The analysis of a problem must be thorough.

I used to think it was just carelessness. Back in school, I miscalculated a digit while multiplying two numbers—a perfectly ordinary math problem. I told myself I’d pay more attention next time, no need to dwell on it. A few days later, when I revisited the same problem, I was stunned to find myself making the exact same mistake, down to the same final digit. In that moment, I froze—it dawned on me that “carelessness” wasn’t a fluke, but a fixed mental trajectory quietly running in my brain. When that familiar error surfaced again, I even felt a chill. That was the first time I realized: mistakes can become entrenched.

From then on, I began to doubt the phrase “I won’t make that mistake again.” We often remember the outcome but overlook the cause. Many times, what we call “recording lessons learned” is really just glossing over our errors. We slap a sticky note on the surface of a mistake without digging into the logic behind it. So when a similar situation arises again, the brain follows the old path and reenacts the familiar script. We think we’re improving, but we’re really just repeating.

This phenomenon isn’t limited to learning. It happens at work too. A project goes wrong, and we say, “Next time, we’ll communicate earlier.” A miscommunication occurs, and we say, “Next time, I’ll be more careful with my wording.” But if we never uncover the real root cause, “next time” often just means “making the same mistake in a different way.” The key to avoiding repeated errors isn’t reminding ourselves—it’s understanding ourselves. To truly grow, we need to figure out: how exactly did I go wrong?

Life is not a test. Mistakes don’t automatically disappear just because you “do it a few more times.” Learning relies on memory, but growth relies on deconstruction. Only by dissecting the problem and reconstructing the flawed thought process can we truly move past it. Otherwise, the path that seems like progress is just walking in circles.

Thorough problem analysis isn’t about nitpicking—it’s about recalibrating your mental models. Too often, we stop halfway through our analysis because we find a “plausible” explanation and mistake it for the truth. But a genuine retrospective requires asking ourselves: Why did I make that judgment at the time? What did I overlook? What role did my habits, assumptions, and emotions play? Only when we trace these underlying logics does reflection begin to carry real weight. See also: Reflections on Retrospectives: Retrospectives and the Chain of Thought

“Seeking truth from facts” has never been just a slogan. It demands the courage to face the version of ourselves that didn’t think things through. What looks like a new problem is often just a variation of an old mindset. Only when we dig out the root cause can we prevent mistakes from resurfacing in new forms. Life is not a test. But if you don’t want to keep making the same mistakes, you have to learn—to rewrite your own mental formula.