Chris Kolar

As a physical education teacher, I’ve always believed that movement is about more than fitness or skill development. It’s supposed to be about discovering what your body can do, building confidence, and learning to embrace challenge. But somewhere between middle school and high school, something shifts. Students become less willing to try, more concerned with how they look than what they’re learning, and increasingly anxious about failure—especially public failure.

That’s when I decided to dig deeper using the 5 Whys, a simple root cause analysis technique. My guiding question was: “How might we rephrase and repurpose learning as a process-driven experience?” What I discovered in that analysis fundamentally changed how I think about my role as an educator.

Following the Thread: My 5 Whys Journey

Here’s what unfolded:

Why 1: Learners are outcome-focused and risk-averse. Students in my classes (grades 7-10) prioritize grades, perfect execution, and avoiding mistakes. They hesitate to try new skills, ask for help, or take creative risks with movement.

Why 2: Fitting in has become more important than learning. At this developmental stage, peer recognition and social belonging matter more than curiosity or growth. A student would rather sit out an activity than risk being the one who “messes up.”

Why 3: School culture amplifies this priority. The way we frame success—through grades, awards, rankings, and public recognition—tells students that outcomes are what matter. We’ve built systems that reward results over effort, achievement over exploration.

Why 4: Social media has intensified social comparison and fear of public failure. Students are now constantly comparing themselves to curated versions of their peers. The stakes of “looking bad” feel higher than ever because failure isn’t just witnessed—it’s potentially recorded and shared.

Why 5: Adults place pressure on students to fit in or achieve outcomes. Teachers, parents, and advisors—all of us—have internalized a results-driven mindset. We ask “What grade did you get?” before “What did you learn?” We celebrate the win more than the effort. We’ve modeled outcome-focused thinking as the default.

And there it was. The root cause wasn’t the students. It was the culture we, as adults, had created and perpetuated.

What Surprised Me

I expected the 5 Whys to point to something external—maybe technology, or changing student attitudes, or pressure from administrators. Instead, I found myself in the mirror.

I realized that even in my PE class, I’d been reinforcing outcome-focused thinking. When I congratulated a student for scoring a goal, I was celebrating the outcome. When I moved a student to a “lower level” group based on performance, I was signaling that the outcome (current skill level) defined their value. When I asked students to demonstrate skills in front of the class for grading, I was creating the exact conditions that made risk-taking feel dangerous.

The other realization: process-driven learning isn’t just a nice-to-have pedagogical approach—it’s a necessity for this age group right now. Seventh through tenth graders are at a critical developmental moment where they’re forming beliefs about themselves as learners. If we only reward outcomes, we’re teaching them that their worth is determined by what they can already do, not by what they’re capable of becoming.

What Became Clear

Here’s what shifted for me: I can’t change social media, I can’t single-handedly shift school culture, and I can’t control what parents value at home. But I can control my classroom.

I can choose to make process visible and celebrated. Instead of grading the perfect cartwheel, I can grade the attempt, the feedback-seeking, the persistence. I can create conditions where failure is normalized—where the student who falls during a cartwheel gets the same recognition as the student who lands it cleanly, because both took the risk to try.

I can reframe what “success” means in PE. Success becomes: trying something new, asking for help, adjusting your approach after feedback, supporting a classmate who’s struggling. These are the habits of lifelong learners, and they’re invisible in an outcome-focused system.

What This Looks Like in Practice

Last week, I introduced a new unit on partner acro (partner acrobatics). Instead of demonstrating the “correct” way to do a shoulder stand with a spotter and then grading students on execution, I flipped it. I asked students to explore: “What’s the safest way to support your partner’s weight? What happens if you adjust your base? How do you communicate if something doesn’t feel right?”

The difference was striking. Students who would normally sit out were engaged. They were experimenting, problem-solving, and—most importantly—talking about the process of learning the skill, not just the product of nailing it.

I also started a simple practice: at the end of each unit, instead of only sharing grades, I ask students to reflect on one thing they learned about how they learn. One student wrote: “I learned that I’m scared of trying new things in front of people, but when I focus on what my body is doing instead of who’s watching, I’m actually pretty good.” That’s the insight that matters.

The Bigger Vision

If we want students to be lifelong movers, lifelong learners, and resilient humans, we have to build a culture where the process of learning is valued as much as—or more than—the outcome. This starts with us, the adults in the room.

It means asking different questions. Not “Did you win?” but “What did you learn about yourself as a competitor?” Not “What grade did you get?” but “What helped you understand this concept?” Not “Are you good at this?” but “How are you approaching the challenge of learning this?”

For me, the 5 Whys revealed that my role isn’t to judge outcomes. It’s to create conditions where students feel safe enough to pursue them, curious enough to learn from failure, and confident enough to know that their worth isn’t determined by a single performance.

That seventh grader who refused the cartwheel? I’m not pushing her to do it. But I’m building a space where, eventually, she might want to try—not because I’m watching, but because she’s curious about what she can discover.

A Question for You

What outcome are you, as an educator, overvaluing? And what process might you start celebrating instead?