With young people having access to tools like Large Language Models (LLMs), an extreme level of knowledge and competence is emerging at a much earlier age. This development is incredibly exciting and points to a future where the world might not be ready for what young innovators can do, but it is crucial to be prepared for them.

When thinking about the future, for instance 15 years from now, a new possibility emerges.

I want to be funding 11 year olds because some of them are going to be ready and the world's not going to be ready, but I'm going to be ready.

The Thiel Fellowship was started 15 years ago by Peter Thiel. After investing in a young Mark Zuckerberg, Thiel had an idea. What if instead of a young person going into $100,000 of debt for school, they were given $100,000 non-dilutively to pursue their own project for two years? The program looked for young people working full-time on projects, which could be startups, research, or non-profits. The only requirements were that they couldn't be in school or have another job.

Danielle Strachman explains the idea was to see what happens when people take a "left turn" while their peers follow the conventional path of going to college. This was extremely controversial at the time. The concept of an American gap year didn't exist, and the idea of skipping college was taboo. In fact, former Harvard president Larry Summers called it the "most misguided piece of philanthropy that ever existed."

Despite the initial backlash, the fellowship has produced some well-known figures in technology. Examples include Vitalik Buterin, who created Ethereum; Dylan Field, who founded Figma; Laura Deming, who works in longevity; and Ritesh Agrawal of Oyo Rooms, the second-largest hotel chain in the world. There are also indirect successes, like Chris Olah. He entered the fellowship interested in 3D printing but later became a top AI researcher and a co-founder of Anthropic.

The thing that I used to always say about the fellowship was this is a two year program with a ten year timeline. Like it's going to take us a long time to figure it out.

Today, people are starting to see the fellowship's incredible outcomes. When compared to top accelerators, it has some of the best results. Danielle emphasizes that this is even more impressive given the program's creative constraints. Unlike an accelerator like YC that can accept anyone, the Thiel Fellowship was specifically for people 19 and under, and they only selected 20 fellows a year.

Danielle describes the Thiel Fellowship as a "two-year program with a ten-year timeline." The focus was always on the long-term trajectory, not immediate outcomes like a demo day. This long view has proven correct, as exemplified by fellow Dylan Field, whose company Figma had its IPO 12 years after he started. This patience was necessary, as the program initially faced severe backlash. It wasn't just the foundation that was criticized; individual teenage fellows were publicly attacked.

What I want to say to those people now is shame on you. How dare you attack young people who want to make a really, really big difference.

Now, the narrative has shifted, and the program is viewed as an "overnight success, 15 years in the making." Beyond its direct impact on fellows, the program also changed the cultural conversation. Peter Thiel popularized the term "higher education bubble," which saw a massive spike in Google searches and eventually entered the common vernacular. This shift is now evident in families, with parents recommending alternative programs to their children. Even colleges have started to adapt, with some now including a checkbox for students taking a gap year. However, Danielle is surprised that four-year institutions haven't made more significant systemic changes, like offering two-year degrees. She notes that educational systems are slow to change, similar to how it can take a decade for neurology research to be applied in a classroom.

When the Thiel Fellowship started, it was the only one of its kind for young people. Now, an entire ecosystem of similar programs and grants exists, creating more resources. To support this community, Danielle helps organize events for both fellows and applicants. A recent change she's observed, especially since COVID, is a specific need for in-person connection.

What we used to hear in the past was I don't get to meet other young people like me. And what we hear now is I don't get to meet other young people like me in person.

Danielle Strachman contrasts her experience starting a highly structured charter school with the launch of the Thiel Fellowship. After seeing Peter Thiel discuss the fellowship at TechCrunch Disrupt as if it were a fully formed program, she assumed all the operational elements were in place. Less than 24 hours later, she received a call from Lindy Fishburne, who told her:

Danielle, the foundation has lost their minds. We're starting our first in house program and we have nobody running it.

Danielle found this approach nimble and creative. The strategy was to build the front door of the house, then build the rest of it as people walked up. This meant the program was built iteratively with the fellows themselves. For example, when the team noticed fellows were independently moving to the Bay Area, they began facilitating co-living houses to improve their experience. One of these houses, Mission Control, is still part of the community 13 years later.

Crucially, the team was given the freedom to build without the pressure of proving the program's success within the first or second year. Danielle wasn't even required to write progress reports, though she did so on her own initiative. This autonomy allowed her to embed her own philosophies, such as homeschooling and unconference principles, and create a program that was responsive and nimble.

