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Schools across the nation are trying to reduce chronic absentee levels. A recent study from The GRAD Partnership, Everyone Graduates Center and the Partnership for Student Success, finds that small and rural districts are recovering attendance rates faster than larger, more urban and suburban districts. 

The study reported that rural districts with fewer than 1,000 students brought their chronic absenteeism back to within 2% of their pre-pandemic baseline by the 2024-25 school year at about twice the rate as urban districts with more than 50,000 students. 

While some small and rural districts have bounced back, many districts across the country still have a long way to go to get back to pre-pandemic attendance rates. EdSurge talked with a deputy superintendent, a director of attendance and student supports, and an instructional coach at different districts nationwide to understand how they tackle the issue.

The researchers couldn’t find a clear reason as to why small and rural districts have bounced back quicker. California and Iowa accounted for over 30% of the small and rural districts that bounced back, despite taking two different approaches.

California opted for a larger scale approach, changing its absenteeism and truancy laws and investing more funding in schools’ pandemic recovery statewide. On the other hand, Iowa took the more granular path, offering technical assistance and templates to districts and using data to identify needs and increase attendance.

Finding the connection among the standout bounce-back states and districts is the next central research question, according to the study, which looked at 8,586 school districts across 34 states and the District of Columbia. 

A Proactive Approach

At Earlville Community Unit School District 9 in Illinois, School Social Worker Michele Fahrlander uses a proactive program to ensure attendance. 

“Because we are a smaller district, we are able to take a more individualized approach,” she says. That means family outreach centers on early intervention and consistent communication.

“We try not to wait until attendance becomes a major concern before reaching out. When we start noticing a pattern of absences or a decline in attendance, we make contact to try to better understand what might be contributing to the student’s absences and how we can support both the student and the family,” she says.

The program helped increase district-wide attendance from 62% in 2022 to 88% in 2026, with high school attendance climbing from 61% to 90%.

“We use several different methods of communication depending on what works best for each family. This might include phone calls, texts, emails, letters, or meetings,” she says. “The frequency of contact really depends on the individual student and their needs.”

For some, a single conversation and some additional support may be enough. For students with more significant or ongoing attendance concerns, “we increase communication and may have regular check-ins with students, attendance meetings, or develop an individualized attendance plan or contract,” she says.

Should a student’s absences increase, “families receive attendance letters at specific thresholds, including after five and 10 days of absence,” she says. “The 10-day letter also communicates the additional documentation requirements for future absences.”

Along with this general approach, “we also focus on creating positive motivation for students to want to attend school,” she said. At the junior high level, for example, Earlville Community Unit School District 9 offers the Not Being Absent (NBA) Attendance Incentive Program. “Students earn points for attendance as part of their homeroom team, which creates some friendly competition and gives students recognition for being at school,” Fahrlander says.

At the high school level, there are quarterly attendance incentive field trips for students who meet the attendance expectations.

“Overall, our goal is to combine positive motivation for all students with more individualized support for students who are at greater risk,” she says. “In a small, rural district, it is often easier to notice when a student starts to struggle with attendance because our staff know the students and families well. A student is not just a name or number on an attendance report.”

Reframe the Messaging

At Moline Coal Valley School District in Illinois, a small district serving about 7,300 students across 15 schools, Deputy Superintendent Brian Prybil focuses on the content of the outreach. He encourages a positive tone, with an eye toward building trust.

“For example, I had one principal who intentionally worked on making personal phone calls to the parents,” he says.

The calls were never scolding. “It was, ‘Hey, hope everything’s going OK. This is what Billy missed today,’ instead of building a punitive type message,” says Prybil, who is also the co-author of “Sixth Essential: A Playbook For School Leaders.”

There are many reasons for absenteeism, some of which schools can help families to address. With that in mind, Prybil says a key message in those calls is, “If you need anything, let us know.” 

Teachers can support that effort. “The number one thing for teachers is to build trust with their students,” he says. “Not every day is going to be perfect. But we can invest in getting to know our students and letting them know that we’re all in this together.”

In high school in particular, “it’s really easy to blame kids” for not showing up, he says. But as long as they are present, teachers can “try to be positive with them, try to build that relationship and accomplish what you can accomplish with the time you have with them.”

Automated Routines

Automating the logistics around attendance frees staff to focus on those human conversations.

Chris Miller serves as director of attendance and student support at the North Central Ohio Educational Service, which supports schools in multiple rural districts. Previously, as an assistant principal at a high school, he was in charge of attendance, and it was a logistical nightmare.

“It was difficult to keep up,” he says. “Every day, kids are missing, and your report that you run on Monday, on Tuesday is outdated already. And we’ve got to do it again and again and again.” When manual tracking proved ineffective, he built an app, Attendance K12.

With help from technology, “we’ve curbed the time on figuring out the who, and now we can spend people’s time discussing with families about the why,” he says. “That’s where the rural districts really have an advantage, because those conversations often fall on the ears of people who are familiar with [school staff].”

Teachers play a key role: Technology can help to track and manage absenteeism, but educators are the front line of remediation.

Rather than just focusing on missed work when a kid returns to class, teachers should be focused on “creating an environment that is welcoming when they return,” he says. “By creating that space that feels comfortable, it eliminates some of that return-to-school anxiety that sometimes builds when they start stacking absences.”

Coordinating a Strategic Effort

At Stanfield Elementary School in rural North Carolina, instructional coach Jessica Dunn approaches attendance response as a coordinated endeavor.

Rather than one person handling it alone, “we’re involving administration, the counselor, the social worker,” she says, with those efforts based on timely reports from a data manager. “We do it as a team, truthfully.”

When the team goes into action, it focuses on addressing the factors that cause absenteeism in the first place. For example, the team sends home bags of food that a church partner provides. “That alleviates that stress for them, and our counselor does a great job of getting those bags out,” she says. With one less thing to worry about, “they can focus on getting the kids here.”

While attendance is always hard to manage, Dunn believes the nature of a rural community makes all this a little easier. Teachers, counselors, and administrators “know everybody, they can connect to them,” she says. In a rural community, or a small school, keeping attendance up “is all about support, connection, and relationships.”

Every fall, teachers ride a wave of opening day energy into the new school year, and then that wave breaks. Educators have a name for the slump that follows: the October Blues. It can hit new teachers hard enough to make them question whether they belong in the profession at all. The harder question is whether anything can soften the landing, or whether every teacher simply has to wait it out.

A Rookie Who Never Saw It Coming

Mike Anderson is an educational consultant, a former classroom teacher and the author of Rekindle Your Professional Fire.” He knows the slump from the inside, because his own first year of teaching came with a schedule that would have flattened almost anyone. At 22, he taught fourth grade all day, then raced off to coach two swim teams, with weekend meets on top. He was working more than 100 hours a week, and he never put a name on why he felt so run down.

He later watched a group of struggling teachers in Fairfax County, Virginia, and returned the following fall to find the teachers looking like different people. Their explanation caught him off guard. Later, a year-long tally of lost minutes forced him to rethink what was really wearing him down.

Start Small, Then Ask for Help

Mike’s advice for anyone in the thick of it is to skip the big overhaul. Name the one thing dragging you down, then pick a single bite-sized step that fits. Low on energy? Drink a tall glass of water before the morning coffee. Feeling alone in a building full of people? Commit to a 10 minute walk and talk with a colleague a few afternoons a week.

A slump that lingers is a different story. If the low feeling lasts more than a couple of weeks, Mike says it’s time to reach out to a mentor, an administrator, or a trusted colleague.

What School Leaders Can Do Beyond Snacks and Thank Yous

After a year of logging every drill, meeting and assembly that cut into his teaching time, Mike found he had lost more than 30 instructional days, about a sixth of the school year. He emailed the numbers to his superintendent and got a polite note of appreciation in return. Even so, the exercise showed him that his sense of falling behind was not a personal failing.

For school leaders, Mike points past one-time gestures like a staff appreciation breakfast. He encourages them to build autonomy, competence, purpose, belonging, curiosity, and fun into the daily and weekly rhythm of the school. Opening a staff meeting with a few minutes for teachers to share successes is one small place to start.

Listen to the episode.

Stories Mentioned in This Episode

The “October Blues” Are Coming. Here’s How Teachers Can Beat Them, by Ira Apfel

This Week with EdSurge is a weekly podcast from EdSurge. Subscribe to the EdSurge newsletters for more news and analysis on education and technology.

Can Schools Trust AI Add-Ons?

Edtech vendors are swiftly integrating AI features into new and existing instructional materials, often claiming that the features are educationally effective. EdReports, an independent nonprofit that reviews K-12 curriculum, recently went looking for the evidence behind those claims. What it found raises hard questions for any district leader weighing an edtech purchase this fall.

What Happens When the Teacher Doesn’t Have a Say?

Some AI tools let a teacher review content before students see it, while others put that content directly in front of students in real time. Courtney Allison, the chief academic officer of EdReports, spent 15 years with the New York City Department of Education, including time as a middle school math teacher. She explains why the old line between core and supplemental materials is starting to disappear, and weighs in on AI tutors giving every student a different lesson. She also tackles whether it is fair to ask vendors for proof when generative AI has only been widely available for a few years.

A Former Chancellor in the Buyer’s Seat

Someone has to decide which AI products deserve a place in classrooms, and that responsibility often falls on districts. Dr. Lewis Ferebee joined EdReports as CEO this summer after becoming the longest serving chancellor in the history of DC Public Schools. He brings a district leader’s perspective to the question of who should be checking these products and who should pay for that work. He also shares the questions he would ask a vendor sitting across the table.

Listen to the episode:

Stories Mentioned in This Episode

AI in K-12 Instructional Materials: What We’re Seeing by EdReports

This Week with EdSurge is a weekly podcast from EdSurge. Subscribe to the EdSurge newsletters for more news and analysis on education and technology.

Artificial intelligence (AI) is often framed solely as a productivity tool for education leaders. While it does help in that capacity, I believe we are measuring AI’s value against the wrong metric.

School leaders do not simply face a shortage of time. We are facing a shortage of uninterrupted attention to our tasks at hand. Each day brings a relentless cycle of fragmented focus, decision fatigue, compliance demands and communication priorities that quietly erode the mental space needed for meaningful work – instructional leadership, relationship building and strategic systems thinking.

As a principal in a large Virginia school division (district), I have found that AI’s greatest benefit is not writing emails faster or summarizing meetings. It is reducing cognitive load so I can be more present in classrooms, coach leaders more intentionally and make better decisions when they matter most. 

My Commute as a Sounding Board

Every morning, I commute approximately one hour each way to and from school. Before I began using AI, that time was divided between listening to a streaming service, mentally replaying difficult conversations and trying to remember the priorities waiting for me when I arrived. The drive was full, but it was not always reflective or productive.

Now, when conditions allow and I can use hands-free technology safely, I use ChatGPT’s voice conversation feature to turn part of my commute into a structured space for reflection and preparation. On the way to school, I might talk through the day’s priorities, anticipate a challenging conversation or identify questions to consider before a meeting. On the way home, I might process a difficult interaction, examine what went well and identify one next step for the following day. 

To get the most out of these conversations, I prompt ChatGPT to draw on key leadership frameworks such as Courageous Conversations, Cognitive Coaching and Deloitte’s Courageous Principals — acting as a thought partner to refine my approach. For example, before a sensitive staff discussion, I might prompt: “Act as a cognitive coach grounded in Courageous Conversations principles. Help me outline open-ended questions to address performance concerns while maintaining trust.” 

On the return drive, I might ask: “Help me process today’s leadership meeting using Deloitte’s Courageous Principals lens. What blind spots should I reflect on, and what key follow-up action should I prioritize for tomorrow?”

The value is not that ChatGPT gives me a perfect answer. Speaking aloud to a responsive thought partner helps me slow down and organize my thinking before I walk through the school doors. During the school day, I use ChatGPT selectively to synthesize information, process experiences and coach my thinking between competing responsibilities. After a meeting or classroom visit, I can drop in a few nonconfidential notes to identify patterns in teacher or student behavior, clarify next steps or prepare for a follow-up conversation.

I also use Gemini for image creation and custom Gems to streamline walk-through feedback. Because my school is under a Comprehensive Support and Improvement order, providing immediate, actionable insights following daily classroom and grade-level visits is essential.

These AI tools do not replace the human coaching relationships I am fortunate to have; they supplement them. Trusted colleagues and coaches offer professional judgment, context, challenge and care. Conversational AI simply provides a low-stakes sounding board between formal coaching sessions, helping me return to those human relationships more centered.

To be clear, I never input confidential student or personnel information into AI. I use these tools strictly in ways that protect privacy, ensure accuracy and maintain human accountability. Establishing these guardrails helped me transition from using AI merely as a personal productivity aid to leveraging it to support stronger routines and shared learning across our leadership team. 

From Weekly Execution to Universal Design

As I became more comfortable using AI every day as a principal, I moved from one-time prompts to repeatable workflows. In leadership, those tasks include drafting communications, synthesizing evidence, organizing meeting notes, preparing feedback and differentiating messages for different audiences. Instead of asking AI to complete an isolated task, I am building systems around the work that takes a significant cognitive load.

For my weekly work, I rely on custom AI projects to organize recurring materials, think through priorities and create first-pass summaries that I can review and refine. 

One of the most transformative shifts has been how I approach communication using tools such as Gemini Notebook. Weekly principal messages can become text-heavy and hard for busy staff members to digest. To practice what we teach about Universal Design for Learning, I use Gemini Notebook to transform my messages into podcast-style audio overviews. Instead of receiving only a dense memo, staff members have access to a quick, 90-second to two-minute overview.

This gives staff another way to engage with important information. It also reminds me that communication is not complete simply because information has been sent. Communication is successful when people can access, understand and use what they receive.

Using AI with the evidence and documents in front of me has also been valuable when making leadership decisions. Rather than asking for generic advice, I can ask for work-aligned insight by providing approved materials such as school improvement documents, assessment summaries, staff feedback, observation notes or professional learning resources. AI can help identify patterns, gaps, contradictions and questions that require further investigation.

This helps me show up to leadership meetings with a clearer picture of the evidence and better questions for my team. The decisions about what to do next still belong to me and to the people closest to the work. AI can organize the evidence, but it cannot replace professional knowledge, context or accountability.

From Individual Experimentation to Shared Professional Learning 

My school division’s investment in artificial intelligence has moved my use from private experimentation to shared professional learning. Through professional learning, partnerships and access to approved tools, I have developed workflows that prioritize data privacy, protection and responsible use. 

During our school’s leadership kickoff session, “AI in Action 201: Custom Gems, Projects, and Powerful Learning Design,” I learned workflows that I have adapted to improve my day-to-day messaging, communication and leadership routines. I have also shared these workflows with my principal peers so they can consider how similar tools might support their own practice and leadership.

As a lead learner, I am working to model thoughtful and responsible AI use for my assistant principals and leadership team, with the goal of eventually helping teachers and students use AI as a tool for reflection, creativity and learning. The division’s approach has helped me think more clearly about guardrails: using division-supported tools and approved environments, protecting confidential information, verifying AI-generated content and centering professional judgment and human accountability.

The value of these AI workflows is not that they make leadership less demanding. Schools are still complex, human organizations, and the most important work cannot be automated. The difference is that they bring me greater clarity. When AI helps me organize competing priorities, synthesize information or prepare for a difficult conversation, I can listen more carefully, notice who has not spoken in a discussion and respond with greater patience.

That additional capacity changes what people experience from me as their school leader. Staff members see a leader who is more prepared and present in meetings. Students see a principal who can focus more fully during walk-throughs, classroom visits and school events. Families see a leader who has more patience and attention for their questions and concerns.

Making Space for More Human Leadership 

As I have grown in my AI journey, my perspective has shifted. I am no longer looking at AI to determine how many minutes it can cut from my task list. I am asking: How can I use it so I can invest more deeply in relationships, empowerment and presence?

Using AI requires discipline. Responsible AI use is not about surrendering judgment to a tool. It is about using the tool to create more space for judgment.

When AI helps offload low-value administrative friction, we reclaim the mental bandwidth required to notice the small human elements. We regain the energy to lean into empathy, walk the hallways with our eyes up and truly listen to the staff, students and families we serve.

