The Origin of Ed“I”cation
- Jan 3
- 4 min read
Updated: Jan 6

Why Learning Without Permission Became My Philosophy
Ed'I'cation is not a degree. It’s not a credential. It’s not a rejection of education, either.
Ed'I'cation is a mindset. A philosophy. And, for me, a personal revolution.
Traditional education implies being taught. Someone designs the curriculum, sets the pace, defines success, and tells you when you are “done.”
Ed'I'cation flips that model.
Ed'I'cation is the act of seeking out knowledge and teaching yourself—on purpose, on demand, and on your terms. It’s about learning because you need to, not because a system says you should. In a world where degrees often define worth, Ed'I'cation challenges the idea that learning requires permission.
This idea didn’t start as a brand. It started as a speech—one I gave years ago when I was still trying to reconcile my own relationship with formal education. I didn’t realize then that I was naming something much bigger than my own experience. I was giving language to something many people already live every day.
Why I Coined the Word Ed'I'cation
Let me define it clearly:
Ed'I'cation is the act of seeking out education and teaching oneself.
Get it?
Education: “I am going to teach you.”Ed'I'cation: “I am seeking knowledge.”
That subtle shift—the insertion of the 'I'—is the entire point.
My background and personal experiences brought me to a place where I had more questions than answers about formal education. I know many people who have bachelor’s degrees, master’s degrees, or are still in school. My path didn’t lead me to finish college, and as my career progressed—and as my children grew up—my views on education changed dramatically.

The College Fund That Disappeared
I grew up in a generation where college wasn’t assumed. You either had money or a scholarship. The average family didn’t send every kid to college. I did well in school. I was in the GATE program. I fully expected to go to college. Growing up, I always heard the story of how my grandmother had taken out a life insurance policy on my father. He passed away when I was young, and she had quietly set that money aside so I could go to college someday.
I was doing well in school, heading toward that college dream, when my mother hit a financial bind. She asked if she could borrow just a little from the college fund. She promised it would be paid back before I ever needed it. She reached out to her father, fully expecting that nest egg to still be there.
- It wasn’t.
-It was gone.
There was always an intention to replace it. But at 15—being the emotional, dramatic teenager that I was—my vision of college collapsed. I lost interest in school. I figured I’d go to City College on my own terms.
Life, of course, got in the way. I never made it.
Educated Without the Degree
Despite that setback, I consider myself highly educated.
I hold a senior leadership role in finance. I built a long, successful career through hard work, curiosity, and Ed'I'cation. Whenever I needed to know something, I dug in. I identified the expert, the book, the course, the system—and I taught myself exactly what I needed.
For years, I carried a quiet belief that not finishing college was holding me back. That someday I had to go back.
Then, after more than two decades of experience, something shifted.
- I crossed it off the list.
I finally said to myself: If 25 years of experience and real accomplishments don’t qualify me for the next role, then that’s not a role I want.
That decision was deeply empowering.
The Bias We Don’t Talk About
As I continued thinking about education, I began noticing another bias—one that shows up constantly in professional environments.
There is an unspoken assumption that smart, successful children are college-bound. I have two amazing children. Neither is currently in college. My oldest is highly creative and self-sufficient. She’s explored paths like tattoo artistry, yoga instruction, and owning a local coffee shop. None of these require a degree by the way.
Whenever I mention that she lives out of state, the first question I get is always the same:
“What school does she go to?”
When I say she’s not in school, the response is almost automatic:
“Oh, maybe she’ll change her mind.”
Why does she need to change her mind?
She’s living successfully—on her terms.
My son is a brilliant musician. He picked up guitar at around ten years old and can play almost anything by ear. School has never been his strength. Structured education has been difficult for him since he was young. And yet, I have no doubt he’ll find his path and succeed.
What School Often Misses
Both of my children attended City of Angels High School, a remote LAUSD program. Students take three classes at a time, complete them in roughly six weeks, and then move on.
Watching my kids work was eye-opening.
My daughter raced ahead and graduated early. My son moved at the prescribed pace. Both succeeded—because the structure allowed for individual rhythm.
Traditional schooling often asks kids to juggle six or seven subjects at once. I wouldn’t ask an adult to manage seven bosses, seven priorities, and seven competing deadlines every day.
Why do we expect children to thrive under that model?
What we often call “preparation” is really just exhaustion.
This Is Why Ed'I'cation Movement and Term Exists
Ed'I'cation is not anti-education. It is pro-learning.
It honors curiosity, adaptability, self-direction, and lived experience. It recognizes that learning doesn’t stop at graduation—and for many people, it never started there in the first place.
This philosophy began as a speech. It resonated because it named something people already felt but didn’t yet have a word for.
If you’ve ever taught yourself a skill…If you’ve built a career without a traditional path…If you believe growth doesn’t require permission…
You might already be Ed'I'cated


What I love about this approach is how it reframes learning as an active, engaging and fluid process. In traditional schooling, I became adept at absorbing information just long enough to regurgitate it for assessments. As an intellectually curious adult, my learning now is more exploratory—I follow lines of inquiry, go down rabbit holes, experiment, and grow comfortable with outcomes that might resemble failure but are better understood as practice or iteration. That process deepens my thinking and supports continual reflection, refinement, and evolution. It becomes part of my soul—the EdIcation is now a part of me. It’s a reminder that meaningful learning is less about the endpoint and more about the journey of becoming the best version of me.…