When identifying talented young people, a key trait to look for is what Danielle Strachman calls "Dog on a Leash energy." This concept, developed after her book was published, describes an energetic sense that a person is straining against their current constraints.

A dog who's pulling on a leash doesn't need more food put down in front of it, doesn't need more water, doesn't need a longer leash. What they need is to be cut.

The role of organizations like the Thiel Fellowship is to "cut the leash" and set these individuals free, allowing them to see what they can do with all their pent-up energy. This trait is often linked to non-compliance. These individuals are not going to simply bow down to the system. They have looked at existing systems, from the inside or outside, and decided they are barren and not where they want to be. As a result, they are making a different choice for themselves.

Certain talented individuals can be described as "mutants" because they don't fit into typical systems. They often have unusual hobbies and interesting childhood stories, sometimes involving near-disasters like almost blowing up the house. Danielle Strachman recalls taking high school students to meet startup founders, many of whom were heavily focused on engineering. A consistent message emerged from these founders without any prompting.

It's not enough to be a geek. You have to be a geek who can articulate really well to anybody, where you can talk to your grandma at Thanksgiving about what you do, where you can talk to anybody and you can geek out with the geekiest geek.

This ability is called "hyperfluency." It describes someone who is not only deeply passionate and knowledgeable about a subject but can also explain it to anyone, regardless of their background. They can simplify complex topics without being condescending, demonstrating a high level of social and emotional intelligence. The Thiel Fellows Danielle worked with possessed this trait in abundance. She acknowledges a personal bias towards this skill, as both she and her colleague Michael have backgrounds in teaching and value people who can explain things well.

A key trait of the exceptional young people Danielle Strachman works with is an insatiable curiosity. They are people who have managed to keep their inner five-year-old alive, constantly asking "why?" When getting to know Vitalik Buterin, for example, she was blown away. Drawing on her background in intelligence and cognitive testing, she noted he was not just smart, but "at least two standard deviations out on curiosity," which is far out on the edge of the bell curve. This level of curiosity was like a different species, a "mutant."

To truly understand such different levels of a quality, you need direct, visceral experience. It is like trying to understand the saturation of the color red; you have to see different shades side-by-side to grasp the difference. You cannot just theorize about it. This relates to the idea that your standards are set by your experiences.

You can only conceive of the level of excellence you've experienced.

As you work with increasingly talented people, your own bar for what is possible keeps moving higher. Danielle believes the best is yet to come because younger people are tackling harder problems and reaching the frontier of knowledge earlier than ever. This trend is accelerated by greater global interconnectivity and access to tools like LLMs, which give young people extreme knowledge and competence at an early age. This leads Danielle to say that in 15 years, she wants to be funding 11-year-olds because some of them will be ready, even if the world is not.

Danielle's contrarian take is that all children are geniuses before the age of five. She believes our societal systems are what squash this innate potential, which is incredibly detrimental and painful to think about.

An education that doesn't squash a child's natural genius often starts at home. It begins with parents who are attuned to their children and foster their curiosity, rather than suppressing it. Danielle Strachman recalls a time when she was a nanny and let a little girl direct their walk. They ended up sitting for half an hour, simply observing stones embedded in some steps because that's what the child found interesting. The key was to follow her interest, not impose structured activities like flashcards.

This child-led approach extends to the physical environment. Drawing from Montessori theory, the home should be set up to give the child agency. For example, a water container can be placed low enough for a child to pour their own drink, and books can be on shelves they can reach. This isn't about buying specific educational toys, but about showing a deep reverence for the child as a human being and creating a space for exploration with real materials, reducing their need to always ask for things.

Reading to children from a very young age is one of the most well-researched, high-impact activities a parent can do. It's also important not to dumb down language for children. They are like sponges and will naturally ask about words they don't understand, which creates teachable moments. Danielle even uses a more advanced vocabulary with her godchildren for this reason.

An informal study of the first 60 Thiel Fellows revealed that a majority had spent some time in alternative education, such as Montessori or homeschooling. Even a short period of exposure to a different way of learning seemed to make a difference. While this might correlate with factors like having highly engaged parents, the principles can be applied in many situations. Danielle grew up in a single-parent household where her mother, who ran a woodshop in the basement, always encouraged building and making things. Lastly, a simple but important practice is for adults to be mindful of their own screen time around children, modeling presence and engagement.

