The idea of Dunbar’s number1 is simple: humans have a limited capacity for social connections. Maintaining relationships—be it with your immediate family, friends, professional acquaintances, or the parents of other kids at school—takes effort. To know who someone is, remember how you know them, and understand the nuances of how they fit in with others in your social group, is no small cognitive task.
The actual number itself is up for debate. The accepted range is typically 100 to 250, with 150 earning a general consensus. Of course, there’s individual variation here. Some people will be comfortable with more than 150 social connections, while others will feel overwhelmed with 100.2
I wonder if there’s a parallel to Dunbar’s number: there is a limited number of teachers3 we can learn from well at any given time.
There are thousands of gifted teachers in the world. In the past, we wouldn’t have had access to the vast majority of them. We’d be restricted by geography, lack of a shared language, or the simple fact that we didn’t know they existed.
Hundreds of years ago, you were most likely to learn from people you knew in person. Parents and grandparents, respected elders from your community, the one or two teachers that lived in your town, the leader of your faith or spiritual group. Depending on your time and place in history, you may have had access to more popular teachers through books, or maybe attending a once-in-a-lifetime event to hear them speak in person. But these things were the exception, not the rule.
Now, though, a good lot of the world’s people with information to share are online, generously making their knowledge and wisdom easily available to those who want to learn. (A good lot of them are also there just to build a platform, get rich, rise to fame, or sell some sort of grift, but let’s not focus on the bad apples.)
But we can’t possibly learn from them all at once, no matter how compelling their information is. Think about how many in-person teachers you’ve had in your lifetime, from elementary school through whatever your highest level of education is. Now imagine trying to “follow” all of them every day. Let’s say each of them has at least one social media profile they post on daily, plus a newsletter that comes out every week, and a larger work like a book, course, or speaking event once a year.
Each one of them may be an excellent teacher (or writer/journalist/fill-in-the-blank) in whatever their field may be. But would it be cognitively possible for most people to learn well from all of them at once? I don’t think we could possibly keep up without information overload.
That overwhelm is the place I’ve found myself lately. I am a lover of learning, but I’ve taken it too far. I don’t just want to skim someone’s writing, or get halfway through a podcast only to forget to finish it. I want to read deeply, absorbing their words and sitting with them. I want to take notes on the podcasts I listen to and books I read. I want to take the time to engage with a teacher’s work by commenting on Substack or social media posts.
I’ve developed my own personal Dunbar’s number for teachers whose work I’ll engage with at any given time: 15.
About half of those are people in my real life. My priest and other leaders in the Catholic Church, my professors, my spiritual director, wise friends, a business mentor of sorts. Their teaching takes place in the here and now, through informal conversations and class Zoom calls and church events. There is nothing to subscribe to, nothing to really keep up with. With these people, I am not drowning in a firehose of information but drawing from a deep well.
The other half, the online half, were mindfully chosen not because I find them somehow superior to others, but because they are presenting information I’m drawn to in a way that I appreciate and resonate with. All the others who didn’t make the list I’ve been unfollowing with the deepest respect and gratitude for what they’ve shared with me as I do so.
It’s my hope that by allowing fewer voices into my head and heart, I can focus on learning more deeply and engaging well with others on the way.
In that vein, I’m offering you a few discernment questions if you, too, find yourself following too many teachers.
An Examen for Choosing Who to Follow
For those who love to learn. For the ones who always have a podcast queued up or a book in their bag. For the folks with multiple news subscriptions. For you who feel overwhelmed by vastness of information on the internet.
Inhale: Come, Holy Spirit,
Exhale: giver of wisdom.
Inhale: Help us remember
Exhale: that our knowledge is not infinite.
Begin in your real life. Close your eyes. Bring to mind the teachers who know you by name, who are in your real-life community (or an online community that allows for personal connection).
How do you feel when you think of these teachers?
In what ways do they challenge you?
In what ways have they shaped your understanding?
Now, move to the online world. Try to think about as many online teachers as you can. If you need to pull up your social media accounts to see who you follow, try to do so without becoming distracted.
Which of these teachers are you always excited to hear from?
Who is sharing their experience from the perspective of a group you do not belong to?
Which teachers are speaking into an area of your life in which you’re drawn to growth or further research?
Which teachers resonate with you in your current season of life?
With kindness and gentleness toward yourself, reflect on the fruit of what you’ve learned. Not all those who present themselves as teachers are worthy of that position in the lives of others. Prayerfully examine what you’re learning from these teachers.
Have they led you in a direction of love, trust, faith, and humility? Or hatred, fear, shame, or pride?
Are they people of upstanding character who treat others with love and justice?
How do these teachers respond to challenges from others? Are they defensive or aggressive, or do they have an open posture of engagement and discussion?
Do all of your teachers share similar political, religious, or cultural beliefs, or is there a diversity of thought?
Spend a moment in gratitude for teachers of your past. Before closing, call to mind the people who made a positive change in who you are as a person today. Thank the Holy Spirit for speaking to you through them. If you’re still able to contact them, you might even want to take a few minutes to thank them.
This goes, too, for anyone you choose to unfollow. Perhaps you’re still hearing from a certain parenting account even though your kids are older now, or a therapy account even though you now have your own therapist for guidance. You can still show gratitude and, if you want, a note of thanks to these people even though you no longer need the information they’re sharing.
If you follow any phenomenal teachers, give them a shout-out in the comments.4
Dunbar’s number was developed by anthropologist Robin Dunbar in the 1990s.
A 2021 study debunked the idea of Dunbar’s number, but what they were really getting at is that we can’t scientifically quantify what the number is. The overall idea that humans have a finite ability to keep up with relationships still stands—though they did open up the intriguing possibility that people can train their brains to maintain more social connections.
I’m using teacher here to mean anyone who shares information, formally or informally. Maybe your mom has been teaching you how to cook through osmosis since you were a kid, or your best friend is teaching you how to walk alongside someone through tough times. It also includes professionals sharing their knowledge: nonfiction writers, therapists, scientists and researchers, faith leaders, and, yes, actual teachers.
Two of my favorite follows who are sticking around are Jonathan Haidt for philosophical thoughts on social media and mental health, and Shannon K. Evans for Catholic spirituality, womanhood, motherhood, and beautiful writing.
This is excellent, friend. Thank you for this wise post. Cutting back on the firehouse of info has been huge for my sanity!