In a world where sneakers represent much more than just footwear, Jay, a dedicated teacher and mental health provider, is harnessing their power to inspire and empower students. Through his “#FIREFIRDAYS” program, Jay creates a unique space where kids not only learn about self-expression and creativity but also gain confidence and life skills. By using sneakers as a tool for connection, he’s transforming the lives of young people, helping them find pride in themselves and their potential. In this story, we explore how Jay’s passion for sneakers goes beyond his personal style, it’s about building a sense of belonging, resilience, and growth in the next generation.
So Jay how you got into sneakers? Where did it start?
I love that question, honestly, my answer shifts depending on the kind of day I’m having. But if there’s one constant, it’s the bond I share with my brothers. That relationship has always been at the core of my connection to sneakers. As the oldest sibling, I was naturally given the responsibility of setting the example. I was the one who had to do things “the right way” because my younger brothers were watching. And growing up, I was always on the shorter side, which is probably why I’ve always appreciated the Air Max 90. That little bit of extra height gave me a boost, not just physically, but emotionally too. I was also a bit heavier set, and I cared a lot about how I was perceived. Sneakers became a way for me to express confidence, to feel like I mattered.
My parents couldn’t always afford the sneakers I wanted—the ones my friends had. I’d usually get one pair a year, and that was it. That pair had to last from the first day of school to the last. I remember always wanting a pair of all-white Air Force 1s. But for me, it wasn’t just about the clean look or the popularity, it was that little silver deubré, the lace tag. That small detail completely captivated me. By middle school, I was deep into Converse. I wore a lot of Vans too, and for a brief (and kind of hilarious) moment, even loafers, our school went through a whole loafer phase. But through all of that, my brothers remained a major influence. They pushed me, inspired me, and a lot of our best moments together were rooted in sneakers.
I’ll never forget when my middle brother was graduating high school. I asked him what he wanted to celebrate the milestone, and he said, “A pair of sneakers.” I was so proud of him. I said, Let’s go, and we hit the sneaker store, my first time really stepping into a shop that had everything. Up until then, we only shopped at Payless. That was our go-to—buy-one-get-one deals, lots of off-brand kicks. I wore Shax back in the day, no shame.
So we’re in the store, and he picks out a pair of Roos. They were wild. And I just looked at him and said, “If you’re getting a pair, I want one too.” That moment changed everything. It wasn’t just about the shoes, it was about what they represented. From that point on, sneakers became our shared language. Our way of showing love, celebrating each other, and staying connected.
So you pick up those roshes, you start to get the buzz about it. Do you remember some of the other sneakers around that time that you were into?
Yeah, specifically when it comes to the Roshes, I remember owning a pair of Hyperfuse Roshe Runs. I’ve always leaned toward a minimal aesthetic, especially back then, I liked pieces that could match with everything. That pair had just a subtle volt accent, which gave it a bit of edge without being too loud.
Then the Flyknits came out—and when Nike dropped the Flyknit Roshes, that completely changed the game for me. They were incredibly lightweight, easy to wear, and just felt amazing on foot. I had a pair of the grey Flyknit Roshes with a clean white Swoosh, and from there, I got into the Flyknit Racers, especially the 3.0s. There’s just something about that ultra-light, breathable feel that really resonated with me. It made every step feel effortless. And of course, I can’t forget the Oreo Flyknit Racers. Those were truly iconic. The colorway, the texture, the comfort—it all came together perfectly. Easily one of my favorites to this day.
So now your a teacher and mental health counsellor, how did your passion for helping people start?
It really all started in ninth and tenth grade, probably the toughest period of my life as a kid in school. I was searching for a sense of community outside of my home, trying to find where I belonged. Looking back, I wasn’t necessarily making the best choices, and I wasn’t in the most positive place. But during my sophomore year, I had a teacher who truly saw me. And that changed everything.
