There’s a certain quiet resolve that doesn’t make the evening news. Press releases and viral moments don’t feature it. It exists in the early hours of the morning, between the end of a shift and the opening of a laptop, in the mental math of determining which child should be where and whether there is still time to complete a reading assignment before supper. Kayla Trapp has been leading that kind of life, and it has paid off this spring.
Trapp earned a bachelor’s degree in early childhood education from Arizona State University. She completed her coursework through ASU’s online program while working at Starbucks, raising two kids, and handling the kind of everyday logistics that would quietly wear most people out. Somewhere along the way, she relocated from Southern California to central Texas. Near the end, she enrolled in six classes per semester. To keep track of everything, she maintained four calendars.
Her story is remarkable not only because she completed it. It’s that even in the years when the pace slowed and the balance seemed unachievable, she never truly gave up on the idea that she would.
Not long after her daughter was born in 2019, Trapp started working at Starbucks. The Starbucks College Achievement Plan, a collaboration with ASU that enables qualified U.S. employees to complete their first bachelor’s degree through the university’s online programs with Starbucks covering the cost, was presented to her by a manager. It was more than just an educational advantage for Trapp. She stated, “I would not have had the resources or foundations set to attend ASU without Starbucks,” and there is nothing performative about the way she says it. It was the thing that made a long-held dream feel structurally possible rather than just abstractly hopeful. It appears to be unquestionably true.
Since her early years, she had known she wanted to work in education. She did have supportive teachers, but it wasn’t because of a single moment or a crucial one. It was more fundamental than that, she says, a sensation that stems from the sincere wonder that kids bring into the world. “Every new lesson is amazing to them and can be an adventure to explore,” she replied. That observation has an almost philosophical quality. For the first time, children are learning to live. adults attempting to keep up.
Her program’s early years were messy and non-linear. She found it difficult to keep up with her growing responsibilities at Starbucks, her studies, and her young family. At that point, a lot of people might have quietly forgotten about the degree. Trapp didn’t, but she did slow down until something changed in the spring of 2024.
She decided. full force, working toward completion. Each semester, there are six classes. Children were transported to events. The remaining hours were used to fit coursework. The most telling detail about the systems she created is the four calendars; it’s the kind of unglamorous problem-solving that truly gets things done.
She also completed hands-on observation hours with pre-K and younger children and took part in the Global Career Accelerator through ASU Online. That is the important part. There is more to early childhood education than just theory. Even before she formally entered a classroom, Trapp was aware of how deeply relational the work is. She had been feeling her way toward something for years, and the degree provided her with a framework and vocabulary.
She now intends to enroll in a teacher certification program in Texas and complete a minor over the summer. She claims to be eager to work with kids every day. There’s a feeling that this is more about relief than ambition—the relief of at last making progress toward the goal you’ve always wanted.
She also talked about leaving Starbucks with a genuinely complex warmth. She claimed that the company supported her during a cross-country move, a loss, her engagement, her marriage, and the birth of both children. It’s not a corporate talking point to say, “I would not be the person I am today without everything Starbucks has given and done for me.” That’s an honest account of how their life came to be.
There is currently a larger discussion about the use of technology in education, including AI tools, screen time, and whether or not students are becoming less patient and able to concentrate for extended periods of time. It’s an important debate. However, Trapp’s story quietly sits alongside all of this as a reminder of something more enduring: that a platform or a set of rules isn’t really necessary for the desire to teach, to show up for kids in the same way that someone once showed up for you. All it requires is a door that remains open for a sufficient amount of time.