A brilliant rule of thumb for technology use is: "big screens good, small screens bad." Large screens promote social interaction. Danielle Strachman recalls showing movies like Ratatouille and Ghostbusters on a huge screen at a camp, which created a fun, communal experience that sparked conversation. A big screen is something you can interact with and also easily walk away from. The larger it is, the more social it becomes because it is not being held and encompassed by one person's body.

Small screens, particularly phones, are different. Since the advent of features like the front-facing camera and Face ID, phones compete for your attention in a pernicious way. They often require direct eye contact to unlock, which immediately draws you into a dopamine loop and interrupts social patterns. For a young child nearby, the experience is confusing. They do not understand what is happening, they just know your attention is gone.

If you're sitting there next to a two year old or a three year old, they don't understand what's happening. They just know that you're not paying attention to them.

This attentional drain is real. A study found that simply having a phone in your pocket or on the table consumes part of your cognitive power, as you are subconsciously tracking it. Putting the phone in a different room entirely can make a significant cognitive difference. This is why it is so important to build healthy habits, like not having phones at the dinner table. Habits die hard, so it is crucial to start establishing good ones, especially around children.

For Danielle Strachman, connecting with the children in her life is about quality time. This can involve simple things like having a good conversation, building something together, or playing a game. She recalls teaching her oldest godchild tic-tac-toe for the first time around age three or four and being amazed by the child's cognitive leaps.

There were some times where she'd be like, 'Boop, I beat you.' And I was like, 'Oh, my God, you did. Holy moly. That's incredible.'

Danielle also focuses on creating a "highly saturated environment and community" for them. Her godchildren are often around the founders she works with, asking them questions about science. At community barbecues, people eagerly wait for a chance to talk to the kids about their interests, like rockets and space. This approach of bringing interesting people around children exposes them to a world of possibilities.

She extends this philosophy to older students as well. She organized a field trip for high schoolers to see the inside of startups, wanting them to feel the infectious energy and realize that careers exist beyond traditional paths. By showing them small, bustling companies, she hopes to demonstrate that they can pursue different kinds of work, especially in fields like engineering in Southern California, where defense industry jobs are common.

Emotional depth and resilience are key traits in young founders. This often emerges through their personal stories. Danielle Strachman recalls a young founder who candidly shared her difficult life experiences. What stood out was not a chip on her shoulder, but a sense of hope and a drive to build something so others would not have to endure similar hardships.

And I kept hope this whole time, and I know that I'm aligning myself in this positive path, and that's why I have to do what I'm doing so that other people don't have to experience things like I did.

This idea is echoed by figures like Nvidia's CEO, Jensen Huang, who has spoken about the importance of suffering in building character. However, resilience doesn't only stem from trauma. It can also be born from an intense, unwavering curiosity. Danielle points to Austin Russell of Luminar, who faced skepticism from his peers. They told him his idea was impossible, but he wasn't deterred. His motivation wasn't arrogance, but a deep-seated need to find out for himself. This drive to discover is crucial because the process is fraught with failure.

This persistence is similar to Thomas Edison's nearly one thousand attempts to create the light bulb or James Dyson's 5,000 prototypes. It reflects the Stockdale paradox: being unattached to any single idea working, but committed to trying different approaches until a solution is found. For many of these inventor types, this process is also inherently playful. It does not feel like a chore but rather like a child deep in play, driven by an innate desire to satiate an itch and keep going despite any roadblocks.

Sustaining motivation is a huge trait in successful founders, and it often stems from a personal narrative or a long-held desire to solve a specific problem. Danielle Strachman shared an example of a founder with an autoimmune disease who is working on a cure for type 2 diabetes. His motivation comes from a deeply personal place.

This founder is viscerally aware that he has one life to live, a feeling reinforced by multiple near-death experiences, including a bout with sepsis. This proximity to his own mortality keeps him relentlessly focused on his mission. Danielle notes the heart-wrenching thought that losing him would not only be a personal tragedy but would also prevent his vital contribution from reaching the world.

His focus is so absolute that he doesn't experience lapses in motivation. When asked what he does when he feels unmotivated, he said:

I am not the guy to ask this. I may be insane, but I just don't have that experience. I'm just so laser focused. I'm not like, 'Oh, I'd rather be doing something else.' This is the only thing he wants to do.

A key trait for some founders is being 'crazy crazy awesome', a term for when you cannot tell if a person is a genius or simply crazy. The investment is made while the jury is still out, with the answer often taking years to emerge. This quality often manifests in unexpected ways.

Danielle Strachman shares an example of a founder working on quantum physics who was traveling with his two cats in a hotel room. This was an initial oddity. He then explained his belief that he and his pets are quantumly entangled, allowing them to know when he's coming home. This willingness to share a strange, deeply held belief was a strong positive signal.

