Bridging the Great Stagnation: Why Taking an Extra Decade to Master the Fundamentals Matters

In the 1800s, educated elites were expected to be proficient in Latin, Greek, classical literature, religious knowledge, moral philosophy, public speaking, writing, basic arithmetic, geometry, natural philosophy (covering fundamental physics, astronomy, and biology), music, art, poetry, classical and national history, geography, French, and social graces. Physical activities like horseback riding, rowing, and fencing were also common.

When I was choosing colleges, MIT’s common core curriculum was especially appealing, even though I planned to major in the humanities, specifically philosophy. I realized that to study philosophy meaningfully today, I would need to understand modern science and find peers with both scientific knowledge and a strong humanities background. MIT’s curriculum, which includes extensive science, technology, engineering, and math, seemed similar to the broad education of the 1800s, and likely to be a place where philosophy students could discuss ideas around morality, reality, truth, and justice, grounded in a comprehensive understanding of the natural world in the modern era.

At MIT, everyone—whether focused on philosophy or physics—completes the same foundational courses, which include:

• Two required physics courses (Classical Mechanics and Electricity and Magnetism),
• An introductory chemistry course,
• An introductory biology course,
• Two required math courses (single and multivariable calculus),
• Two additional science and technology electives,
• Eight humanities courses (split between a specialization and a distribution),
• Physical education requirements, including swimming proficiency and four PE courses,
• A laboratory course.

Before attending MIT, I felt the need for broader experiences, so I spent a year as an exchange student in Denmark after high school. There, I became fluent in Danish, learned to live independently, traveled solo, immersed myself in a different community, learned the clarinet (adding to my background in piano and flute), studied art, and read from a curriculum of classic literature.

Once at MIT, the breadth of curriculum meant that instead of narrowing in on philosophy, I discovered a passion for science that encouraged me to keep exploring in areas more grounded in observation. This led me to computer science, which, while not part of the core curriculum, seemed essential due to its influence on modern discovery. By the end of my freshman year, I was captivated by the field, and found it came naturally to me. I graduated with a double major in Physics (concentrating on Cosmology) and Computer Science and Engineering (focusing on AI), along with a double minor in Philosophy and Mathematics. My PE courses included aikido, figure skating, ice hockey, and yoga. Equipped with this education, I felt ready to tackle modern challenges, and I further studied classical and science fiction literature, photography, and music composition.

After graduation, I felt my education was still incomplete. As an undergraduate in physics, my understanding reached approximately the level of the 1930s, with knowledge in classical physics, special relativity, and early quantum mechanics. To deepen my knowledge, I pursued a Ph.D. and postdoc in Physics, studying modern cosmology, general relativity, quantum field theory, the standard model, and computational physics. Concurrently, I developed my programming skills, explored modern languages, engaged in entrepreneurship, and collaborated with major software institutions. I learned German, studied Arabic and Chinese, studied the cello, traveled extensively across all seven continents, and lived in Europe, North America, the Middle East, Asia, and Antarctica. I also pursued creative writing, eventually completing an MFA in science fiction.

By around age 33, I finally felt “fully educated.” I came to believe that a comprehensive understanding of modern knowledge is essential. This level of education was achievable before starting a family, much as it was in the 1800s, and my life expectancy, around 80 as opposed to mid-60s or 70s in the 1800s, afforded me additional time for deeper study. An extra decade of focused education seemed a fitting use of this extended lifespan, given the breadth of knowledge developed since then.

It has always puzzled me why I don’t encounter more people with similar educational backgrounds today. I don’t consider myself exceptionally intelligent, but I was able to attain a “complete education” and still have time for the life ahead. I value the ability to read and understand most topics or quickly gain the understanding needed if I don’t. During my education at elite institutions, I only met one person with a comparable background—my husband, Casey Handmer. Even if we don’t engage in in-depth discussions on the edge of modern knowledge daily, it’s comforting to know we share a common intellectual foundation.

Although I do feel fully educated now, it’s hard to leave the habit of formal education behind. I’m often tempted to pursue a Ph.D. in Math or a Master’s in Mechanical or Electrical Engineering. What saves me is reminding myself that I already have a Ph.D. and two Master’s, that I’m not Bruce Banner, and that there is a time to transition from action on the side of learning, to learning on the side of action. Now instead of focusing on what can I learn, I focus on what impact I have, a process that has brought me from Signal, to NASA JPL, to Planet and now to leading engineering organizations at the frontiers of computer security.

I may be biased, but I firmly believe that a key reason behind the so-called “great stagnation” is that too few people dedicate an extra decade to understand the foundational knowledge of the world in all its complexity. Skeptical? Take a look at what Casey and I have each respectively achieved with the added time invested in deep learning of the human sort. Perhaps consider sponsoring investing in yourself—or another curious mind—to do the same.