Beyond the Work
A few experiences that shaped me.
Meet Odin.
What my dog taught me
about learning.
Odin is a double merle. He's completely deaf and nearly completely blind.
The rescue had a hard time finding him a home — separation anxiety, chewing, not house-trained. We brought him home anyway.
I'd trained dogs before, including a few with disabilities, but Odin was different. So I spent time just watching — trying to understand his world before I tried to change anything in it. Eventually it became clear that touch was the channel he could actually receive. That's where we built from.
He responds to commands now as well as my other dogs, who have all their senses. They've learned to communicate with him through touch, too — which I didn't teach them. They figured it out on their own.
Not everyone learns the same way. Not everyone has the same capabilities. But everyone wants to be the best version of themselves.
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Get to know the learner before you design the lesson.
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Build around what someone can do, not what we expect them to.
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The system has to adapt too. Communication goes both ways.
A little more about me.
I grew up in Fayetteville, North Carolina — which means I grew up around the military before I ever chose it. My family has had someone in uniform in every major conflict the United States has been part of. Service wasn't something I decided to do. It was something I was raised inside of.
I later served two tours in Operation Enduring Freedom with the 101st Airborne Division. That chapter is a significant part of who I am.
Growing up I played soccer, wrestled, ran track, and played baseball. I was competitive — genuinely passionate about getting better, and stubborn enough to outwork the people around me. Oddly, I didn't apply that same energy to school. Not because I didn't love learning — I did — but because I struggled with being told how I was supposed to learn. Conforming to a standard format for something as personal as learning never made sense to me. It still doesn't. That tension is probably why I ended up in L&D.
There's something about bison that I find useful to think about. When a storm comes, most animals turn and run — which means they stay inside it longer. Bison turn into it. They move through it faster by going directly at what most things avoid. I don't know that I chose that approach consciously, but looking back at the decisions that shaped my path, it's a fair description of the pattern.
My career hasn't followed a straight line. It's been more of a lattice than a ladder — a lot of sideways moves that turned out to be the right ones, mostly because I said yes to things other people passed on. That comes from the same place as the service orientation: a willingness to go where you're needed, even when it's uncomfortable.
I'm a husband to Cassandra and a father to two boys. For a long time now, becoming better — as a professional, as a person — has been something I do for them as much as for myself. They're the reason the work has stakes.