The next time we evaluate a new tool or workflow, let us do more than ask what administrative task it can automate. Let us also ask what relationship it can protect, what decision it can help us consider more carefully and what kind of leadership it makes possible.

The scarce resource in school leadership is not simply time; it is attention. It is the ability to be fully present for the people and decisions that matter most. 

If AI can help us make better use of our time and reduce the cognitive load that competes for our attention, then its greatest contribution is not greater efficiency; it is more present, human leadership.

Learning Commons, a nonprofit backed by the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative, launched an open platform for educators and edtech developers today, alongside six new partner organizations. 

The platform represents one of the most ambitious attempts by a single organization to solve a major edtech headache: easily accessing and incorporating state academic standards and proven teaching methods into edtech products and services. 

Developers and educators say incorporating evidence-based materials and data into edtech tools is time-consuming, costly and prone to error. By offering free datasets, curricula and evaluation tools from states and many respected industry providers, the initiative helps developers and K-12 schools create evidence-based materials and assessments aligned with state standards. The datasets include academic standards from all 50 states, breakdowns of concepts and foundational skills underlying specific standards, learning progressions mapping prerequisite and successor skills as well as curricula and course materials from prominent providers.

In addition to the open platform, Learning Commons announced integration partnerships with Canva Education, Level, MagicSchool, OKO Labs, Really Great Reading and TalkingPoints. 

“What I’m really excited about is the number of partners we’ve been able to collaborate with,” says Sandra Liu Huang, president of Learning Commons. “It’s not just our work — it really feels like the beginning, or maybe the beginning of the beginning.”

According to Huang, Learning Commons has more than 70 partners contributing datasets or integrating its tools, including OpenAI and Anthropic. Since its launch in 2025, Learning Commons’ datasets have been downloaded approximately 20,000 times. 

“That foundation didn’t exist before in an open way, and now it does,” Huang says. “I think it sparks people’s imagination: ‘Now I can connect this to curriculum and standards and map it to my context’ — to do things that weren’t quite so doable in the past.”

The platform arrives as lawmakers, educators and parents push to ensure edtech offers evidence and outcomes to support its claims. Educators and industry observers believe the platform could help scale evidence-based research and high-quality instructional materials. 

“Trying to make sense of messy, scattered state standards and academic research is exhausting,” says Tambra Clark, technology integration facilitator for Birmingham City Schools in Alabama. “Someone has to do the heavy lifting of turning all that data into clean, machine-readable formats. If a well-funded philanthropy steps up to build these foundational tools openly, it saves cash-strapped school districts and small developers from reinventing the wheel, ultimately making AI in the classroom safer and higher quality for everyone.”

Michael Hernandez, a consultant and former Los Angeles County teacher of the year who specializes in helping educators use AI, also likes the idea of surfacing and vetting high-quality resources and best practices in one place. “There are many respected institutions that offer similar services for science, medicine, and the arts, so I don’t see why this wouldn’t work for education,” he says.

Helen Crompton, executive director of the Research Institute of Digital Innovation in Learning at Old Dominion University, is “cautiously optimistic” about the platform. 

“One of the problems we have in education is that excellent research and evidence-based practices often do not make their way into the technologies educators actually use,” she says. “If Learning Commons can help bridge that gap, that could be very beneficial.”

Inside the Platform

The platform consists of two main components: the Knowledge Graph and Evaluators.

The Knowledge Graph offers K-12 education data published on GitHub under an open license, including state academic standards, learning progressions, curricula and durable skills that can integrate into AI tools. The Evaluators measure whether AI-generated content created by schools and vendors is accurate, grade-appropriate, evidence-based and adheres to state academic standards. A third component, Agent Skills, are designed to designed to support teacher planning. Four skills are already available, and additional skills will go live later this year.

Karl Rectanus, CEO of Really Great Reading, says the company used the Knowledge Graph as it developed its new Literacy Outcome System, incorporating documented learning science, evidence, existing standards and progressions, rather than stitching data together from a range of sources. He says it would have taken months for his organization to build its own infrastructure and devote resources to ongoing maintenance.

“We’ve tested [the Knowledge Graph] and integrated it,” he says. “It lets us move faster, together with like-minded organizations, in ways that reflect what educators already know is right — while helping the broader sector succeed, not just us.”

The platform could greatly help vendors as the trend toward outcomes-based contracts grows, says Lawrence Holt, co-founder of OKO Labs and an adviser to Learning Commons. 

“A developer can use Learning Commons and find out whether generated material is on grade level and on standard before a student sees it, rather than discovering the problem later, when 40% of the fee is riding on the result,” he says.

Eedi, an 11-year-old company that researches why students struggle to learn math, contributed its data to the platform. “Partnering with Learning Commons goes straight to Eedi’s mission, which is to reach a billion kids by 2030,” says George Mu, president and chief growth officer of Eedi. “We’re a company of about 40 people, so partnering makes sense for us.”

Mu explains that before ChatGPT arrived, it was hard for anyone to use something so structured, descriptive and granular as its math research. “Now, with these tools from Learning Commons, teachers, students and edtech organizations can actually use it,” he says. 

How One District Uses the Platform

Jason Markey, assistant superintendent of Lisle District 202 in Illinois, used the beta version of the platform to create a formative math assessment app that simulates questions students see on the Illinois Assessment of Readiness. 

“We just hadn’t found a provider that does math assessment that well,” Markey explains. “By connecting it to the Knowledge Graph, we can inform the reports on student progress with a lot more nuance than if we’d built it with AI alone.”

Vincent Slowiak, a teacher at Lisle Junior High School, says the Knowledge Graph included prerequisite state standards that can flag what a student may be lacking or need reteaching on to meet a given standard. “That gives teachers another layer of information about what needs to be covered again,” he says.

In addition to state standards, the Knowledge Graph includes learning materials that the Lisle district already uses. “One resource we use a lot at the elementary level, as we unpack our Common Core standards and look at instructional shifts, is Student Achievement Partners. Seeing that inside Learning Commons was reassuring,” says Meredith McCormick, assistant principal of curriculum and instruction at Lisle Elementary School. 

Advice from Educators

Markey and his team of educator-coders only got so far with the Knowledge Graph before they had to rely on outside help. “As [Slowiak] likes to say, ‘You can get to 97% pretty fast,’ but it’s hard to make something fully scalable when none of us have a computer science background,” Markey admits. “Getting it to a point where it’s launchable — single sign-on for students, a dashboard for each teacher — is a lot more complex.”

This past summer, Markey hired two interns — recent computer science college graduates — to finalize the in-house tool. One intern remains on staff. Most school districts lack internal tech teams or college interns to inspect or implement complex datasets safely.

“We’ve also engaged a third party, Upstart Education, to work with us on data analysis and hosting,” Markey says, adding that he and his team made sure to adhere to state and federal student data-privacy rules.

McCormick advises anyone interested in using the Knowledge Graph to make sure the resulting tool is age-appropriate. “Feedback has to be specific enough for, say, a third grader to understand where they are in the learning progression, and that looks very different than it would for a seventh or eighth grader,” she explains. 

Is Learning Commons Right for the Job?

Educators and outside observers agree that Learning Commons’ platform could help scale evidence-based instruction and assessment. Their concerns are whether a private organization — especially one based in Silicon Valley — should lead the way on something as important as AI infrastructure. 

“I’ve seen this happen so many times before in relation to state- or school-mandated assessments,” says Clark. “We already know how tricky it is when outside entities get to establish the standards for testing. But this time, we’re talking about tech. When a multibillionaire-backed organization starts laying down the standard-setting ‘plumbing’ for the entire education system, it naturally raises a few eyebrows.” 

The optics of an organization based in Silicon Valley may give some people pause, but others want proof to back up concerns. To these observers, a tool that saves time and money and is open to all is cause for celebration. 

“A shared learning infrastructure, with shared experience and evidence of growth, is the next step in maturing our sector to the level other industries have already reached,” says Rectanus, a former teacher.

Holt says there are additional organizations trying to raise the bar for edtech by conducting independent reviews or gathering best practices: EdReports reviews K-12 curricula while Evidence for ESSA at Johns Hopkins University and the federal What Works Clearinghouse grade studies. 

Hernandez points out that educators already convey a great deal of trust in organizations, whether they are textbook companies or learning management systems. Still, he wishes edtech would not have to rely on one source for AI infrastructure. “If this is to truly work, it should be a coalition of respected organizations who curate and manage this program, not a single corporation,” he says. 

“If a nonprofit is willing to step up and do the work, I think it could be beneficial in the short term, but problematic in the long term,” Hernandez continues. “Do we want private industry playing a large role in policy, pedagogy and practice, or do we want our educators and civic institutions to manage this?”

Huang points out that Learning Commons is a nonprofit, private operating foundation. “We operate in the philanthropic interest, and we’re accountable to serving the public good as a result of that structure,” she says.

“I do think our structure and capabilities let us move fast,” she continues. “We can bring the cutting edge of technology to the education sector in a public-good way that I don’t think would otherwise be happening.”

Crompton is concerned about Learning Commons’ goal to be the AI infrastructure for edtech. “Infrastructure is different from simply providing another educational technology tool,” she says. “Once a platform becomes part of the underlying infrastructure upon which many other products are built, it can begin to shape what information is available, what is considered authoritative, what gets measured and ultimately what kinds of educational experiences are created.”

Clark notes, “Whoever controls those underlying knowledge graphs and evaluators holds a massive amount of sway over what the system considers a ‘valid’ approach.”

Huang says she doesn’t think Learning Commons is the only infrastructure. “There’s outcome-based contracting, for example — that’s an important piece of the ecosystem,” she notes. 

Crompton does give Learning Commons high marks for making its work open to the public. “It has also published principles around data governance, responsible AI and transparency,” she adds. “But we should not assume that being a nonprofit automatically removes concerns about power or influence.”

“I would also want transparency around how decisions are made about which curricula, research, standards and definitions of high-quality learning are included,” she adds. “Those decisions are pedagogical decisions. They can ultimately influence what millions of teachers and students encounter.”

“The opportunity here is significant, but so is the responsibility,” Crompton says. 

Editor’s note: Learning Commons is a financial supporter of EdSurge. This article was produced independently by our newsroom and Learning Commons had no editorial role or influence over its reporting, writing or editing.

As baking and pastry instructors at Musselman High School in West Virginia, Rachel Nauman and Allison McClintock understand how nutrition affects learning.

“I remember being young and hungry, and I couldn’t imagine going out the whole day without eating,” Nauman says. At her school, that’s not an issue. Thanks to the Community Eligibility Provision (CEP) program, schools and districts in low-income areas can serve students breakfast and lunch at no cost without requiring household applications. But things are changing nationwide.

Federal cuts to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) under the 2025 congressional budget resolution (H.R. 1) have been shrinking the pool of families automatically certified for free school meals over the past year. Starting Oct. 1, states will be responsible for 75% of SNAP administrative cost, up from the current 50%. 

These changes to families’ SNAP status’ and state budgets can threaten districts’ CEP eligibility. In non-CEP schools, families that previously qualified for free lunch will have to reapply. That worries Nauman.

“Sometimes parents aren’t there, or are too proud to fill out the paperwork,” she says. The shift in free lunch policies has forced schools to navigate the administrative logistics.

The Impact of Program Changes

The cuts in H.R. 1 mean fewer families are “directly certified” for free meals — the automatic process where schools don’t need paperwork since the state knows the family receives SNAP. This is already having an impact. 

“We are just beginning to hear concerns from members about drops in direct certification,” says Diane Pratt-Heavner, a spokesperson for the School Nutrition Association.

In place of direct certification, families are filling out applications, and that is going to complicate things. At Leonardtown Middle School in St. Mary’s County, Maryland, Principal Deborah Dennie says the paperwork is onerous.

“There’s a parent letter, that’s the front, and the back gives the federal income eligibility guidelines,” she says. Then there are four pages of instructions, and only then do parents get to the application, with its multiple sections and numbered subsections.

“The families who qualify for these things, they don’t want to spend the time to go through all of this paperwork,” Dennie says. That could mean kids who need a free lunch aren’t going to get one.

CEP eligibility is based on Identified Student Percentage (ISP) — the share of kids directly certified through SNAP and other programs. Cuts to SNAP risk shrinking ISP, which could mean schools’ reimbursement rate drops so low that CEP becomes financially unfeasible.

That concerns Sommer Purvis, the child nutrition director at Livingston Parish Public Schools in Louisiana, where kids get free lunch through CEP. From 2021-2024, direct certification percentages in the district increased. For the past two years, the percentage has dropped, putting CEP at risk.

“We have started to be very proactive with monitoring those numbers to see where we are, how they’re changing,” Purvis says. “We want to make sure that we’re prepared.”

How Schools Are Responding

With all these changes to free lunch, school leaders are getting proactive, and teachers are getting prepared. In West Virginia, nearly 183,000 students may be at risk of losing CEP. If it looks like that might really happen, McClintock thinks teachers will step up.

“Teachers are always going to support a free and reduced lunch,” she says. “They’re going to talk to their legislators. They’re going to talk to board members to make sure that is heard loud and clear. There’s going to be a lot of grassroots movement.”

Purvis is already preparing for the worst. If CEP collapses, she wants to be ready to help parents through the paperwork of individual applications. 

“We are monitoring our lists and trying to make sure that we are capturing as many of those students as we can,” she says. Loss of CEP would be “a fundamental change for families.”

Purvis has already laid the groundwork, knowing the current situation might arise. “We’re very transparent each year,” she says. That means telling parents: “The paperwork is not required, but that is a year-to-year decision and things can change.”

Meanwhile, after 10 years with CEP, the district needs to start asking questions internally, says Purvis. 

“How would schools handle those applications? Because after 10 years, a majority of our cafeteria managers have never processed applications,” she notes. “A majority of our principals have not had to deal with meal collection and meal debt.”

With that in mind, Purvis is already being “very honest and transparent with those individuals about what might be coming,” she says. She’s also looking at what training would be needed. She’s making lists of which principals and cafeteria managers may need a refresher or an introduction to the free lunch process, and hoping the state’s department of education will help foot the bill if training is needed.

At Leonardtown Middle, meanwhile, Dennie is thinking about the role that teachers will play. If paperwork becomes a hurdle for families, classroom educators will likely be the canary in the coal mine. “My teachers tend to have their ears to the ground and if they hear something, then they bring it to our attention,” she says. 

A student’s father came in to see a teacher recently, and Dennie suspected he was dealing with financial distress. Dennie gave the teacher a heads-up, “and lo and behold, when she spoke to him, that was indeed the problem,” she says. “We ended up doing something as a school for the family.”

Teachers will need to be even more attuned to such situations going forward. Families may not apply for free lunch “either because of pride, or because of the packet itself and how cumbersome it can be,” Dennie says.

A Proactive Approach

At Bartlett Academy, an alternative high school in Oklahoma that serves many students experiencing poverty and homelessness, Principal Amy Sanders is betting that a proactive approach will help her team weather the coming storm.

The district never went to automatic certification, and instead has always had families fill out applications for free lunch, whether or not the family thought it was needed. “That way we have an accurate count every year,” she says.

The application is part of the school’s orientation packet, along with standards for discipline, behavior, dress code and so on. This way, applying for free lunch becomes … ordinary.

“We have a lot of Native Americans [families], and there’s a pride about not letting everybody know your business,” Sanders observes. “We’ve tried to make it where this isn’t ‘everybody knows your business.’ This is just routine.”

Dennie is also trying to be proactive. She has lists of students who got free lunch or incurred food debt last year, and makes sure they all get applications to take home. When parents come for an open house, the application is right there on the table for them to pick up and fill out later. And she includes information about free lunch in her weekly newsletter, all year long.

“We let them know that it’s there,” she says. “We want to make sure that everybody gets what they need.”

Dennie notes that teachers and administrators alike have to tread a fine line here. In the past she’s encouraged kids to apply for free lunch, but as a result, one parent reported her to the board. “He said I have no right to talk to his kid,” she recalls. “So I make them aware, but at some point, I have to back off.”

In Huntsville, Alabama, home to one of the nation’s largest cybersecurity hubs, educators and industry professionals are rethinking what cybersecurity education can look like. 

