Independent Learning and Intellectual Maturity
I’ve never been the kind of person who waits to be taught. If something needs to be figured out, I find a way to learn it. That instinct for self-directed learning started early and has shaped how I move through the world, both personally and professionally. Over time, I’ve come to see learning not just as the acquisition of knowledge, but as an evolving process of reflection, trial and error, and applying what works. It’s not about ticking off boxes, it’s about finding the best way forward and building something meaningful with what you’ve learned.
By the time I was 13, I was buying, training, and selling horses. One horse in particular, Rocket, came to me aggressive and untouchable. Within two weeks of owning him, he kicked my kneecap out of place. Even so, I went out on crutches every day, refusing to give up. Within a year, he was calm enough for a five-year-old to ride. Training him wasn’t pretty – some days I was thrown off twenty times in an hour – but I kept getting back on. That experience taught me about grit, sure, but it also taught me how powerful consistency and trust can be when it comes to learning. I had to observe closely, figure out what triggered his behavior, adjust my approach, and try again. There was no manual—just patience, instinct, and a willingness to learn through the hard parts. I started to understand that failure isn’t the opposite of learning – it’s part of the process.
Growing up on a working farm added to that. My parents were both working professionals – my dad was a Class 1 Power Engineer and manager, and my mom was a veterinary technician – so I often had responsibilities around the farm when they were at work or tied up with emergencies. There was always something to do, and it didn’t come with step-by-step instructions. I learned to round up cattle on horseback because it was faster than chasing them on foot, and faster meant I could get more done before dark. I was driving the farm truck at 13, but my dad made it clear I wasn’t allowed to drive until I could rebuild the vehicle. So I did. At the time, I didn’t think of it as learning – I just thought it was what needed to be done. But looking back, I see how those expectations taught me to take initiative, to problem-solve in real time, and to take ownership over what I didn’t know yet. I had to figure things out independently and be confident in the solutions I came up with, even if they weren’t perfect. When my mom, a veterinary technician, was stuck in surgery, I had to take care of the animals and the farm on my own. These weren’t just chores – they were early lessons in responsibility, critical thinking, and applying knowledge under pressure.
That same self-reliant mindset shows up in how I learn today. I’ve completed over 150 courses – mostly self-directed, many of them online. Most were practical, like WHMIS, First Aid, and Safety Training. Others were based on curiosity and interest – like planning, Indigenous awareness, emergency management, and Adobe. These weren’t just surface-level checklists. I dove deep, especially when the material tied into areas I was passionate about. One of the most challenging courses I’ve taken was the Rural Environments course at the University of Alberta, part of their Land Use Planning Certificate. It’s designed as a CPL (Continuous Professional Learning) course and is often taken by practicing planners with undergraduate and graduate degrees. It was a stretch, and that’s exactly why I took it. The reading, writing, and discussion pushed me to think more critically, to apply abstract theory to real community issues, and to reflect on how knowledge can be transferred from paper into policy. I didn’t just complete it – I engaged with it. It changed how I think about planning and made me a more thoughtful contributor in the field.
Beyond formal courses, I’ve created my own learning environment. I listen to audiobooks and podcasts while I walk, drive, or clean – turning ordinary time into learning opportunities. These aren’t just background noise, they’re part of how I stay current and inspired. I’m drawn to anything that helps me understand systems, people, and how things connect. My audiobook library covers a wide range of topics: psychology, planning, urban development, investing, leadership, communication, personal growth, and behavioral sciences. I don’t just passively consume these – I pause, take notes, and reflect on how the content relates to things I’m working on. It’s become a steady rhythm in my life, and one that keeps me mentally engaged and evolving.
I’ve noticed that as I’ve grown, my learning has become more layered. I don’t just look at the surface of a problem anymore. I think about the system behind it, the long-term impacts, and how the information fits into broader contexts. That deeper reflection has helped me make better decisions and communicate more clearly with others – because I’ve already worked through the complexity in my own head first. It’s also helped me know when to set boundaries, when to say “I don’t know yet,” and when to seek out other perspectives before acting. That, to me, is part of intellectual maturity – being confident enough to keep learning, even when it’s uncomfortable.
One area I’ve grown in as an adult is learning to balance my independence with collaboration. I used to take on too much and struggle when others didn’t move at the same pace. Working in local government exposed me to different values, communication styles, and cultural perspectives. It challenged me to slow down, listen more, and be open to ways of thinking that weren’t my own. That shift taught me that maturity isn’t just about being capable, it’s about being curious, adaptable, and aware of how we impact others.
Over time, my learning has shifted from just taking in information to being far more intentional. I seek out knowledge that fills gaps or helps me improve areas I know are weaker. I’ve become more strategic, more reflective, and more confident in my ability to figure things out without needing a formal structure. I’ve also learned to recognize when to seek guidance, when to try something hands-on, and when to sit with something longer before taking action. Some of my biggest learning moments haven’t come from success, but from the times I had to regroup and try again.
That growth hasn’t gone unnoticed. My direct supervisor, Scott Smith, the Director of Development Services and Deputy CAO, is writing a reference letter for me as part of this portfolio. While he doesn’t always see everything I do day-to-day, he’s seen the outcomes: the way I take initiative, dig into complex material on my own, and apply it in ways that move things forward. His support means a lot, not just because of his role, but because it validates the kind of learning that often happens quietly, on your own time, behind the scenes, when no one’s watching.
To me, intellectual maturity means knowing there’s always more to learn and choosing to keep learning anyway. It’s about showing up, even when it’s uncomfortable or uncertain. It’s about being open-minded but also discerning. And it’s about trusting that the process of learning – especially the kind that doesn’t come easy – builds not just skills, but character. Whether I’m rebuilding an engine, navigating zoning bylaws, or absorbing new theories while folding laundry, I’m always learning. That’s not just something I do – it’s part of who I am.
Evidence supporting Independent Learning and Intellectual Maturity
7.1 Reference letter from Director of Development Services/Deputy CAO, Scott Smith
7.2 JIBC emergency response course completions and certificates
7.3 List of completed courses 7 **Content warning**