Trust-Ed: A Journey of Love and Purpose

How it all began... The Trust-Ed Story

I didn’t set out to create a company like Trust-Ed. It wasn’t part of some long-term plan or entrepreneurial vision. It all began with a series of rides—actually, many rides—with three remarkable kids. Their names were Mona, Noah, and McKenzie. Each ride changed the direction of my life profoundly.

The Beginning of a New Path

During my time at Total Transit, I first encountered the world of student transportation. My role was to lead business development. However, when I took over one of their school contracts, I discovered something troubling. The drivers transporting students, especially children with disabilities, were often unqualified. This realization disturbed me deeply. Parents placed their trust in this system, yet I felt their kids were treated as cargo, not as human beings.

Driven by a sense of responsibility, I made a surprising decision: I got behind the wheel myself. If I was going to oversee this program, I had to fully understand it. I needed to know what these kids experienced, what the job entailed, and what solutions were truly needed. That decision led me directly to Mona, Noah, and McKenzie.

A Deep Connection

Mona was the oldest. She was nonverbal and autistic. Often, she sat quietly, her hands moving and her eyes either on the window or on me. She made sounds and understood words, but didn’t speak. Yet, her presence filled the car. When I was having a rough day, she had an uncanny way of reaching up from the back seat to place her hand gently on my shoulder. No words were needed—just her presence. It was grounding.

Noah was full of energy. He was the middle child, often swinging between anger and laughter. His behavioral challenges scared many drivers away. But I saw a fighter in him. He had been labeled too many times and had trusted too few people. I knew I had to give him something to fight for, not against.

McKenzie was the youngest but often seemed to carry the most weight on her shoulders. She looked after both Mona and Noah like a second mother. Quietly, she corrected Noah, soothed Mona, organized backpacks, and answered for everyone. She was watchful and wary, but over time, she began to open up. She shared her dreams, frustrations, and one day asked me why I was still the one picking them up.

“You’re like… too nice,” she said, prompting a laugh from me. I replied, “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just worth it.”

Building Relationships

Each day, I picked them up for school and took them home. Over time, I came to know their routines, quirks, and what made them tick. They weren’t just “riders.” They were kids. They were people. Amidst the chaos that was brewing around me professionally, they became my clarity.

We created small routines that made a big difference. One of the most memorable was The Taco Counter. Initially, it was a fun way to manage their behavior. Every Monday, they started with ten imaginary tacos. When they misbehaved, I’d deduct tacos. By Friday, I’d tally their total and reward them with real tacos from Del Taco based on how many tacos they had left. This game turned chaotic rides into peaceful moments, sometimes even joyful. Ultimately, it was more about love, consistency, and respect than just behavior management.

Creative Solutions

I started this program because I quickly noticed Mona responded better to reward-based systems. Often, when I showed up for her, she would resist, sitting on the floor with her arms crossed. Teachers and paraprofessionals had to carry her to the car at times or offer her a cookie for the ride. We tried several tricks until one day, something clicked. The paraprofessional Mona trusted most joked about clocking out as we pulled away. After learning she lived nearby, we decided it made sense for her to drive the children to school every day. This arrangement paid her more during the commute than her actual job, and the kids loved her.

For the final month of school, I brought Noah to Mona’s school, and that paraprofessional took all three siblings home as she commuted in the same direction.

A Special Farewell

On the last day of school, I wanted to do something special for them. I didn’t tell them in advance. Instead, I surprised them and their family with a celebration at Peter Piper Pizza—paid for out of my own pocket. We indulged in pizza, games, laughter, and pictures. I even convinced the staff to treat these kids exceptionally well, turning in a few paper tickets for a full bag of goodies when only a couple of gumdrops were expected. It was a moment where every child deserves to be the center of attention, with adults around them celebrating.

A moment I will never forget occurred when the server brought out the pizza. I was about to take a bite when Noah grabbed my hand. I looked over to see him holding his uncle’s hand and reaching for mine. His sisters were on the table, holding hands too. Once we joined hands, they said their family prayer, blessing the meal. It nearly made me cry! We all knew these were likely our last minutes together, and that prayer held more meaning for me than any I had experienced before.

The Birth of Trust-Ed

That day was the last time I ever saw them, but it stayed with me. It was an unofficial goodbye and the start of a vision far greater than I initially realized. Those rides transformed from mere responsibilities into a calling. I began to wonder: What if all student transportation functioned this way? What if the people behind the wheel were trusted faces from schools or neighborhoods?

I didn't know it then, but those three kids laid the foundation for Trust-Ed. They provided me with a story I would carry into every pitch, every call, and every sleepless night spent building the company. In a way, they gave me my purpose. Even without a proper goodbye, I carry them with me on every mile Trust-Ed travels.

They weren’t just passengers.

They were the reason.