Learning How You Learn: A Leader's Guide to Metacognition

Back in 2008, I found myself in a interesting situation. As the new Principal Scientist and Product Manager for PyMOL, I had the responsibility of presenting to scientific audiences worldwide—despite being naturally shy. My largest presentation was at the Tata Auditorium in Bangalore, India, where I presented to over 800 participants. I also spoke in France, Spain, Germany, Switzerland, Sweden, Denmark, England, and many other countries.

(A funny aside: Once I presented at a beautiful University in Paris, France, in their Madame Curie Library. Just before the presentation, a man in a suit approached, leaned over, and whispered, "Please end on time. The president is up after you." I nodded, figuring I should clear out on time for the university president. It wasn't until I finished and walked out to see thousands of people and a flotilla of bodyguards that I realized my presentation had been followed by Fran?ois Hollande, the President of France.)

I was very dedicated to this role. I wanted to be the best I could be. On a whim, I decided I'd critically analyze every presentation of mine and try to learn from it. What transformed me from a tyro into a much more confident speaker wasn't just practice—it was this practice of metacognition.

What is Metacognition?

Metacognition is, simply put, thinking about your thinking. It's the process of reflecting on how you learn, solve problems, and perform tasks. Unlike passive learning, where we absorb information without intentional analysis of our approach, metacognition actively engages with our thought processes to identify patterns, strengths, and areas for improvement.

My Metacognitive Journey

My technique was straightforward but very powerful. After each presentation, the first moment I had alone—usually in a car on the way to an airport or train station—I would jot down notes about what I did well and what I didn't do so well. These weren't elaborate analyses, just quick observations while the experience was fresh in my mind. I would rate myself.

Those notes became an invaluable corpus of learnings on how to speak publicly. By the later days in that role, I had transformed from a novice presenter into someone who could confidently address rooms of leading scientists—and have fun doing so.

Lessons From the Taxicab Notes

Through this process of reflection, I discovered insights that no public speaking book could have provided—because they were specific to me and my contexts. Here are a just a few of the lessons I learned about public speaking. (You can read a more thoughtful exposition on that in my blog article I wrote years ago for Volusion.)

The "Boy Scout Bag"

Traveling globally to organizations large and small, I learned to come prepared for any technical situation. Gradually, I assembled what I called my "boy scout bag"—filled with adapters, batteries, cables, and other technical necessities. This preparation paid off in unexpected ways. Once, at the West Coast Crystallography Symposium, the keynote speaker arrived with a new laptop that wouldn't connect to the projector. Apparently, among the hundreds of attendees, I was the only person with the cable he needed. That felt kinda' good.

The Pre-Presentation Buffer

As I became more comfortable with speaking, I initially thought efficiency meant showing up just before my slot, setting up quickly, presenting, and moving on. But through post-presentation reflection, I realized showing up just in time was actually pretty stressful for my hosts. Even though I knew I could handle any technical situation (see above), my hosts didn't have that same confidence—and, they were also in the spotlight.

I noted this insight and adjusted my behavior, deliberately arriving earlier to give hosts more time and reduce their anxiety. This small change improved not just my presentations but the entire experience surrounding them.

The Power of a Single Breath

One of the most surprising lessons came from noticing the difference in my performance when I remembered to take a deep breath before speaking. I would pause and take a single, nice, deep breath while scanning the audience with a smile. That single breath would lower my voice slightly, calm my nerves, and center my thoughts. The resulting confidence rippled through the entire presentation. This tiny adjustment—taking literally a few seconds—had an outsized impact on my effectiveness.

Stick to the Plan—Large Crowds Move Slowly

In Berlin, moments before a presentation to 350 scientists, my host enthusiastically offered, "We have an amazing new silver screen projector that does incredible passive 3D. Do you want to show off your 3D visualizations?" Excited by the opportunity, I agreed. For the next 15-20 minutes, staff distributed 3D glasses to the entire audience, creating anticipation. But when we tried to project in 3D, it wouldn't work. Driver mismatch, if I recall correctly.

