I remember sitting in front of the television watching President Obama give his first speech after being elected the first Black President of the United States. No matter what side of politics someone stood on, I knew I was watching history. I remember thinking that someday my grandchildren might ask me about that day, and I wanted to be able to tell the story correctly. I wanted to remember not just what happened, but what it felt like to witness a moment that reminded people change was possible.
At that time, my own life was full of change. My mother was dying of cancer. I was close to finishing my associate degree. I had earned my GED in 2013 and enrolled in college right away. My first granddaughter was about to be born, and my second son was getting ready to welcome triplets.
I was becoming a grandmother and a college student at the same time.
Going back to school as a grandma was not easy. I bounced babies on my lap while reading textbooks out loud. At one point, I was honestly worried one of my granddaughter’s first words might be “damn fractions.” But that season taught me something I still carry with me: adult learners are often carrying much more than a backpack.
Adult Learners Carry More Than People See
Adult learners walk through the doors of Adult Basic Education programs with families, jobs, grief, trauma, bills, caregiving responsibilities, transportation issues, past school experiences, and the quiet fear that maybe it is too late. And still, they walk through the door.
I know that feeling because I was one of them.
When I earned my GED, what stayed with me was not only that I passed the math class. What stayed with me was the shame I had carried for so many years. I had spent a long time believing the hardest parts of my story were the most important parts. I thought the things that had happened to me, the mistakes I had made, and the barriers in front of me defined what I could become.
Part of my journey included learning disabilities that I did not always understand or know how to explain. For a long time, I thought struggling meant I was not smart enough. I know now that was not true. I learned differently. I needed the right support, the right people, and the right opportunities.
That is one reason I care so deeply about adult learners who walk through the door already carrying shame. Sometimes the person no one expects to succeed is the person who simply has not been supported in the way they learn best.
Adult education began to change that for me. It did not erase my past. It helped me see that my past was not the end of my story.
The Net Matters
There are many people I could thank for helping me move forward, but a few stand out because they did more than teach me. They saw me. They guided me. They gave me room to stumble without letting me fall alone.
My college never let me stumble without a net, and that matters.
In education, people are going to stumble. Students will doubt themselves. Staff will make mistakes. Systems will miss things. Life will interrupt the best plans. But when there is a net, a stumble does not have to become a stop sign.
That net might be a teacher who explains something one more time, a staff member who helps a student fill out a form, a program that understands attendance is connected to transportation, childcare, work schedules, confidence, and belonging, or a community partner who sees adult learners as future employees, leaders, and neighbors instead of people who are behind.
The net matters because persistence is not built by motivation alone. People persist when support, dignity, and opportunity meet them at the right time.
Not Every Voice Gets to Define Your Future
For a long time, I thought my dream of working in education might be out of reach. I had heard things about what my past could prevent me from doing, and because I learned by listening to people, I believed what I heard. It took me a long time to understand that I had to be careful who I listened to.
Not every voice gets to define your future.
Even when I was unsure, I held on to hope. I told myself that maybe there was still a place for me. Maybe education was still possible. Maybe my story could become something useful. And slowly, it did.
Adult education opened the first door. Higher education helped me keep walking. COABE helped me find a larger community of people who believed what I was beginning to believe: earning your diploma is not something you should have to whisper about. It is something that should be celebrated.
Why Voice with Megan Exists
That belief is part of why I created Voice with Megan.
I am not creating this space because I have all the answers. I am creating it because I know adult education changes lives, and I believe the people closest to that change need to be part of the conversation.
For a long time, I thought I did not have much to offer because I did not have the right piece of paper yet. I thought because I felt “less than,” maybe other people saw me that way too. I know now that was not true. I was also wrong to assume every adult learner’s story was the same as mine.
That is one of the greatest lessons adult education has taught me: listen first.
We can never assume we know what someone is carrying when they walk through the door to earn their diploma. Every student has a different story, different barriers, different strengths, and different reasons for coming back.
Adult learners are not all the same. Their lives have different stripes, shaped by what they have survived, what they have carried, and what they have learned to do out of necessity. But one thing I have seen again and again is strength. Adult learners know how to survive. And when that strength is supported, guided, and given opportunity, it becomes something powerful.
Adult Learners Are Part of the Solution
It is time to stop looking at adult learners without the paper as a problem. We need to start seeing them as part of the solution.
Communities talk about needing a workforce. Employers talk about needing dedication, reliability, and people willing to learn. Adult learners are already in every community. They are parents, grandparents, caregivers, workers, volunteers, neighbors, and leaders in the making.
Some may not have the credential yet. But “not yet” does not mean “not capable.”
I have always loved working with people who may not have had all the experience on paper but had the willingness to learn. That willingness matters. People who appreciate opportunity matter. People who know what it means to fight for a second chance often bring dedication, loyalty, and heart into the workplace.
I am now doing work that, at one time, I did not know would be possible for someone like me. I have helped support adult education programs, worked inside systems, listened to students and staff, and learned how to bring thoughtful people together around shared problems.
That is one of my strengths. I may not always be the person with every technical answer, every policy answer, or every funding answer. But I know how to listen. I know how to notice what is missing. I know how to gather people around a problem and help keep the conversation centered on the learner.
My Promise
Today, I am a Membership Director for ConnectAble, and I get to work every day in a space that connects adult education, technology, student experience, and program support. I get to do this work alongside people who have supported my journey and believe in what adult education can become.
But Voice with Megan is personal too.
It is a place for student voice, advocacy, adult education, systems thinking, and the real human stories behind the work. It is a place to talk about what helps students keep going, what gets in the way, and what programs, communities, employers, and decision-makers need to understand.
I am not here just to make a living. I am here to make a difference.
My promise is to be honest. My promise is to keep students in my thoughts. My promise is to listen first, learn as I go, and speak from the place where lived experience and professional experience meet.
I also know this work cannot be done alone. Adult education needs teams. It needs learners, teachers, staff, program leaders, employers, community partners, advocates, policymakers, and technology builders willing to sit at the same table. It needs people who understand that no single person carries the whole answer, but together we can build stronger systems.
That is what I hope Voice with Megan becomes: a place to connect people, ask better questions, honor student voices, and bring intelligent, caring people together around work that matters.
I need help with this work. I need educators, adult learners, graduates, employers, community partners, advocates, and decision-makers who believe adult education is not a backup plan. It is a bridge.
A bridge to work.
A bridge to confidence.
A bridge to family stability.
A bridge to leadership.
A bridge to possibility.
So welcome to Voice with Megan.
Bring your story. Bring your questions. Bring your “more cans.”
We have work to do, and I believe we can do it better together.
