That moment hits differently when it's someone you know. Not a statistic, not a news story, an actual kid you've watched grow up who did everything right and is now staring at a debt-to-income ratio that doesn't work.
And the thing that makes it worse is knowing your kid is two years behind that same outcome, on the same path, with the same assumptions baked in about what the degree is going to produce on the other side.
Most parents at this point go one of two ways. They either double down because they don't know what else to do, or they start asking the question they should have asked two years earlier: what would happen if we deployed this capital somewhere it actually produced what we need it to produce?
The second question is the more important one. And it's not too late to ask it.
I design products and build companies for a living, which means I spend my days looking at where things are heading. What I see is a world that pays people who can create value on their own and leaves behind the ones trained only to follow instructions.
So with my own kids, I prepare them for the world they're walking into, where AI is already taking the jobs a degree used to protect.
I have them build real things instead of collecting points. A newsletter, a small business, a project somebody pays for. The goal is reps creating value, not grades on a page.
I put them around people doing the same. Mentors who've built things, peers who are ambitious, rooms where the normal default doesn't apply.
And I let them feel real stakes early. A deadline that matters, a pitch that might get a no, work that goes out in public before it's clean.
The schools are doing their best, but they're built for a world that's already gone, and they can't retool fast enough to keep up with what's coming. I'd rather give my kids skills that compound than a credential that loses value every year.
I'm raising my kids to be capable, confident, and free in whatever comes next. That's where Not Normal came from, it started as what I was already doing at home. I ran it on my own four kids before I ever ran it on anyone else's. Everything in it earned its place by working on my own family first.
When I say Not Normal is an entrepreneurial operating system, this is what I'm pointing at.
Stage one is identity and foundation, with core values, a 90-day goal structure, financial literacy, and the first published newsletter. Most 18-year-olds have never been asked what they value or what they want life to look like at 25, and that question shifts how they move.
Stage two is skill and execution, with the six P's of value creation, a first real project with deliverables that ship, an affiliate business getting set up, and newsletters stacking up in public where people can see them.
Stage three is network and leverage, with a first client pitch, real job site experience, reading group discussions, and a peer group of ambitious young adults who push each other harder than any professor would.
Stage four is independence. By this point the student has stopped rehearsing for some future career, and they're earning real money, building real things, and operating without waiting for instructions.
That's the arc, and it's built to start the identity shift on day one, not after a far-off graduation years down the road. Each stage builds on the one before it, and a kid can feel the ground move under them as they go.
A year spent this way makes a different young person than a year spent in lecture halls, more capable, more confident, and harder to knock off course when the world gets uncertain.
I made a free walkthrough of all four stages and what your kid walks away with from each one, comment "BUILD" below and it's yours.
First, I'd stop trying to motivate them. Motivation follows the environment, so a kid who looks unmotivated is almost always a kid who's never been put somewhere that asked anything of them.
Month one, I'd get them clear on what they want their life to look like and build a real 90-day goal structure around it. I'd teach them to read the numbers, because earning power sits on top of understanding money.
Months two and three, I'd put a real project in front of them with a real deadline and real money attached. I'd have them publish every week, because nothing forces clear thinking like knowing strangers will read it.
By month six, I'd have them pitching real clients and running a small business that earns whether or not they show up that day. Around month nine, I'd send them to do something hard alone, a solo trip, a live event, a cold pitch.
By month twelve, the kid who walked in scattered is earning, building, and standing on their own, because the environment demanded it and they rose to it.
I've watched this sequence take kids who looked hopeless on paper and turn them into young adults their parents barely recognize, in the best way. None of it needs a gifted kid, it needs an environment that won't let them coast. That's the Protocol in order, and it's the same path I ran my own kids through first. I've watched it work on kids who showed up with nothing but a chip on their shoulder and something to prove.
The normal path treats earning as something that happens after. After the degree, after the internship, after someone finally gives your kid permission to start. Four years of preparing to earn before a single dollar shows up.
Change the environment and the timeline collapses. Inside the Protocol, a young adult is building toward real income in their first quarter, because the whole thing is designed to make execution the only option from week one.
Trey had an affiliate business running and his first solo client signed inside 90 days. Another student went from zero income to closing her first deal in week one. Same young people, put into a different room, with different results.
Think about what that does to a kid. The first time a young adult earns money from something they built, the story they've been told about needing permission falls apart. They carry themselves like someone already in the game, because they are.
Set that next to a 22-year-old who's spent four years preparing and still hasn't earned a dollar on their own, and the cost of waiting gets clear. The years a kid spends waiting are the same years they could be compounding. A kid who starts at 18 has a four-year head start on the one who starts after graduation, and that lead keeps widening.
The education system has spent 40 years convincing families that earning has to wait until after the credential, and if you're done buying that, comment "CHANGE" and let's get into what the alternative looks like.