Imposter Syndrome Isn’t a Confidence Problem
It’s a thinking pattern we rarely question
On paper, self-doubt should have an expiration date. You would think that the older, more seasoned a person gets, the greater their confidence, right?
Well, after twenty-five years in education, moving between K–12 classrooms, administrative offices, and higher education leadership, you would expect confidence to settle in like a permanent credential. Actually, it is true that as I gained experience, titles, and responsibilities, I grew in confidence, and overall, the mental noise died down. And yet, imposter syndrome still occasionally shows up, not loudly or dramatically, but persistently enough to matter.
A couple of years ago, I attended a national symposium for senior higher education leaders—presidents, provosts, deans, and system-level administrators from institutions across the country. The event was intellectually generous, ideas flowed freely, and conversations were thoughtful and substantive. I filled pages with notes and left energized by what I’d learned. Nothing about the room felt hostile or exclusionary. And yet, somewhere between collegial exchanges and breakout sessions, my thinking shifted.
I became acutely aware of myself, my background, my trajectory, the path that brought me into that space. I noticed how quickly my mind began scanning for signals: who sounded more articulate, who seemed more accomplished, who appeared to move with greater ease among their peers. Then the familiar question arrived, quietly but unmistakably: Do I really belong here?
I am certain that you have had similar experiences and can identify with this pattern of thinking. However, this is usually where we misdiagnose the problem. We label it a confidence issue. We tell ourselves to speak up more, project certainty, remind ourselves of our résumé, or we retreat and shy away from the spotlight. In most cases, we assume the solution is internal reassurance. But that diagnosis misses something important. Imposter syndrome is not primarily about confidence. It’s about how we think.
Understanding Imposter Syndrome
Imposter syndrome manifests as a persistent internal narrative that dismisses achievements and attributes success to luck rather than skill. Many professionals who experience imposter syndrome feel like they don’t belong in the profession, despite their training and qualifications. This self-doubt can contribute to social anxiety, increased stress, and reluctance to take on new opportunities that could further professional development.
Dr. Valerie Young, co-founder of the Imposter Syndrome Institute (ISI), identifies five key types of imposter syndrome that may affect us:
The Perfectionist: Sets excessively high standards and feels inadequate when unable to meet them.
The Superwoman/Superman: Works excessively hard to cover up feelings of inadequacy and prove worth.
The Natural Genius: Believes they should excel effortlessly and feels unworthy if they struggle to grasp new concepts.
The Soloist: Avoids asking for help, fearing it will expose incompetence.
The Expert: Feels they must continually acquire more knowledge before considering themselves truly competent.
The Pattern Beneath the Feeling
Imposter syndrome doesn’t emerge from nowhere. It relies on a set of subtle, often invisible thinking habits that feel reasonable in the moment, but distort judgment over time.
The first is habit selective comparison. We compare our full, complex professional journey, complete with detours, uncertainty, and invisible labor, to someone else’s polished highlight reel. It was so tempting to view the gravitas of the executives as an effortless trait and ignore the experiences and hurdles they had to overcome to attain it.
The second habit is misattribution. We explain our own success as luck, timing, or generosity from others, while assuming that our peers earned theirs through pure merit. During the symposium I attended, I began to question my background and the path that led me to be invited to sit at the table. In just a few minutes, I had reduced my credentials to a professional courtesy.
The third habit is externalized standards. We allow prestige, proximity to power, or institutional recognition to quietly define worth. As a dean, I am not considered executive leadership at my institution, and being in the presence of college presidents and other senior leaders opened the door to my internal scrutiny of the weight of my impact. Ironically, none of the symposium attendees mentioned their titles or leveraged their positions to project authority in the room.
And the final habit is distorted evidence. We discount data that contradicts self-doubt and overweight moments that confirm it. When I started questioning whether I belonged in the meeting, I overlooked how I was invited and the experiences that made me relevant, and focused on titles.
None of these thinking habits is a confidence failure—they are judgment errors. Highly capable educators and leaders are especially vulnerable to following these thinking habits because they often work in environments saturated with excellence. When comparison becomes the dominant lens, thinking narrows, and perspective collapses. Growth begins to feel like inadequacy. The problem isn’t that you don’t belong. The problem is that your thinking has shifted from reflection to comparison.
Why Comparison Feels Useful and Isn’t
Comparison feels productive as it masquerades as motivation. It gives us the illusion of clarity, but cognitively, it’s corrosive. When we compare ourselves to others, we outsource our judgment. We stop asking meaningful questions about our own growth and instead focus on how we rank on someone else’s scale. Over time, this habit:
Drains joy from genuine accomplishments
Silences unique perspectives
Creates artificial ceilings on growth
Reinforces cycles of self-doubt that feel rational but aren’t.
No one else has your exact combination of experiences, constraints, values, and context. No one else has navigated your specific institutional realities, your students, your communities, your decisions. That uniqueness isn’t a weakness to overcome; it’s information to leverage.
The Shift from Reactive to Reflective Thinking
When imposter syndrome appears, the most potent response isn’t affirmation. It’s an interrogation. Instead, we should shift from reactive thinking to reflective thinking. To do this, we should be asking better questions, like:
What am I learning right now?
Where am I stretching beyond my comfort zone?
How am I using my experience to serve others?
How does this work align with my values?
These questions do something subtle but profound. They re-anchor judgment internally rather than socially. They move the focus from performance to development, from optics to alignment. True success in leadership isn’t about outperforming others. It’s about becoming more thoughtful, more capable, and more grounded over time.
When we examine imposter syndrome through the lens of thinking, something important happens: self-doubt loses its authority. It becomes data, not a verdict. You begin to notice that feelings of inadequacy often appear during moments of transition, expansion, or increased responsibility. They don’t signal fraudulence. They signal proximity to meaningful work. The comfort doesn’t mean you don’t belong. It often means you’re precisely where growth happens.
The Deep Thinker’s Reframe
Imposter syndrome doesn’t require more confidence. It requires clearer thinking, and when you slow down long enough to examine assumptions, question inherited standards, and ground judgment in evidence rather than comparison, self-doubt loosens its grip. When this happens, the goal isn’t to eliminate imposter syndrome entirely. It’s to recognize it for what it is: a signal to think more deeply.
Fortunately, I was able to reframe my thinking before the symposium ended. I challenged my own thinking and concluded that I had a unique perspective that added to the collective voice in the room. My experiences were not inferior; they were just different. The more I reflected during the meeting, the more I recognized the value of each participant, including myself.
Education doesn’t need louder confidence. It needs leaders like you who think carefully, reflect honestly, and act with clarity. And your distinct way of thinking, shaped by your path, your students, and your decisions, belongs in the room.
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