Rather than separating classroom instruction from workplace experience, they are co-designing learning environments where students build cyber ranges, develop industry-informed capstone projects and secure internships that connect learning directly to future careers.

At the Madison County Schools Career Technical Center, cybersecurity instructor Kala Jo Grice-Dobbins is showing what that looks like in practice. Working alongside industry professionals, she is creating a classroom where students learn not only technical skills, but also how cybersecurity professionals think, collaborate and solve problems.

The students of Kala Jo Grice-Dobbins, cybersecurity instructor at Madison County Schools Career Technical Center, participating in the national CyberPatriot competition.

Expanding What is Possible in the Classroom

The Alabama Technology Education and Career Pathways Accelerator, created by the STEM Foundation with district pathway implementation support from Digital Promise, helps districts ensure technology pathways lead to an industry credential of value by connecting educators with industry partners, work-based learning opportunities and resources aligned with workforce needs. For Grice-Dobbins, participating in the Accelerator became an opportunity to deepen those partnerships and rethink how students experience cybersecurity in the classroom.

Working alongside industry mentors, Grice-Dobbins built a classroom that looks and feels more like the environments students will encounter after graduation. Students work in a private cyber range across Windows and Linux environments, troubleshoot unfamiliar problems and prepare for senior capstone projects modeled after real cybersecurity work.

“Cybersecurity isn’t about memorizing answers,” Grice-Dobbins explained. “It’s about learning how to think through problems.”

Beyond the school year, Grice-Dobbins collaborates with industry partners and students to continue improving the program based on industry needs and learner goals.

During her four years teaching cybersecurity in Madison County, Grice-Dobbins’ students have secured internships with regional defense contractors and accepted positions that require security clearances. Eight students have completed internships through the program, creating a growing network of alums whose success after graduation is showing younger students what is possible.

Industry Brings the Workplace Into the Classroom

For industry professionals, this collaboration is an opportunity to share expertise, shape authentic learning experiences and mentor students at a deeper level.

David Hoover, a customer success manager at Canvas and an active member of Cyber Huntsville, helped design a government-style restricted network that gives students experience working in environments similar to those used by public-sector employers. He also advises senior capstone projects, helping students experience how cybersecurity teams solve problems, collaborate and communicate in professional settings.

Industry partner David Hoover, a Customer Success Manager at Canvas and an active member of Cyber Huntsville, gives a student a demonstration of how to create a private testing and learning environment in Linux.

Dr. Ian Clark, a technology leader at Science Applications International Corporation and cybersecurity mentor, has seen the long-term value of these collaborations throughout his career. Dr. Clark believes a simple shift has fundamentally changed how students learn: “There is no workbook.”

Rather than visiting the classroom for a single presentation, Hoover and Dr. Clark are involved throughout the learning process. They help shape projects, advise students as they work through challenges and provide feedback informed by current industry practice. 

That sustained engagement gives students access to technical expertise and to professional expectations, communication styles and problem-solving approaches that are difficult to replicate through curriculum alone.

Seeing a Future in Cybersecurity

Jaxton first discovered cybersecurity during a freshman visit to the Madison County Career Technical Center. His father had sparked his interest in computers, and he immediately knew he wanted to join the program.

Over the next three years, that curiosity became a career path. Through industry-recognized certifications, increasingly complex projects and his senior capstone, Jaxton developed the technical skills and confidence to pursue cybersecurity after graduation. Along the way, he learned to think critically, leverage emerging technology to create solutions and work alongside industry mentors.

Experiences like internships, capstone projects and mentorship do more than build technical skills. They help students begin to imagine themselves as part of the profession. Rather than viewing cybersecurity as an abstract career, students understand where they fit, what they contribute and what opportunities are available after graduation.

Today, Jaxton plans to continue studying cybersecurity after graduation. More importantly, he no longer sees the field as something other people do. He sees himself in it.

Looking Ahead

The work taking shape through Alabama’s Technology Education and Career Pathways Accelerator demonstrates what’s possible when educators and industry professionals co-design learning together. As classrooms evolve alongside one of the nation’s fastest-changing industries, students gain more than technical knowledge. They gain confidence, professional connections and a clearer vision of where they belong.

For school systems looking to strengthen career-connected learning, the lesson extends beyond cybersecurity. When educators, employers and students collaborate to shape authentic learning experiences, classrooms become places where young people go beyond preparing for future careers and begin participating in the work those careers involve.

It’s not uncommon for teachers to experience what Ellen Moir, founder of the New Teacher Center, calls a “disillusionment phase” shortly after the start of the school year. Other educators call this phenomenon by a different name — the “October Blues.”

The October Blues affect teachers who find themselves in an emotional trough only a few weeks after the excitement of the new school year wears off. When they do catch a case of the October Blues, they often find it hard to focus and their energy saps.

The October Blues are particularly hard on first-year teachers, says Mike Anderson, author of “Rekindle Your Professional Fire: Powerful Habits for Becoming a More Well-Balanced Teacher.” Many new teachers have never heard of the October Blues and are ill-prepared to cope with this dip in enthusiasm. Unexpected bumps in the road like the October Blues are partly why teachers are 2.5 times more likely to quit after their first year.

An educational consultant and former teacher and swim coach, Mike Anderson has seen teachers grapple with the October Blues many times over the course of his career. He also experienced a bout of the October Blues  himself.

EdSurge spoke with Anderson about the October Blues and how teachers and administrators can keep them at bay.

EdSurge: How would you define the “October Blues”? Is there an actual definition or research?

Mike Anderson: If you talk to any [veteran] teacher, they’ll tell you there’s a predictable slump in energy that follows the first few weeks of school. When I was mentoring new teachers in my district, we used a graph showing the predictable energy curve of a teacher’s first year — it starts off high with anticipation and joy, then plummets early in the fall.

I think that happens for a couple of reasons. There’s so much energy and anticipation at the start of the year, and there’s only so long your brain can stay in that high place. When we get a real surge of joy, that’s fantastic — but the brain wants to return to a level playing field, and it often dips below baseline before it settles back to normal. It’s the hangover after the high.

The reverse happens, too. I’m about to go for a hard run right after this interview, and afterward I’ll get a runner’s high — a surge of positive emotion that follows pain or discomfort. I think something analogous happens with the October Blues: all the positive energy and anticipation of the first few weeks of school is exhausting. You’re “on” all the time. So there’s a predictable crash once that wears off, and both physical and emotional energy drop — but fortunately it’s not permanent and their energy will increase again.

Do we see the October Blues more in newer teachers or do veteran teachers get it too?

That’s a great question — I don’t know for certain. My guess is that once you’ve experienced it a few times, you start to recognize it as just a thing that happens. One of the scary parts of the October Blues in your first year is that if you don’t know it’s a known phenomenon, you start to question whether you should even be in the profession. Once you’ve been through it a few times, you can say, “Right, October’s a rough month, but I know I’ll have an upswing again.” So my guess is veteran teachers are more aware of the cycle and less panicked by it.

How does it show up in the classroom — for teachers and for students?

That’s such a multifaceted question. When I was writing “The Well-Balanced Teacher” — which I later rewrote into “Rekindle Your Professional Fire” — I looked at a study on how teachers’ emotional states are directly reflected in their students. It wasn’t specifically about the October Blues, but roughly 400 elementary students, mostly 4th and 5th graders, had their cortisol measured through saliva samples. Their teachers were surveyed on health, balance, and energy, and teachers who reported higher workplace stress had students with elevated cortisol levels.

So when teachers get stressed, kids get stressed too — and it goes the other way as well. In “Hugging Porcupines,” one chapter is called “The Honeymoon Is Over,” which is really about October. Kids and teachers both work hard to be their best selves for the first few weeks of school, and there’s only so long you can keep that up.

The work also gets harder in October, especially for students who struggle with learning — they can start to feel more overwhelmed, just as teachers start to feel the semester piling up. I’ll admit I’m speculating here, but I wouldn’t be surprised if decreasing daylight plays a role, too. By October in the Northern Hemisphere we’re getting more dark than light, and that’s got to have some influence.

What does it actually look like for a teacher who has the Blues while teaching?

Their fuse gets shorter — it’s harder to be patient with students who are struggling. It’s also harder to keep up with the planning that great teaching requires, so you might start winging it more, which is more stressful once you’re in it. Overall energy is lower. I remember trying to hold reading and writing conferences with students in the late morning and feeling blurry, almost like being hungover — everything felt a little fuzzy. It’s harder to stay sharp, harder to be patient, harder to keep your energy up for engaging lessons.

What was the October Blues like for you personally?

Early in my career, I was also a swim coach, and swim season started in October. So, I wasn’t just a month into the school year and feeling the regular fatigue that comes with that — I was also coaching an age-group team and a high school team, three or four hours of practice after school every day, on top of all the lesson planning. That extra load tends to hit right when the first few “easy” weeks of the school year — before committee meetings and most extracurriculars ramp up — give way to everything piling in at once, unless you’re coaching something like football that starts in late summer.

Have the October Blues gotten harder or easier over the years?

(Laughing) What hasn’t changed in the last 10 years on this planet? I think we’re all a little more on edge than we were 10 years ago — and honestly, we were already in social chaos back then, too. We’re more dysregulated now than we were 10 or 15 years ago. Politics is chaotic, the social and online environment is chaotic. You rarely hear anyone say, “I feel so much more relaxed and healthy than I did 10 years ago.” If we’re all more dysregulated, it makes sense our kids are, too — and the number and severity of behavior problems in schools is going through the roof. There’s a lot we could point to, and I think we need to stop blaming COVID — that was real and it was hard on all of us, but the rise in dysregulated kids has been especially pronounced over the last decade, and that takes a huge physical and emotional toll on teachers.

Do you think AI is affecting this at all? I’m not sure it’s even measurable yet, but I do wonder if there is some residual effect from using AI in the classroom and out.

Maybe. My take is that for teachers, AI is one more new thing they have to learn, manage, and figure out — both what’s OK in their own teaching and planning, and how to manage students’ AI use. That’s part of what’s accelerated over the last 10 years: teachers almost always feel like they’re on the steep end of the learning curve. Something I talked about in 2017 was how a sense of competence is critical to wellness and happiness at work — not just in teaching, but in any profession. If you don’t think you’re good at what you do, it’s hard to stay positive and energized. That’s especially tough for teachers, who rarely get the chance to feel like they’ve finally got it down. AI is just another learning curve on top of that.

Is there any way to avoid the October Blues, or do you just have to get good at recognizing it?

There’s probably no way to avoid it entirely — the same way you can’t run a marathon and avoid being tired. But recognizing that it’s a normal, shared experience and not a personal flaw really helps. Beyond that, it’s not rocket science: sleeping, eating healthy food, a healthy exercise routine — even something as simple as putting on your sneakers for a brisk 20-minute walk as soon as the last kid leaves. Small, sustainable habits that keep your energy up over the long run were a big theme in “Rekindle Your Professional Fire,” which is all about supporting teacher health and balance. Don’t look for major changes — those are almost impossible to sustain. Look for small ways to get a bit more sleep, a bit more movement, and some healthier food. Those things help not just in October, but all year long.

How can administrators and principals help? I wonder if their experience can be of help here.

Acknowledging the reality of October Blues with faculty can help, especially for new teachers who might not know to watch for it. Beyond that, school leaders can look for small ways to help teachers stay healthier and happier — providing healthy snacks instead of the highly processed junk food that’s often the easiest option at faculty meetings (fresh fruit or cheese and crackers instead of candy), making sure hydration stations are available, and paying attention to workload. There are almost always a few teachers in a school doing way too much — running committees, leading the union, and so on. Finding ways to take a few things off those teachers’ plates is another way leaders can support them.

Are there resources to prepare first-year teachers about the October Blues? 

I certainly didn’t know it was a thing my first year. Some mentoring programs do train mentors to understand the common energy cycles new teachers go through, so teachers lucky enough to have well-trained mentors may get more information. But for a lot of new teachers, it’s just not on their radar — they’re too consumed with the day-to-day work of running a classroom. One of my daughter’s close friends, practically a second daughter to me, is a first-year 4th grade teacher in San Francisco. She’s smart, well-prepared, and both her parents are teachers, so she had a real head start. But I know from talking with her parents that she’s already overwhelmed just a couple weeks in, because there’s so much new to learn all at once. She doesn’t have the headspace to think about her own emotional energy — she’s just trying to manage the class and get through the day.

When do the October Blues stop being just the October Blues? How long does it typically take to recover?

I honestly don’t know if there’s a documented answer — whether it’s one week, two weeks, or four. As a teacher, I didn’t experience the whole month as a slog, but I think every teacher is a little different. There’s often another predictable energy dip later in the year, too — late winter or early spring, around the start of the second semester on a high school schedule — when it’s cold, dark, and everyone’s tired. So there are cycles of energy through the year, but I don’t know of a specific documented recovery timeline.

Should it ideally ease up so teachers can rebound?

If it’s lasting more than a couple of weeks, I’d tell a new teacher to talk to a colleague, a mentor, or an administrator — say, “I’m having a hard time right now,” and get some help. It can’t last all year. Our students need us to have good, positive energy.

How do the October Blues relate to teachers’ feelings of competence?

When we feel incompetent, our energy for work drops. It’s hard to be motivated when you feel like you’re not good at what you’re doing.

I once worked with a group of teachers for a couple of years. I remembered how hard that first October had been for them — they were down in the dumps. By the next October, after we’d done a lot of work together on classroom management and student engagement, their energy was noticeably brighter and they were laughing more. When I pointed that out and asked if their classes were just easier that year, they said no — if anything, their classes were harder! But this time, they felt like they knew what to do; they had strategies to try. The year before, their classes had felt like they were falling apart, and they didn’t know what to do — that’s what had made them feel so defeated. Having practical strategies for management and engagement meant they didn’t experience the October Blues the same way the second time around.

This interview has been edited for clarity and length.

EdSurge is an editorially independent digital news site of the International Society for Transforming Education.

EDITOR’S NOTE: This article has been updated to clarify language about educator response.

The individualized education program (IEP) process generates a big stack of papers, full of terminology that parents may not understand. In response, some parents have begun using artificial intelligence to better understand IEPs and prepare for teacher meetings. Kimberly Morris, who taught pre-K through the 2025-26 school year, saw this firsthand.

Morris would set school goals in the IEP, “and some parents would then utilize AI as a way to create a home goal,” she says. 

Morris, who is now a curriculum and instruction specialist supporting early childhood learning at Unlocking Children’s Potential of Central Florida, didn’t mind that parents were using AI to align home efforts with school goals. But as the conversation around AI use transparency grows in classrooms, some wonder whether parents should disclose if they used AI to prepare for an IEP meeting.

How Parents Use AI

Concerned parents might use AI in several ways during the IEP process, says Elizabeth Laird, director of equity and civic technology at the Center for Democracy and Technology. “A parent might turn to AI to learn more about the process and what their rights are, what their child’s rights are,” she notes.

Laird thinks that’s not necessarily a bad thing. “AI can play a role in democratizing access to information about the process itself, as well as being a starting point for thinking about what types of accommodations parents may want to ask about,” she reasons.

For many parents, “just because you’re a parent of a child with a disability doesn’t mean you automatically understand all of these things related to your child’s IEP,” says Olivia Coleman, an assistant professor in the School of Teacher Education at theUniversity of Central Florida. “They’re using it to translate the jargon, any acronyms. It’s helping them to draft questions.”

Parents are putting their child’s IEP into AI models “and then having it put it into plain language, like, ’What is this thing and what does it mean?’” says Coleman, who is also a co-principal investigator at the Center for Innovation, Design, and Digital Learning.

Morris, the curriculum and instruction specialist, sees an upside to parents using AI in IEP meetings. “They can become more of a team member alongside the teacher, occupational therapist, physical therapist and speech therapist,” she says.

But there are risks. For example, when a parent’s AI-generated contribution to the meeting sprawls to 20 or 30 pages, “it’s going to take a teacher the majority of their day just to read through a request,” says Phyllis Wolfram, executive director of the Council of Administrators of Special Education. “It will slow down the process.”

