From Gas Chambers to Judges' Chambers

My Father’s Story Shows Education Isn’t Political - It’s Personal

A president wants to dismantle the Department of Education.

I can't stay quiet. Because for me, this isn’t just political. It’s deeply personal.

I began this topic on Linkedin and it struck a nerve— for me, but also for many others. It’s been reposted multiple times.

I decided to write more because education, in my mind, is the most important cause in the world today. Education is a gift that keeps on giving by empowering those who learn.

I’d like to hear how your education has impacted you.

For me, it all started here:

In 1938, two months before Kristallnacht, my father fled Germany at age 13. He didn’t speak a word of English. A generous but unknown sponsor gave him a chance.

America did the rest.

He drove a taxi to pay for community college. He was drafted into the U.S. Army and learned Mandarin. The GI Bill paid for the University of Chicago, and then Yale Law School.

At Yale, he discovered his calling: fighting for justice.

For 60 years, he did exactly that—arguing in courtrooms, defending doctor-patient privacy—he would even defend a Nazi’s right to free speech. He felt the United States was making the world better, safer, and more equitable.

In 2004, Kurt W. Melchior was inducted into the California Bar’s Trial Lawyer Hall of Fame. He practiced law until he passed away at 98.

His life was made possible by education. And mine has been shaped by it ever since.

I attended a French bilingual school in San Francisco, where I learned not only how to speak but how to listen—to understand what was being said, and what was not. That ability to read nuance, to listen across language and culture, became my strength. I studied Spanish in high school, Japanese in college, and eventually led global brands across Asia and Europe—from Nike to Louis Vuitton to Hyatt. Education didn’t just open doors. It gave me a passport to the world.

When I became a mother, I wanted to pass that on. My husband and I agreed it was our shared #1 value.

So when we moved to France for my work at Nordstrom, we enrolled our children in local French schools. My son was just five. I still remember his tears as I left him on that first day in a room full of strangers speaking a language he didn’t know. But he watched. He listened. And he learned.

Within months, he was helping his dad with French pronunciation. And when we moved again—to Japan—he and his sister adapted once more, learning Japanese at school while keeping up their French with a tutor at home. By the time my daughter started high school back in the U.S., she’d attended seven schools in four countries and spoke three languages.

Education wasn’t just something we received—it is something we lived. And something we believe in.

While in Japan, my husband helped launch a chapter of Room to Read to fund education for children in underserved countries. Our kids sold raffle tickets and hosted events to help build schools and libraries for children they would never meet. Because they knew: education changes lives.

“What did you learn living abroad?” my dad asked my children upon their return. At 16 and 13, they were expected to think, to reflect on their own experiences.

Today, I teach MBA students at UC Berkeley Haas, where we focus on the human side of global business—how cultural intelligence and empathy drive leadership and growth. For business as well as individuals. One student recently told me, “This course provided me with new insights, allowing me to become a better version of myself.”

That’s the power of education.

That’s what’s at stake.

Today, the U.S. Department of Education serves 50 million public school students, providing invaluable resources to families who would not otherwise receive them. Nearly one-third of college students rely on its Pell Grants while another 28% depend on federal loans. The international programs in language and global studies seek to strengthen national security and global competitiveness. The department rightly understands a diverse, multilingual workforce is better equipped to navigate our complex, interconnected world.

Dismantling it doesn’t just threaten a budget. It threatens our world.

It removes the promise at the heart of the American dream. A promise that every child—regardless of background—deserves the chance to grow, to contribute, to lead.

In French, éduquer means not just to teach, but to draw out. To nurture what’s already inside. That’s what education did for my father. That’s what it did for me. That’s what it still does for my children and for my students.

Let’s not let politics erase potential.

I believe everyone holds the capacity to grow—sometimes we just need someone to believe in us.

Like my dad once asked my children, I ask you now:

“Tell us, what did you learn in school?”