Bridging Research and Practice: My Journey in Gerontology
I’m proud to say that I am now a Certified Professional Gerontologist. For some, that might feel like an odd announcement. I earned my Master’s degree in Gerontology back in 2009 from Georgia State University. I’ve been doing this work for most of my adult life. So why bother with a credential now?
Gerontology deserves to be named, recognized, and taken seriously. Aligning with other certified professional gerontologists and offering my unique skill set to the organization is one way I can contribute to that goal.
But, let me tell you a brief story…
When I finished my master’s program, the job search was eye-opening. I remember calling an assisted living facility, hopeful there might be a role for a gerontologist. The man on the phone paused and asked, genuinely curious, “What’s a gerontologist?” I explained. He said thank you. There were no openings. I hung up and just sat there for a moment, feeling the disconnect.
I realized then that I wanted a deeper understanding of aging — not just as something that happens “later,” but as a lifelong process shaped by people, families, culture, and community. So I went back for a PhD. I found my place in qualitative research because it allowed me to listen — truly listen — to the lived and hidden experiences of growing older.
My classroom changed shape after that. It wasn’t just desks and whiteboards anymore. It became community groups sorting through complicated questions. It became conversations with caregivers discovering new roles overnight. It became paperwork at my parents’ kitchen table, and phone calls with friends who were learning new responsibilities in real time. Life itself became the lesson. Gerontology stopped being only abstract concepts and became a lived curriculum.
Most of us working in this space have stories of systems that didn’t support us or the people we love — durable medical equipment that gets denied, respite care that doesn’t exist, choice without guidance, responsibility without acknowledgment. We know that the experience of aging is complex, layered, and deeply human. Yet as professionals trained to hold the subjective with the objective, our expertise often gets overlooked.
That imbalance — between what is needed and what is valued — is exactly why I joined the National Association for Professional Gerontologists. Not to become a gerontologist — I already was one — but to support the future of this profession. To say that expertise in aging shouldn’t be optional. That the complexity of later life deserves people who are trained, thoughtful, and attentive to the full human experience. To join others who are holding the line for older adults, caregivers, and care workers who deserve better — and for the profession that sees them as whole people.
In 2024, I received the Victor Marshall Fellowship from the Southern Gerontological Society. That recognition meant a great deal to me — not as a capstone, but as a nudge. It reminded me that research is only powerful when it reaches the people it’s meant to serve.
Which brings me back to the work I’m doing now. Cardinal Direction isn’t just a qualitative research firm. It’s a bridge — between research and practice, evidence and policy, lived experience and the decisions that shape it. It’s where the stories we collect become catalysts for change.
So yes, I am officially a Certified Professional Gerontologist. But more importantly, I am someone who believes that aging is a story worth paying attention to — and that those living that story deserve to be heard.