forward. You just need to work through the next tangle with care. Whether you’re planning a career move, writing a dissertation, or rethinking your direction, you’re engaging in a process—gathering data, testing ideas, revising hypotheses. Be patient with yourself while you comb through the details. Clarity often comes during the process, not before it. 3. Embrace Flexibility: Life Is a Jam Session Sometimes the next step isn’t obvious because you’re holding tightly to a script that no longer fits. During my dissertation, I had to cut thirty pages of work I loved. Pages I’d poured myself into. Pages that felt right—until I realized they weren't my next move. That experience taught me something important: Life isn’t a recital. It’s a jam session. Flexibility doesn’t mean you’re lost. It means you’re listening. Improvisation is not the opposite of discipline—it’s a different expression of it. As Aesop reminds us, slow and steady wins the race. Sometimes steadiness looks like adapting the rhythm instead of forcing the melody. 4. If There’s No Homework, Do It Yourself (DIY) Some seasons of life come with no syllabus. No checklist. No instructions. No clearly defined “next assignment.” In school, I learned that when a class had no homework, it didn’t mean there was nothing to do. It meant I had to design the learning. Life works the same way. If the next step isn’t obvious because no one is handing you directions, that’s not a dead end—it’s an invitation. Create your own study guide. Follow your curiosity. Decide what you want to learn next and start mapping it out. You don’t need permission to design your own curriculum. 5. Lean on Your Community (Ubuntu) Trusting yourself doesn’t mean doing everything alone. I live by the philosophy of Ubuntu: I am because we are. When I was stuck—really stuck—I didn’t sit in silence trying to power through. I called someone. I talked it out. I let another mind help me see what I couldn’t see yet. Your community is part of your intuition. A mother. A mentor. A sister-friend. A peer who understands your world. When you lean on your village, you’re not doubting yourself—you’re expanding your perspective. 6. Remember: Progress Isn’t Always Linear One of the most freeing realizations I had during my doctorate was this: I was making progress every which way but back. Sometimes progress looks like a lateral move. Sometimes it looks like a pause. Sometimes it looks like tending to your mental health or getting your physical space back in order. Not every step moves you forward in a straight line—but as long as you’re not moving backward, you are still moving. I changed my mind more than once on my journey—from medicine to education to instructional technology. Each time, I learned something that made the next decision stronger. And here’s the part I want you to hold onto: Whatever choice you make next, you have the power to make it a good one. A Gentle Reminder You are not behind. You are not broken. You are not failing. You are researching. You are learning. You are becoming. Trust the work your hands have already done. Trust your curiosity. Trust your community. And when the next step isn’t obvious, trust that you are still capable of figuring it out--one honest step at a time. You’ve done harder things than this. And you didn’t do them alone.  What if I’m interested in too many things and can’t choose just one?
Let me start here—because I want you to hear this clearly: Having “too many” interests is not a flaw. It’s not confusion. And it’s definitely not something you need to fix. In my own life, I’ve moved from biology teacher to instructional technologist, to grant administrator, to program director. On paper, that might look scattered. From the inside, it feels intentional—because every step added something I needed later. So if you’re sitting there wondering how you’re supposed to choose one thing when your mind and heart are pulling you in several directions at once, let me offer you a different frame: You don’t have to shrink yourself to fit into a single box. 1. Be All Parts of You I often tell my nieces, my students, and the professionals I coach to be all parts of you. You are not meant to be one-dimensional. For over 25 years, I sang in a church choir—feeding my creative spirit—while also navigating demanding academic programs. Later, during my PhD, I noticed something interesting: when I stepped away from dense analytical work to paint a mural or fix something around the house, I came back to my research clearer, more creative, more grounded. Those “other” interests weren’t distractions. They were balance. So if you love science and music, policy and art, technology and storytelling—don’t feel guilty about that. Those interests aren’t competing. They’re stabilizing you. 2. Look for the Intersection (Think “And,” Not “Or”) Instead of asking yourself, Which one do I choose? Try asking, Where do these interests meet? In our career exploration lessons, I teach learners to use AI as a thinking partner to surface these intersections. One of the prompts we use is: “Based on my interest in [one field] and my passion for [another interest], what kinds of roles or paths might combine both?” Here’s the reality: If you love art and technology, that doesn’t mean you have to abandon one. It might mean you’re drawn to UX design, creative technology, or digital storytelling. You don’t always have to subtract. Sometimes, the work is about combining. 3. “Save for Later” Doesn’t Mean “No” When I was writing my dissertation prospectus, I drafted 158 pages—and then had to cut 30. I didn’t delete them. I moved them into a document labeled save for later. Life works the same way. Just because you can’t pursue every interest right now doesn’t mean those interests disappear. It means you’re prioritizing for this season. You can focus deeply on one path, knowing that others can come back around. As my pastor would say, “It’s coming up again.” Life is long. You don’t have to do everything at once. 4. Your Path Is Allowed to Look Nonlinear If you looked at my academic and professional journey without context, it might seem disjointed:
Biology taught me how to understand systems. Public policy taught me how power and decisions shape education. Teaching taught me how people actually learn. No interest was wasted. You’re not wandering—you’re gathering tools for a role that might not exist yet… or one you’ll eventually create yourself. 5. Let Curiosity Lead the Next Step When you’re interested in many things, follow the curiosity that’s loudest right now. Curiosity isn’t a distraction—it’s a compass. When I was teaching biology, I wasn’t afraid of the content. I was curious about why students were being tested the way they were. That question led me into public policy, which eventually led me back to technology. Curiosity shows you what wants your attention next. You don’t need the whole map—just the next step. 6. Remember: You’re Building a Life, Not a Résumé You don’t need to become an expert in all your interests this year. Or even this decade. Aesop was right: slow and steady wins the race. You are allowed to explore thoughtfully, move intentionally, and grow in layers. You’re not behind. You’re becoming. And one day, when the pieces click together, you’ll realize that having many interests was never the problem. It was the preparation.  How do I make choices when I don’t want to disappoint my family—or myself?