All she said were three simple words, “How are you?” The way she said them, the way she looked at me… I still get goosebumps thinking about it. Up until then, I was pretending to be okay. Pretending to be happy. A lot of the energy people saw in me came from a place of pain and loneliness. And when she asked me, really asked me how I was doing, I tried to brush it off, said I was fine. But she didn’t buy it. She said, “No, I see it. I see something.” And in that moment, I broke down.
That was the moment I realised I wanted to be someone who could impact others the way she impacted me. From that point on, I started taking school seriously. I started caring more, about connection, about being present. And now, working with kids, I’ve committed myself to being the person I didn’t always have growing up.
It’s not that my family didn’t love or care for me, they absolutely did. But they were working through a lot themselves. It was one of those situations where if you were going through something, the message was: You’ll figure it out. You’ve got a roof over your head, food to eat, there’s no reason to be sad. But as a kid, I didn’t know how to process the anxiety, the sadness, the anger. I didn’t have the words. So now, through my work with students, I feel like I’m healing that younger version of myself.
One year, an administrator encouraged the staff to bring their passions into the classroom, whether it was gardening, art, music, whatever it was that made us feel alive. The idea was that when students see you sharing something real, something authentic, that’s how you build meaningful relationships. That way, when you need to have tough conversations, about homework, behaviour, accountability, it’s coming from a place of love and trust.
For me, that passion was sneakers. So I brought sneakers into the school space. I started small—two chairs, a little valet box, and posted up during recess and lunch, cleaning kids’ shoes. At first it was casual, but then kids started lining up. Recess would end and I’d have students frustrated because I hadn’t gotten to their pair yet. That’s when I knew I had to scale it and create structure.
I came up with the idea of “Sneaker Passes.” I gave each teacher three passes and told them: highlight students who are showing up, students who are doing their homework, being kind, being helpful. Those are the ones I want to invite to my classroom. And then I added another layer: Give me the kids who are struggling too. The ones going through tough stuff at home. The ones who’ve experienced trauma. I want to connect with them.
And from there, it became more than just cleaning sneakers, it became a space for healing and real conversation. When kids are sitting across from you and you’re working on their shoes, the walls come down. They open up in ways I never saw on the playground or in the classroom. I got to learn who they really were. And that connection, that trust, is everything.
So from this original idea how did it expand to where you are now?
It’s honestly been such a wild ride. Since moving on from my original school, I’ve had the opportunity to work with 23 different school sites, visiting a new one every Friday. Today marked my 16th school visit and every single time, it humbles me in the best way. Cleaning sneakers with these kids isn’t just about the shoes. I always tell them: I don’t care what you wear. It might sound ironic, I’m literally sitting there cleaning their kicks but I make sure to remind them that it’s not about the brand or the price tag. What matters is the person inside the shoes. What matters is how you treat people, how you show up in school, and what kind of person you’re becoming.
Because at the end of the day, you’re going to outgrow those sneakers. But the values you carry with you? Those stay. I never want a kid to feel like they need a certain brand or style to feel like they matter. So I tell them: If it’s Friday and those sneakers are on your feet? They’re fire.
One of the biggest messages I try to pass on to my students: Your words have power. You might think you’re joking, but what you say, how you treat someone, can follow them for years. I know because I lived it. To this day, I still struggle with things like taking pictures of myself because of comments people made about me when I was younger. You never know how deep those cuts can go.
That’s why I say: It costs nothing to be kind. Nothing. Right now, I’m working with kids between the ages of about four and twelve, so roughly preschool through sixth grade. And I know I won’t get to see what kind of people they become when they’re older, when they move on to middle and high school. But I believe in planting seeds. I may not see the full impact, but I trust that something I say or do will stick with them. Maybe one day, they’ll remember those moments—getting their sneakers cleaned, hearing someone tell them they matter, just as they are.
So you touched on the cleaning side but how did you start moving into the creative side of designing and drawing sneakers?
