Our Story

I remember the cold first. The kind that makes your face sting and your fingers go numb even inside gloves. We were at the University of Maryland, somewhere in the middle of our Great College Tour Extravaganza™ — a whirlwind of campuses, endless highway gas station stops, and every admissions pamphlet looking suspiciously like the last.

By then, everything had started to blur together. Libraries that all claimed to be “historic and high-tech.” Dorms that smelled the same. Cafeterias pretending their food wasn't just microwaved regret with a side of fries.

That morning, campus was dead silent. It was a Sunday. No tours. No students out. Just us — me, my parents, and my older brother — shuffling through the cold like ghosts, trying to feel something. Trying to picture a future in a place that felt... empty.

After maybe the fourth or fifth building that looked like every other building, I turned to my mom and asked, “Why can't we just join a tour?”

“No tours today,” she said, scrolling through her phone. “It's Sunday.”

“Okay... but can't we just find someone to show us around? A student or something?”

She looked up from her screen and — totally casual, totally offhand — said,
“You should build that. Because it doesn't exist.”

And that stuck.
Like... really stuck.

Because yeah, sure, it would've been great to have anyone give us the real scoop. What it's actually like to live there. What students really think of the dorms, or if that one statue everyone poses with is actually cursed or whatever.
But also—
That was the moment I started thinking about my best friend-let's call him Jason.

Jason wasn't touring schools. It was too expensive, and his parents couldn't take time off work. I remember him saying, “I'll probably just pick one that looks okay online.”
And I felt gross. Here I was, half-complaining that I didn't get a tour, when one of the smartest, kindest people I knew didn't even have the chance to go see most the places he would be applying to.

That's when it hit me. This wasn't just about me feeling confused or cold or bored.
This was about everyone like Jason — who deserved more than screenshots and shiny websites to make one of the biggest decisions of their life.

So that's when the idea for QuadsU really began.

Not just a “what's it like” tool for kids with packed schedules and college tour burnout. But a bridge — something real, raw, and personal. A way for students to connect with other students and actually see what college life looks like, no matter where they live or what they can afford.

Because college isn't a brochure. It's people. And stories. And the kind of stuff you only get from someone who's living it right now.

Daniel