Beyond the Bottom Line
Why Education Advocacy Isn't About the Money
"It's easy to make a buck. It's a lot tougher to make a difference." Tom Brokaw
Tom Brokaw's words hit differently when you're sitting in a small Western Pennsylvania town where "making a buck" hasn't been easy for decades. Here in the heart of the rust belt, where steel mills once promised steady paychecks and economic security, we've learned some hard truths about the difference between earning money and creating lasting change.
But maybe that's exactly why this region produces some of the most authentic advocates you'll ever meet.
The Economics of Authentic Advocacy
When I tell people about Candy Apple Advocacy, one of the first questions I get is about funding. "Who's backing you?" they ask. "What's your revenue model?" The assumption is that effective advocacy must be profitable advocacy.
Here's the thing they don't understand: we're not funded by anyone. We're not a non-profit with grant applications and board meetings. We're just two parents with a website and a startup podcast who reached our breaking point with systems that failed our children. The most powerful movements aren't driven by profit margins or organizational structures—they're driven by parents who refuse to accept that "this is just how things are."
In Western PA, we understand the difference between working for a paycheck and working for purpose. Our grandfathers built America's infrastructure not because it made them rich, but because it built something lasting for their families and communities. That same spirit drives today's parent advocates.
The Real Cost of Making a Difference
Brokaw is right—making a difference is tougher than making money. It's tougher because:
It requires sacrifice without guaranteed returns. Every hour I spend researching education policy, attending meetings, or recording podcast episodes is time I could spend on other things. Every parent who stands up at a public forum risks social backlash and professional consequences.
It demands persistence through failure. When you're trying to make money, you can pivot quickly if something isn't working. When you're trying to change systems that have been broken for decades, you have to stay committed through countless setbacks and small victories that feel insignificant.
It asks you to care more about outcomes than recognition. The parent who successfully advocates for better IEP services doesn't get a bonus or promotion. The community member who improves school board transparency doesn't earn commission. The reward is simply knowing that other families won't face the same struggles.
Western PA's Blueprint for Impact
Growing up in this region taught me something valuable about the difference between financial success and meaningful contribution. The communities that have thrived through economic transition aren't the ones that chased quick profits—they're the ones that invested in lasting foundations.
Take the parent in our podcast network who spent two years learning special education law to advocate for her son. She could have used that time for career advancement or additional income. Instead, she chose to become an expert advocate who now helps dozens of other families navigate similar challenges.
Or consider the fathers in rural communities who organized carpools and tutoring networks when their local schools faced budget cuts. They didn't form an LLC or seek venture capital. They just showed up, consistently, because their kids needed them to.
The Compound Interest of Advocacy
Here's what Tom Brokaw understood: while making money often provides immediate gratification, making a difference creates compound returns that extend far beyond any individual transaction.
When Skyler thrived at Commonwealth Charter Academy after struggling in traditional settings, the impact rippled outward. Other parents saw that alternatives were possible. His success story became evidence in policy discussions. His passion for technology, nurtured in that environment, will contribute to his community for decades to come.
That's the mathematics of authentic advocacy—each positive change creates conditions for more positive changes.
The Price of Not Making a Difference
In the rust belt, we also understand what happens when people choose short-term profits over long-term community investment. We've seen the consequences of prioritizing immediate financial gains while ignoring the social infrastructure that sustains communities.
The same dynamic plays out in education. When parents remain silent about problems because speaking up is "too much trouble," when community members avoid school board meetings because "someone else will handle it," when families move away rather than fight for improvements—we get the educational equivalent of abandoned factories and crumbling infrastructure.
Your Call to Choose Impact
I'm not suggesting that financial stability isn't important—it absolutely is. But Brokaw's wisdom challenges us to examine our priorities and ask tough questions:
Are we using our skills and passion primarily to increase our own wealth, or to address the challenges facing our communities?
When we see educational injustices, do we calculate the personal cost of speaking up, or do we focus on the community cost of staying silent?
Are we teaching our children that success means accumulating resources, or that it means contributing solutions?
The Legacy Question
Twenty years from now, when my son looks back on his educational journey and the advocacy that helped shape it, the financial ledger won't matter. What will matter is whether the adults in his life chose to make excuses or make a difference.
In Western Pennsylvania, I can see the remnants of industries that once defined this region. But I can also see the gardens that families planted in vacant lots, the community centers built through volunteer labor, and the small businesses started by people who chose to invest in their neighborhoods rather than abandon them.
These are the visible markers of people who understood Tom Brokaw's truth: making a buck might pay the bills, but making a difference builds the world we want to live in.
So here's my question for every parent, educator, and community member reading this: In the story of education in your community, will you be remembered as someone who made money or someone who made a difference?
The choice is yours. But choose carefully—because our children are watching, and they'll inherit whatever we decide to build.