To the Class of 2025 — and to My 2010 Self

A letter to the scrappy, unsure, big-hearted version of me — and maybe you too.

In 2010, I was fresh out of college, trying to figure out how to turn passion into a paycheck. I didn’t have a roadmap — just curiosity, a work ethic, and a relentless belief that I could build something meaningful.

Looking back now, with a few companies under my belt, nonprofit chapters written, and lessons learned the hard way — I wanted to write a letter to that younger version of myself. The version who was unsure but driven. The one who had no idea what was coming but showed up anyway.

This letter is for him — and for every recent grad standing at the start line of their own story.

Dear Kenny (2010 Version),

You’re standing at the edge of something. You’ve got the degree, a few wild ideas, and a ton of heart. You’re not totally sure what’s next — only that you want to do something that matters.

I remember. I was you.

If I could go back and sit across from you — hoodie, iced coffee, big dreams, probably building a website on a secondhand laptop — here’s what I’d tell you.

1. Start scrappy, but think scale.

Don’t wait for perfect. Ship the thing. Try the idea. Build the deck. But while you’re duct-taping it together, start thinking about how this thing could run without you. That’s the difference between hustle and growth.

2. Your empathy is your edge.

You’re going to walk into boardrooms and pitches and meetings where people care more about spreadsheets than stories. Don’t shrink your empathy to fit in. It’s what will make you a great leader.

3. Making money doesn’t mean selling out.

You can do good and do well. Nonprofits, startups, agencies — all of them need fuel to run. Revenue is not a betrayal of your values. It’s how you keep the mission alive.

4. Say yes to the road trips.

Take the detour. Do the tour. Pack the car and drive across the country for a cause you believe in. Some of the best chapters of your life won’t show up on a resume, but they’ll shape who you become.

5. Job titles won’t define you.

You’ll be a director before you're 30. A CEO not long after. But the real wins? They’ll come when you stop chasing roles and start building systems, movements, and teams that outlast you.

6. You will be underestimated.

Because you’re young. Because you’re not the loudest voice. Because you use Slack and care about mental health. Good. Let them underestimate you. You’ll let your results do the talking.

7. Guard your energy like it’s capital.

You’ll want to do it all — and you might. But if you burn out, none of it lasts. Rest. Delegate. Say no to things that don’t light you up or lift others.

8. Every bit of it matters.

The 2 a.m. website rebuild. The failed fundraiser. The awkward pitch that gets ignored. All of it is building muscle. And one day, you’ll look back and realize: that mess became momentum.

9. You’ll lead in a way that doesn’t look like leadership.

You won’t be the loudest. You’ll care more about culture than control. You’ll prefer questions over speeches. That’s okay. That’s how things change.

10. Back up your files.

Seriously.

To anyone reading this on the edge of your career — maybe you're not sure if you're ready. Let me say this clearly:

You are.

And the road ahead? It’s going to surprise you in the best ways.

Keep showing up. Keep learning. Keep building.

We’re just getting started.

— Kenny Kane
CEO, Builder, Former Road Tripper, Forever Grad