Category: Things That Shaped me

When I went to college, I knew one thing: I wanted to play tennis. Beyond that, I had no clue. I went to an open house at NKU, and during the welcome session they told everyone to go meet with their major. I didn’t know if that meant I had to choose right then, but I assumed I did. And once I pick something… I stick with it. So, I chose education.

It wasn’t some deeply thought-out decision. It was instinct. But maybe it wasn’t all that random after all. Teaching runs in my family. Both of my grandmothers were teachers. My grandfather was a teacher. My stepdad was a teacher. I saw it up close.

It was my stepdad’s example that really shaped me. He worked in some of the toughest neighborhoods in Cincinnati Public Schools for over 34 years. I saw what true dedication looks like. I saw what it meant to pour everything into students, even when the system didn’t make it easy. I saw what it meant to care way past the final bell.

Every Christmas, he would go to Big Lots and buy a gift for every student—Barbies, Hot Wheels, hats, gloves, socks. And we would wrap every single one. Every single one. Because to him, every kid deserved to feel seen. To feel thought of.

He didn’t stop there. He planned field trips for his class—trips that weren’t just fun days off but literal windows into the world. Amish country. Farms. Cows, chickens, horses. Simple stuff, maybe to us, but for some of his kids, that was their first time outside the city. Their first time seeing life from another angle.

Watching all of this, I realized something. Teaching isn’t just about delivering content. It’s not about just doing your job. It’s about seeing people. It’s about giving kids access—to knowledge, to experiences, to care.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that open house moment? It wasn’t a mistake. It was the first step into something bigger. Something I was already being shaped for without realizing it.

Sometimes the things that shape us start as a guess. But they end up becoming part of who we are.

When I was 23, I was living in my parents’ basement. I had just graduated college with my teaching degree and license in hand, but teaching tennis was what I really wanted to do. At first, it felt like the right path. The hours were picking up and the income was solid.

But the days were unpredictable. Early mornings on court. Long stretches of nothing during the day (unless you could line up private lessons). Back on court from 4 to 7 PM most nights. The weeks were inconsistent.

I was making good money, but I was freeloading at home. Living rent-free in my parents’ house. My mom asked me if I could chip in for the bills, maybe pay a little rent. And I pushed back.

Looking back now, I honestly don’t know why I did that. I don’t know why I felt the need to push back, why I acted like I was above it. But it was the wrong move.

What happened next? I’ll never forget…

My mom came down to the basement and looked me in the eye and said, “You’re a f—king a—hole. You have two weeks to get out of my house.”

I stood there in silence.

How bad must you be for your own mom to say that to you?

It was that moment I had to look in the mirror and humble myself.
It was that moment I realized I had to say less.
It was that moment I realized I needed to grow up and be on my own.
It was that moment I realized I had been the a—hole—and I needed to change.
It was that moment I never wanted to reach again.
It was that moment I felt it differently—because I’m an only child.

How bad must I have been for my own mom to call me an a—hole… and give her only child the boot? A heavy dose of reality. It woke me up.

That moment shaped me. Iit was honest. It forced me to get real about who I was and who I was becoming. It taught me that success without humility is just noise. That growth doesn’t come from being told “you’re great.” It comes from hard moments—the ones that hurt and stay with you. The ones that remind you to be better.

That’s the stuff that shapes us.

I’ve been on several interviews the last few years. Am I a good interviewer? No. I try to be humble. I try not to talk about “Teacher of the Year.” I try not to bring up the book I co-authored. I try to be genuine. I try to be modest. I try to just be me.

And sometimes that works against me.

Through some conversations, I’ve learned two things about why some of those interviews haven’t gone my way: I’m either seen as “too out of the box” or they assume I’ll leave for something “bigger and better.” Neither of those things are my intention. I just want to do good work. I want to make things better for kids and teachers. That’s always been my goal.

And yet, I’ve got stories—interview stories for days, that still leave me scratching my head. Here’s one that’s stuck with me…

A few years ago, I had a screening interview for a teaching position. I showed up ready. At the end, the assistant superintendent told me, “You nailed that interview. The principal should be calling you next week.”

Next week came and went. No call. So, I followed up with an email to both the superintendent and principal.

I got a short reply: “I am sorry to inform you that 2nd round interviews have been scheduled. If you were not notified then you unfortunately did not make it to the next round. I am sorry to have not gotten back to you sooner.”

That one confused me.

Especially because… this was the same person who, just a year earlier, had DM’d me to say that their district would be “lucky to have someone of your caliber.”

It’s funny how education works.

I used to think accomplishments would help. That the resume would speak for itself. That being named teacher of the year, co-authoring a book, presenting, and mentoring might open some doors.

Sometimes they do the opposite.

This is one of many experiences with interviews that shaped me.
They made me think harder about who I am, what I value, and intentionality. I’ve learned that accomplishments and experience don’t always matter—not in the ways you’d expect. In education, things flip fast: one day it’s praise, the next it’s silence and being let down. But I keep working. Creating. Grinding. Sharing. And having fun.

Whether some recognize it or not.