"I felt ready. I genuinely felt ready." Kofi Asante said it quietly, sitting on the bench outside the exam hall, his pencil case still zipped shut in his lap. He had spent three weeks drilling one topic at a time, finishing each session fast and clean, convinced that speed was evidence.
It is not. Blocked practice — working through one problem type until it stops feeling hard — builds fluency at a task you already know. The brain stops retrieving and starts pattern-matching the surface. Interleaving scrambles that. It forces the mind to first identify what kind of problem it is facing before solving it, which is exactly the cognitive work real situations demand. Harder in the session. Durable afterward.
Robert Bjork and colleagues at UCLA documented this directly in studies on motor and verbal learning: interleaved practice produced lower scores during training and significantly higher scores on delayed tests. The gap between how confident people feel during practice and how they actually perform later is not modest. It is large enough to change what a person decides to study next, which makes the illusion consequential.
You are looking at two paths through the next hour of practice. One feels productive: finish the geometry set, then move to algebra, close out with statistics. Each block will go smoothly. Kofi took that path. The other path is messier. One geometry problem, one statistics problem, one algebra problem, rotating until the session ends with no clean run of anything. Every problem requires you to start over, and that friction will feel like failure. The principle is what decides: one path measures how well you already know it; the other builds something you can actually use.
Fluency during practice is comfortable evidence of what you have already mastered. Learning is what happens in the discomfort before mastery, and that discomfort is not a sign you are doing it wrong.