We All Start Somewhere
Although it may be hard to believe, I wasn’t born a mathematician. I wasn’t gifted thirty-plus years of software development experience the moment I took my first breath on this large, strange planet outside my mother’s womb. Just like everyone else, I had to learn. I had to learn numbers, the alphabet, and how to manipulate fiendishly complicated things… like shoelaces and buttons. My brain was plastic and malleable. It soaked up new knowledge like a sponge.
Then, of course, one day I knew EVERYTHING!
At least, I thought I did.
In reality, all I’d done was climb the north slope of Mount Stupid.
It’s OK. I’ve stood there, and I’ll confidently say that you probably have too. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that every one of us has stood on that summit at some point in our lives, breathed in the rarefied air, looked out over the vast landscape ahead and suddenly realised just how much more there was still to learn.
“Oh…”
Actually, I’m here to tell you that the view from the summit isn’t depressing.
It’s breathtaking.
Not just because of the thin air, not because of what lies beneath you, but because of what lies beyond.
The Internet Gets Dunning–Kruger Wrong
An idea originally published as the Dunning–Kruger effect has, sadly, been adopted by the internet and transformed into the meme-worthy “Why Do Dumb People Think They’re Smart?” Usually it’s written with an irritating mixture of upper and lower case letters, “mUcH lIkE ThIs”, to convey a sense of superiority over people who simply haven’t yet learned enough to realise how much they still have to learn.
I don’t like that interpretation.
It’s cruel, and it mocks people who simply haven’t yet reached the point where the world suddenly opens up in front of them. I’d argue that every one of us has to climb Mount Stupid before sliding down the far side into the so-called Valley of Despair. That’s simply part of learning.
Making fun of somebody for standing on Mount Stupid is rather like mocking a toddler for proudly taking their first steps because they can’t yet run a marathon or land a perfect triple-twisting backflip.
Go on.
Google “Dunning–Kruger”.
See how many articles contain words like idiot, stupid, moron, or dumb.
As I’ve already said, none of us are born with the knowledge and skills we possess today.
It’s a journey we all take.
The View Gets Better
I have stood at the top of this mountain.
The brief excitement of thinking I’d reached the summit quickly gave way to the realisation that I’d merely climbed the first hill in an entire mountain range. At first that’s a sobering thought, but once I realised just how much there still was waiting to be discovered, the journey became exciting rather than intimidating.
Oddly enough, the further I’ve travelled from the summit of Mount Stupid, the less certain I’ve become. Thirty-plus years into software development I’m far more comfortable saying, “I don’t know,” than I ever was after my first year.
The mountain didn’t make me arrogant.
The rest of the journey made me humble.
These days I’m genuinely delighted when somebody shows me something new. I’ve learned far more from making mistakes than I ever have from getting things right the first time. I don’t see those moments as failures of intelligence. I see them as opportunities to expand my understanding of the world.
The Valley of Despair
Unfortunately, this is also the point where imposter syndrome quietly creeps into the conversation.
After more than thirty years in software it’s remarkably easy to think:
“Who am I kidding? I know nothing.”
But that’s simply untrue.
There’s a profound difference between knowing nothing and not knowing everything.
The first is ignorance.
The second is simply the natural consequence of continuing to learn.
The Valley of Despair isn’t merely the moment when I realise I know less than I thought.
It’s the moment I start believing I’ll never know enough.
That’s where many people quietly abandon a hobby, a career, or a subject they’ve genuinely fallen in love with. They mistake the size of the journey for evidence that they aren’t capable of completing it, when in reality they’ve simply reached the point where genuine learning begins.
Sometimes pushing through that valley is hard.
I’ll freely admit that I’ve occasionally turned around.
I’ve started new hobbies, enthusiastically bought the books, the equipment and all the shiny new gadgets, learned everything I could as a beginner and then, with growing horror, realised just how much mountain still lay ahead of me.
At that point I’ve quietly muttered:
“No… perhaps this isn’t for me after all.”
And turned around.
Sadly, I’ve done that rather more often than I’d like.
AuDHD doesn’t exactly help.
Looking back, though, I’m grateful I climbed Mount Stupid.
The view really was wonderful.
Not because I could finally see how much I knew, but because, for the first time, I could see just how astonishingly much there still was waiting to be discovered.
I rather hope I never reach the end of that journey.
One Final Irony
Of course, before somebody points it out…
There’s a delicious irony in writing an article explaining the Dunning–Kruger effect.
It immediately raises the uncomfortable question of whether I’m demonstrating the very phenomenon I’m attempting to describe.
Fortunately I’ve spent enough years studying mathematics and software engineering to know, with absolute certainty, that I understand almost nothing.
Which, oddly enough, is probably the closest thing to a qualification I have for writing this article.