If you’re holding this question, I want to name it first: This is not a small concern. This is love, responsibility, legacy, and self-trust all tangled together. Many high-achieving women—especially Latinas, Afro-Latinas, and Black women—are raised with a deep awareness that our choices are never just ours. They echo through our families, our histories, and the sacrifices that made our opportunities possible. So let me talk to you—not as a lecturer—but as someone who has stood right where you are. 1. The Decision Has to Be Yours (At Least for This Chapter) I say this gently, but clearly: Choosing what comes next after high school, college, or a major pivot is one of the most important decisions you will make—and you are the one who has to live inside it. You’re the one who will sit in the classes. You’re the one who will show up tired on the hard days. You’re the one who will have to find the energy to finish. So while your family’s hopes matter, your buy-in matters more. I often tell students: “Make sure it’s what you want to do for yourself—at least for the moment.” That phrase matters. For the moment. You are allowed to grow. You are allowed to revise. You are allowed to learn new information about yourself and respond to it. Choosing yourself now does not mean abandoning your family. It means giving yourself a fighting chance to stay engaged long enough to succeed. 2. You Can Honor the Work Without Copying the Title I come from a family of people who did the work. Teachers. Nurses. Evangelists. Lawyers. Community builders. For some, honoring them might mean choosing the path they want for you. But here’s what I learned: The work is not the title. The work is the intention. My mother was a nurse—but her deepest work showed up in the church, counseling people through lived experience, not just credentials. You can honor your family’s values—service, excellence, liberation—without walking the exact path they imagined for you. You can do the work in tech. In policy. In education. In art. What matters is how you show up, not whether your job title matches theirs. 3. Ownership Changes the Power Dynamic One of the most defining moments of my life happened when I declared myself financially independent in college. My parents had a mortgage. Other children. Real constraints. They couldn’t carry my education financially—and instead of resenting that reality, I stepped into ownership. Scholarships. Loans. Work. Responsibility. And with that responsibility came freedom. When you take ownership—of your finances, your studies, your preparation—you gain authority over your choices. Not because you don’t care what your family thinks, but because you’ve shown you are capable of carrying the weight of your decisions. If you’re afraid of disappointing your family, remember this: Responsibility earns respect—even when the path looks unfamiliar. 4. Don’t Carry This Alone—Use Your Village Big decisions get heavier when you carry them silently. I’ve learned, over and over again, that two heads are better than one. When I was stuck in my dissertation, I didn’t suffer quietly. I called someone who had already walked that road. I talked it through. Before you present a decision to your family—especially one you fear they might question—practice it with someone who understands your field, your values, and your goals. A mentor. A sister-colleague. Someone in your network who can help you clarify why this choice makes sense. Clarity is contagious. When you speak with it, people hear you differently. 5. Trust That Your Steps Are Still Ordered Sometimes, even when you plan carefully, life interrupts. I once bought a car I loved, paid it off—and then totaled it hitting a deer on the highway. That single moment forced decisions about work and stability I hadn’t planned on making yet. But looking back, I can say this without hesitation: My steps were still ordered. Detours don’t mean derailment. Unexpected turns don’t mean you chose wrong. If you are pursuing excellence, acting with integrity, and staying true to your values, you are not disappointing anyone who truly loves you. And most importantly—you are not disappointing yourself. A Gentle Reminder You are allowed to choose yourself and love your family. You are allowed to grow beyond the plan. You are allowed to carry legacy forward in your own way. This isn’t about choosing between them and you. It’s about trusting that when you move with intention, both can be honored.  What skills matter before I Know my final career destination?
