What Is Your 90-day Self-Education Budget?

Would you be willing to spend $100,000 for an MBA?

Yet you might hesitate before spending $2,500 to learn how to meditate.

But, wait. What's the value of being able to meditate? For me, meditation has brought me more value than my MBA. (Sure, I learned about cost-benefit analysis, but then I calculated that meditation is more valuable. Go figure.)

You can learn almost anything in 90 days
What's your self-education budget for the next 90 days? How much are you willing to spend to learn new subjects? Or to dig deeper into the topics you already know?

Once you have a budget, what would you study?

Here are three questions that might lead you to the answer:

1. If you went back to college, what degree would you seek?
2. If you had a $100 gift card for a bookstore, what section would you first go to?
3. If you could wave a magic wand, what new knowledge or skills would you grant yourself?
   

A couple years ago, I decided to re-teach myself cursive handwriting. It's made me a better writer -- and a better listener, because I can take better notes.

So what are you going to study during the next 90 days?

Why must you answer this?
No one else is as interested in your continuing education as you are. It's time to be a little selfish about learning.

And, if we're not learning, we're not growing. What's that feel like?

For me, not learning felt like this: one day, I recognized that the newest band I'd heard of was Steely Dan.

Are you reelin' in the years,
Stowin' away the time?
Are you gatherin' up the tears?
Have you had enough of mine?

What do you want to learn?

Here's what I want to learn this summer
In no particular order, here's a hasty list:

1. How to teach teenagers. I've taught seventh grade on Sundays for years. It's what I do best. But I want to learn more about brain and behavioral development during adolescence.
2. How to ride Amtrak across the country. It's time for a second honeymoon. The first one took us to the Grand Canyon. (Is it still there?)
3. How to collaborate in the theatre. How to act. How to memorize. How to rehearse. How to perform. (How to do it without losing money.) Our Town is June 26-28.
4. How to better teach the Ethics of Speech, Creativity, and Storytelling. I'd like to develop each one of these topics into one- and three-day curricula for schools, colleges and businesses.
5. How to read well enough to hear the protagonist's heartbeat. Can that be done?
6. How to fix a flat tire on a bicycle. It's going to happen sooner or later. I don't want to be a sitting duck -- or to continue feeling helpless while on the way to my next flat tire.
7. How to park without scraping the tires against the curb. (I had to buy a new tire yesterday. I wore out the sides before I wore out the bottom. That's dopey.) Let this be my Summer of Tires.
8. How to be a better friend.
9. How to listen better.

What do you want to learn?
Let's remember the admonition to "acquire a teacher."

Comments

[Marie R.]

I decided that, at age 32, it was high time that I learned how to swim. I joined a gym with a pool and nervously signed up for the beginner's class, the one designed for "scaredy-cats and dog paddlers." It turns out that I love swimming. I'm now in the second level and last Monday I tread (treaded?) water in the deep end for the first time - and it was fun! Next up: learning to ride a bike.

[Nate Riggs]

Great thoughts and even better questions.

Here's a personal experience.

From the time I was a child, I wanted to learn how to snowboard. When I went to college I saved enough to buy gear and a lift ticket. On my first trip, I figured out where all the really good snowboarders hung out at Mad River Mountain.

I gained enough courage to charge down the hill with them, and when I fell, these complete strangers stopped and were willing to take the time, look at what I was doing, and offer tips and ideas on how I could improve.

Nearly eight years later, I can go ride for hours and never lose an edge. Some of those same guys have become my good friends. We ride together every winter.

Now when I see a new rider fall, I'm happy that I get the chance to be a teacher. The cycle continues...