From Hardwood to Higher Ed: Moving Beyond Assumptions

April 30th, 2026

By Stefani Jenkins, Instructional Innovation Coach

Change is inevitable. In engineering, we expect iteration, innovation, and responsiveness to new data. Yet in teaching, change can feel personal. It is easier to assume students just do not want to put in the effort. It is just as easy for students to assume faculty are not listening. But assumptions quietly erode trust. They breed resentment, stall progress, and distract from the real issue: what are the actual pain points?

The cost of assumption, in any arena, can be significant. Like in athletics, Charles Barkley challenged the societal assumption that all athletes are automatic role models, famously quipping, “I am not a role model.” From Barkley’s perspective, he was working hard to be honest about his role. He saw himself as a professional basketball player; someone paid to compete, train relentlessly, and perform at the highest level. He was pushing back against expectations he never agreed to carry.

On the other side, the public looked at high-profile athletes, they saw influence. They assumed visibility came with moral responsibility. Their expectation wasn’t laziness or entitlement; it was rooted in concern for how cultural figures shape young people. Both sides were responding to what they valued. Both were working hard in their own arenas. But without acknowledging those different perspectives, assumptions filled the gap.

What makes this especially challenging is that people on both sides are often working incredibly hard and dealing with so many unseeable things, yet they are unaware of the effort happening on the other side. Faculty are investing time designing materials, recording lectures, and refining content. Students are balancing coursework, jobs, and personal responsibilities while trying to make sense of expectations. When that effort is invisible, it is easy to misinterpret frustration as laziness or hesitation as resistance.

For us in the Fulton Schools of Engineering, this has implications for how we approach feedback loops, course design, and faculty support. Innovation does not always begin with a full redesign. Sometimes it begins with a conversation. What are students actually experiencing? What are faculty trying to accomplish? Where is the disconnect? When we pause to listen before reacting, we create space for collaborative problem-solving rather than defensive positioning on all sides. Quick, incremental adjustments signal responsiveness. They build trust and larger shifts can follow.

If history teaches us anything, it is that progress is born from evolution. In teaching and learning, change is not a sign that something is broken. It is a sign that we are paying attention. And perhaps the discomfort that comes with feedback is not a threat to our work but an invitation to make it even stronger.

_{Author’s Note: This article was drafted with the assistance of a generative AI tool to support wording and formatting; content generated by AI has been reviewed and approved by the author.}