My entire career as a software engineer has been built on one simple principle: for every complex problem, there is a clean, data-driven solution.
My job is to look at a chaotic system—a million lines of code, a broken workflow, a customer-facing bug—and find the signal in the noise. I build tools that organize data, automate processes, and make sense of the complex. I am, by nature and by training, a problem-solver.
And then, my oldest daughter, Amelia, entered high school. The college search began.
For the first time in my life, I felt completely and totally lost. My engineering skills were useless. I was looking for hard data—on cost, on outcomes, on genuine campus culture—but all I found was marketing fluff.
Everywhere I turned, I was bombarded with glossy brochures, breathless emails, and slogans about “vibrant communities” and “holistic learning.” It felt like trying to debug a critical system with no error logs. It was all “vibes.”
As an engineer, “vibes” don’t work for me. And as a parent about to co-sign on a $250,000-plus investment, “vibes” were terrifying.
The “Anxious, ROI-Focused” Parent
I quickly realized I was part of a club I never wanted to join: the “Anxious, ROI-Focused Parent.”
The anxiety was relentless. This wasn’t just a simple purchase. It was, quite possibly, the single largest and most irreversible financial decision I would ever make for my daughters, Amelia and Miley.
I wasn’t just worried about them getting into a “good” school. I was worried about them getting into the wrong school.
I had so many questions that the marketing slogans couldn’t answer:
- What if they picked a school for the “brand name” but hated the hyper-competitive, cutthroat culture?
- What if they chose a college for the beautiful campus, only to find its career services were useless for their major?
- What if they graduated with $100,000 in debt and a degree that didn’t lead to a job?
This was the “quarter-million-dollar mistake” that kept me up at night. I wanted to find a school that was a true three-way fit:
- Academic Fit: A place that would challenge them and have a proven track record of great career outcomes for their specific major.
- Social Fit: A community where their personality would thrive, not just survive.
- Financial Fit: This was the big one. I needed to know the real price, not the sticker price. I needed to find the schools that would offer significant merit aid.
My “Aha!” Moment: The College Tour That Changed Everything
I was stuck. So, I did what every parent is told to do: I took my daughter on a college tour.
We were standing in a pack of 30 other anxious families, listening to a charming student guide walk backward. He was telling a very funny story about the school’s “legendary” rivalry with another college. The campus was beautiful, just like the brochure. The sun was shining. The ivy was, in fact, on the walls.
But my engineer brain was screaming.
I felt like I was in a system that was designed to prevent me from asking the real questions. I didn’t care about the rivalry or the brand-new climbing wall. I wanted to ask:
- “What is the specific job placement rate for graduates of your Computer Science program?”
- “What is the average merit aid discount for a student with a 3.9 GPA and a 1500 SAT?”
- “What percentage of students graduate in four years, and what’s the average debt for families in my income bracket?”
I knew the tour guide wouldn’t have the answers. Those answers weren’t in the script.
And then it hit me. I was standing on a beautiful campus, surrounded by dozens of other smart parents, and no one had any real data. We were all being asked to make a quarter-million-dollar investment based on architecture, anecdotes, and the quality of the dining hall’s soft-serve ice cream.
I wouldn’t buy a $30,000 car this way. Why was I being forced to evaluate a $250,000 education this way?
I realized this wasn’t a “fluffy” marketing problem. It’s an engineering problem. The college search is a massive, multi-variable data problem that just hadn’t been solved in a way that empowered parents.
And as an engineer, that I could fix. If the tool I needed didn’t exist, I was going to have to build it myself.
The Solution: Building My College Blueprint
So, I did. I started building the tool that I, as an anxious, ROI-focused, data-driven mom, desperately wished someone had handed me.
That tool became My College Blueprint.
I knew I couldn’t just solve for finance. A cheap school that makes your kid miserable is the worst investment of all. The real challenge was to build a tool that solves for the person first.
My goal was to create a true, 3D model of a student—their passions, their values, their unique talents—and match it with the data from inside the colleges themselves.
- To solve for the “Personal & Academic Fit”: I built the app to look for real connections. It’s not about just finding a “Top 10 CS program.” It’s about finding the specific university that has a research lab in Computational Genetics that matches your kid’s independent study, or a school whose “active citizenship” mission perfectly aligns with the non-profit she founded.
- To solve for the “Social Fit”: I aggregated data on campus culture. Is this a “work hard, play hard” school? A “collaborative project” school? A “quirky and intellectual” school? My tool helps find the community where your child’s personality will thrive.
- To solve for the “Financial Fit”: This is the magic result. When you find a school that truly wants your child—because their unique talents and values are a perfect match for the institution’s needs—that school stops acting like a “Seller” and starts acting like a “Buyer.” They express that interest through generous merit aid. The financial fit isn’t a separate hunt; it’s the natural outcome of a deep, personalized fit.
My College Blueprint is my engineering solution to a deeply human problem. It’s the data-driven, fluff-free tool I built for myself, for Amelia, and for Miley. And now, it’s for you.
My Mission: Clarity for Parents
The college search process feels broken because it’s designed to make families feel anxious. It’s an opaque system that benefits the “Sellers” (the elite, high-demand schools) and leaves the rest of us to guess.
My mission is simple: to give other parents what I was so desperate for.
Clarity.
I want to replace that pit-in-your-stomach anxiety with the quiet confidence that you are making an informed, data-driven decision. I want to help you and your child find the school that is the right fit—academically, socially, and financially.
This isn’t just an app for me. It’s my personal mission. It’s the peace of mind I built for my family, and it’s the peace of mind I want to give to yours.