“AI is not an IEP expert,” Laird adds, noting that the AI’s outputs can be inaccurate. With that in mind, she counsels teachers and parents to reflect together on the AI’s findings. A key aspect of the IEP process, she notes, “is its emphasis on bringing different subject matters together to collaborate, to identify what is the best path forward for an individual child.”

Here’s where federal law enters the picture. The Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act (FERPA) provides privacy protections for parents regarding their children’s education while the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) offers additional privacy protections for students receiving special education.

With FERPA and IDEA as the legal backdrop, parents should not put identifiable personal data like medical diagnoses and legal documents into AI. The tool could potentially train on that data, which risks that information becoming publicly visible. The data also may be at risk of being exposed in a security breach, if the AI provider gets hacked. 

Should Parents Disclose?

Some argue that parents need to be candid about their AI use for that collaboration to be effective. Some parents were upfront about AI when meeting with Morris. “When I would report on a goal, they also had input and would say, ‘Hey, I created something at home and I used AI for that.’ I thought that was really cool, that parents stepped out of their own mindset to think about how to incorporate those goals at home,” she says.

Even if parents don’t disclose, teachers and others could spot AI-generated text. “Right now, the information that parents are providing to school districts regarding their IEP meetings is much lengthier, and it carries some legal jargon that doesn’t typically come from parents,” Wolfram says. “Most educators will know when they’ve received something written by AI.”

If teachers do want parents to disclose AI usage, they can make a strong case for that, Laird believes. After all, in schools across the country, “parents are demanding from their school to know whether and how AI is being used,” she says. 

The key is to avoid being defensive if AI is being used in the IEP meeting, says Coleman. “We don’t want to pit anyone in the IEP team against each other. We want to work together.” For the IEP process to meet its intent, she adds, participants need to trust each other, and “transparency builds trust.”

Parents might consider using AI for a number of reasons as they prep for an IEP meeting:

• To summarize IEP documents

• To verify their rights against local state guidelines

• To translate unfamiliar jargon or bridge a language gap

• To formulate proposed goals

• To generate questions to help guide the process

In all these cases, educators say they’d prefer parents disclose their AI use, so that everyone can align in what is supposed to be a collaborative process. Parents should also double-check with local and state rules to make sure they are allowed to use AI with their IEPs.

Crafting a Response

Morris counsels teachers to assume that some parents will use AI. “I have created the IEP and I know my role and goals as well as those for the student and parents,” she says. How the family responds is up to them, “and I’ve always kept an open relationship with the parents that I have worked with,” she adds.

In the spirit of collaboration, teachers can model appropriate transparency and disclosure etiquette with parents. “We can’t make disclosure mandatory, but we can practice it and set an example,” Coleman argues. “Teachers can say up front, ‘We’re not against AI use, but we’d really appreciate you also being transparent, and this is why.’ We want to make sure we’re all on the same page,” she says.

With trust in place, Wolfram notes, the teacher can talk openly about the AI outputs a parent brings to a meeting. “The educator can say, ‘Let’s talk about those recommendations. Do you see those as different from what we’re already doing? And if so, let’s talk about why you think that’s needed,’” she says.

The AI discussion requires some finesse, but Morris thinks it’s worth the effort. “I want parents to be advocates, and to understand exactly what is being told to them on their child’s IEP,” she says.

The internet is increasingly awash with videos generated by artificial intelligence aimed directly at preschoolers and kindergartners. With literally hundreds of thousands of AI-generated videos to watch and plenty of lights and action to grab the attention of children under age 5, critics say the videos usually have little if any substance. They also have a name for these videos: “baby slop.”

“It’s easy to make an eight-second AI video, and we wind up with these very quick, colorful, fun things that don’t really have any meaning,” says Allison Bacon, coordinator of instructional technology at the Ossining Union Free School District in New York.

More than mere distraction, some critics worry AI-generated content on YouTube and YouTube Kids may cause actual harm. But there are ways early childhood educators can help children navigate these videos.

Inaccurate and Biased Content

Problematic AI-generated videos come in many forms. Some are just seconds in length but include inappropriate content. In one video about counting and colors, for example, a school bus inexplicably bursts into flames at the 13-second mark. In other videos, inaccurate information or visuals are hallucinated by low-grade AI. Sometimes, it’s just the sheer volume of unvetted AI videos populating feeds that can be concerning. One YouTube channel, Bright Tunes, has existed for less than a year but has nearly 5,500 AI-generated videos. In effect, one person can prompt AI to generate thousands of videos that young children can watch in an endless loop — none of which are educational. While some creators have good intentions, they often just want views (cue cute AI animals diving into pools). 

“Some of the content may look educational and engaging,” says Jennifer Chen, a professor of early childhood education at Kean University in Union, New Jersey. “You might not realize it unless you really look at it closely.”

When the words aren’t quite right or when the images don’t reflect reality, “that cognitive disparity is causing children to learn inaccurately,” explains Keri Ewart, an associate professor of education at Wilfrid Laurier University in Waterloo, Ontario. “It is having detrimental effects on children being able to understand the difference between real and fake.” 

Repeated viewing may also damage kids’ attention spans and lead to cognitive overload. With preschool and kindergarten learners, “they’re still building neurological processes. They’re learning how to experience the world,” instructional technology coordinator Allison Bacon says. “Entertainment generated through AI to mindlessly babysit small people is inherently problematic.”

Navigating the Content

Teachers can address the problem by becoming ad hoc media critics, vetting everything their young students watch in the classroom. Beyond previewing videos, teachers should research the creator to gain more context. One sure sign that a YouTube channel is populated with AI-generated content is if it has a recent launch date and an outsize number of videos. Another telltale sign of AI slop: jumbled text and misspelled words.

Relying on trusted resources like Common Sense Media can help educators vet content. Also, the American Academy of Pediatrics recently released a guide for parents with a “Stop, Wait, Go” framework that can be adapted to the classroom.

If students do encounter suspect content, in ads for example, “conversation needs to follow,” Bacon explains. “What did we see? What did we think? The human connection and conversation should be the main focus.”

Even with very young kids, teachers can build decoding skills to recognize AI-generated content. “Really push the fact that we have to be thinkers and we have to be looking with that critical lens. Ask kids, ‘What did we notice? What’s good? What’s different?’” Bacon says.

“Be the person who helps them understand what they are seeing,” Bacon adds. “If they see an AI-generated giraffe, show them pictures of a real giraffe and ask them to describe the differences.”

Finally, even if one video is educationally sound or age appropriate, the algorithms may bring up more videos that could be inappropriate. “Never rely on autoplay, which can be easy to do, especially if you’re in the class and you’re already playing something that’s educational,” Bacon cautions.

Supporting Parents’ Efforts

As a preschool language teacher at the Park School in the Ossining Union Free School District and as a parent herself, Josefa Martinez understands that parents need guidance, too.

She sends home weekly and monthly communications to families with best practices. “I try to find websites and resources they can use at home, videos that I have personally watched and that are interactive, engaging,” she says. “These sites are not just promoting a child to sit and just mindlessly watch. It’s something that I can vouch for.”

Beyond video suggestions, Martinez provides parents with follow-up questions for their kids. If the child is watching a video about a firefighter, parents can ask, “How can a firefighter support our community?” or “What are other community helpers who have similar roles to a firefighter?” If the child is watching a video about numbers, on a channel like Numberblocks, parents may ask, “How do you know that five is bigger than two? Can you show me by using some of your toys?” or “How many ways can we make the number five?”

“These questions make sure the child is actually engaged and not just sitting there mindlessly watching,” Martinez says. “It all pertains to the content that I’m teaching either that week or that month.”

Some school leaders are stepping up as well, convening parents for frank discussions about AI-generated videos. “More schools are starting to have social media nights and AI evenings where they’re inviting parents to really learn how to vet these videos,” education professor Keri Ewart explains.

“This is all fairly recent for everyone,” Ewart adds. “If we’re expecting our children to have digital fluency and digital literacy, particularly in the age of AI, we’re going to have to expect teachers and parents to be digitally literate too.”

This story was published in collaboration with The Associated Press.

INDIANAPOLIS — There’s the mother of two who needs a full-time job to keep up with the bills, but can’t afford full-time childcare. There’s the medical technician who stopped buying groceries and turned to food banks so she could pay for her infant’s care.

There’s the baby who remained in foster care, even after his mother completed the steps to bring him home. She had found a job, as the state required, but couldn’t afford his childcare.

It’s hardly news that childcare is expensive, straining the budget of even middle-class parents. But these families all qualify for government-funded childcare assistance, intended to drastically reduce the childcare bills of needy parents so they can work or go to school. Instead, Indiana’s program, which had run short on funds, waitlisted them.

Hundreds of thousands of children were sitting on childcare assistance waitlists in 23 states and the District of Columbia as of this spring, according to an analysis by The Associated Press. In three more states, many eligible families who applied were simply turned away.

Childcare assistance, funded by the federal government with help from states, is supposed to aid working parents who are low-income, homeless or caring for foster children. But waitlists have ballooned since 2023, when eight states had them, according to the AP analysis. Reporters collected waitlist and enrollment data from 47 states and the District of Columbia.

Many of the waitlists first started after $28 billion in pandemic aid expired in the fall of 2024. The Republican-led Congress declined to extend the extra money. Some states have increased funding to try to fill the gap, but families’ need for childcare assistance has only grown, as they’ve faced mounting costs for food and gas.

While eligible families sit on waitlists, untold numbers of adults are sidelined from education or the workforce because they can’t afford childcare. Those parents who remain in school or keep working make difficult tradeoffs. In interviews, parents described forgoing necessities, falling behind on bills or relying on acquaintances to watch their children. Unable to find viable childcare, some have resorted to bringing their children with them to work or class.

For Meygan Maloney’s family in rural Indiana, waiting for childcare assistance means month after month of falling short financially. Maloney was working as a caregiver for disabled adults before she had her second child in 2023. Around the same time, the family took emergency custody of a close relative’s newborn daughter.

The next three years were marked by deepening financial struggles. Maloney only received $300 a month to care for her foster daughter, and both toddlers were put on a waitlist when she applied for childcare vouchers for 2025.

While the girl returned to her family in the fall, Maloney and her husband are still behind on bills. They recently refinanced their home, and her husband is working seven days a week as a tire technician and delivery driver. A local childcare provider gave her a steep discount, allowing her to leave her son four mornings a week to clean at a local hospital.

“I felt useless as a stay-at-home mom. I felt like I wasn’t contributing to our household,” Maloney said, her voice cracking. “We’re trying to get out. But for us to get out, we need the assistance.”

Meygan Maloney goes through flashcards with her son Callum, Friday, Aug. 28, 2026, at their home in Hartford City, Ind.

AP Photo/Cara Penquite

Foster parents left to pay for childcare in Indiana

Indiana started its waitlist in December 2024, a few months after pandemic aid ran out and it became clear the state would struggle to support families already in the program. Until May of this year, it put virtually everyone who applied on the waitlist, including foster parents. By spring 2026, nearly 37,000 children were waiting for assistance.

Maloney and other foster families feel like they were misled by the state, which had for many years paid for childcare for foster children. Malinda Cox, an Indianapolis mom who took in a newborn last year, said she was forced to dip into her family’s savings to pay for the baby boy’s childcare so she could return to work. At one point, she considered giving up custody of the boy because her family could not afford his childcare bill.

In the meantime, the boy’s biological mother was completing the requirements she had to satisfy to take him home. She had taken parenting classes and gotten a job. But she could not afford daycare, and because the boy could not get childcare assistance, he had to remain with Cox.

“We started to feel, like, guilty. He should be home with his mom, but (because of) this massive system upset, he’s not,” Cox said.

In April, Indiana Gov. Mike Braun, a Republican, announced the state would send $200 million in surplus funds to the state’s childcare assistance program, which would allow it to move roughly 8,000 children off the waitlist.

Even before the recent growth in waitlists, federal funding for childcare assistance has always fallen short of providing for every needy family, only providing enough money to serve a fraction of those eligible. Experts say waitlists represent the tip of the iceberg, because many eligible families who need the help don’t know about the program or haven’t applied, daunted by tales of long waitlists.

The origins of the funding shortfall are cultural, said Ruth Friedman, who headed the Office of Child Care under Democratic President Joe Biden. For decades, “childcare was the responsibility of the family,” she said. “The system is fundamentally broken, and if the government doesn’t help fix the system … it will not be affordable for families.”

There are stark differences of opinion on whether the government should provide help — or how much. This year, 40 congressional Republicans called for “robust” funding of the federal program that underwrites childcare assistance. Instead, it received the same money as the year before. President Donald Trump said during his campaign that he could make childcare more affordable by using tariff revenue, but this spring he told a White House audience that paying for childcare should be up to states.

“We’re fighting wars. We can’t take care of daycare. You got to let a state take care of daycare, and they should pay for it, too,” Trump told people gathered for an Easter luncheon.

His administration has largely focused on allegations of fraud in the program, at one point halting funding to five Democratic-led states. After a lawsuit, a judge ordered Trump’s administration to restart the funding.

Diana McGuire poses for a portrait while holding her son, Noah McGuire, 4, on Wednesday, May 13, 2026, at St. Mary’s Early Childhood Center in Indianapolis, Ind.

AP Photo/Cara Penquite

Moms bring babies to college or work

Without affordable childcare options, parents have resorted to bringing their children with them to work or school.

In Minnesota, Deaira Gresham’s 1-year-old daughter Seaira has been on the waitlist for childcare assistance since birth, one of 9,000 children in her state awaiting aid as of this spring. Gresham, who works as an in-home health aide and takes a full load of classes at a chiropractor school, had some help with Seaira from her mother. But oftentimes, she was forced to take Seaira with her to class and to the homes of her clients. It took a toll — Gresham failed several classes juggling school and caring for a baby.

This fall, she lucked out, getting a childcare grant for parenting students, allowing her to put Seaira in full-time care.

“Parents are in desperate need,” Gresham said. “We need that break. We need to be able to go to school, go to work and know that our kids are in good hands.”

It’s not just their work or college classes that parents worry about. Research has shown that high-quality childcare can boost a child’s social-emotional and academic development.

Carmen Perez, who lives north of San Francisco, has applied for childcare help for all four of her children. Her eldest son never received it before aging out of the program. He struggled academically in ways that his sisters, who attended subsidized preschool, did not.

Now her two-year-old son is on a waitlist. She fears he will face the same challenges as his older brother. “It makes me sick.”

On a rainy May day in Indianapolis, Cox bundled up her foster son and delivered him to a social worker. She packed up her own car with the boy’s things — clothes, diapers and a small changing table. The boy’s biological mother still had not gotten childcare assistance, but Cox had negotiated a deal with a childcare provider to offer a massive discount. When even that was out of the mother’s reach, Cox agreed to pay half.

She arrived at the boy’s new home to watch him reunite with his mother. She felt a mix of grief over parting with him and elation over seeing his delight with his mother.

Three weeks later, the mother got notice: He had finally been approved for a voucher.

Like so many educators, I was balancing more than a typical routine. I was teaching full-time in a Title I high school while writing, speaking, advocating, mentoring and trying to create learning experiences that honored students who often navigate systems not designed with them in mind. I was often somewhere between grading essays, responding to emails, and figuring out why half the class couldn’t log into Microsoft Teams because the Wi-Fi was acting up again. I wasn’t looking for a tech revolution; if anything, I needed a lifeline. When I stumbled upon GenerationAI, I saw a path to reclaim some of that lost time.

In 2025, I applied to GenerationAI and was one of the fortunate educators chosen to participate in an AI-driven cohort of educators and communities of practice. During the program, we had to create a problem of practice and identify which AI tools could mitigate, alleviate, and elevate our content and student success. My problem of practice was how to leverage AI tools to advance writing skills among English learners (ELs) in the high school English classroom. 

I’ll admit it: At first, I wasn’t fully convinced these tools would actually help me become a better teacher. Research on AI transformation in the classroom promised a total revolution in teaching and learning. However, the verbiage from the opening sessions at Google Headquarters in Chicago swung between salvation and complete catastrophe for me. Meanwhile, I thought, I am just trying to get my students through another Tuesday navigating Padlet and NoRedInk without disruption.

