Imposter Syndrome

During my workshops around the world, I consistently encounter a common challenge among dog trainers across different cultures: what psychology calls “imposter syndrome.” It’s the trainer who begins introductions with a series of excuses—explaining why they aren’t feeling their best, why their dog might not perform well, or why the workshop level is probably too advanced for them and their dog. And this is just at the start of a three-day workshop, during the first round of introductions! It can also be the observer who tells me their dog isn’t participating due to medical or behavioral issues. It’s the trainer who shies away from challenges, afraid of making mistakes. Or it’s the quiet trainer who follows instructions to the letter but asks no questions, gives no feedback, and focuses too intently on their dog.

Dear fellow trainers, let me share a secret with you. Every time I work with a new dog, coach a new person, or step onto a stage to teach a group, I ask myself the same questions: “Can I train this dog?” “Can I help this person?” “Will I engage this group?” I wonder, “How will I handle mistakes if things go wrong?” or “What if I can’t answer the questions the group asks?” These doubts are normal. It’s human to question our skills, our success, and our ability to perform under pressure. We all feel those eyes on us when training a dog or coaching a handler, and we all sometimes wonder if we’re doing a good job. Imposter syndrome touches everyone—whether you’re a dog trainer, a famous artist, a renowned writer, or even a president. Many of us have felt paralyzed by it at some point, caught in a “fight, flight, or freeze” response, wishing we could just disappear.

If imposter syndrome leaves you feeling frozen or overwhelmed, I want you to remember something important: as an animal trainer, you are a special person. Not many people in this world can connect with animals the way you do. You have the gift of bridging two worlds: the human world and the animal world. You earn the trust of creatures who speak a different language, helping them solve problems, caring for them, protecting them, and sharing joy and companionship.

We, as trainers, get to see the world through a unique lens—the world of senses, nature, purity, and instincts. And that connection makes us part of something extraordinary. One of the most powerful tools that helped me overcome my own moments of self-doubt was Theodore Roosevelt’s speech, The Man in the Arena, delivered on April 23, 1910. It’s about daring greatly, stepping into the arena, and knowing that critics only have power if you let their words in. The truth is, the trainers who stand in that arena with you won’t criticize—they’ll support you, coach you, and guide you. They’ll trust you to do the same for them. That’s why I use a coaching style known as “feedforward.” Feedback focuses on the past, which we can’t change. Feedforward looks to the future—the place where real growth happens.

So yes, we all doubt ourselves from time to time, but don’t let that rob you of the joy and excitement that comes from training. Remember, instead of criticizing, let’s support each other. Together, we can shape the future. Enjoy the journey of training!