Heather Chatham

I attribute my success to finally understanding myself and learning to see what once felt like obstacles as my greatest strengths.

I was diagnosed with ADHD later in life, and that discovery changed everything. It gave me language for the way my brain works: the rapid-fire ideas, the ability to hyperfocus on what I'm passionate about, the creativity that lets me see connections others might miss. It also helped me embrace the things I struggle with not as failures, but as part of who I am. That self-awareness has made me a better educator, coach, and advocate because I know firsthand what it means to learn differently.

My success comes from determination the kind that doesn't quit when things get hard. It comes from outside-the-box thinking that refuses to accept "this is how we've always done it" as an answer. And it comes from deep compassion for others, especially for the children and families who have been failed by systems that weren't designed with them in mind.

At the core of everything I do is a belief that reading is a foundational right in the 21st century. Too many children and adults carry the weight of reading trauma, the shame, frustration, and doors that closed because they didn't get what they needed early on. I am determined to break that cycle by advocating for strong early literacy foundations that give every child the chance to thrive. When we get it right from the beginning, we don't just teach children to read, we change the trajectory of their lives.

Do the scary.

That's it. Three words that rewired everything.

I heard this advice at a moment when I was playing it safe, waiting until I felt "ready." But here's what I've learned: ready is a lie we tell ourselves while opportunity passes us by.

Starting my own business? Terrifying. Stepping onto stages to speak in front of hundreds? Heart-pounding. Advocating for policy change and putting my name behind ideas that challenged the status quo? Absolutely scary. But I did it anyway, and that has made all the difference.

Fear isn't a warning to stop. It's a sign you're onto something that matters. The scary stuff is where the growth lives. It's where impact lives.

So now, whenever I'm faced with a choice that makes my stomach flip, I know I'm headed in the right direction. And I tell everyone I work with the same thing: do the scary. Bet on yourself. Your future self is waiting on the other side.

Stay true to your values, especially when it would be easier not to.

As a newer founder and CEO, I've already faced moments where the easier path meant compromising what I stood for. Opportunities that looked good on the surface but didn't align with my purpose. Partnerships that could have opened doors but would have pulled me away from the work that matters most.

Every time, I've chosen alignment over convenience. I've chosen to build something rooted in meaningful relationships, genuine connections, and work that reflects who I am, not just what pays.

Here's what I've learned: your values aren't just nice ideas to hang on the wall. They're the decisions you make when no one is watching. They're the opportunities you walk away from. They're the foundation that holds everything else up.

So my advice? Know what you stand for before the world tries to tell you what you should stand for. Protect it fiercely. Build relationships with people who see your worth beyond what you can produce. And trust that when you stay true to your principles, you attract the right work, the right people, and the right path forward.

The career you're proud of is built one aligned decision at a time.

The biggest challenge, and the biggest opportunity, is the same: we are underestimating the most powerful years of a child's life.

In North Dakota, school isn't mandated until age seven. That means during the most critical window for brain development, there's no guarantee that children are receiving the foundation they need. The years between birth and age seven aren't just preparation for learning, they are learning. This is when the brain is building its architecture, when neural pathways are forming at a pace that will never be matched again. What happens in these years sets the stage for lifelong success.

Yet we're facing enormous gaps. There's a lack of accessible, evidence-based early childhood programs, especially in rural communities. And layered on top of that are deeply ingrained stereotypes that hold us back. The belief that early childhood education is "just babysitting." The assumption that parents should instinctively know how to build their child's brain. The expectation that educators already understand the how's and whys of early reading foundation when the truth is, many were never taught.

These aren't just misunderstandings. They're barriers that keep children from getting what they need during the years that matter most.

But here's where I see opportunity: awareness is growing. Families are hungry for guidance. Educators want to learn. Communities are ready to invest in their youngest members. The science is clear, and the research is on our side, we just need to get it into the right hands.

My work is about closing that gap. It's about making sure that every parent, every caregiver, and every educator understands the extraordinary power of those early years and has the tools to make them count.

Connection, growth, and hope. These three values are the heartbeat of everything I do.

Connection is where it all begins. I believe that meaningful change happens through relationships. Not programs, not initiatives, but people showing up for one another. In my work, I build partnerships with educators, families, and communities because I know that when we're truly connected, we're capable of so much more. And here's what the science tells us: connections outside build connections inside the brain. Every meaningful interaction, every moment of engagement between a caregiver and child, is literally wiring the brain for learning. At home, connection means being present, putting down the distractions and investing in the people I love. This value reminds me that none of us are meant to do this alone, and that relationships are the foundation for everything else.

Growth is non-negotiable. I'm a lifelong learner, and I ask the people I work with to stretch, learn, and try new things and I have to be willing to do the same. I pursue growth by staying curious, embracing feedback, and refusing to settle into "good enough." Getting diagnosed with ADHD later in life was part of that journey, choosing to understand myself more deeply so I could show up better. Growth isn't always comfortable, but it's always worth it.

Hope is what fuels the work, especially on the hard days. I've seen what happens when children don't get the literacy foundations they deserve along with the shame, the struggle, the doors that close. But I've also seen what's possible when we get it right. For me, hope means breaking the cycle of reading trauma. It means believing that every child can become a reader, that the wounds of the past don't have to define the future, and that our efforts today are changing lives. I carry that hope into every coaching session, every presentation, and every conversation with a parent who wants more for their child.

These values aren't just words to me, they're how I measure whether I'm living a life that matters.