Why Forcing Every Kid Into College Is the Real Failure
We keep stuffing every child into the same mold, and we wonder why some of them break.
We portray college as the ultimate path to success and self-worth. But what happens to the kids who don’t fit neatly into that path? What happens to the kids who struggle in a system that has never seen them, let alone believed in them?
Here’s what happens—if they’re lucky—they get a lifeline.
The hum of saws, the clang of metal, the steady rhythm of hands shaping something real—these aren’t the sounds of failure. These sounds are the foundational pulse of unwavering confidence.
My Uncle John was one of those kids.
School was a battlefield. Every day, he waged a silent battle against shame, failure, and teachers who were unable to connect with him. By high school, it was clear he wasn’t going to “make it” the traditional way. But vocational school had just opened in Milwaukee, and someone—maybe out of hope, maybe out of desperation—enrolled him.
And it saved him.
He learned to build. Fix. Create. He didn’t just learn a skill—he learned belief. He possessed a quiet confidence that stems from knowing that one's hands can create something functional. That belief carried him all the way to the University of Wisconsin—yes, college after vocational school. He earned his degree and went on to design one of the first hydraulic backhoes. He traveled the world. Left a legacy. He became a respected name in the community.
He excelled not in spite of his hands-on beginnings, but because of them.
And then there was one of my students.
He was severely emotionally disturbed. His parents abandoned him due to his sexual orientation. He found himself compelled to live on the streets. He was too broken to be claimed by anyone. Too afraid to dream.
But I saw something in him—something creative, expressive, unpolished, but powerful.
I said, “What about beauty school?”
He gazed at me as if I had spoken of Mars. That kind of dream felt too dangerous. Too judgmental. The distance was too great to overcome. But I kept showing up. I took my place in his chair. Let him practice on me. Reminded him again and again: “You’re not broken. You’re gifted.”
He went. He graduated. He opened the most successful salon in the city.
Years later, my daughter was getting ready for prom, complaining that she couldn’t get an appointment at that salon.
I smiled.
“I know the owner,” I said.
She rolled her eyes.
So I told her the story. Called him. And not only did he book her in—he and his team treated her like royalty. She was treated as if she held significant importance.
That’s what happens when you lift someone who was left behind. They don’t just survive. They rise. And they bring others with them.
I’ve spent decades watching this same story unfold in different ways.
Kids getting shoved down a college track like it’s the only option. And too many of them stumble—not because they’re lazy or dumb—but because no one ever asked them: What would help you thrive?
College works for some. However, not everyone finds success in college. And pushing every kid down that path without ever considering their gifts, their grit, or their growing sense of self—that’s the real failure.
Let’s stop worshipping one version of success.
Let’s teach trades.
Celebrate skills.
Honor hands-on work with the same reverence we give to diplomas.
When you give the right kid the right tools, they don't just build a career.
They build a life.
Let’s stop pushing square pegs into round holes.
Let's begin empowering children to embrace their inherent identities.
Did someone give you a lifeline when traditional education didn’t fit?
Were you that person for someone else?
Whether it's about attending trade school, discovering a different path, or the moment someone finally recognized your potential, I'm interested in hearing your story. Drop it in the comments. Let’s talk about the power of being seen—and the courage to choose a different path.