At the Maman Coffee Shop in Union Market on a chilly Washington DC morning earlier today, a young man looking for a phone charger approached me. After someone else offered him a cable, he thanked me for offering to help. Then he asked, "Are you watching something interesting on your laptop?" I responded that I was doing schoolwork.
He appeared stunned. "Are you still in school? Wow, you look like you have it all figured out by now." Laughing, I pointed to my fully white-bearded face and asked what made him say that. "Oh no, life is one continuous learning!" I replied. "True," he said as he walked away.
This is about the second time I've had this experience. The first was during a conversation with an Uber driver who expressed shock that I was "still in school." These responses surprise me. I've never thought it was too late to learn anything, perhaps because I'm in the learning business, where we partner with individuals and teams to work on situations that matter most to them.
Our coaching clients range widely—from nineteen-year-olds preparing for college abroad (we just concluded a class for five young Ugandans heading to international universities) to chief executives of large financial institutions translating business strategy into frontline behaviors or exploring their leadership development. We also work with school administrators and teachers building systems of accountability, culture, and leadership.
So when can it be too late to learn? I'm not sure. I grew up in a home filled with books, thanks to my late father who worked as a publisher at a government-owned publishing company in Nigeria. Reading and writing were commonplace, so much so that I represented my high school in writing, debating, and current affairs competitions. That I would become an adult educator in my later years seems part of a divine orchestration I've come to appreciate.
Regarding age and learning, experts tell us that "The capacity to learn is a gift; the ability to learn is a skill; the willingness to learn is a choice. Research now confirms this isn't just philosophical—adults who engage in mentally stimulating activities throughout their lives show a 63% reduced risk of developing dementia, suggesting that learning may be our most powerful tool for cognitive preservation." This comes from Michael Merzenich, a neuroscientist and pioneer in brain plasticity research, drawing on the Bronx Aging Study published in 2017.
While learning is a choice, knowing how to learn is a crucial skill in this age of rapid technological advancement. According to growth mindset pioneer Carol Dweck, "In an age of exponential knowledge growth, the most valuable skill is not knowledge itself but the meta-skill of learning how to learn. Our 20-year study demonstrates that individuals who cultivate this capacity show significantly enhanced cognitive flexibility and problem-solving abilities across the lifespan."
For most adults, learning won't happen in formal educational programs like the one I'm in—it will come from daily life experiences. Jack Mezirow, pioneer of transformative learning, noted that "The most transformative learning rarely happens in classrooms but emerges from the crucible of lived experience. Our 15-year ethnographic study reveals that 78% of adults identify critical life challenges—career transitions, relationship changes, health crises—as their most profound teachers. Such experiential learning doesn't merely add to one's knowledge; it fundamentally restructures meaning-making systems and worldviews in ways traditional education seldom achieves."
To benefit from experiential learning, we must slow down to create space for reflection, meaning-making, and informed action. Many know the phrase "experience is the best teacher"—but that's not quite right. As John Dewey, the influential American educational philosopher, reminded us: "We do not learn from experience... we learn from reflecting on experience."
Perhaps it's not about the relationship between grey hair/white beard and learning. Rather, it's our commitment to learn by mining our experiences and making meaning of what life presents that may be our most important tool for navigating modern life. Robert Kegan captured this challenge: "The expectations upon us to be the authors of our own lives, to be self-initiating, self-correcting, self-evaluating rather than depending upon others to frame the problems, initiate adjustments, or determine whether things are going acceptably well—these expectations may be developmentally inappropriate for many of us. We may be in over our heads."
I dare add that our choice to grow and commitment to learn may be one of our most powerful options in the space between what we do and what modern life demands.
Francis Egbuson
Washington DC
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