Another piece I added to the experience is something that started out as a simple idea—but it’s turned into one of the most powerful tools I’ve got: the colouring pages. At first, it was just a buffer. Each school visit, I work with about 30 to 35 kids on average, and we’re always on a clock, usually two to four hours max during the afterschool program. While I’m having those one-on-one conversations cleaning a student’s sneakers, I needed something for the others to do. Something creative. Something intentional. So I printed out blank sneaker outlines and handed out crayons, markers, colored pencils—whatever they wanted. And I just told them: Design a sneaker that represents you.
What I didn’t expect was how deep that would go. These kids don’t hold back. The colours, the patterns, the stories behind their designs, it’s incredible. One kid designed a whole SB Blazer covered in flags from around the world. I asked him why, and he said, “Because we’re all different, but we’re all on the same team.” Man… it hit me. I’m sitting there thinking, this is the kind of mindset we need more of in the world, and it’s coming from a nine-year-old with a coloring sheet.
It made me realise, these aren’t just kids doodling on a page. These are future designers. Future storytellers. Future creators. And I’m just giving them space to see what’s already inside of them. And that’s what #FIREFRIDAYS are really about. It’s not about the kicks. It’s about the feeling. When the kids walk out of that room, they leave with more than just clean sneakers. They leave with their heads held high. They leave knowing they matter. And the wildest part? When I ask them afterward how they felt, they never talk about the shoes. They say things like:
“I felt important.”
“I felt seen.”
“It’s not what you wear, it’s who you are.”
And I’m like… Yes. That’s it. That’s what this is all for. On the surface, it might just look like a dude cleaning sneakers at lunch. But underneath that? It’s connection. It’s creativity. It’s confidence. It’s healing, both for them, and honestly, for me too. Three years. 23 schools. Dozens of colouring pages. Hundreds of conversations. And every Friday, it still feels like the first one.
Where do you want to take #FIREFRIDAYS next? I’ve seen people are now donating shoes! It’s great to see people come together.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what’s next. See, I haven’t always had the biggest online presence. That’s partly because of work, when you’re in schools, especially around kids, there are certain rules. So to some people, I might seem new to the scene, but I’ve been loving sneakers since forever. They’ve been a part of my story for as long as I can remember.
But man… the way this community has embraced me? It’s been unreal. The support, the DMs, the shares, it means the world. I just want to say thank you. Thank you for allowing me the space to be me. To show up not just as someone who loves sneakers, but as someone who works in mental health, who deeply cares about people, especially our youth. I want to use this platform to uplift others—and with everything going on in the world, that kind of love and positivity is needed now more than ever. And now, the next step begins. Just yesterday, I shared some news, I’ve officially been accepted into a master’s program for school counseling. That’s right. I’m going back to school. Because I believe in this mission more than ever, and I want to take #FIREFRIDAYS to a whole new level.
This isn’t just about me going to schools anymore. This is about turning #FIREFRIDAYS into a program, something that can live beyond me. Whether it becomes a nonprofit or a small business, I want to create a model that can reach other districts, other school sites, and bring in other sneakerheads who share this same passion. People who love kicks, but also love kids. People who understand that we can use sneakers as a tool, not for clout, not for flex, but for connection, self-worth, and growth. I want #FIREFRIDAYS to be my life’s work. I want to travel from school to school, giving kids that one moment in their week where they feel important. Where they know someone sees them. And maybe, just maybe, they start to believe a little more in themselves too.
But right now, I’m focused on something really important: getting shoes to the kids who need them most. Because here’s the truth, not every sneaker can be saved with a cleaning. Some of these kids show up with soles flapping. With holes so big they’ve had to tape them up. And no matter how good the polish is, they need more than that. They need a new pair. They need dignity. They need love. So this April, I’m asking for your help. We’re collecting donations, new or gently used sneakers in any size. If you’ve got a pair just sitting there, one you haven’t worn in a while, or one your kid’s grown out of, consider passing it on. Because for someone else, that shoe could be the first step toward confidence, toward showing up a little prouder at school. It could change their whole day. Maybe even more.
