I bring psychology research and product thinking together to design learning that actually helps people.

I grew up with a lot of freedom. My mother encouraged me to decide what I wanted to do, and when I asked my father for advice he usually assured me that either choice was fine. My parents saw their role as a safety net: resources and space to explore. I am grateful for that trust. But I often felt alone in figuring out what to do with it, and I struggled with anxiety and self-doubt.

Holt names the cost. Asked to choose before I had the knowledge to choose well, I learned to read every disappointment as a verdict on myself: “There is nobody to blame but me. If I fail, it will be my fault” (Holt, 1972/1995, p. 73). Freedom on its own made me responsible for outcomes I did not yet have the experience to produce.

Brennan (2013) describes the piece that was missing: educators should “judiciously employ structure in order to amplify agency” (p. 190). Someone to help me understand my options, break an idea into steps, or reflect on a setback would not have taken my freedom away. It would have made that freedom usable.

Schooling widened the gap. Holt’s graduate students admit, “those other courses are graded, and we need those grades. So we’d better read those required books and let these books go” (p. 75). After years of exam-driven schooling in China, I had permission to explore but little energy or room left for it. Holt also warns against freedom used only to get students through conventional work more willingly (p. 71). When only pre-approved achievements count, children keep hunting for the hidden right answer instead of risking their own ideas.

This is why I design learning experiences. I want to build the environment I needed: real choices, and enough structure that a learner feels capable of acting on them. I see it as continuing what my parents started, one generation on.