I’ve been there—I’m a first-generation college student who struggled, failed, and fell into the wrong career.

At 20, I floundered, directionless, through core classes at my junior college. Then, my father suddenly died at 51. I didn’t who to turn to for support, so I dropped out—for six years.

In high school, I’d dreamed of a career in journalism, but my parents divorced when I was 15, and they had no college plan for me, financially or otherwise. In fact, I left high school early and finished through correspondence courses. A secretary handed me my diploma.

After my abrupt college exit, I landed work with a skill my mother taught me when I was young: typing. She was a home-trained secretary back in the day and said, “If you know how to type, you’ll always have work.”

She was right. A doctor’s office hired me to type medical notes, which later grew into a career in medical transcription. I even owned a small business contracting with multiple doctors. By age 24, I bought a home, something even my parents had never done.

I should have felt successful. I turned my life around. Yet I was miserable and isolated. I’m an extrovert. Working from home was atypical back then. I didn’t choose this path. Circumstance chose it for me. Of course, I was financially stuck. I couldn’t stop working, and I couldn’t change careers without returning to school. But to do what?

Then, a turning point: I started teaching continuing ed courses on transcription at my local two-year college. That led to a part-time teaching job in the Health Information Management department.

Bingo! I loved teaching. Could I be a college professor? Not so fast. Professors need an advanced degree. I had no degree and an awful transcript.

I started talking to people at my former two-year college and at my incoming university. I hatched a plan to improve my transcript and get my education completed in record time. I worked full-time and in four years, I completed my two-year degree (A.A.), a Bachelor’s degree, and a Master’s degree in Communication Studies. After graduating, I landed a tenure-track teaching job.

So, I can relate. I've been in academic turmoil. I was stuck in the wrong profession. I didn't know how to turn it around for a long time.

But here's what that experience taught me: Traditional paths don't work for everyone. Systems can be navigated strategically—if you know who to talk to and what questions to ask. And sometimes you need someone who will do the research, make the calls, and build you a roadmap when you can't see the way forward yourself.

That's the support I wish I'd had. And that's exactly what I provide now.

I promised myself that if I ever reached my teaching goal, I'd become that support for others. Not a gatekeeper. Not someone who gives generic suggestions. Someone who does the investigative work, finds the alternatives, and gives you concrete tools to move forward—whether you're just starting out or starting over.