Still, I stayed curious and genuinely wanted to lean in to the opportunity. What did I have to lose? Experts leading the program kept reassuring me that the right exposure to AI could make marginalized communities more competitive against their privileged counterparts, and that was enough to draw me in. 

With each session, my imagination grew about what AI could become, not only in my classroom, but across the landscape of education as we know it. Not only did we receive helpful AI resources and tools, but the program also provided opportunities for us to share what worked in the classroom and what needed to be revamped to support stronger student outcomes. 

I often felt like I was running alongside a moving vehicle that would not stop for me. There was so much to learn, so many platforms to explore, and so many possibilities. There was also so little time.

Yet, somewhere between the overwhelm and the inspiration I gained from fellow educators in my cohort, something shifted within me.

I stopped believing I needed to master AI before I could use it well.

I stopped believing I needed to master AI before I could use it well. Instead, I started treating it like a thought partner. Not a replacement, not a shortcut, but a collaborator; something I so desperately needed with full rosters of ELs, IEPs, and 504s to manage.

Once the program ended, I began brainstorming lesson ideas when my own creativity felt out of reach. I was surprised by how AI helped elevate my big ideas. I gathered discussion questions before testing them in class. I redesigned assignments to make them more culturally responsive and more accessible for multilingual learners. When difficult conversations around immigration, ICE and identity became impossible to ignore, AI helped me think through instructional pathways that were academically rigorous while remaining deeply connected to my desire to create a safe space of belonging. 

It helped me see possibilities I hadn’t considered before. AI didn’t diminish my role; it amplified it. 

From Gatekeeper to Collaborator

One of the most transformative tools I encountered from the program was Class Companion. For my English learners, immediate writing feedback became a game changer. Instead of waiting several days for my comments on an essay, students could revise while their thinking was still fresh. They received another opportunity to practice, rethink, and improve without waiting for me to finish grading another stack of digital papers. 

That mattered.

Not because technology became the teacher, but because it gave students another chance to become stronger writers and gave me space to provide the meaningful instruction they deserved. I no longer felt pressured to offer rushed or watered-down feedback simply because there were not enough hours in the day. 

ChatGPT also proved useful for brainstorming and generating ideas for essay topics, project concepts, and research question frameworks for the students. It relieved a lot of unnecessary pressure for both of us, and we were productive and grateful. 

The students were also pleasantly surprised that I welcomed AI the way I did. As educators, we often carry the impossible expectation that we have to know everything before we try it. But to be honest, classrooms have never worked that way, and they shouldn’t. 

Teaching has always been an act of experimentation. Robert Marzano once said, “In effect, a good part of effective teaching is an art.” It’s an art form. We adjust. We pivot. We learn in real time alongside our students.

AI became another place for that real-time experimentation. I had to be willing to crash and burn in front of them while experimenting with Canva AI-generated images that didn’t work at all because of slow internet and our inability to guide the AI tool properly. 

Yet, these experiments were vital in schools like mine. Schools where innovation isn’t limited by imagination, but by fair access. Schools where broken laptops join a list of devices needing repair. Schools where slow internet can derail an entire lesson, and I have receipts for this. Schools where conversations about equity cannot stop at access to premium platforms because some students are still waiting for access to functioning devices and suitable chargers. 

Those realities never disappeared simply because AI entered the conversation. On the contrary, they became even more visible.

The Equity Gap in the Age of AI

I didn’t join GenerationAI to become an artificial intelligence expert. I joined because I was trying to persevere and find as many resources as possible to make magic in an environment challenged by barriers to access, resources, and injustice outside the classroom. 

Looking back, I honestly wish I could have absorbed more from my GenerationAI cohort. The learning was incredibly rich, but almost too rich, given the barriers my students and I faced every day around time and access to functioning technology.

Still, I don’t see that as a failure. I didn’t leave as an AI expert. I left as a teacher who wasn’t afraid to experiment. That may be the most important lesson of all.

We don’t need educators who know every tool. We need educators who are willing to ask better questions, willing to take instructional risks, and willing to discover how technology can support, rather than replace, authentic teaching and sincere moments of connection.

AI never became the star of my classroom. My students remained at the center as mis estrellas – my stars.

AI never became the star of my classroom. My students remained at the center as mis estrellas – my stars.

Sometimes innovation isn’t about having all the answers. Sometimes it’s about having the courage to try something new. AI didn’t replace the heart of my teaching; it gave me more time to use it in the way I felt would resonate with both me and my students.

With the launch of ChatGPT four years ago, the graduating class of 2026 is the first to have full exposure to generative artificial intelligence. Many high school students in the United States have considerable experience using AI — and mixed feelings about its growing role in everyday life. They may take advantage of AI benefits, but some fear where the technology could take us in the future.

That concern was on clear display at the Me, Myself, and AI art show at the America’s Youth AI Festival, which took place last month in Boston. The three-day event gathered student leaders, educators and school system leaders from across the country to discuss acceptable AI use in the classroom and how it is influencing students’ lives. The festival was hosted by Day of AI, MIT RAISE, The School Superintendents Association and the Edward M. Kennedy Institute.

The event featured two contests: AI for a Better World and an art competition. Four students (last names withheld) shared the spotlight as winners of the 2026 Me, Myself, and AI art competition. Their work reflected AI’s influence in their communities today and what they think AI may look like in 50 years. Annie, an 11th grader from the Barbara Keel Art School and Auburn High School in Alabama, exemplified the worry on the minds of many students with her two-part winning entry titled “Which Way We Run.”

“Which Way We Run” by Annie, Auburn, Alabama

Credit: Day of AI USA

Depicting AI’s Evolving Influence

Annie’s two pieces illustrate how AI is already affecting human life and what could happen to humans if we continue to rely on it for trivial needs every day. “The first piece represents my current community and focuses on how AI is beginning to integrate into everyday life,” she says. “The buildings are bright and colorful, symbolizing liveliness, creativity and emotion — all human qualities. In the center, two people are running, representing different stages of human interaction with AI-driven technology.”

“A Self-Portrait Across Time” by Juliette, Rye, New York

Credit: Day of AI USA

In addition to Annie, the competition winners included 11th-grader Evangelina from the Essex County Newark Tech school in Newark, New Jersey, for “A Free Venezuela”; 11th-grader Juliette from the Rye Country Day School in Rye, New York, for “A Self-Portrait Across Time”; and 9th-grader Wendi from the Atlanta Contemporary Chinese Academy in Decatur, Georgia, for “Community Today as Meandering in Divide, Community in 50 Years as Yearning into Time.”

The Me, Myself, and AI art competition grew out of a curriculum developed by the MIT Responsible AI for Social Empowerment and Education (RAISE) initiative, explains Jeffrey Riley, executive director of Day of AI. The ideas debuted in a high school summer program in 2024 and later expanded into Day of AI’s five-lesson AI and the Creative Arts Curriculum, which was released in January 2025 for students ages 8 and up.

“A Free Venezuela” by Evangelina, Newark, New Jersey

Credit: Day of AI USA

The lessons invite students to examine the relationship between AI and creativity by analyzing AI-generated artwork, discussing questions of authorship and originality and creating art of their own. Winning entries were selected through a multi-reviewer evaluation process similar to those used in college admissions or scholarship competitions, Riley says.

“Judges evaluated submissions holistically, considering creativity, originality, evidence of process, thoughtful use of AI and the authenticity of each student’s personal voice,” Riley explains. “The emphasis was never on creating the most impressive AI-generated image but on how effectively students used creativity and, where appropriate, AI, to communicate their ideas.”

“Community in 50 Years” by Wendi, Decatur, Georgia

Credit: Day of AI USA

The Growing Impact of AI on Art and Media

Riley predicts AI will become a standard part of many artists’ creative workflows, much like digital design software, cameras or animation tools are today. It has the potential to make creative exploration more accessible, he says, helping people prototype ideas, explore new styles and bring concepts to life more quickly.

“AI will shape how young people live, learn, create and connect,” explains Cynthia Breazeal, director of MIT RAISE and co-founder of Day of AI. “What is so powerful about Me, Myself, and AI is that it gives students the opportunity to reflect on that future in a deeply personal and imaginative way.”

Annie says she was attracted to this competition because of its themes in connecting art, AI and humanity. She saw it as a forum to share and learn what her generation thinks of AI, its ethical concerns and the implications it has for art, especially with the current contention surrounding AI-generated images.

“The use of AI to create media is not appropriate in corporate models that exploit the work of artists without consent,” Annie says. “Instead, if any artist believes that AI is integral to a project they want to create, they should look toward models that are trained on open-source data or ethically sourced media. Additionally, even with ethical models, AI’s large environmental footprint means we should be mindful of what we ask it to do.”

Encouraging Lessons from the Competition

Riley says that what impressed the judging team most was how thoughtful students were in their decision-making and how candid they were about their feelings toward AI. Rather than simply using AI because it was available, many carefully considered when it strengthened their creative vision and when it did not. Some intentionally limited or even chose not to use AI for portions of their projects because they wanted certain elements to remain entirely their own.

“One of the biggest lessons we took away was that young people are far more thoughtful about AI than they’re often given credit for,” Riley says. “Students didn’t see AI as simply ‘good’ or ‘bad.’ Instead, they expressed a wide range of perspectives based on their own experiences using the technology.”

The competition also reinforced the importance of giving students authentic, hands-on opportunities to wrestle with these questions rather than simply teaching them about AI in the abstract.

“These insights will continue to shape curricula and learning experiences as we help students develop the critical thinking, creativity and ethical decision-making skills they’ll need in an AI-driven world,” Riley explains. “Our goal has never been to encourage or discourage AI use but rather to empower young people to make informed, intentional choices about how they use these technologies.”

Have you considered that the greatest risk of artificial intelligence might not be plagiarism, but the quiet erosion of students’ ability to think for themselves?

“How does Kate Chopin use irony to challenge the reader’s understanding of freedom?” I ask while standing in front of my 11th-grade English class.

Normally, this is the point where students flip through the text, underline a few lines, exchange ideas with classmates and slowly begin constructing an answer. Instead, their eyes stare back at me. Shoulders shrug.

“I don’t know,” one student says.

Then another follows with a response I’ve begun hearing more frequently.

“I use ChatGPT. How am I supposed to know that?”

The room becomes quiet again. Not because students are thinking; many aren’t even trying to. And that’s the problem.

I’ve taught English and special education in New York City for 13 years. Throughout my career, I’ve worked with students whose disabilities affect their reading and writing ability, executive functioning, attention span and language processing. I’ve spent years designing lessons that help students access learning without taking away the cognitive work required to truly engage in the learning. 

My role has never been to lower expectations but to remove barriers while preserving rigor. Students have always struggled. That’s part of learning. But lately, I’m seeing something different. They aren’t just struggling with literature. They’re struggling with thinking itself.

This isn’t because artificial intelligence suddenly makes students less capable. National reading data show persistent declines in literacy achievement, while writing research consistently finds that adolescents struggle most with analytical and evidence-based writing, which are essential tasks that cultivate critical thinking. AI didn’t create those challenges, but it happened to arrive at exactly the moment those foundational skills became even more fragile.

If we’re not intentional about encouraging students to think, AI risks becoming a substitute for the very cognitive work students most need to practice.

When AI Becomes the Brain Instead of the Thought Partner

A student is absent. I send the assignment home. The next morning, it comes back looking nothing like the work I watched that same student produce in class. The vocabulary is sophisticated. The literary analysis flows effortlessly. Complex symbolism appears, even though the student struggled the day before to identify the protagonist’s motivation.

Then, I administer an in-class assessment.

With pencil and paper, many of those same students struggle to organize ideas, support claims with textual evidence, or sustain a multi-paragraph response. The discrepancy isn’t simply about cheating. It raises a more fundamental question: Whose thinking is actually being measured?

Researchers describe this phenomenon as cognitive offloading, the tendency to rely on external tools to reduce mental effort. To be fair, humans have always done this. We use calculators for arithmetic, GPS for navigation, and calendars to remember appointments because those tools free cognitive space for more complex tasks.

Reading, writing and critical thinking, however, serve a different purpose. The assignment isn’t merely the product; it is the practice. Every annotation, rough draft, revision and discussion strengthens the cognitive muscles students rely on to analyze, reason and synthesize information and make judgments independently.

Researchers are beginning to examine what happens when generative AI assumes more of those “human” responsibilities. A 2024 study by Microsoft Research and Carnegie Mellon University found that workers who relied more heavily on generative AI reported less critical evaluation and independent reasoning at work. Although the study focused on adults rather than K-12 students, it raises important questions for education. If adults become less likely to critically evaluate information when AI consistently performs the thinking for them, what might that mean for adolescents whose reasoning skills are still developing? 

I use AI almost every day. It helps me brainstorm, challenge my thinking, locate research and consider perspectives I might have overlooked. But AI never replaces my judgment. I still evaluate the evidence, make the decisions, and write the final product.

That’s the difference between AI as a learning partner and AI as a learning replacement.

The Evidence Extends Beyond My Classroom

What I’m observing in my classroom isn’t happening in isolation. 

According to the 2024 National Assessment of Educational Progress, only 30%  of eighth graders performed at or above the “Proficient” level in reading, while one-third scored “Below Basic.” Reading achievement remains below pre-pandemic levels, meaning many students are entering high school with diminished comprehension, vocabulary, and analytical reading skills.

Those numbers matter because reading comprehension underpins every academic discipline. When students struggle to interpret complex texts, evaluate evidence, or construct meaning independently, the temptation to let AI do that cognitive work becomes even greater.

Higher education is reporting similar concerns. Faculty increasingly describe incoming students as less prepared to read complex texts independently, construct evidence-based arguments, and sustain analytical writing.

This summer, Brown University economics professor Roberto Serrano made headlines after noticing students earned an average score of nearly 96% on a take-home midterm, far above the course’s historical averages. Suspecting that many students had relied on generative AI rather than demonstrating their own understanding, Serrano replaced the traditional take-home final with a proctored, in-person exam. The average score fell to under 49%. This exposed an uncomfortable reality: Polished work completed outside the classroom does not always reflect what students can independently explain, analyze, or apply.

While this happened in a college, it is not far from what K-12 educators are experiencing in their own classrooms. This incident at Brown should signal to K-12 teachers and leaders that we are responsible for ensuring students succeed beyond graduation in postsecondary settings like college, career training programs, military service, or the workforce. 

If our students arrive at their postsecondary environments unable to think critically, independently explain, or defend their own thinking, we must engage in introspective work and ask ourselves a difficult question: Did we, as K-12 educators, properly prepare our students for the next phases of their lives and the intellectual demands that await them? 

AI is not responsible for this; we are. And we should welcome the challenge to push ourselves as educators to be intentional in our teaching and designing of learning experiences that will help develop our students’ ability to engage in higher-order thinking, resilience, and cognitive stamina before they step onto a college campus or other postsecondary environments.

Schools themselves are beginning to recalibrate their relationship with technology.

Across the country, districts have expanded handwritten assignments, paper-based assessments, technology-free instructional blocks, and restrictions on personal devices after educators reported improvements in attention, discussion quality, and independent reasoning. Even within my own school community, students are expected to put their phones into locked pouches for the school day. 

Ironically, while many schools have implemented phone-free policies to reduce distractions, students often spend the remainder of the day learning almost exclusively through laptops and tablets. 

Perhaps the issue isn’t technology itself, but how much thinking we ask students to surrender to it. And maybe a question to consider: Did we move too fast integrating AI technology into our school communities, and are we still learning about it?

What This Looks Like in My Classroom

Over the past year, I have realized it is imperative that my students learn about artificial intelligence alongside digital citizenship, including the importance of using AI safely and ethically. As their educator, I want them to understand that AI is meant to support their learning and become their thought partner, not be the primary thinker and creator.

Before opening a computer, let alone an AI tool, they annotate texts independently, discuss ideas with classmates, gather evidence, and develop an original claim. They wrestle with uncertainty because productive struggle isn’t a barrier to learning; it’s the mechanism through which learning occurs. Only after students have established their own thinking do I invite AI into the conversation.