If no one has told you this yet, let me be clear: You don’t need to know where you’re going to start preparing for the journey. Most of us imagine careers like destinations on a map--once I pick the city, then I’ll pack. But real life doesn’t work that way. What actually matters right now isn’t choosing the destination. It’s building a toolkit—skills that travel with you, no matter where you land. Based on my own path through biology, public policy, instructional technology, and building Black-Liberation.Tech, here’s how I think about the skills that matter before clarity arrives. 1. AI Literacy: Use It as a Tutor, Not a Shortcut AI is not your replacement. It’s your assistant—and how you use it says everything about how you think. I teach learners to treat AI like a personal learning assistant that reduces cognitive load, not a shortcut that skips understanding.
Your ability to ask good questions will outlast any tool. 2. Digital Literacy: Be a Creator, Not Just a Consumer Knowing how to scroll is not the same as knowing how to build. Digital literacy means understanding—and controlling—your digital environment.
You just need to stop being invisible in them. 3. Critical Thinking: Question the Narrative Before I was a researcher, I was a teacher asking a quiet but powerful question: Who decides what gets taught in my classroom? Critical thinking is about interrogating what’s presented as “normal.”
4. Reading: Read Broadly, Read With Intention Yes--read, read, read. But not only what’s assigned. Personalize your education. Read authors who pour into you. Writers who remind you of your humanity. For me, that includes voices like Zora Neale Hurston and Maya Angelou.
5. Writing: Make the Complex Understandable I had a realization while reading Maya Angelou: "I realized that I was not a writer who teaches, but a teacher who writes" . Writing is how you clarify your thinking.
6. Presenting: Learn to Carry Your Ideas Aloud Your ideas deserve to be heard—not just understood by you. I credit 25 years of singing in a church choir for my comfort presenting. Skills from your hobbies count more than you think.
7. Remember This: No Education Is Wasted Let me leave you with this truth: Nothing you’re learning right now is wasted. I used:
You don’t need a final destination to start preparing. You just need to keep gathering tools with intention. When your purpose becomes clear—and it will—you’ll realize you’ve been preparing for it all along.  “How do I tell the difference between fear and a real signal to pivot?”
This is one of the most honest questions you can ask yourself—and I’m glad you asked it. Because the truth is, fear and intuition can sound very similar at first. They both show up as discomfort. They both interrupt your plans. And if you’re a high-achieving woman, you’ve probably been taught to push through both without stopping to ask which one you’re actually dealing with. So let’s slow this down together. Based on my own journey—across multiple degrees, career shifts, and the lessons shared inside the Black-Liberation.Tech community—here’s how I’ve learned to tell the difference. 1. Fear Usually Means You Need More Data A Signal Means You Need a New Environment Fear often shows up as: “I don’t know how to do this yet.” In our Conversation for the Future lesson, Charlene shared that when she started her first job in publishing, she didn’t even know how to use the computer they handed her. She felt embarrassed. Overwhelmed. Exposed. That was fear. But she didn’t leave. She learned. She implemented. And over time, she built websites and entire campaigns. Here’s the distinction I want you to hold onto: If the discomfort comes from lack of skill, the solution is usually learning. If the discomfort comes from lack of respect, growth, or recognition, that’s often a signal to move. When I earned my master’s degree and was still denied a raise I had clearly earned, I wasn’t afraid—I was informed. That environment had reached its limit for me. Fear asks for more information. A signal asks for a new container. 2. Pay Attention to the Questions You Keep Asking Real signals often arrive as questions that won’t let you go. When I was a biology teacher, I loved my students and the subject—but I kept asking a different kind of question: “Who decides what gets taught in my classroom?” That wasn’t fear of teaching. That was my curiosity pressing against the walls of the room. That question couldn’t be answered inside biology alone. It pulled me toward public policy. So here’s my coaching question for you: What questions keep showing up in your mind—questions your current major, job, or role can’t fully answer? That’s not confusion. That’s your intellect asking for more space. 3. Check Your Spirit and the Practical Roadblocks Sometimes signals arrive through logistics that line up with your well-being. When I explored graduate schools, I tried to attend an orientation at George Washington University. The traffic was so overwhelming that I never even made it. In that moment, I realized I didn’t want a life that required that kind of daily drain. Later, during my PhD, the pandemic hit. I had planned to run an after-school program with middle school girls—but ethically, it no longer felt right. I didn’t want to become another burden during a crisis. That wasn’t fear. That was alignment. A real signal often asks: “Does this path still honor my values, my energy, and my integrity?” If staying requires you to ignore your peace or compromise your ethics, that’s information worth listening to. 4. Flexibility Is Not Failure I once had to cut 30 pages from my dissertation prospectus and completely change my theoretical framework. It felt like starting over—but it wasn’t. In my blog post “Flexibility,” I compared life to a good jam session. You don’t stop playing because the rhythm changes—you adjust. Fear says, “This is too hard. Quit.” A signal says, “This needs a different approach.” As I often remind my students and nieces: Slow and steady still wins the race. Pivoting is often just choosing a pace you can sustain. 5. Notice What Keeps “Following” You Fear whispers that you’re not enough. Signals remind you of who you already are as an individual. When I looked back at my life, I realized technology had always followed me. Whether I was teaching biology or working in administration, I was always the one helping others figure things out on the user side of tech. I wasn’t chasing it—it kept showing up. So here’s the final check-in I’ll leave you with: If you’re running away from something because it’s hard, pause and ask if that’s fear. But if you’re being pulled toward something that keeps appearing naturally in your life, that’s often a signal worth honoring. A Gentle ReminderYou don’t need to have perfect clarity to move forward. You just need to tell the difference between a skill gap and a misalignment. Fear asks you to grow. Signals ask you to change direction. And learning to tell the difference? That’s not hesitation—that’s wisdom.  “What did you do when the path you thought you wanted didn’t fit anymore?”
