The Roots Beneath the Surface
The Power of Unlearning
Unlearning is often seen as the opposite of learning, but in truth, it is just as vital — if not more so.
To unlearn is not to forget, nor is it to erase all that we’ve come to understand. Instead, it is the act of peeling back the layers of assumptions, biases, and misconceptions that have been planted deep within us over time. These layers, often invisible and unquestioned, shape the way we see the world and engage with others. But when we pause and begin to peel back these layers, we make room for something more truthful, more inclusive, and more just.
In nature, roots grow deep into the earth — unseen yet absolutely vital. These roots anchor, nourish, and sustain the plant, but they can also become tangled, restricting growth. Just as roots can become too dense, weaving in ways that limit the plant’s reach, so too do our learned assumptions and biases constrain our ability to see the world clearly. Unlearning is the act of freeing ourselves from the tangles of those beliefs, of loosening what has held us in place for so long, allowing us to stretch toward new ways of thinking, new ways of being. It is not about erasing, but about freeing the mind and heart to grow beyond the confines of what we once thought we knew.
Unlearning is a quiet process, like roots breaking free from the hardened soil, pushing through the barriers that have long limited their growth. It requires us to become aware of what has been buried beneath the surface — the learned ideas, the systemic teachings, the inherited assumptions. These ideas often sit so deeply within us that they feel like truths, solid and immovable. Yet, just as the earth’s surface is shaped over time, so too can our understanding of the world be shaped and reshaped by the process of unlearning. It’s about allowing ourselves the courage to sit with discomfort, to acknowledge that much of what we have been taught may not reflect the fullness of the truth.
At times, unlearning feels impossible. We may think, “How can I unlearn something I’ve believed for so long?” The roots of old beliefs feel so firmly planted in us that to let go feels like losing a part of ourselves. And yet, just as the earth must be tilled and softened before a new crop can grow, we, too, must soften and loosen the soil of our minds before new seeds can take root. Unlearning is not about rejecting what we know, but about acknowledging its limits, and choosing to make space for something deeper, more expansive, and more truthful.
This act of unlearning — like the act of pruning a tree — can be painful, even disorienting. But just as pruning creates space for new growth, so too does unlearning clear the way for new understandings. In the same way a tree sheds old leaves in the fall to prepare for the new life of spring, we, too, must shed the old ways of thinking that no longer serve us.
It is through this process that we allow ourselves to stretch toward new growth — sometimes unfamiliar, sometimes uncomfortable, but always filled with the potential of renewal.
The Emotional Landscape of Unlearning: Embracing the Discomfort
Unlearning is not just an intellectual task; it is deeply emotional. The process of loosening the roots of old beliefs can stir up discomfort, vulnerability, and even fear. When we begin to question something that we’ve held as truth for so long, it can feel as though the ground beneath us is shifting. The certainty we once felt can dissolve into doubt, and the comfortable patterns of thinking may suddenly seem like barriers to our growth.
We may find ourselves resisting the unlearning process — clinging to old beliefs because they feel familiar, because they offer a sense of security. It is natural to feel this resistance, to feel the urge to retreat back to what feels safe. Just as the earth must be tilled and softened before a new crop can take root, so too must we break through the hardened soil of our assumptions before we can plant something new.
What happens when the discomfort feels overwhelming?
How do we keep going when it seems like the ground is too hard to break through?
This is where the metaphor of nature can provide solace and guidance. In the quiet dormancy of winter, the earth is not idle. Beneath the surface, roots are stretching, breaking, and preparing for the bloom of spring. Similarly, in the moments of discomfort and uncertainty, unlearning is still happening. Even when we can’t see the changes immediately, they are unfolding beneath the surface, preparing us for new growth.
The key to moving past this discomfort is gentleness. Just as we wouldn’t force a plant to bloom before its time, we must be gentle with ourselves in the unlearning process. It requires patience, allowing ourselves the space to grow without rushing the process. We must also create the right conditions for unlearning — the right environment of support, encouragement, and reflection.
Unlearning Together: The Role of Community in the Process
As we unlearn, it is important to remember that we do not have to do this alone. Unlearning, much like growth, is a communal act. The garden thrives not in isolation but in the interconnectedness of its many plants, its varied ecosystems. Similarly, the unlearning process thrives when we are supported by a community that also seeks growth — one that listens, challenges, and holds us accountable.
Creating spaces for shared unlearning allows us to collectively shed the layers of ignorance and bias that have been passed down. It is in dialogue, in community, that we truly find the strength to uproot deeply held beliefs. Just as a forest flourishes when trees grow together, side by side, so too can our growth as individuals be nourished by the growth of others. When we unlearn together, we create a space where growth is not only possible but celebrated.
Consider the following questions as you reflect on the practice of collective unlearning:
What biases have I carried with me that I need to unlearn in order to better engage with my students and community?
How can I foster a community of shared unlearning in my classroom, collectives, or workplace, where we learn, unlearn, and grow together?
When we unlearn as a community, we create a shared space of accountability and trust. It is within this space that we can take risks, make mistakes, and learn from one another. Just as a garden thrives through the collective effort of many hands, so does the process of unlearning thrive when it is done together. We are not isolated in our growth; rather, we are part of a larger web of transformation, each person’s journey contributing to the collective strength of the whole. Unlearning together means holding space for each other’s discomforts, challenges, and victories, and celebrating the growth that comes from this shared commitment to becoming better, more aware, and more inclusive individuals.