Instead of asking AI to complete an assignment, students use it to generate counterarguments, identify gaps in reasoning, suggest additional textual evidence, or offer alternative interpretations. They compare AI-generated responses with their own, critique each response’s strengths and limitations, and decide what strengthens their work. The final decision always belongs to the student, as does the ability to think critically about the information they are assessing.

I’ve also begun intentionally reintroducing practices many classrooms have quietly abandoned, not because they’re nostalgic, but because they build cognitive endurance. Students complete handwritten brainstorming, annotate printed texts, participate in technology-free discussions, and periodically write entirely without devices. These are pro-thinking activities, not anti-AI activities.

I also establish intentional boundaries around technology. Not every lesson requires AI or needs a screen. Some learning experiences that I develop are technology-free because students deserve opportunities to wrestle with ideas before technology enters the conversation.

So far, the transition hasn’t been seamless.

Students initially resisted and became frustrated when I would say “no” to them getting a laptop to engage in the assignment and instead required handwritten planning before digital drafting. I often ask them to develop an argument in my ELA class before consulting AI. They had become accustomed to immediate answers and gratification, where productive struggle felt uncomfortable for them.

That feeling of discomfort isn’t always evidence that learning isn’t happening. Often, it’s evidence that it is. It’s what I often felt as I struggled with my math classes in high school and spent hours looking at formulas that my brain couldn’t compute. But the harder I studied, the easier things became.

Over time, I watched the same experience occur with my students. They became more willing to defend their reasoning because they knew those ideas belonged to them. They asked deeper questions. They worked with their peers and revised more thoughtfully. They self-assessed before they jumped to AI to evaluate their thinking. But most importantly, they began trusting their own thinking again.

From Digital Citizenship to Cognitive Citizenship

Digital citizenship should also include what I think of as cognitive citizenship: understanding when technology strengthens their thinking and when it quietly replaces it. That means teaching students to interrogate AI rather than accept its responses at face value.

I encourage students to ask:

• Is this response accurate?

• What evidence supports this claim?

• What perspectives are missing?

• Does this actually answer my question?

• Would I have reached the same conclusion on my own?

These questions shift students from passive consumers to active evaluators. AI becomes another perspective instead of an unquestioned authority.

The Future Depends on What We Choose to Preserve

It’s important to keep in mind that education exists to cultivate thinkers and develop growing minds capable of questioning, evaluating and creating answers. 

The future of education isn’t choosing between old-school instruction and new-school innovation. It’s knowing when each best serves students. Some of our oldest instructional practices, like handwritten drafting, discussion, annotation, sustained reading, and productive struggle remain some of the strongest builders of cognition. Rather than abandoning them, we should pair them with AI in ways that amplify, rather than replace, human learning.

Because while AI can generate an essay, it cannot wrestle with uncertainty, defend an argument to its peers, or discover an idea through persistence. Those moments remain uniquely and beautifully human. And those are exactly the moments educators must continue to protect.

EdSurge announced six new members to its Advisory Board, among them a mix of experienced journalists and education leaders.

Todd Frankel, Patrick Harris II, Nneka McGee, Ramona Schindelheim, Avery Thrush and Manoush Zomorodi have joined the board, each bringing a wealth of experience and expertise. The board will serve as a vital resource for the EdSurge newsroom, offering strategic insights and industry perspectives across all areas of coverage.

“Partnering with such a talented, versatile group of journalists and educators is a huge win for EdSurge and our readers,” says Sarah McKibben, EdSurge Editor-in-Chief. “With their unmatched expertise, this board brings both national perspective and deep classroom understanding to our newsroom. They will help us tackle pressing challenges like AI policy while ensuring our early childhood and K-12 coverage remains relevant, cutting-edge, and grounded in real-world impact.”

Designed to maximize impact while respecting members’ time, the board acts as a strategic, high-level advisory body. In accordance with the Institute for Nonprofit News standards, board members provide strategic guidance while holding no editorial influence or veto power on published content.

Meet the Advisory Board

Todd Frankel

Todd Frankel is a Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter at The Washington Post. The D.C. native has previously worked at newspapers in Missouri, Washington, West Virginia, Kentucky.

Frankel brings award-winning journalism experience to the board, particularly in the role of business and economics in all areas of life.  He anchored the lead story in a series that won the 2024 Pulitzer Prize for National Reporting for coverage of the AR-15 rifle’s role in mass shootings and American culture.

Patrick Harris II

Patrick Harris II is a storyteller and educator on a mission to ensure humanity is centered in the future of education. A former middle school teacher and dean of students in metro Detroit, Harris was named a 30 under 30 Honoree from the International Literacy Association in 2021 and an EdSurge Voices for Change Fellow in 2022-23. His book focusing on new educators, “The First Five: A Love Letter to Teachers,” was named a finalist for Best Professional Audiobook by the Audies. Harris is currently a doctoral student studying popular culture at Michigan State University. 

Having previously written for EdSurge, Harris hopes to use his new involvement as a board member to support EdSurge’s efforts to highlight student and teacher innovation.

“I deeply respect the work of EdSurge and its commitment to editorial independence,” Harris says. “I deeply appreciate the care EdSurge has for teachers and educators and how it comes through the compelling stories they report on and uplift.”

Nneka McGee

Nneka McGee is an educator and researcher who taught middle school mathematics and served as a district administrator. As part of her doctoral studies, McGee completed research on the impact of artificial intelligence in K-12 learning environments. 

Most recently, McGee served as project lead and principal co-author of “Responsible Assessment in the AI Era” and  “AI + Learning Differences: Designing for a Future with No Boundaries,” published by Stanford Accelerator for Learning. Her latest work, “AI for Young Learners: Balancing Tech Use with Authentic, Off-Screen Experiences,” was released as a jump start guide by the International Society for Transforming Education in early 2026.

“I understand the importance of offering informative content that helps create a better understanding of an ever-changing landscape. The EdSurge Advisory Board provides an opportunity to be part of the conversation,” McGee says.

Ramona Schindelheim

Ramona Schindelheim is an award-winning journalist and storyteller covering the future of work and pathways to economic mobility. She is a Top Voice on LinkedIn and her monthly newsletter, The Future of Work(ers), features reporting and interviews on the programs, initiatives and people helping American workers prepare for and find quality jobs and economic mobility. Ramona has worked in national and local news, including at ABC, CBS, NBC, CNBC and The Wall Street Journal.  

Schindelheim brings unique perspective and expertise on work readiness and the need for educators to meet the moment. She decided to join the board “to help shape the narrative around the future of work and the role education must play in preparing learners and workers for the changing economy.”

Avery Thrush

Avery Thrush is an education policy analyst and writer, currently working as a LEE Fellow at the Massachusetts Department of Elementary and Secondary Education. After spending her early career as a sixth-grade science teacher, Thrush has led community organizing efforts and contributed to state-level policy initiatives related to artificial intelligence in education, school funding and strengthening career-connected education. She was selected as a 2022-23 EdSurge Voices of Change Fellow.

Thrush brings versatile expertise in the education field, from rural and Appalachian education to public schools as engines of democracy. She joins the board with the hope of elevating the voices and expertise of students and teachers, since they are the closest to the challenges facing education today.

Manoush Zomorodi

Credit: Tory Williams

Manoush Zomorodi is an award-winning journalist, author, and host of NPR’s “TED Radio Hour,” whose work explores how technology is changing the way we think, work, learn and live. Her latest book, “Body Electric: The Hidden Health Costs of the Digital Age and New Science to Reclaim Your Well-Being,” grew out of a groundbreaking NPR–Columbia University public health project involving more than 20,000 participants. 

She is also the author of “Bored and Brilliant: How Spacing Out Can Unlock Your Most Productive and Creative Self,” and her TED talks on the attention economy and the physical effects of technology on our bodies have been viewed more than 7 million times. Zomorodi hosts NPR’s “Body Electric” podcast, a six-part series on the physical toll of digital life and how to reclaim our bodies. A 2025 Rockefeller Foundation Bellagio Center resident, Zomorodi has won two Gracie Awards and a Webby Award and was named one of Fast Company’s “100 Most Creative People in Business.”

Zomorodi brings her expertise in the effect of media and tech on behavior and health to EdSurge’s edtech coverage. 

“I respect the work of the group and its readers immensely and want to support them [as they] figure out this next chapter for education and tech,” Zomorodi says.

For years, as a library media specialist, I took great pride in my role as guardian of the 20,000 books in our library, meticulously cataloging and protecting our collection. But after dedicating nearly two decades to education, I came to a vital realization: The most important chapters in our school’s history weren’t on our bookshelves; they were waiting to be written by the students themselves.

I’ve seen firsthand how easily innovation can get reduced to a one-time event: a quick photo-op, a splashy press release, or the arrival of a new shipment of shiny devices. It’s frustrating because that approach never lasts; it’s a temporary buzz that leaves the core of our instructional ecosystem fundamentally unchanged. The real problem is that our students deserve more than a “device drop.” They need and deserve a long-term commitment that actually reshapes how they learn. 

That shift in perspective is what drives my work today. I’ve moved from being a gatekeeper of static resources to someone who actively creates a dynamic, student-centered environment. It is no longer just about having resources; it’s about ensuring they become the backbone of a sustainable, future-ready classroom experience.

The Quiet Before the Storm

For the first 10 years of my career, my roles ranged from teaching third and fifth graders to serving as a school technology teacher and a sixth-grade pre-AP reading and math instructor. Following 10 years across multiple grade levels and content areas, I transitioned into the role of a library media specialist, which soon became my entire world. My days were defined by the ebb and flow of students coming in to check out books and learn the literacy skills necessary to develop knowledge. 

Parents, community members, and even fellow educators often referred to me as “just a librarian,” and while I wore that title with pride, I was acutely aware of the silent burden we carried. The library was viewed as a traditional hub for books and nothing else, leaving our students tethered to the past while the world raced forward in technology and innovation. Our students possessed inherent brilliance, yet they were consistently overlooked by a STEM narrative that rarely considered our zip code. 

Society often operates on an unspoken assumption that technological breakthroughs belong exclusively to affluent districts or established tech hubs. Because our community didn’t fit that traditional mold, the narrative bypassed us, systematically starving our students of the advanced tools and platforms required to translate their raw potential into tangible innovation. 

Everything changed for us when I had a conversation with Beth Sanders, then vice president of Ed Farm. The nonprofit organization, headquartered right here in Birmingham, launched a strategic partnership with Birmingham City Schools (BCS). Their goal was clear: to boost educational equity by closing digital skills gaps across our district and region. While the strategic partnership between Ed Farm and BCS had already been established since 2020, I learned that my space, the South Hampton K-8 library, had recently been chosen for a complete renovation.

Beth Sanders approached me with this incredible opportunity, knowing that this project would be the first of its kind in the state of Alabama. Our discussion became the catalyst for completely reimagining the space. In addition to the physical Ed Farm spaces, educators and students benefited from specialized fellowships. Together, these initiatives pushed us beyond the status quo, ensuring we prioritized sustainable, future-ready learning over superficial technology adoption.

Students were also invited into the design process, and for the most part, they led the way. I sat back and watched as they traded ideas about robotics, green screens, and iPads. Witnessing them design their own future before a single wire was plugged in proved we were creating something much bigger than a state-of-the-art library — we were creating the library of innovation.

Becoming an Architect of Possibility

In 2022, we finally cut the ribbon on the first official Ed Farm space at South Hampton K-8 School, “The Library of Innovation.” Balloons were tethered to the doorways, camera crews maneuvered for the perfect angle, and city officials were buzzing with the promise of a new era. It was one of those “pinch-me” moments, seeing the last couple of years of dreaming and planning finally take physical shape for our kids. But when the local city council members, edtech partners, and school board officials headed home, the real, gritty, unglamorous labor of building capacity began. My mission shifted from being a keeper of books to an architect of possibility. 

By moving past traditional keyboarding to teach coding, website architecture, and engineering principles, I equipped students to interrogate their environment and engineer solutions to the challenges they encounter in their own neighborhoods. Instead of just learning how to use software, they began leveraging creative programming workflows to design AI and Internet of Things-driven systems, such as functional tornado warning models, to address severe weather threats right here at home. Seeing them build these concepts proved that this space was doing exactly what it was meant to do: transforming students from passive digital consumers into true architects of possibility.

Over the course of the next year, the library had transformed into a dynamic laboratory. The hum of 3D printers bringing custom keychains and game remote holders to life became our soundtrack. The sharp whir of drone propellers slicing through the air replaced the static silence of the past. The intense, focused chatter of a student-led podcast recording of “Bulldog Talk on the Edge” became the new student voice. We purposefully curated this environment to break the traditional mold, challenging the students to completely redefine their expectations of the space and of themselves.

Defying the Narrative: From Participation to Mastery

In an urban environment, the STEM narrative is often restricted and expectations are frequently capped. This cap does not exist because of a lack of student capability but rather because of a systemic failure in how society views innovation. The narrative feels capped because the broader educational system frequently assumes urban students only need to learn how to participate in the digital world as consumers, rather than being equipped with the sophisticated coding environments and engineering principles required to master it as creators.

From the first day the library reopened, I watched the confidence of our students bloom. As they mastered the new tools, this newfound confidence translated into tangible success, resulting in a series of competition wins and vital funding for our school. They took that confidence and applied it to real-world problems. 

Photo Credit: Birmingham City Schools

During the 2024-2025 school year, they won the ALTEC Challenge for the “Hygiene Hub,” a vending machine solution for personal care products paired with a custom community app they coded. 

Next, we won $12,000 in Samsung technology representing the state of Alabama in the Samsung Solve for Tomorrow competition with an upcycling machine designed to turn old clothes into hygiene products.

The momentum continued when three of our seventh-grade students won the Alabama state title in the eCYBERMISSION competition, earning $500 in savings bonds each for their innovation. This all happened in the span of one school year, cementing the fact that our students weren’t just playing with STEM. They had become experts in their domain.

However, the ultimate validation of our shift came this past school year. In April, our students rose to become national finalists in Samsung Solve for Tomorrow, standing out as one of only 10 schools in the entire nation. They secured $50,000 in Samsung technology. The experience offered so much more: My students flew to Washington, D.C., and stayed on Capitol Hill to pitch an early-warning system for tornadoes they created for The Washington Post. Their presence on that stage, pitching for the $100,000 grand prize, was proof that their innovation belonged in the highest arenas of influence. 

Redefining Excellence

How does a library, once defined by shelves of paper, become an incubator for national-stage innovation? It happens when you stop viewing technology as a product and start viewing it as a catalyst for human agency.

The gap between buying tech and building capacity is bridged by leadership that refuses to let the innovation end when the ribbon is cut. It is bridged by mentors who show students that their zip code does not dictate their capacity to lead. When you provide students with the right tools, these students don’t just keep up; they excel.

In the span of one year, my students transformed what it means to be a student in Birmingham City Schools. We proved that when students in urban, underserved neighborhoods are given the resources to match their ingenuity, the results are world-changing.

This library is no longer just a place to check out books; it is where students can rewrite their own narratives. The ribbons may be gone, but the ecosystem we built remains a living, breathing playground of innovation. We didn’t just join the STEM conversation; we changed it.

When the American Academy of Pediatrics updated its guidelines around screen time for children and teenagers for the first time in 10 years this past January, many teachers and educators applauded the news. The document focused less on television and more on digital devices. It offered educators, families, pediatricians, and other stakeholders research-backed guidance on using digital devices to support children’s learning, rather than prioritize prolonged engagement. 

However, many of the recommendations were not tailored to specific age groups. Recommendations like “create a family media plan” and “protect sleep” were helpful but offered few concrete steps for pre-K students.  

That left early childhood educators asking what they could do for their young learners.

The Risks in Pre-K Through K

Unlike the physical world, digital content comes fast, in short bursts, and when kids get used to that, it has negative consequences. “Too much of this screen and things jumping in front of them, it could be damaging overall,” says Latoya Jones, a pre-K through fifth-grade media specialist in Broward County, Florida. “They are developing their cognitive processes, and if we’re teaching them to think in six-second bursts, maybe that’s not what we’re aiming for.”

When kids interact with devices rather than people, their emotional regulation can suffer, says Kristina Turner, a first-grade teacher at the Paterson, New Jersey, campus of College Achieve Public Schools, a network of three K-12 charter schools. “A lot of the students, they are quick-tempered because they’re just used to quick things. If something takes too long, their behavior starts to heighten,” she says.

