I didn't find it. So I built it.
A few years ago, my daughter began the long walk towards college. I walked it beside her. And I went looking, as any parent would, for someone to help us find the way.
What I was hoping to find was simple: a guide whose only interest was my daughter — someone to help her tell her own story, rather than tell it for her. That kind of help proved harder to find than I had expected. And so I was left with a quiet question — what, exactly, would I be paying for?
So I did the unthinkable, and chose to do it myself. I read, I mapped, I learned — and turned our dining table into something resembling a research desk. The knowledge was all there, scattered about, waiting to be gathered. It asked only for time, and a great deal of it.
It was worth the time. She found her place — an offer from an Ivy League university, a place at one of the top three in the world for her subject, and three more from the global top fifty. But the part I hold onto is not the list. It is that each place genuinely suited her — and that the essays, the choices, the story, were entirely her own.
What I was left holding was something useful: a way through. Project North Star is that way through — the long road I walked, made into a short, clear one for your family.
What I learned on that road became a set of convictions. They are where everything here begins.