I've known for years that the university underserved the

The teacher of modern times, Jordan Peterson, spoke with piercing clarity when he declared: “I’ve known for years that the university underserved the community, because we assumed that university education is for 18- to 22-year-olds, which is a proposition that’s so absurd it is absolutely mind-boggling that anyone ever conceptualized it. Why wouldn’t you take university courses throughout your entire life?” In this cry we hear not only a criticism of a system, but a vision of what learning was meant to be: a lifelong fire, not a fleeting spark.

To bind education to youth alone is to treat wisdom as a garment worn briefly and cast aside. But in truth, the hunger for knowledge never ends, nor should the chance to pursue it. Life does not cease to test us when we leave the classroom; indeed, it grows more complex, more demanding. How then can one believe that four brief years between 18 and 22 could be sufficient to prepare the human spirit for the vast journey of decades? Such an idea, as Peterson calls it, is “absurd” because it denies the very nature of growth.

Consider the ancients of Greece. Plato taught in the Academy not only young men, but those who came in maturity, even in age, seeking understanding. The Stoics spoke their philosophy not to boys alone, but to emperors, merchants, and soldiers alike, for they knew that wisdom is not bound to youth but to the soul that seeks it. The notion that learning ends at the threshold of adulthood would have been incomprehensible to them, for in every season of life, new questions rise, and new answers are needed.

History offers us the story of Benjamin Franklin, who though schooled only briefly as a child, never ceased to learn. In his maturity he taught himself languages, sciences, and arts; he founded libraries so others could learn freely; he engaged with scholars across the world. His greatness lay not in youthful degrees, but in the lifelong pursuit of knowledge. Franklin shows us the truth of Peterson’s words: to confine learning to youth is to waste the greatest years of curiosity and contribution.

The lesson is clear: education must not be viewed as a rite of passage, but as a companion for life. If the university truly seeks to serve its community, it must open its gates wide, not only to the young but to the old, not only to the student beginning the path, but to the elder still climbing higher. To study at forty, or sixty, or eighty is not a failure, but the triumph of a spirit that refuses stagnation. The fountain of wisdom does not dry with age—it deepens.

For you who hear these words, take them to heart: do not think your time for learning has passed. Begin again, wherever you are. Pick up the book, enroll in the course, listen to the lecture, ask the question. Let your life be a university without walls, where every day is a lesson and every encounter a teacher. To grow in wisdom is not an obligation for the young only—it is the sacred duty of all.

In practice, make learning your daily bread. Read one page each morning, reflect one hour each week, learn one skill each year. Share your wisdom with others, for teaching is the highest form of learning. And when you feel the weight of years, remember: the mind is not a vessel that empties, but a flame that can burn until the end.

Thus let Peterson’s words resound as a commandment: do not confine education to the narrow prison of youth. Break the walls, and let the whole community drink from the well of wisdom. For a people who learn together through all stages of life will never grow weak, but will stand like a mighty oak, whose roots run deep and whose branches stretch ever upward toward the heavens.