The fact that he's willing to share this with us... that's that sort of openness that we look for and that it's clear he really believes this and he might be right.

This illustrates a broader pattern. People with radical views in one area rarely compartmentalize them. This is often why such individuals are rejected by or leave traditional systems. They are seen as 'crazy' because they can't conform in one area while questioning authority in another.

Josie Zayner is another example. She completed a PhD but now does radical work in biology. She is described as an artist and provocateur whose medium happens to be biology. Her ability to navigate and ultimately leave the institutional system highlights this tension. Similarly, another founder who appears mild-mannered has stories of taking extreme personal risks, like a dangerous mountain hike. These hidden depths are part of the 'crazy awesome' profile. For highly theoretical projects, like fusion, where technical diligence is impossible, the diligence is simply the founder and their unique, high-variance traits.

When evaluating founders, the primary question is not whether their idea is guaranteed to work. If it could have already been done, it would have been. Instead, the focus is on the founder's deep expertise. They seek out people who can go for a beer and just jam on a topic like physics, demonstrating a profound knowledge of their field. The goal is to find smart, resourceful, or "wily" people.

This approach reframes the purpose of early-stage capital. The investment itself is the tool for due diligence, not the reward for it. The core philosophy behind a deep tech investment, especially a small initial check, is captured by a single question.

Oftentimes the way I think about our deep tech investing is, is this money well spent to find out the answers to these questions? And if the answer is yes, let's go, let's do it.

From a broader perspective, this type of financing is essential for progress. The entire ecosystem functions like a distributed version of Edison's lab, running thousands of trials through different founders. Even discovering that something can't be built with a certain amount of money is a useful outcome for humanity. This collective experimentation is a powerful and important way to keep moving forward.

A key trait found in successful fellows is being wily, cunning, or crafty. This is described as a mix of a refusal to quit, creativity, and a healthy irreverence for the status quo. Danielle notes that they used to use the word "quirky," but have shifted to "wily" because it better captures that irreverent nature. Wily individuals are the ones who will buck the system and be self-expressed.

However, managing people selected for these exact traits presents its own challenges. Danielle shares a story from the first year of the Thiel Fellowship. Coming from the East Coast, she was bothered when fellows didn't show up on time for events. A colleague pointed out the irony of her frustration.

So wait, let me get this right. You selected for a bunch of people who are anti-status quo and want to do something different, but you're upset that they didn't show up at one o'clock for this event? ... I wanted them not to be wily about our stuff. I wanted them to be wily about other stuff.

This highlights the endearing, if sometimes difficult, nature of working with highly creative, high-agency people. It can feel like living in a montage from a zoo, where you never know what will happen next.

Danielle Strachman's venture capital firm, 1517, was created to scale the work of the Thiel Fellowship. The firm uses venture capital as a tool to continuously back more young people over time. Over the last decade, 1517 has invested in 200 companies and provided grants to 1,000 young people, often in high school, who are building things. Some grantees even become portfolio companies.

For example, Ethan from the defense tech company Mach started as a grantee. 1517 gave him a grant to work on rifle ideas at his home in Texas, and later became his first investor with a $100,000 check. The firm specializes in being the first investor in people before anyone else takes them seriously.

While the firm's core thesis is backing young, non-degreed founders, they created a "thesis breaker" for compelling scientists who didn't fit the dropout narrative. This came about after a meeting with Ben from Atom Computing, a quantum computing company. Danielle recalls how impressive he was.

He asked us, 'What level of physics should I start at in this meeting?' And we're like, 'I don't know, high school.' About two minutes in, we're like, 'Time out. Let's go to middle school.' And then he starts talking again. And a minute later we literally said to him, 'Talk to us like we are the dumbest golden labradors you've ever met.'

That meeting led to an investment and the creation of a "sci-fi tech" bucket. This allows them to fund founders with advanced degrees who are working on ambitious, futuristic technology. Danielle is now most passionate about the intersection of these two areas: younger and younger people working on sci-fi tech. The goal is to find them on the "crazy awesome spectrum" and provide the resources to see their vision through. The host praised this mission as one that "drags the impossible into the possible."

The landscape for "sci fi" investing has changed dramatically over the last seven years. Previously, almost no one was writing early-stage checks for these types of ventures. Now, a whole ecosystem has emerged. This ecosystem includes fellowships and a greater number of investors, providing crucial support and leverage for founders in the space.