TikTok Taught Me More Than School Did

By the time I graduated high school, I could recite the quadratic formula in my sleep, identify all 206 bones in the human body, and write a five-paragraph essay on Of Mice and Men with my eyes closed.

But I didn’t know how to do my taxes. Or boil rice. Or say no to pyramid schemes disguised as “entrepreneurship.” I thought credit scores were just vibes. I believed resumes were things that magically formed themselves when you got your first job. And I had no idea how to fold a fitted sheet.

Enter: TikTok.

Yes, the app better known for dance trends, lip-sync battles, and people who somehow manage to look both 16 and 35 at the same time. It started off innocent. I downloaded it during the pandemic “just to see what the hype was about.” Three hours later, I knew how to make cloud bread, contour my nose into a completely new shape, and detect a narcissist with the precision of a seasoned therapist.

Somewhere between the “for you” pages of cooking hacks and Gen Zers dragging Boomers, I realized something horrifying: TikTok was teaching me all the things school forgot.

TikTok 101: Real-World Survival Skills

Let’s talk about taxes.

Not once in twelve years of public education did anyone sit me down and say, “Here’s how to file your taxes without crying into a bag of expired Doritos.” But TikTok? Oh, TikTok had a whole genre—#TaxTok. There were CPAs in hoodies breaking down W-2s with meme references. One guy used a SpongeBob analogy to explain standard deductions, and suddenly, I understood the IRS better than I understood my own romantic relationships.

School told me “knowledge is power.” TikTok said, “Here’s how to turn that power into an LLC.”

Speaking of money, there’s also #FinTok—personal finance TikTok. One woman showed me how to set up a high-yield savings account. A teenager explained compound interest using boba tea. And a guy in a pink bathrobe yelled at me until I finally opened a Roth IRA. It was aggressive, but effective.

TikTok 202: Emotional Intelligence (aka Therapy)

Health class taught me about the food pyramid and abstinence (as if either was realistic), but no one taught me how to identify toxic relationships, set boundaries, or spot a gaslighter in a group chat.

TikTok? Different story.

There’s a licensed therapist who does reenactments of relationship red flags using stuffed animals. There’s a trauma coach who gives bite-sized tips on how to reparent your inner child. And there’s that girl who always starts with, “Let’s unpack that…” while sipping iced coffee like she’s about to ruin your worldview—and then does.

Thanks to TikTok, I now know the difference between a narcissist, a sociopath, and just a dude named Kyle who peaked in high school. Growth.

TikTok 303: Cooking for the Clueless

Home EC used to be a thing. I never had it. But TikTok gave me chefs, home cooks, and air fryer fanatics who taught me that garlic should never be sautéed on high heat and that seasoning is not optional.

I watched a 60-second video on how to properly cook salmon, and now I serve dinner to guests like I’m hosting a Food Network pilot. Last week, someone asked me what my reduction sauce was made of. I said, “Confidence and a recipe I saw on @ChefDaddyDan’s TikTok.”

They didn’t even blink.

TikTok 404: The Lie of the “Traditional Path”

If school was a GPS, it had one route: College → Job → Marriage → Mortgage → Crying in a minivan.

TikTok? It’s more like Waze. There are detours. Shortcuts. Scenic routes involving van life, Etsy stores, freelance writing, OnlyFans (no judgment), and making six figures selling Notion templates.

One woman made a million dollars selling digital planners. Another guy teaches people how to make passive income using vending machines. Meanwhile, I once got an A+ in Advanced Chemistry and still struggle to remember how many teaspoons are in a tablespoon.

But Seriously, Though...

I’m not saying school is useless. It gave me structure. It taught me discipline. It introduced me to the fine art of surviving on vending machine snacks and caffeine. But school also assumed I’d absorb life skills through osmosis. TikTok filled in the gaps—not with lectures or textbooks, but with humor, accessibility, and bite-sized wisdom that actually sticks.

It’s not perfect. There’s misinformation, grifters, and way too many self-proclaimed “life coaches” who look like they’re 19 and have never paid rent. But there’s also a community—a chaotic, ever-evolving classroom where people teach what they know, because someone else needs it.

In a world where student loans are endless and diplomas are no longer golden tickets, TikTok gave me something school never did:

A syllabus for surviving actual life.

And I didn’t even have to carry a backpack.