In steno schools across the country, thousands of students sit behind machines every day trying to do the hardest thing a human being can attempt with their hands: writing cleanly at speeds most people cannot even speak. And yet, for all the drills, the hours, the plateaus, and the self-doubt, court reporters understand something the rest of the world does not—speedbuilding is as much a psychological act as it is a technical one.
It turns out that an unlikely figure, a Russian quantum physicist from the early 1990s, may have stumbled onto an insight that applies directly to the struggle of passing the CSR, RPR, and every other high-stakes exam in this profession.
“In 1993, a Russian physicist walked away from his lab forever. Few knew he had discovered a shocking secret about reality itself. Vladimir Krupin, a quantum physicist, realised that reality might already exist like a movie with infinite versions. Instead of trying harder to make things happen, he taught that changing your inner state could “slide” you into the version you wanted. His radical idea was simple yet revolutionary: treat your goals as no big deal. According to Krupin, when you stop clinging to outcomes and adopt a relaxed mindset, opportunities and success manifest faster than desire ever could. This method challenged traditional thinking in physics and psychology alike and caused a stir in Russian intellectual circles. Today, Krupin’s insight resonates with people exploring mindfulness, manifestation, and self-transformation. His three-step “no-big-deal” approach encourages modern readers to pause, release stress, and shift perspectives to align with their desired reality. Beyond physics, it’s a lesson in patience, inner balance, and the hidden power of perception. His work reminds us that sometimes the most extraordinary discoveries come not from tools and labs, but from quiet reflection and courage to think differently. History shows that changing your mindset can ripple across culture and personal life alike.”
Krupin may have abandoned physics, but his insight perfectly describes what every seasoned realtime reporter knows: you cannot write at high speeds while clinging to fear. You cannot pass an exam by obsessing over passing it. And you cannot force your hands into mastery by sheer willpower. In stenography, ease is often the gateway to speed.
The Paradox of Speedbuilding
Court reporting students quickly discover a cruel paradox: the harder they try, the worse they write. The more they grip, the more their fingers stumble. The more they chase words, the faster the dictator seems to accelerate. The more they fear failing the test, the more inevitable that failure begins to feel.
This is not a character flaw. It is neuroscience. When the body senses threat—whether a tiger or a five-minute Q&A at 200 words per minute—it responds the same way: muscles tighten, breaths shallow, and cognitive processing narrows. This is disastrous for stenographers, who require fluidity, relaxation, rhythmic breathing, and high-level cognitive flexibility. The brain cannot operate at peak performance while in fight-or-flight mode.
Krupin’s theory—that reality contains “versions” of outcomes and that shifting your inner state allows you to “slide” into the desired version—mirrors what instructors see daily. When students stop treating certification as a life-or-death event, their speed curves suddenly rise. When they detach from perfection and focus on rhythm, the errors fade. When they adopt the mindset of a working reporter instead of a panicked student, mastery begins to surface.
Sliding Into the 225 Version of Yourself
Whether or not infinite realities exist, a psychological truth remains: you perform at the level you believe is normal for you. Students who constantly tell themselves they are stuck, slow, or not ready reinforce the version of themselves that stays stuck, slow, or unready. Those who begin to embody the version of themselves who already writes 225—even if only mentally—often see dramatic breakthroughs.
This is not magical thinking. It is self-alignment.
If you walk into an exam believing it determines your value, your future, and the legitimacy of your dreams, your nervous system interprets it as a threat. But if you walk in treating it as just another take—one small checkpoint on the way to becoming the professional you already see yourself as—the body unlocks its real capability.
Students often describe that breakthrough moment with phrases like:
“It just clicked.”
“Everything suddenly felt easier.”
“I stopped caring for a moment, and that’s when I passed.”
That is the essence of sliding.
Why Students Fail Tests They’re Already Capable of Passing
Ask instructors who have trained thousands of CSR and RPR candidates, and you’ll hear the same explanation: students fail not because of ability but because of pressure. They have the skill. They have the hours. They have the machine strokes. What they lack is the emotional neutrality required to access their skill under stress.
Fear constricts. Self-judgment interrupts. Perfectionism slows the stroke. And obsession with the outcome blocks the flow of the moment.
The result? Their hands no longer write what they know. They write what they fear.
Krupin would describe this as “clinging”—the emotional equivalent of gripping the writer too tightly.
Adapting the Three-Step “No-Big-Deal Method” for Steno
Krupin’s theory offers a surprisingly practical framework for stenographic performance. Applied to daily practice, it looks like this:
1. Pause — reset the nervous system.
Before writing, place both hands lightly on the machine, loosen the jaw, and take slow breaths. This simple pause tells the brain: This is safe.
2. Release — drop the emotional charge.
Say to yourself, “It’s no big deal.” Repeat it if necessary. The goal is not apathy but neutrality. The test is not your enemy. The speed is not a monster. It is simply sound in the air waiting to be captured.
3. Shift — step into the version of you who already passed.
Imagine the reporter who emerges the day you receive your certificate. Picture their confidence, posture, breathing, stroke precision, and professional calm. Then write as that person now. This primes the brain to perform from identity, not desperation.
These steps may look soft, but they are rooted in neuroscience. Relaxed visualization strengthens neural pathways. Ease increases fine motor control. Confidence expands cognitive bandwidth. Detachment reduces cortisol and allows rhythm to return. Combined, these skills create the ideal conditions for high-speed writing.
What Working Reporters Have Known All Along
Veteran realtime reporters, especially those who write daily at speeds far beyond test levels, rarely talk about brute force. They talk about:
Relaxation.
Trust.
Flow.
Rhythm.
Loose hands.
Light strokes.
Staying “ahead” mentally while staying calm physically.
They understand something every student must eventually learn: you do not conquer speed. You join it.
And once you stop resisting speed, speed arrives.
Stepping Into Your Certification Reality
What if the path to passing the CSR or RPR isn’t a battle at all? What if it’s a shift—a gentle slide into a version of yourself that has been waiting to emerge?
If students adopted this mindset, they would plateau less, progress more consistently, and suffer far fewer cycles of burnout. They would approach test day not as a decisive judgment of their worth, but as a natural demonstration of their readiness. They would trust their preparation rather than drown in self-doubt. And they would perform with the internal ease required for external speed.
Krupin’s revelation was not about stenography, but its wisdom applies perfectly here: success often appears when we stop treating success like a crisis. The greatest breakthroughs happen not during strain but during surrender. And the doorway to the reporter you want to be opens not through force, but through alignment.
The final truth is simple:
You don’t force 225.
You don’t chase 225.
You don’t fear 225.
You become 225.
And once you step into that version of yourself, the certification follows—because it was already yours.
StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.
Disclaimer
I’m not a CPA or financial planner — I’m sharing what I’ve learned as a working reporter navigating these same decisions. Everyone’s financial situation is different, so please talk with your accountant or tax professional before making changes based on this guide.
This article includes analysis and commentary based on observed events, public records, and legal statutes.
The content of this post is intended for informational and discussion purposes only. All opinions expressed herein are those of the author and are based on publicly available information, industry standards, and good-faith concerns about nonprofit governance and professional ethics. No part of this article is intended to defame, accuse, or misrepresent any individual or organization. Readers are encouraged to verify facts independently and to engage constructively in dialogue about leadership, transparency, and accountability in the court reporting profession.
- The content on this blog represents the personal opinions, observations, and commentary of the author. It is intended for editorial and journalistic purposes and is protected under the First Amendment of the United States Constitution.
- Nothing here constitutes legal advice. Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions.
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