The year was 2009. I was standing in a cold, concrete studio, light pooling on a sculpture I had shaped by hand. It was rough, experimental, and personal. I knew it wasn’t perfect, but it mattered to me. I believed in it.
My professor stepped forward. He studied the sculpture. He looked at me. And then he laughed.
'You know what the problem with you is…' he said. And with that, he began his tirade. Sentence after sentence, he tore it all down. My work, my thinking, my potential. Not with curiosity or care, but with the energy of someone who thought art school was a good place to exercise pent-up, unresolved personal issues.
It was meant to be feedback. It didn’t feel like it.
That moment made me afraid to share my work. Afraid to be wrong. Eventually, it pushed me away from art altogether.
Years later, we crossed paths again at a gallery opening. He remembered it too. He apologised. Said that interaction had changed him – that he had learned how not to give feedback. That he had become a better professor because of it.
But, by then, I had already changed, too. I didn’t just stop sculpting, I pulled away from creating altogether. Feedback, something I once saw as helpful, had become something I feared.
And maybe that’s why I care so much about giving constructive feedback now. One moment of careless critique nearly shut down my creative voice entirely. Now that I work in a role where feedback is a daily part of the process, both giving and receiving, I never want to be the reason someone stops showing up, stops trying, stops growing. I want to be the reason they keep going.
In any creative or collaborative field, feedback is part of the process. But not all feedback is created equal. The difference between feedback that builds and feedback that breaks is not just tone or intention; it is structure.
Constructive feedback is actionable and specific. It is offered with empathy, grounded in a genuine desire to help someone grow. It does not just identify what is not working; it helps you see how to make it better. It leaves your dignity intact. As Hattie and Timperley (2007) explain in ‘The power of feedback’, well-designed feedback is one of the most powerful tools in learning.
Constructive feedback does not just point out what is wrong. It illuminates what’s possible.
It helps us see the path forward without making us feel small for not being there yet. This idea is echoed by Wiggins, in ‘Seven keys to effective feedback’ (2012), who frames feedback not as a mere tool to evaluate, but as information that moves learning forward.
Constructive feedback is not vague or punitive. It is deliberate. It works because it is:
Feedback is part of the rhythm of design. Yet, so often we wing it or, worse, avoid it altogether. (Classic strategy: if you don’t open the doc, technically you can’t see the feedback.)
Here are a few practical strategies to keep feedback constructive:
Even constructive feedback can sting. That is because creative work is vulnerable. We invest our time, ideas, and identity. When it is questioned, it can feel personal, like someone just told your inner child their presentation needs better formatting.
But receiving feedback well is just as important as giving it. Here is how to stay grounded:
It is easy to focus on feedback within our design teams and forget the people we are designing for: our learners.
Just like creative work, learning is inherently vulnerable. It’s full of risk, uncertainty, and trial-and-error. Without rich, timely, constructive feedback, learners are left to guess. They don’t know what’s working, what isn’t, or how to improve.
Poor or absent feedback leads to disengagement. Good feedback builds agency. It says, 'You can do this. Here’s how.'
As Carless and Boud (2018) emphasise, learners need feedback literacy, the skills to interpret and use feedback effectively. As learning designers, we can strengthen these skills and make feedback a core part of the learning experience, not just an afterthought. Here’s how:
In high-performing teams and effective learning environments, feedback isn’t reserved for formal reviews or the final slide of a course. It’s woven into the everyday rhythm of collaboration and learning. But it looks different depending on who it’s for.
Constructive feedback is a core design tool. We rely on it to sharpen our ideas, spot blind spots, and iterate quickly. But for it to work, it needs to be part of the team culture, not something we save for emergencies or approvals. A few ways to make it stick:
These small rituals build trust and make giving and receiving feedback less emotionally loaded and more useful.
The same principles apply, but the stakes feel higher. Learners aren’t just refining ideas, they’re building confidence, developing new skills, and stepping outside their comfort zones. That’s why it’s worth calling out the vulnerability involved in the learning process from the start.
When we acknowledge that learning can feel uncertain or uncomfortable, we create space for self-compassion and help learners see feedback not as judgment, but as support. Done well, feedback becomes part of the learning culture for learners, too, shaping how learners reflect, persist, and grow.
When we treat feedback as part of how we work and how we learn, not just as a reaction to mistakes, it becomes less about evaluation and more about growth. That’s when it really starts to make a difference.
Looking back now, I wish someone had taught that professor how to give constructive feedback. Maybe I would have stayed in art. Maybe I would have learned earlier what I had to figure out the hard way…
Feedback is a powerful tool, but only when it is used with care. Destructive feedback can silence creativity. Constructive feedback can unlock it. It invites people to try again. It moves people from fear to possibility.
I think about that sculpture sometimes. About how easily something fragile can be broken (or duct-taped back together by someone who doesn’t open with, 'You know what the problem with you is…'). That moment left a mark. Maybe that’s why I care so much about building others up. I know what it’s like to be torn down. But I’ve also seen what’s possible when feedback lifts you up.
Working at Who’s your ADDIE, I’ve learned what constructive feedback can do. I used to shape things with my hands. Now I shape stories and learning experiences. And thanks to the kind of feedback that builds rather than breaks, my work isn’t just something I’m confident to share, it’s something I’m proud of.
In learning design, where our whole purpose is to help people grow, constructive feedback isn’t optional. It’s essential.