For the youngest learners in particular, “it is so important that they are learning how to interact, and listen, and even advocate for themselves,” says Colleen Francisco, a kindergarten teacher at Laurel Springs School, an online school in West Chester, Pennsylvania.

“There’s beauty in students having an issue or a problem, because then an adult can support them in working through it,” she says. When kids are tethered to their screens, those opportunities don’t arise.

Clearly, the AAP guidance is well timed and much needed. But how to put that guidance into practice?

Classroom Strategies for Reducing Screen Time

“I never want my children using screens passively,” says Devon Caldwell, a pre-K and K teacher at Canupawakpa Education in Manitoba, Canada, and an instructor at Nipissing University Schulich School of Education in Ontario. “I want to see kids’ bodies moving, their mouths talking, little hands making something.”

To that end, she prioritizes co-viewing and co-creating, using interactive teaching software approved by her and the school. When students are using a screen, “they’re always using it with a partner. Right away they’re negotiating rules, talking to each other, developing those really important skills,” she says.

For her first graders, Turner tries as much as possible to create hands-on activities instead of relying on screens. For example, she uses a whiteboard, but tries to avoid it when giving instructions. “Students have to use their listening skills so they can be able to follow directions without using a screen,” she says. “By end of school year, I’m able to give them different tasks, and they’re able to do that independently, without depending on technology.”

Tyler Brown, an English teacher at Indian River Middle School in Philadelphia, New York, encourages teachers to be thoughtful about the digital tools they share with the youngest learners. “Don’t throw [the digital tool] at everything,” he says. “Think about what you’re using it for. Think about what it’s supposed to do. Is this an enhancement of learning or is this a replacement?”

These self-directed questions can drive practical choices in the classroom. “You’re doing AT words: cat, mat, bat. You could easily have a website or a Google slide where they’re dragging those items onto the correct word,” says Brown.

“Or you could do what we’ve done in the past, which is a cut-and-glue activity,” he continues. “Why are we using screen time for something that can easily be a manipulative activity, where kids are doing things hands-on? Little kids are tactile learners, and those hands-on exercises have real value.”

Even as a teacher in an online school, Francisco is finding ways to limit screen time. “One of our assignments is taking a nature walk and writing down what you see. That is something that extends the learning off the screen,” she says.

Even math can be hands-on for early learners, she adds. “You don’t have to have anything fancy. You don’t have to buy the tools: Even just using cereal in order to practice adding and subtracting,” she says.

Jones was a kindergarten teacher before becoming a media specialist. “Anytime I had a word of the week, we used Play-Doh to build a word. Or we did those little sandboxes where they drew the word in the sand,” she says.

Big picture: Active and tactile often are better than passive and screen-based. “Could this be accomplished with blocks or Play-Doh or markers and paper? If it could be, let’s do it that way,” Caldwell says.

But teachers can only do so much in the classroom when kids are immersed in digital media at home. In support of the AAP’s call to prioritize family time over screen time, teachers may need to engage more with parents.

Engaging with Families

Pre-K and K teachers don’t have control over what kids do outside of school. “At home, a lot of my students go straight to their screens,” Turner says. To help steer her own kids and her students when they are at home, she gives parents resources. “I’m able to provide them with index cards, and you can keep them in the back seat,” she says.

When kids get in the car, “instead of reaching for an iPad, they can reach for their index cards, whether it’s math problems or sight words,” she says. “Or you can put that as a magnet on your refrigerator: If you want a snack, you got to read this word.”

When Francisco sends homework through the learning management system, “we have workbooks and other hands-on activities that support the lesson,” she says. And she encourages parents to talk to their kids, as a pedagogic exercise.

“Phonemic awareness is especially important to early-literacy learners. The learner is listening to sounds and how sounds are manipulated,” she says. “I’ve given parents additional resources so that [kids] are not reading or not listening or watching on the video. Instead, they’re doing it with their student, face to face.”

It takes some creativity and extra effort by teachers and parents to pivot kids off of screens, but experts say it’s worth the effort. Too much screen time “can negatively impact executive functioning, socio-emotional and language skills,” says Bryana Casas M.A., master teacher at Pacific Oaks Children’s School in Pasadena, California.

For those honing their interpersonal skills — a main goal in pre-K through K education — “nothing can replace relationships and face-to-face interactions between people,” she says.

When I started looking closely at the learning platforms schools ask families to use, I noticed something easy to miss if it doesn’t affect you: almost all of them are built in English first.

For families who speak Spanish at home, that one fact quietly changes everything. A child might be able to follow along in class, but the parent often can’t — and a parent who can’t understand the material can’t sit beside their kid and help them with it. The language barrier becomes an opportunity barrier. And it’s invisible to the people who never have to think about it.

For me, the English-first technology trend was never abstract. My own children use the technology I’ve built, and I built it for families like the ones all around me — so that the opportunity to understand money, technology, and how to build something of your own doesn’t depend on which language gets spoken at the dinner table. I’m tired of watching the same families get left a step behind — not because their kids are any less capable but because no one built the on-ramp in a language they could use.

That language gap is what I set out to close.

It matters now more than ever because a growing number of states are starting to require students to take a personal finance course to graduate. For example, California’s Assembly Bill 2927 requires students to complete a stand-alone personal finance course to graduate high school starting with the class of 2030-31, with schools required to offer it by 2027-28. But if the lessons exist only in English, many households that need that knowledge are also the ones least able to access and reinforce it at home. A mandate built that way doesn’t close the gap. It can widen it.

I’ve spent the past three years building a bilingual K-12 learning platform, and the single most important thing I’ve learned is this: there is a world of difference between a product that has been translated and a product that is bilingual. Most edtech tools that advertise Spanish support only translate the interface — the menus, the buttons, the navigation — but the instruction itself stays in English. To a district evaluating the tool in a demo, it looks bilingual. To a parent sitting down with their child at the kitchen table, it isn’t.

This is the part I think edtech keeps getting wrong. We tend to treat language as the last step: build the English version and then add Spanish later if the budget allows. But a lesson a family can’t understand together hasn’t really been delivered — it’s just a box that got checked.

So, what does taking this seriously actually look like? Having sat on the builder’s side of these conversations, here is the concrete guidance I’d offer.

Five Questions for Edtech Vendors

When a vendor says their product “supports Spanish,” ask the following questions to differentiate true bilingual instruction from a translated menu bar:

• Is the instructional content itself available in Spanish — for every lesson and at every grade level — or only the interface? Ask them to open a mid-unit lesson in Spanish during the demo, not the homepage.

• Is the audio in Spanish or only the text? Many parents are stronger listeners than readers in either language. Text-only translation still excludes them.

• Are parent-facing communications translated? Progress reports, dashboards and notification emails are how parents actually use the platform. If these features are in English, the parent is cut out of the loop no matter what the student sees.

• Was the Spanish content written or reviewed by educators or was it machine translated? Machine translation of math word problems and financial terms produces errors that would confuse a struggling reader.

• When new content is released, are both languages released together? If Spanish content is released a semester after the English content, Spanish-speaking families are permanently a step behind — by design.

A vendor with a truly bilingual platform will answer these questions in 30 seconds. A vendor with a translated interface will pivot to their roadmap.

Small Changes Keep Parents in the Loop

Teachers can’t rewrite their district’s software, but they can keep Spanish-speaking parents in the learning loop with the tools they already have.

• Send the “what we’re learning this week” note home in both languages. Even if the learning platform is only in English, a two-line bilingual summary tells a parent what to ask their child about at dinner. Free translation tools are imperfect, but a two-line note reviewed by parents is achievable weekly.

• Show parents the language toggle if one exists. Many families never discover a product’s Spanish mode because nobody walked them through it at back-to-school night. A five-minute demonstration in the fall can change a family’s entire year.

• Assign homework with the parent in mind. When assigning homework on an English-only platform, include one question the student must explain to their parent in the family’s home language. This makes the parent a participant instead of a bystander. Plus, explaining a concept in another language is one of the best comprehension checks there is.

• Flag the gaps upward. District procurement teams rarely hear which tools are failing bilingual families because the feedback doesn’t travel that far. A teacher noting that “the educational unit has no Spanish audio and my students’ parents can’t understand it” is exactly the evidence a district needs at renewal time.

Requirements Don’t Create Access

Taking access seriously isn’t complicated. It means treating a second language as a design requirement, not a stretch goal. It means making the platform bilingual from the first line of code, in the text and the audio, so a parent and child can move through a lesson together. It means making sure the highest value subjects — the ones tied to a student’s economic future — are the ones that exist in both languages first, not last. None of this is exotic. It’s just a decision about who you’re building for, made early enough to matter.

As he instructs bilingual learners in the humanities and social studies, Daniel Gomez sees big promise in artificial intelligence.

“Teachers in general cannot be knowledgeable about every single subject,” and certainly not in multiple languages, says Gomez, who teaches at the bilingual K-12 Ideal School in Tampa, Florida. AI can help close the gaps. “It will be able to pick up any topic students are interested in and handle the topic reasonably well.”

He isn’t alone in this assessment. Harvard researchers, for example, are actively exploring how AI-powered chatbots can support bilingual student learning and parent–child dialogues.

“There are lots of opportunities to use AI to adapt learning materials into different languages, which can expand access for bilingual learners,” says Ying Xu, an assistant professor of education at Harvard and one of the researchers involved in the work.

“Some projects are also exploring how AI can provide additional scaffolding to help children comprehend content in their home language,” she adds. “For example, a multilingual language model might keep the core learning content in English while offering explanations, prompts or supports in the child’s home language.”

Experts see great potential for AI to elevate bilingual education — if it’s done right.

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Chatbots as Educational Aids

“Bilingual learners are obviously learning the language and culture of the classroom and the environment that they’re in,” says Krystle Salas, assistant director of special populations at Second Mile, which operates alternative education charter schools for at-risk students in several states.

“They don’t necessarily have access to the instructional materials or even just the conversations going on in the classroom — and certainly not at the level of their peers,” she continues. And teachers may not have the experience or the tools to scaffold the necessary supports for these students.

AI can help teachers to be more effective, and it can help bilingual learners thrive. A chatbot “can give [students] pieces of the content in Spanish or give them smaller sentences that are simpler,” Salas says.

Chatbots can also help bilingual students build confidence. “Maybe I don’t want to talk in English in front of other people, but I’ll talk in English to the chatbot because the chatbot doesn’t care if I’m doing it wrong,” says Melissa Henning, the K-12 educational content manager at The Source for Learning.

“You can have a conversation with the chatbot about what you meant to say and what came out, and it can help you rephrase it,” she adds. “That can really empower you as a multilingual learner.”

Gomez sees a role for AI in helping young learners master the concepts being taught in the classroom. Perhaps the chatbot will teach it to them in their native language, but that’s alright. Students can get a handle on the materials, “and later on we can worry about knowing whether [they] also know the word” in English, he adds.

Chatbots can be a boon, too, because of their 24/7 availability. Although there are many ways to master learning materials, they don’t help “if you are not actively practicing,” Gomez says. Especially for those learning in a foreign language, AI’s ever-present availability creates more opportunities for practice.

Using SchoolAI, education strategist and ISTE Certified Educator Stephanie Howell has seen the benefits of AI firsthand. Students use it as a “guide on the side,” annotating as they read, she adds, “and if they don’t know a word, they can go over to the AI and say, ‘Explain this to me in another way.’ It creates that self-awareness skill. I’m not the one always finding the words that they need help with.”

As a second- and third-grade intervention specialist at Lancaster City Schools in Ohio, she’ll create a learning activity and tell the AI, “When they get it wrong the first time, I don’t want you to super-scaffold for them. I want them to have that productive struggle. But if they miss it a second time, I want you to provide a sentence starter.”

And she’s using AI herself to support her students. As a co-teacher, she’ll take what the main teacher has assigned and break it down, asking AI, “What vocabulary in this article might my students struggle with?” or “Help me analyze the patterns that you notice.” This gives her greater insight and more time in the day to focus on one-on-one learning and other high-value strategies.

Chatbots as Family Engagement Tools

Chatbots can also help close the gap for students who otherwise wouldn’t be able to talk fully about their schoolwork at home.

“A lot of parents speak Spanish. Their kids are coming home with this English stuff, and they don’t speak [the language]. Rather than having students speak in both languages, they can actually use both languages at the same time to build concepts,” with the chatbot translating simultaneously, Henning says.

“A lot of times the students are stronger English speakers than their parents,” she continues. With help from a chatbot, “they can engage in dialogue, positioning the home language as an asset rather than a barrier.”

Teachers can foster this. With their prompting, “a bot could send a family a nightly question tied to the day’s lesson, like ‘Ask your child about the bravest thing this character did in the book,’” she adds. “That gives non-English-speaking parents a way to have a conversation about that content.”

Best Practices for Using Chatbots

For schools looking to leverage chatbots in support of bilingual learners, experts say it’s important to move ahead thoughtfully. They need to be careful about “the unintended consequences of widening existing gaps,” Xu says.

“For example, many AI systems are still less accurate at recognizing bilingual children’s speech, especially when children have accented speech or dialectal variation or are moving between languages,” she adds.

As a result, “bilingual learners may benefit less from these tools if the system cannot accurately understand their speech,” she continues. “This concern also applies to the use of AI for assessment, where dialectal variation or accented speech could lead to inaccurate evaluation.”

Then there’s the digital divide to consider, since students will need access to the chatbots for any of this to work. “You want to make sure that we’re not widening the gap because they don’t have devices available at home or they don’t have internet at home,” Henning says.

Howell encourages teachers to make intelligent use of AI’s built-in multilingual capabilities. With some tools, “[students] can actually start typing in Spanish if I don’t set up the requirement to stay in English,” she adds.

That can be helpful, but it needs to used thoughtfully. “Sometimes as a teacher, I can’t have my students go back and forth because they have to learn it in English,” she continues. “It always goes back to the learning goal.”

Educators also need to be mindful about the AI models their chatbots are using. Tools may be trained on academic language, but students need to tackle school subjects informally as well. The AI should suit the need.

“If we need more technical vocabulary or something that is more prone to be used on an everyday basis, we can train it to do that,” Gomez says. “We can customize it to our needs.”

And the teacher’s voice should always be the most prominent. “Even though AI can be a very valuable tool — it can help with a great many things — you always need that human touch,” he adds.

At Second Mile, Salas echoes this notion. “Children need that human interaction,” she says. “A teacher can read their emotions; they can see the full context of the situation and adjust in real time. And AI can make mistakes, so we always want to make sure the majority of the instruction and support is coming from the humans.”

We’ve all had some version of the nightmare: You’ve been inexplicably thrown back into high school, and now you’re standing in front of the class. You’re about to give a speech, but you can’t remember a word. The panic is exacerbated by the faces of students staring at you, some hiding snickers and others openly laughing. Everyone knows what’s going on but you.

I was reminded of this bad dream over the past few years. As my Indigenous school’s Instructional Technology Coordinator, I have seen my office transform from a routine integration hub into a digital confessional. Colleagues and teachers who are trying to navigate destabilizing technology changes slip inside and close the door. Some are looking for practical technology triage, or just a safe space to vent their frustrations, only to recount a similar nightmare. 

For these educators, the experience triggers a sharp wave of panic, a sudden realization that the pedagogical ground has shifted beneath their feet and they can no longer trust their own instincts or traditional technology guardrails. But what follows the panic is a deep, stinging embarrassment. 

With open and hopeful hearts, these teachers publicly praised student writing, extolling the hard work and growth they believed the student had demonstrated, only to find themselves surrounded by the giggles of classmates who already knew the truth: the writing had been fully generated by an AI tool.

The students had technically succeeded while learning very little, a phenomenon Micah Miner describes as “unproductive success” in “Beyond Secondary Orality.” As a result, teachers and administrators are left trying to respond to tools and behaviors they don’t yet fully understand and have never been trained to address. 

