The Progress You Don’t See

An overlooked practice that transforms how we learn languages — and why most of us avoid it.

When we talk about learning languages outside of classrooms and textbooks, the same ideas tend to come up. Find good materials. Set realistic goals. Be consistent. Have fun. Immerse yourself.

All of these matter. A lot.

But there’s one practice that rarely gets the attention and energy it deserves. Many people avoid it altogether. Some associate it with pressure or judgment. Others simply don’t see the point. And yet, it might be one of the most transformative habits a self-learner can build.

Tracking your progress.

Not obsessively. Not competitively.

But intentionally, honestly, and regularly.

When Checking In Becomes Clarity

I’ve noticed often how we dislike checking in with our own progress. Maybe because we associate it with tests, grades, comparing ourselves to expectations, and being validated from the outside.

I've seen it in my English students across the board, and in myself when picking up where I left of. And it was through a completely different experience, outside of language learning, that it really clicked.

For a long time, I avoided stepping on the scale.

Not because I didn’t care. Quite the opposite. I cared so much that I didn’t want to face a number that might tell me my effort wasn’t enough, or worse—that it hadn’t “worked.” I told myself I didn’t need it: I was being active. I was exercising. I was spending time outdoors, moving my body, doing things that were supposed to count.

And they did count. Just not in the way I needed them to.

Because without checking in, without recording anything, I was relying entirely on how things felt. And feelings are unreliable when change is slow.

Eventually, I found the courage to step on the scale—not as a test, not as a punishment, but as a neutral moment of honesty, and with kindness. Everyone who's been there can imagine the inner pep-talk and mustering up it takes.

I started recording my weight. I measured myself. I jotted down my workouts and activities. I observed how I felt doing them, when some exercise felt lighter, or if I experienced any pain. I noted what I ate or when I drank too much. Nothing obsessive. Nothing rigid. Just a small, regular check-in. I showed up regularly for myself.

What surprised me wasn’t the progress. It was the clarity and the patterns.

Some things started moving. Others didn’t. My weight, in particular, stayed stubbornly the same despite my consistent effort. That was hard to face. But it also gave me something I hadn’t had before: something concrete to work with. I could stop guessing. I could stop quietly blaming myself. I could talk to a trainer, adjust my approach, and move forward—without drama, without shame.

That experience changed how I think about progress.

And it’s exactly why I believe one of the most underestimated practices in language learning is also one of the most powerful.

Tracking.

Why We Avoid Tracking in Language Learning

Many self-learners approach languages the same way I once approached fitness. We do a lot of things that should add up. We watch videos, listen to podcasts, read here and there, practice when we can. We’re “being active” with the language.

The problem is that language learning—like fitness—changes slowly. Improvement is subtle. Your brain adapts long before your confidence does. Without any form of tracking, it’s easy to believe nothing is happening, even when a lot is.

As with a lot of things it helps to look at things from a distance. That's why tracking as a regular practice adds up over time and gives learning the much needed perspective.

What Changes When You Start Checking In

Tracking doesn’t suddenly make you better at a language. What it does is remove the fog.

When you start recording—even lightly—you begin to see patterns. You notice what you’re actually doing, not what you think you’re doing. You notice what helps and what doesn’t. You notice that some weeks are full and others are quiet—and that both are part of the process.

Sometimes, just like with my weight, you’ll realize something isn’t moving despite your effort. That moment can feel uncomfortable. But it’s also where learning becomes intentional. You can adjust your approach. Ask for help. Change direction. Or simply accept that this phase takes longer than you expected.

The biggest misconception about tracking is that it’s about discipline or control. It’s not.

Tracking can be gentle. It can be flexible. It can exist without goals, streaks, or pressure. At its best, it’s simply a way of saying: This is where I am right now.

Tracking Effort Matters More Than Results or Badges

Progress isn't about reaching a level or earning a badge. Tracking doesn’t have to be flashy. It's not about competing with others, and it's not even about competing with yourself.

It's about noticing and paying attention to things that matter. That’s where progress becomes visible.

That being said, not everything deserves your attention.

What’s worth tracking is effort, continuity, and change over time. The fact that you showed up. The activities you chose. The moments that felt easier than before, even if they’re small.

What’s worth letting go of are daily fluctuations, arbitrary milestones, and comparisons that ignore your life, your pace, and your reasons for learning.

Proof Changes How You Feel

One of the quiet gifts of tracking is confidence.

Not the loud, performative kind—but the steady kind that comes from knowing you didn’t imagine your effort. Knowing you can stop and start again. Knowing that even if you take a break, you’re not beginning from zero.

As a self-learner, you don’t have a teacher constantly reflecting your progress back to you. Tracking becomes that reflection. A reminder that you’re moving—even when it doesn’t feel like it.

Tracking Is How You Learn About Yourself

In the end, this isn’t just about languages.

Tracking is how you stop wandering and start navigating. It’s how the learner in you talks to the guide in you. It’s how effort turns into understanding, and understanding into choice.

Progress isn’t a straight line. But it’s much easier to follow when you’ve left yourself a trail.