You’re Allowed to Choose Again If you’re a woman who feels pressure to stick to the plan—even when something in you is quietly resisting—I want to speak to you gently for a moment. Changing your mind doesn’t mean you failed. Sometimes it means you finally have enough information to tell the truth. Here’s how I knew it was time to choose a different path—and how you might recognize that moment for yourself. 1. I Listened to the Moment My Body Spoke First "The Cadaver Reality Check" At 17, I was certain. Medical school. White coat. Clear plan. Strong grades. While working at Georgetown University’s cancer research center, I walked past a room with a cadaver—covered, still, silent. And in that moment, something inside me stopped moving forward. I realized that while I loved children deeply, I could not carry the emotional weight of working with children who might not survive. My body knew before my résumé did. I didn’t argue with that knowing. I didn’t try to “push through.” I turned—and I ran. That decision wasn’t fear. It was clarity arriving late. Sometimes the plan stops fitting because you finally see the full picture. And once you see it, you’re allowed to change your mind. 2. I Paid Attention to the Questions That Wouldn’t Let Me Go After leaving the medical path, I became a biology teacher—because I genuinely loved the subject. But over time, my questions began to shift. I wasn’t just asking how cells functioned. I was asking, Who decides what gets taught? Why does policy shape my classroom this way? One day, a friend ran into me at the mall and said something that landed with surprising accuracy: “You’re not asking teaching questions. You’re asking policy questions.” She was right. When your path no longer fits, listen closely to the questions you keep asking. They’re often breadcrumbs, quietly leading you toward the work that actually belongs to you. 3. I Noticed What Kept Following Me When I looked back, I realized something important: no matter what role I was in—teacher, administrator, student—technology was always there. I was the one helping colleagues troubleshoot systems. I shadowed IT professionals. I worked help desk jobs. I solved problems on the user side, again and again. The next path didn’t come from a sudden discovery. It came from noticing a pattern I had overlooked. If the road you’re on feels wrong, ask yourself: What keeps showing up in my life—even when I’m not looking for it? That’s rarely an accident. 4. I Treated Every Step as Preparation, Not Waste It’s easy to believe that changing direction means you’ve lost time. I learned the opposite. The statistics courses from my Master’s in Public Policy fulfilled requirements for my PhD in Instructional Technology. My background in biology shaped how I approached research—with structure, systems, and care. When the path changed, I didn’t lose the miles I’d walked. I packed the skills and carried them forward. Nothing was wasted. It was all preparation. 5. I Made the Decision For Me Eventually, I understood this: deciding what to do after high school—or after any major pivot—is one of the most personal decisions you’ll ever make. It has to be yours. Whether that choice is vocational training, a job, a graduate degree, or a PhD, it only needs to fit this version of you, right now. When the path stopped fitting, I chose a new one—one that honored my grandmother’s legacy and my own capacity. I earned a PhD in Instructional Technology not because I had to, but because I could. And I want you to hear this clearly: You are allowed to choose again. You are allowed to listen to yourself. You are allowed to take what you’ve learned and walk forward differently. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is admit the plan has changed—and keep going anyway. |
AuthorThis blog post was created through a collaborative effort, incorporating valuable insights from Dr. Jordan and contributors, prompt engineering and editing by Dr. Jordan, and the assistance of NotebookLM, Janiyah GPT and Gemini for generating and refining content. Archives
March 2026
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