I didn’t become an architect just to design buildings—I became one to guide people through decisions that shape lives.
Early in my career, I had the privilege of working under architects who redefined what the role could be. They weren’t just designers; they were trusted advisors. They listened deeply, translated complex needs, and helped clients make confident decisions. That example stayed with me.
After becoming licensed and working across healthcare, K–12, higher ed and commercial projects, I paused to ask myself a harder question: What kind of architect do I want to be? That reflection led me to step away from traditional practice and spend five years as an Owner’s Representative, embedded with school districts as a third-party project manager.
That experience changed everything.
I sat in weekly meetings not just with administrators, but with the people who keep schools running every day—the person mowing the fields, the one replacing door hardware, the technician maintaining HVAC systems, the team managing district-wide technology. I saw firsthand how the hundreds of decisions made during design ripple out to affect all of them. Design isn’t abstract—it’s deeply operational, deeply human.
I also managed full project budgets, and I came to understand that stewardship goes far beyond staying “on budget.” Every dollar saved or spent has a direct impact on what else a district can provide for students. That perspective reshaped how I think about value.
When I returned to architecture, I brought that lens with me. I found a home at MOA ARCHITECTURE, where the culture aligns with what I believe matters most: humility, collaboration, and earning repeat clients through trust.
Today, I see my role as a guide and translator—someone who brings together diverse voices, aligns them with a client’s values, and helps turn them into thoughtful, lasting solutions. Whether it’s an $80 million new school or a $200,000 renovation, the responsibility is the same.
Designing for students and educators is deeply personal to me. Schools are workplaces for teachers doing incredibly demanding work, and they are formative environments for students. When a student walks into a building and feels proud of where they are, that matters. Attendance, engagement, and long-term outcomes are all connected.
We’re not just designing buildings—we’re creating places that can support opportunity, dignity, and a sense of belonging. And that’s work I care deeply about.