Reflections on Early Assessments and Their Evolution

One of the comments I have heard many times recently, from young adults, is concerns about their future.? About their future careers.? About potential failure.? The pressure we put on ourselves, and are put on us, are often disproportionate to the reality of life.? Early assessments of who we are young adults, (and also children) can feel definitive at the time, but looking back, it often reveals more about the dynamics of our environment than any immutable truths about ourselves.

?

I didn’t start my ‘career’ until I was 32.? Of course, I was working before then.? I didn’t have family money to depend on and needed to be financially independent from the age of 18.?? I did a variety of jobs that were completely unaligned to what my career became but all taught me skills that I have used over and over again – from working as a sales assistant at John Lewis when I was studying, to doing 3 jobs at once to earn enough money to survive (including cleaning houses, washing dishes in a restaurant and babysitting), to working as a PA and in an art gallery – I learnt about dealing with customers, discipline, to interact with people of all different parts of society…? Starting my career at 32 didn’t stop me having a successful, professional career, including being a CEO for over 20 years.

?

Early assessments, like school reports, capture a snapshot of who we were at that moment—framed by the biases, expectations, and perceptions of the adults around us. However, they also highlight certain early tendencies that can offer clues to who we might become, even if the full picture is far from complete.

?

Take, for instance, the school reports written about me when I was 10 and 11, penned by two different teachers. The contrast between them is striking, yet both reflect elements of my younger self. At age 10, my teacher described me as "reliable and trustworthy," “a lively student with a broad interest in subjects, full of life and self-awareness”. This portrait is warm, emphasizing my steadiness, popularity, and curiosity. At age 11, however, the tone shifted: while acknowledging my progress, the focus was on my "lack of confidence at times," “my slow improvement in presentation, and a willingness to ask for help”.??

?

What changed in that year? Was it me, or the lens through which I was viewed? Perhaps both. Teachers can bring their own experiences, biases, and priorities to their assessments, which means that different educators can see the same child in dramatically different ways. One teacher might celebrate a lively spirit, while another might focus on areas for improvement. Neither perspective is necessarily wrong, but each is incomplete.?

?

The report from age 10 suggests a child who is well-integrated socially and academically, eager and energetic. It reflects a perception of potential and vibrancy, perhaps because that teacher valued those traits or saw them as markers of success. The following year's report, however, shifts the focus inward, identifying areas where I appeared less confident and in need of growth. This teacher may have prioritized clarity, or presentation skills, areas where they saw room for development.

?

In reflecting on these two reports, I see glimpses of the person I have become. The lively curiosity and awareness of my surroundings remain part of me, as does a steady pursuit of progress, even if it is slow at times! ?The confidence that was noted as "lacking" may have grown later and given how many times I have been asked to speak at global conferences to hundreds of people, my “presentation” skills clearly have improved but the tendency to seek help when needed—a strength disguised as a weakness—has stayed with me.

?

These assessments also illustrate how childhood is a dynamic process of becoming. Children are not fixed entities; they are malleable and evolving, shaped not just by their own tendencies but by the environments they inhabit, and the expectations placed upon them. A teacher’s perception can encourage certain traits while de-emphasizing others or may discourage children and may make them think they are not good at a certain subject.? ?At 10 years old, I may have been celebrated for my energy and reliability, while at 11, the focus from another teacher was on other areas, such as presentation. Neither report is wholly reflective of who I was—or who I would become—but both capture elements of my journey.

?

Perhaps most importantly, these reports remind me that early assessments should be viewed as opportunities for growth, not as verdicts. They are fleeting impressions, shaped by the time, the observer, and the context. They may highlight tendencies that endure, but they are not destiny. And in their differences, they remind us of the variability of human perception—a reminder to approach our own assessments of others with humility and openness.

?

Ultimately, our early assessments, like the seeds they plant, are not the final word on who we will become but rather the beginning of a complex and ongoing process of growth. Life is a series of transformations, shaped by experiences, relationships, and the resilience we build along the way. The reports that once seemed so defining are merely starting points, offering clues but not conclusions. Our true potential often unfolds in unexpected ways, as we navigate challenges, embrace opportunities, and continually reinvent ourselves. By recognizing the fluidity of these early judgments and the power of our own evolution, we can free ourselves—and others—from the constraints of narrow definitions, opening the door to a future shaped by possibility rather than predetermined outcomes.?