10/02/2025
My name’s Frank. I’m 64, a retired electrician.
For 42 years, I spent my life crawling through attics, wiring schools, fixing breakers, and making sure families had light in their kitchens and heat in their winters.
Never once did anyone ask me where I went to college.
Mostly, they just wanted to know if I could get the power back on before the ice cream melted.
Last May, I went to my granddaughter Emily’s school for Career Day.
You know how it goes—doctors, lawyers, a software guy in a sharp suit talking about “scaling startups.”
And then there was me… the only one in work boots and a tool belt.
When it was my turn, I told the kids:
“I don’t have a degree. I’ve never sat in a lecture hall. But I’ve wired hospitals, schools, and even your principal’s house. And when the hospital generator failed during a blizzard in ’98, I was the one in the basement with a flashlight, keeping the lights on for newborn babies upstairs.”
Suddenly, every kid leaned forward.
Their questions weren’t about résumés. They were real:
👉 “How do you fix stuff in the dark?”
👉 “Do you make a lot of money?”
👉 “Do you ever get zapped?”
(Yes. Once. And it’ll curl your hair.)
When the bell rang, one boy stayed behind. Small kid, freckles, hoodie too big for him.
He said quietly, “My uncle’s a plumber. People laugh at him ’cause he didn’t finish high school. But… he’s the only one in our family who can fix anything.”
I looked him in the eye and said:
“Kid, your uncle’s a hero. Because when your toilet overflows at midnight, Harvard ain’t sending anyone. A plumber is.”
Here’s the truth no one told me when I was young:
The world doesn’t run without tradespeople.
You can have all the engineers and architects you want—but if nobody builds the house, wires the power, or lays the pipes, those blueprints just sit in a drawer.
Yet, somewhere along the way, we made it sound like trades are a “backup plan” instead of a proud path.
But think about this:
Four years after high school, some kids walk away with diplomas.
Others walk away with zero debt, a union card, and a skill they can take anywhere in the world.
And when your furnace dies in January, it’s not the diploma that saves you.
A few weeks later, that same freckled kid’s mom stopped me at the grocery store.
“You probably don’t remember, but you told my son trades are important. He’s shadowing his uncle this summer. First time I’ve seen him excited about anything in years.”
That’s the part people forget—sometimes a kid just needs to hear their path matters.
That their future is not “less than.”
That we see them.
So next time you meet a teenager, don’t just ask:
❌ “Where are you going to college?”
Instead, ask:
✅ “What’s your plan?”
And if they say, “I’m learning to weld,” or “I’m starting an apprenticeship,” smile big and say:
“That’s fantastic. We’re going to need you.”
Because we will.
More than ever.
And when the lights go out, you’ll be glad they showed up.