The Unexpected Path: Embracing "Un-Teaching"
One of the most profound ways to support the unlearning process is through the practice of un-teaching — stepping back from the very methods, tools, and assumptions we have been taught to value. Un-teaching does not mean abandoning the work we have done; instead, un-teaching is about creating space for something new to emerge. It asks us to question not only what we teach but how we teach. Un-teaching is about stepping outside the confines of traditional methods to allow for more fluid, responsive, and authentic learning.
Just as a gardener may remove a branch to allow new growth to take form, we must sometimes step back from our usual practices to make space for the unexpected. For example, un-teaching could look like embracing silence — allowing students to explore, reflect, and process before jumping to the next lesson. It could mean inviting students to question the curriculum itself, challenging them to think critically and unlearn the assumptions embedded within it.
By embracing un-teaching, we not only model the unlearning process for students but also give them the tools to shape their own journey of transformation. When we relinquish the role of the “all-knowing teacher” and become fellow learners, we empower our students to unlearn with us.
Consider the following reflective questions and your own journey of “un-teaching”:
What traditional teaching methods am I holding onto that might be limiting my students’ ability to think critically or creatively?
How can I create an environment where un-teaching and unlearning are seen as central to the learning process?
Un-teaching is a radical invitation to rethink our role as educators. It challenges the traditional power dynamics in the classroom, inviting both teacher and student into a collaborative space of growth. Just as a garden flourishes when the soil is rich and receptive, so too does un-teaching create a fertile ground for new ideas, new methods, and deeper connections between the teacher and the learner. This process of letting go of old methods and embracing un-teaching is not about abandoning authority, but about reimagining what authority means in the learning process. It is about creating a space where both teacher and student learn from each other, unlearn together, and grow side by side.
Unlearning and Nature: A Continuous Cycle of Growth
Unlearning is much like the cycles of nature. Just as the earth goes through periods of dormancy and rebirth, so too must we allow ourselves to let go of what no longer serves us, to make space for new growth. Like a tree that sheds its leaves in the fall, we must let go of the old in order to make room for the new. This process is not always easy — it is filled with discomfort, vulnerability, and uncertainty. As the earth regenerates with each season, so too does the work of unlearning lead to deeper understanding, greater connection, and more meaningful growth.
In nature, there is no rush. There is no pressure to bloom before the right time. The earth, in all its wisdom, knows when to rest and when to grow. Similarly, unlearning does not happen on our timeline. It requires patience, introspection, and care. We must trust that the process is ongoing, that even in the moments of stillness, growth is happening beneath the surface.
The work of unlearning is not a destination but a journey — one that requires us to be present, to engage deeply with our own discomforts, and to trust the transformative power of this slow, deliberate process. Just as the seasons cycle, unlearning invites us into a rhythm of continual change, allowing us to renew ourselves and our understanding again and again.
There will be times when we doubt the process — when we feel as though we are standing still, when the discomfort seems too overwhelming to bear. It is in these moments when we can look to nature for wisdom. Every seed, every root, every moment of rest is vital to the life that is to come. Every experience, every lesson, no matter how uncomfortable, is part of the soil from which our new growth will emerge.
Reflect on the following as you continue on your experience of emergence:
How can I allow myself the patience and time to unlearn, trusting that this process will lead to greater growth?
What lessons from nature can I apply to my own unlearning journey, understanding that growth takes time and care?
When we begin to see unlearning as a cyclical, organic process — one that requires trust, patience, and self-compassion — we shift our understanding of growth. Just as nature does not rush the unfolding of a tree or a flower, we, too, must honour the pace of our own transformation. Unlearning is not a fixed moment in time but rather a living, breathing part of our own journey.
And just like nature’s cycles, unlearning invites us to return again and again to the work of growth.
Always evolving.
Always expanding.
The Unfolding Journey: A Continuous Bloom
As we stand at the edge of unlearning, looking into the vast landscape of growth ahead, we must remember that the journey is ongoing. Like the earth’s endless cycles, there will be times of quiet reflection, times of blooming, and times of letting go. We must trust that this cycle, this rhythm, is the very heart of what makes us human — the capacity to learn, to unlearn, and to grow beyond what we once thought possible.
Unlearning is not a moment in time; it is a continuous unfolding — a bloom that opens petal by petal, revealing deeper layers of ourselves, of each other, and of the world. It asks us to be vulnerable, to trust in the process of transformation, and to commit to growth that may sometimes feel slow, but that is always meaningful.
In that commitment, we find our truest selves. Just as a tree’s roots may grow deep, unseen but strong, so too does unlearning deepen our connection to one another, to the earth, and to the future we are collectively creating. With each lesson learned, each assumption unlearned, we become not just better educators but more compassionate human beings. Unlearning invites us to recognize the vastness of the world and the endless capacity for change within ourselves. It asks us to relinquish certainty and embrace the beautiful uncertainty of growth.
Just as nature never ceases its cycles of renewal, so too must we remain committed to the ongoing work of unlearning — knowing that this journey is the soil from which deeper understanding and more meaningful connections will grow. The beauty of unlearning is that it isn’t confined to a specific moment or achievement; it is a lifelong practice, one that requires continuous nurturing, reflection, and care.
Through this journey, we find the courage to keep going, to embrace the discomfort, and to trust that with time, we will emerge more grounded, more aware, and more fully present in the world.
With intention, patience, and the courage to grow,
Ms. K