My post-presentation reflection was clear: deviating from the original plan created unnecessary risks and delays. While spontaneity can enhance a presentation, significant technical changes at the last minute rarely end well.

Doing it Wrong

Sprint retrospectives are a genius form of metacognition—if they’re done right. I once consulted for a team whose retros were less productive reflection and more group therapy meets improv night. When I started I asked if they did retros—"yes, of course,” one sneered at me, taking offense, "but we don't write anything down or really do anything about it."

Sprint retrospectives are a genius form of metacognition—if they’re done right.

Their retro was a masterclass in irony. The team spent an hour airing grievances—from communication breakdowns to last-minute fire drills—only to wrap up with a “Same time next sprint!” and vanish like a flock of startled geese. No notes. No follow-up. Just pure, unadulterated venting.

The kicker? The people who could fix the problems were in the room! They had full authority to change their process… yet their retros devolved into a ritual of complaining, shrugging, and repeating the same mistakes.

Metacognition, it was not. But as a case study in how not to adult professionally? Chef’s kiss. Mind blown!

Why Metacognition Matters in Professional Development

Looking back, I'm surprised by three things about this metacognitive practice:

1. How simple it was. There was no complex framework or expensive coaching—just a notepad and a few minutes of honest reflection.
2. How quickly I improved. The feedback loop between presentation, reflection, and adjustment compressed my learning curve dramatically.
3. How easy it is NOT to do this. Despite its simplicity and effectiveness, metacognition requires intentionality. Without making it a deliberate practice, it's all too easy to rush from one task to the next without reflection.

The key was being genuinely critical—but fair and honest—in assessing my performance. I wasn't harsh, but I didn't sugarcoat my mistakes either. This balance of self-compassion and clear-eyed assessment made the feedback actionable rather than discouraging.

The power of metacognition isn't limited to public speaking. This approach accelerates learning in virtually any domain by:

1. Creating personalized feedback loops that address your specific challenges rather than generic advice. This is an accelerant
2. Building self-awareness about your strengths and weaknesses
3. Developing adaptability as you consciously modify your approaches and adapt to more situations

Research consistently shows that professionals who engage in metacognitive practices learn new skills faster and retain them longer than those who don't. The difference isn't small—studies suggest metacognitive learners can achieve in weeks what might take others months.

How to Develop Your Own Metacognitive Practice

You don't need elaborate systems to begin benefiting from metacognition. Start small:

1. Create reflection triggers linked to specific activities you want to improve at. After meetings, presentations, difficult conversations, or other important events, take just two minutes to jot down observations. How'd you do?
2. Ask simple but powerful questions like: What went well? What could have gone better? What surprised me? What will I do differently next time?
3. Review your insights periodically to identify patterns and track progress.
4. Experiment deliberately with new approaches based on your reflections, integrating your learnings.

The key is consistency. A brief reflection after each significant activity builds a more valuable knowledge base than occasional deep dives.

The Compound Interest of Self-Awareness

What makes metacognition so valuable is its compound effect—like compounding interest start early and incrementally. Each insight builds on previous ones, creating an accelerating curve of improvement. The shy product manager nervously presenting in 2008 seems like a different person from the practiced speaker I eventually became.

I've seen this compound effect in other areas of my professional life as well. When learning to manage complex relationships with stakeholders, I found myself writing quick observations after difficult conversations. What seemed like a minor insight ("When I lead with the technical problem rather than the business impact, executive stakeholders tune out") would later combine with another observation ("When I use concrete examples instead of abstract concepts, engagement increases"), creating a multiplying effect on my effectiveness.

That transformation didn't happen through some dramatic breakthrough, but through dozens of taxi rides spent scribbling notes, many small adjustments, and the consistent practice of thinking about my thinking.

So the next time you finish a presentation, lead a difficult meeting, or tackle a complex problem, take a moment to ask yourself: What just happened? What worked? What didn't? And what will I do differently next time?

Those simple questions, consistently asked and honestly answered, might be the most powerful tool for professional growth you'll ever discover.

I'd love to hear what experiences others have had with this. Feel free to share.