Growing up, I didn’t think much about CTE or my district’s career center. I knew of it, of course — everyone did. But in my circle, and probably most others, the career center was for the unmotivated kids, the ones who weren’t “college material.” We’d joke, “There goes Jimmy, off to woodshop or whatever they do down the road.”

The ambitious students? We were expected to go to a four-year university, no questions asked. I never stopped to challenge that assumption, and neither did most of the adults around me. Instead, we loaded up the minivan and toured colleges across Ohio, where I had high hopes of partying being a model student for the next four years.

The “college-for-all” mindset was ingrained in my hometown. You didn’t just get a degree to get a job — you got a degree because that’s what you do. Any other path was destined for failure.

So, I followed the script. I went to college. I went to grad school. And, like many of my millennial peers, I took on student loans. A couple of years ago, I finally made my last payment, which means my alma mater will likely be hitting me up for a donation soon, right? It feels good to be done, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t questioned whether it was all worth it. Could I have taken a different path? One that saved me thousands in student debt? One that got me to the same or a better place, faster?

The answer is obvious now.

At my local career center, I could have explored high-paying career fields and earned college credits while still in high school. I could have graduated with certifications that made me employable. I could have gained skills that would have given me options — whether that meant entering the workforce sooner, starting a business, or being more strategic about college.

But I was clueless. And now, working with CTE leaders across the country, I understand the uphill battle they fight every day.

Most school districts have never had to think about marketing or branding the way businesses do. Many don’t tell their own story effectively, and they definitely don’t do it with the same urgency or competitiveness as higher education. Colleges have spent decades embedding a single message into the national consciousness: If you want a good life, you need a bachelor’s degree. They don’t just suggest it—they make it feel inevitable.

K-12 education has never taken the same approach to promoting CTE, even though the opportunities are just as compelling. The result is a branding gap that still exists in most communities today. Ask the average parent what their high school’s football record is, and they’ll know. Ask them what career pathways their local CTE program offers, and most will have no idea. Not because they don’t care—because no one has put it in their face as consistently and compellingly as the alternative.

There are 30 million jobs in the U.S. that don’t require a four-year degree but pay more than $55,000 a year. CTE concentrators earn 8% more by their mid-twenties than their non-CTE peers. For every $1 taxpayers invest in CTE, the return is between $6.20 and $12.20. Roughly 93% of high school graduates who earned 2-3 CTE credits enrolled in college shortly thereafter, with a high percentage also entering the workforce equipped with relevant skills. 

The problem isn’t that these programs don’t work — it’s that too many students never hear about them in a way that makes them feel like a first-choice option. Or, maybe they do know about them, but they’re not a realistic option due to transportation or other reasons.

We need to rethink what career success looks like. The question shouldn’t be whether students go to college — it should be whether they are on a path that makes sense for their goals, interests, and future financial well-being. Sometimes, that will mean a four-year degree. Other times, it will mean an apprenticeship, an industry certification, or an associate’s degree.

I wish I had understood this earlier in my life. Not because I regret my path but because I know how many students today are in the same position I was in — making life-changing choices based on incomplete information. If we do our jobs right, that won’t be the case for the next generation.