Self-Education: How Learning Changed My Life

Life After School

I graduated from high school in 1998 with little concern for my self-education. I was ready to move out and start living. My plan? I was going to be a rock star, of course.

The State of Utah gave me a public education, and for that I’m grateful. A government should educate its people. But what did I gain from K–12 beyond the ability to read, a few good friendships, and a short-lived career as Northridge High’s most obsessed guitar player? I left high school with no discernible skill set. It was as if twelve years of public education had done little more than give me a swift kick out of the nest with a basic toolbox for life.

And I fell to the ground.

I think most people plummet to Earth after high school. Few of us can fly majestically at age eighteen. I did go to college, but not to get educated. I went to get a job.

At the time, books seemed like a world of possibility that would never fully open up to me. I’ve always read a lot, but I never focused on becoming an educated person. I focused on quick results and efficient outcomes.

I only read books that put a feather in my cap.

If it was nonfiction, I only read books that promised to make me more money, give me more time, or increase my influence. Think Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People or Napoleon Hill’s Think and Grow Rich. These were the books for me. Gimme the Cliff Notes, throw away the rest, and let’s get on with it.

If I read fiction, it was a rare treat, because who has time for storybooks, right? I usually picked up whatever had sold millions of copies, which meant I spent plenty of time with James Patterson and Lee Child.

Disclaimer: Dale Carnegie, Napoleon Hill, James Patterson, and Lee Child are all fine authors, and I’m grateful for their books. At least I was reading.

Self-Education as a Way of Life

Everything changed on September 20, 2022.

I was a forty-two-year-old man sitting at my desk with no sense of direction or confidence. At my age, I was supposed to have everything figured out.

I felt stuck at work, lonely, and uninspired. That last one was particularly troublesome. To feel uninspired is a real problem. I blamed the internet, news outlets, and people’s apparent lack of interest in anything beyond their Instagram accounts. Then I realized the real source of my despondency was waiting for someone or something to fix my life.

I also realized that nobody was coming to rescue me.

So I did what all self-respecting humans in the midst of a midlife crisis do—I Googled for a solution.

Eventually, I found my way to the free online courses offered by Harvard University. They provide actual college-level courses at no cost. You don’t get credit, but that’s not the point. What you get is an opportunity for self-education.

I shook my head. This was not for me. I had no extra time to devote to an entire college course, so I closed my browser and went home to watch Netflix and make dinner.

I’m not being facetious. I enjoy my Netflix time as a way to wind down after a long day. It’s a chance to be with my family and enjoy something together. No television shame here.

Taking My First Course

But I couldn’t stop thinking about those damn courses.

Over the next several days, I returned to the Harvard website and scoured the catalog. They offered free courses on nearly every subject that interested me, but one class had me hooked: an introduction to philosophy.

I had always wanted to learn more about Plato and Aristotle. Here was my chance.

I watched the first lecture and immediately felt different about myself. I wasn’t learning to support my job, fatten my wallet, or expand my “influence.”

I was learning because I was curious.

I bought a notebook just for that class, and do you know what happened?

My identity shifted.

I went from “overworked dad” to “lifelong student and interested human being.” Hell, I even had a notebook to prove it! For the first time in a very long time, I cared about my own self-education.

Since that course, I’ve pursued a degree in philosophy—not from Harvard, good grief—but from Weber State University here in Utah. Let’s go, Wildcats! I take one or two classes each semester and have six left before I graduate. And yes, I want to keep going for a master’s, and possibly more. We’ll see how my stamina holds up.

Through that degree, I’ve also learned the value of reading slowly and engaging deeply with books. I had to slow my reading waaaaaayyyyyy down to make sense of the philosophers.

I’ve learned that, at least for me, self-education is the best antidote to feeling lost. When I follow my curiosity and pursue subjects that genuinely interest me, everything improves. I’m more engaged at work, more attentive to my health, more present in my relationships, and far more joyful.

The Result of Self-Education

Choosing self-education isn’t about becoming a know-it-all. In fact, the more I learn, the more aware I become of how much I don’t know.

It’s about paying attention to my interests and taking the time to cultivate them.

Sure, classes cost money, and they take time, but maybe that’s why they feel more rewarding than a quick how-to guide on YouTube. A real course asks something of me, and I think that’s a good thing.

I get to choose what I think about rather than letting everyone and everything else decide for me.

Reading Wider

That first philosophy course also reminded me of the wider world of books.

When I was a kid, I read everything—from Terry Brooks to Danielle Steel, from Anthony Robbins to Anne Frank. Where had that reader gone?

That’s when I decided to join a book club. I wanted friends to read with and to be reminded of great books.

The problem was that there were no book clubs in my area.

So I put my business degree to work and started my own.

It’s called The Read Well Book Club, and since its founding, I’ve been blessed to read with friends from around the world.

But this couldn’t be just any old book club. We needed to be different.

I sat at my desk and thought about how I used to read as a kid. I wasn’t obsessed with reading 200 books a year. I was obsessed with following Hercule Poirot down the Nile or watching Flick Ohmsford from The Sword of Shannara swing his axe.

So I developed a reading philosophy that would become our core focus.

• We would read slowly.
• We would take notes.
• We would apply the ideas.

We would swim in our books. But rather than doing timed trials to get through the pages as quickly as possible, we would do butterfly strokes as the sun rose and set. Books would mean something more than an accomplishment on a checklist of things to read before you die.

Every book would change our lives.

Since then, we’ve read everything from Seneca and Virginia Woolf to Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Sapolsky, and Homer. Every book has reminded me of the same lesson:

My education is my responsibility. If I lack attention and focus, it’s not the internet’s fault. It’s my fault for choosing not to cultivate it.

The Freedom of Self-Education

My life changed when I decided that my education was my responsibility.

Through self-education, I’ve made new friends, discovered a renewed sense of purpose, and eliminated one feeling almost entirely: boredom.

I no longer feel lonely.

I rarely feel directionless.

And I wake up excited about what’s next.

It’s often said that education is the path to freedom. I think that’s true. But freedom doesn’t arrive with a diploma. It comes when we take responsibility for our own learning.

Self-education is simply the decision to remain curious long after the classroom is gone.

📚 As always, read slowly. Take notes. Apply the ideas.

—Eddy

P.S. While I love the Harvard courses, this post isn’t about Harvard. It’s about self-education, however you choose to find it.

Eddy Hood

I’m Eddy Hood, host of The Read Well Podcast. I love getting lost in big ideas and great stories, and I started the podcast to help fellow readers tackle challenging books with confidence. I’m studying philosophy, running Edgewater Bookstore, and slowly chipping away at writing a novel.

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