Before we read the first textbook…
Before we study the stars or measure the sky…
Before we know the names of atoms, systems, or laws…
We already believe.
We believe the sun moves across the sky.
We believe people get what they deserve.
We believe love should always feel good, and pain means something’s wrong.
These are not taught.
They are absorbed — quietly, early, and deeply.
They are our naive theories.
Not naive because they are foolish.
Naive because they are unexamined. Because they arrive before the questions do.
The First Maps in the Mind
Naive theories are the first maps we draw of the world.
They help us walk, speak, choose, and explain — before we know how to ask why.
They shape the way a child sees the wind, or why a teenager blames themselves for a parent’s silence.
They are powerful. They are comforting.
And they are often wrong.
But that’s not the danger.
The danger is not that we start with naive theories — we all do.
The danger is that we never update them.
We Carry Them Into Adulthood
The child who believes “smart people never make mistakes” grows into the adult who hides every error.
The child who thinks “bad things happen to bad people” becomes the friend who silently blames you for your grief.
The student who once guessed that “math is for boys” may never say it aloud — but may quietly walk away from what could have been a brilliant path.
And the worst part?
We don’t even know these theories live inside us.
We just call them “instinct,” or “common sense,” or “how things are.”
The Work of Growing Up
To grow — truly grow — is not just to collect new knowledge.
It is to question the foundations of what we already “know.”
Jonathan Baron writes of naive theories not to criticize, but to illuminate.
To help us see the scaffolding of our early beliefs — and to teach us how to take it apart, examine it, rebuild it.
He reminds us that many errors in adult thinking are not failures of intelligence, but failures of revision.
The theory was never upgraded. The map was never redrawn.
And so we walk into the future using childhood logic to solve adult dilemmas.
What Replaces Naivety?
Not cynicism. Not cold skepticism.
But curiosity.
And courage.
And a willingness to say, “Maybe I was wrong… even about something that once felt deeply true.”
We begin to listen for the stories beneath our reactions.
We begin to notice which of our fears are based on old explanations.
We start to unlearn — and then, slowly, to relearn.
Not just with better information.
But with better ways of thinking.
A Quiet Invitation
Look at one belief you’ve carried a long time.
One that feels like “just the way it is.”
Ask: Where did I learn this? Who did I learn it from? Does it still fit the world I live in now?
You may find that it’s time to update the theory.
Or let it go.
You may find that beneath your oldest belief is a deeper truth, waiting patiently.
Understanding does not begin with certainty.
It begins with doubt — and the humility to listen again.
In the end, we are all scientists of our own lives.
And every day gives us a chance to revise the first stories we believed —
not to erase them,
but to make room for what is now more true.