Life is Messy. So is Learning.
The last time I wrote here, I was deep in the world of spelt: its history, its quirks, the way it behaves differently from modern wheat. Since then, a lot has shifted, both quietly and loudly. I’ve been teaching, researching, re-thinking how I want to share what I know, and letting Breaducated grow a little more organically than I originally planned. Rather than jumping into something new, it felt right to start again from where my curiosity has been living.
2025 brought me quite a few challenges. There’s been a lot of personal turmoil mixed with the beauty of professional growth. I’ve been making major shifts in my career and personal path. That is terrifying, even under the best circumstances. But at the same time, I’ve been able to land partnerships to pilot multiple community based programs, have been in talks with nonprofits about my curricula, have gotten classes booked at an Ivy League institution, and have even booked a couple of private clients.
The thing no one tells you about creating your own project is that momentum is slow, especially in the beginning. There is no such thing as a straight trajectory, and learning how to let people see the parts of you that feel so personal is part of the deal. I have spent a long time over the past year learning how to talk about Breaducated, because this project is so deeply personal and important to me. Breaducated is not just a business or side hustle for me. This is how I learn, how I teach, and how I interact with the world. Breaducated is the “branded” version of my internal world. To feel like I’m failing in some way feels like a direct reflection of my character, not just the beginnings of a new journey.
So…. Why am I being so deeply personal on my own website to the entire world? How does this relate to bread or baking? Well… One thing baking, and especially breadmaking, has taught me over many years of honing this craft, is this:
Failure is part of learning. It’s the most important thing actually. Knowing what not to do is just as important.
Patience is a virtue. Something doesn’t look right or isn’t coming together the way you think it should? You might just need more time.
Repetition and consistency are the most important parts of getting good at anything.
And most importantly: perceived failure is not the same thing as actually failing.
What do I mean when I say that perceived failure is not the same thing as actually failing? I mean that mistakes happen. That learning is messy. That there is no such thing as a truly linear path when someone is developing a new skill or thought process.
“How does this relate to Breaducated?” you may be asking. This, in fact, is the heart of the mission of Breaducated. Baking is a tool for interacting with life. For interacting with subjects and concepts that feel scary when they’re on paper alone. Baking is a tool for learning that failure is not inherently negative. It’s data. Data for how we want to approach the same problem or situation next time. Data for what worked and what didn’t. Data for how we feel after any given situation.
Baking, especially in high volume and high stakes fine dining, has always been a form of “exposure therapy” for me and my inner gifted student who would cry if my report card was anything short of straight A’s. The lessons I’ve learned through bread and baking have gone far beyond technical knowledge. They have fundamentally changed how I approach the world. This is what Breaducated is about. It’s not about resisting or preventing failure. It’s about acknowledging that we all have to start somewhere. It’s about knowing that even the most well read person in the room still has something to learn. It’s about becoming comfortable with discomfort.
Life is messy. So is learning. 2025 taught me a lot about myself and what I want. It’s taught me a lot about what I want to share with the world. It brought me back to bread and baking in its most foundational lesson: there is always something else that needs to be learned.