These individual instances of unproductive success were not isolated classroom frustrations; they were early signals of a policy vacuum that would soon overwhelm our entire school system. The challenge becomes infinitely more complex at the school board level, where drafting a formal policy requires balancing the inevitable push toward AI integration with the deeply nuanced and often conflicting perspectives around AI held among students and families in the Native community. Before an AI policy could establish clear lines of accountability for staff and students and safeguard Indigenous Data Sovereignty, students were already using AI tools outside the school day to engage in cognitive offloading, having essays written for them. 

Because neither an official AI policy nor an academic honesty policy existed, teachers and administrators were forced into the uncomfortable position of responding to what many perceived as cheating without the guidance, definitions, or training necessary to do so consistently. 

The problem wasn’t just that students discovered AI before adults did; it was an economy-of-scale issue. Being a one-person technology department meant that the burden of finding a solution and making high-level policy recommendations rested entirely on me. No matter how urgent the crisis, a lone coordinator cannot instantly scale the resources an entire school community needs to decide what AI means, how it should be used, or how we should teach students to navigate it responsibly.

Schools often rely on common sense, hoping that everyone will land on the same understanding. Unfortunately for us, AI has exposed an uncomfortable truth: common sense is often just unspoken assumptions masquerading as policy. Without a common understanding of AI use, implementation practices, potential risks, and benefits, schools risk creating inconsistent and inequitable experiences for both students and educators. This raises the question: who decides what is reasonable or what makes a decision good? 

Answering that question didn’t require finding a perfect, pre-packaged solution. Ultimately, it required a small but dedicated team of school leaders, educators, and me to build one from the ground up. 

Building a Framework on Common Sense and Community 

For the past several years, it has been my job to learn as much as I can to create our own AI common sense, one based on the mission of our school to prepare our students to carry forward the wisdom of our ancestors for the benefit of future generations. 

My first step was to seek out as much information as possible from trusted sources. This led me to ISTE and the AI Explorations course, which established my foundational knowledge around AI and machine learning and created a strong network of other professionals who were also trying to navigate without a map. 

My second step was to reach out to my school’s stakeholders to ensure the work on AI benefited from as many diverse perspectives as possible. As a new Instructional Technology Coordinator in 2017, one of the first things I did when establishing my program at Indian Community School was to create a Future Ready Team, a cross-functional group of teachers, IT, and administrators. 

These Future Ready Team members became the resident experts during their two-year terms, learning to communicate with vendors and piloting new software and devices. When the issue of AI policy arose, it was this team that rose to the challenge and continued the research process along with me.  

After months of research and collaboration with the Future Ready Team, my binder was overflowing with highlighted articles, ideas, notes, and guidance documents — proof that some habits from my 1990s school days die hard — while my computer held an equally overwhelming collection of bookmarked tabs. 

Faced with this data overload, I knew my job was to translate this research into action. The solid footing we needed was a comprehensive AI framework, so I took the lead on designing a model that would serve as a strong foundation for building knowledge and be flexible enough to adapt to the ever-changing AI landscape. 

I personally curated and authored each layer of this framework to meet our school’s specific needs. This included a core policy I developed using resources from the US Department of Education, UNESCO, the Publications office of the EU and the Wisconsin Department of Public Instruction. I also drafted Staff AI guidance based on the AI Guidance for Schools Toolkit by Teach AI, revamped our student responsible use policy to incorporate AI guardrails, and constructed a visual stoplight of AI usage for classrooms based on the work done in our home state of North Carolina. 

The framework also needed to do more than establish expectations; it needed to support educators in meeting them by addressing critical issues such as safeguarding personally identifiable information, protecting intellectual property, and honoring Indigenous data sovereignty. 

Policies Can’t Teach People

While these protocols were a necessary first step in securing our digital environment, a framework is only as effective as the people implementing it. Creating the policy and guidance documents was only part of the work; true equity emerges in a school community’s capacity to respond, specifically having the staff, training, time and funding needed to translate policy into practice. 

Knowing that even the best guidance will sit unused without these resources, we ensured our framework went beyond rules to provide active opportunities for people to learn, question, and build understanding together. 

Before students were given access to AI tools on school devices, staff engaged in professional development designed to build AI literacy and confidence. Learning opportunities continued through local and state conferences, while families and community members were invited to join the conversation at an AI literacy night. The goal was not simply to introduce a new technology, but to build a shared foundation for its responsible use. The outcomes of this collective effort extended far beyond compliance. 

Teachers who had previously felt overwhelmed by the sudden influx of these tools gained the confidence needed to navigate them, shifting their approach from policing technology to guiding its purposeful use. 

Similarly, our engagement with families provided parents and community members with a transparent look at what AI usage actually looks like in classrooms. This shared clarity transformed potential anxiety into partnership, ensuring the entire school community was aligned around a unified approach that protects student critical thinking while fostering academic readiness. 

Enduring Understandings Benefit All

Ultimately, this journey has taught me that AI common sense isn’t something we can simply mandate or print out. It isn’t found neatly tucked inside a binder, no matter how many national frameworks we compile. True common sense has to be built intentionally through the collaborative and sometimes uncomfortable work of research, reflection, and learning alongside one another. 

While a policy can draw the lines on a map, it is the shared knowledge and trust within a school community that actually gives us the solid footing to move forward. 

At Indian Community School, that forward path is always guided by the principle of thinking seven generations ahead. It is a grounding reminder that the choices we make today about AI are not just about managing next week’s essays or updating a student handbook. They are about shaping students’ learning habits and critical-thinking abilities long after they leave us. 

For schools everywhere, the challenge now is to look past the establishment of compliance. We must close our binders, sit down with our communities, and commit to the slower, more deliberate work of building shared understanding around AI. We have to stop racing to build rules and instead start investing in the training, time, and relationships that ground our educators for whatever comes next. 

Professional development is crucial in ensuring teachers can put AI to work effectively. But a recent study from Texas Tech University found that PD around AI may not be readily available in rural schools.

“The resources are limited. There is not much support out there for our rural educators,” says Nikkolina Prueitt, a co-author of the study. For rural schools to get the most out of AI, “we will need to build that knowledge base.”

Closing the Gap

AI has the potential to give rural teachers a pedagogical boost. It can provide instructional support, “like creating differentiated instruction, adapting lessons, drafting individualized education plans,” Prueitt says.

And AI can expand rural students’ understanding of the world, says Amanda Robinson, an elementary teacher at Pikeville Elementary, a Title I school in Eastern Kentucky. “AI opens the students’ horizons.”

In a rural community, AI can students to “experience new learning, outside of their communities,” said Dr. LeeAnn Lindsey, director of edtech and innovation at Northern Arizona University. But she sees rural schools struggle to embrace that potential, due in part to a lack of in-house expertise. “Our big urban and suburban school districts, they have technology integration coaches who have been diving into the AI work for the past three years,” she says. “Rural school districts often don’t.”

To help close the gap, Northern Arizona last fall led a collaborative effort to offer PD around AI in three rural school districts in the state. Each district made available its superintendent, an instructional leader, and three classroom teachers for training over the course of two and a half months.

This was action-oriented PD. “They identified problems of practice in their own classroom that they wanted to address. Some of them looked at writing skills, some looked at student engagement, some looked at relevance of their lessons,” Lindsey says.

“They learned the AI specific to the area that they wanted to address,” she adds. “Then they actually took those solutions into their classroom and collected data to find out if AI would really help them solve that problem.”

At Pikeville Elementary, Robinson gets professional training from a district learning coach, who helps teachers understand the current AI tools. “She tends to do them about twice a month, as her schedule permits, after school for about an hour. And then also she works with you one-on-one during your planning periods, if you need that,” Robinson says.

The AI training has helped improve Robinson’s instruction, she says. For example, she has leveraged her AI knowledge to develop a chatbot that helps students explore animal adaptations in certain habitats. PD around AI “gives us the opportunity to provide our students with more opportunities and more in-depth ways of thinking,” she says.

Building an AI PD Effort

However, success stories like Robinson’s are outliers. The Texas Tech paper found that a lack of professional development resources often hinders AI adoption in rural schools. While tight budgets can make it hard to mount AI training, there are ways that schools can move forward with AI training.

Prueitt says it’s important that schools use their limited resources to mount the right kind of professional development. Rather than focus on specific AI tools, PD in K-12 should focus on “AI literacy and the foundational knowledge around AI,” she says. When teachers have a firm grounding in the basics, they’ re able to evaluate the tools effectively, “and that’s where it starts to grow and to be super useful for these rural educators,” she says, adding that the Center for Innovation, Design, and Digital Learning (CIDDL) is a great resource for educators.

School leaders should also focus on the big-picture intent of that training. “Our information and decision-making landscape is changing,” says Lindsey. “Our students need to be well versed in this changing information economy and the changing workforce.” Rural schools should prepare students for work in an increasingly tech-driven economy, she says, and PD around AI should reflect that intent.

Robinson has seen first-hand the value in that approach. “In our area, our students only see the jobs that are there within our communities. As teachers introducing AI, we are giving them more opportunities to become digitally literate,” she says. “As they start looking into universities in college, we’re putting them on a level playing field, instead of leaving our children behind.”

As schools look to meet that mark, “there are programs and grants that rural districts can apply for, to be part of professional development experiences like the one we offered,” Lindsey says, noting that the training was offered was for free.

“The first step would be to look at the resources available in your state,” Prueitt says. Her institution offers free professional development opportunities to rural schools, including a recent two-day AI workshop for special educators.

State and regional education service centers can also help rural schools ramp up PD programs, Prueitt adds, and they can help those schools understand how PD can be best support teachers’ efforts to ramp up AI. That will include not just training on what AI can do in the classroom, but also instruction on how to use it appropriately.

A key question around classroom AI remains: “How do we use it ethically?” Prueitt says. The right PD will help teachers to not only make effective use of AI, but to do so “in a way that still keeps that human in the loop.”

Robinson points to ethics as a key element of professional training around AI. She had previously taught K-6 technology and now is pivoting back to teaching writing and grammar, and while she’s looking forward to more PD to get familiar with the tools, she’s also aware of the limitations.

Chatbots for example can score students’ writing based on the rubric, before assignments are handed in. But “it will not eliminate my one-on-one conferencing,” she said. Rather, the AI can give students insight into their work, “so that I can show them where we can improve on this.”

A few months ago, I found myself standing in the vinyl record section of a bookstore with my children.

“What even is a record?” one of them asked.

After a quick explanation, another question followed.

“Why would anyone buy one when you can stream everything?”

I laughed. Then I realized, I wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that question.

After all, they weren’t wrong. Streaming gives us access to nearly every song ever recorded. It’s cheaper, faster, more portable, and infinitely more convenient than vinyl. By almost every measure, it is better technology. Which makes the resurgence of vinyl so unexpected.

What struck me wasn’t that my children didn’t know what a record was. It was that they couldn’t imagine why someone would want one.

To them, music is immediate. Infinite. Effortless. The idea of listening to an album from beginning to end seemed almost irrational. This friction between convenience and engagement is exactly what I’ve been wrestling with as AI has become more prevalent in the classroom.

Vinyl records and AI are actually similar technologies. Both seem to provoke a human response to technology: the easier something becomes via technology, the more we begin questioning what was valuable about the underlying use in the first place.

In my own experience with AI, I can’t remember another issue that has prompted so many conversations about what learning is actually for. But as I listen to educators wrestle with these questions, I increasingly hear another one emerging beneath them.

It’s not a question about technology. Rather, it’s a question about learning: What should students still need to do themselves?

I found myself thinking about that question recently while sitting in on rehearsals for our ninth grade capstone presentations.

This capstone project brings together English, science, and global studies and asks students to partner with local nonprofits, investigate real-world challenges, and develop ideas for meaningful action. Their final task is to synthesize everything they’ve learned into a TED-style presentation.

As Director of Innovation at an all-boys middle school outside of Boston, I spend a lot of time thinking about what learning should look like in the age of AI. I work closely with teachers as they design projects, assessments, and learning experiences that ask students to do meaningful work.

As I listened to students rehearse their talks, I was struck by something: Students had access to research, interview notes, statistics, and AI tools capable of generating polished drafts in seconds. Their challenge was deciding what mattered. Which story should they tell? Which evidence was most compelling? Which ideas deserved an audience’s attention?

Watching those students, I found myself feeling unexpectedly hopeful.

The tools sitting on their laptops could summarize articles, generate outlines, and draft paragraphs in seconds. But none of those tools could decide which story deserved to be told. That work still belonged to the students.

As someone whose role in education is focused on the intersection of innovation, learning, and emerging technologies, I expected to leave those rehearsals thinking about technology. Instead, I left thinking about judgment.

I didn’=;t see technology replacing thinking. I saw technology making a different kind of thinking more important.

For all the anxiety surrounding AI, that moment reminded me that some of the most important work of learning still resists automation.

In Imaginable, futurist Jane McGonigal argues that one of the best ways to prepare for the future is to distinguish between trends and signals. Trends are the large, visible forces reshaping society. Signals are the smaller observations that reveal how people are responding to those forces.

Artificial intelligence is clearly the trend. But the resurgence of vinyl felt like a signal.

The more I thought about it, the less interested I became in whether vinyl sounds better than streaming services.

What interested me was why people were choosing vinyl at all.

Streaming solved the problem of access. It put nearly every song ever recorded in our pockets. By almost every measure, it is the more efficient technology.

And yet, people continue buying records.

Maybe it is because a record asks something of the listener.

You choose an album.

You place the needle.

You stay with it.

The music becomes the activity, not the backdrop to something else.

As technology becomes increasingly good at solving problems for us, I wonder whether we will begin to value experiences that ask something of us in return.

I found myself wondering whether schools were wrestling with a similar tension.

This search for participation over efficiency is the same tension surfacing in our schools. I’ve heard the phrase “cognitive offloading” more in the past year than I have in my entire life.

Not just at conferences or in articles.

I’ve heard it while sitting around tables with teachers trying to make sense of what AI means for learning.

Those conversations have led us to rethink assignments, assessments, and even where some learning takes place. We’ve debated when students should brainstorm with AI, when reflection should happen without it, and which assessments require students to show their thinking in real time.

Not because we’re opposed to AI. Because we’re trying to better understand what learning requires.

At first glance, these decisions seem contradictory. But, in reality, they are not.

When educators ask students to write by hand, discuss an idea face-to-face, wrestle with a difficult text, or work through a problem without immediate assistance, they are often protecting something more than academic integrity.

They are protecting opportunities for students to think.

Learning requires students to do some of the cognitive heavy lifting.

And I can’t help wondering if that’s the signal hidden beneath many of today’s educational debates.

As AI becomes more capable, what humans contribute may matter even more.

The ability to discern.

To judge.

To create.

To remain present long enough to make meaning.

If Jane McGonigal is right that signals reveal how people respond to larger forces, then the resurgence of vinyl may be telling us something about the future of learning.

It’s not about what AI technology can do. Rather, it’s what humans may continue to value alongside it.

None of this is an argument against AI. Quite the opposite.

At my school, we’ve spent the past couple of years exploring AI literacy, assessment, academic integrity, and responsible use. Those conversations matter deeply.

But the conversations that have stayed with me most weren’t really about AI.

They were about learning.

I’ve found myself sitting with teachers and asking questions that feel both surprisingly new and strangely familiar.

Why are we asking students to write? 

Why are we asking them to read?

Why are we asking them to discuss, solve, create and reflect?

The more I listen, the more I realize those questions aren’t really about technology. They’re about purpose.

AI didn’t create those questions. It simply makes them harder to avoid.

Streaming won the battle for access, but vinyl has survived because it offers something access cannot: participation.

Watching these conversations unfold at my school, I can’t help but wonder whether learning is forcing us to confront a similar distinction.

AI can increasingly provide answers. The question is whether students still need the experience of arriving at them.

My children thought vinyl records were obsolete. In some ways, they were right. Streaming solved the problem, and yet, records returned.

Watching students navigate AI has left me less interested in what technology can do and more interested in what learners still need to do themselves.

The value of vinyl was never the music.

The value of writing was never the essay.

The value of learning may not be the answer.

It may be the experience of arriving at one.

And as AI becomes increasingly capable of producing answers, that experience may become more valuable, not less.

That’s the signal I hear beneath the crackle of a record player. It’s a reminder that in an age of instant digital access and gratification, the most valuable things that will remain are those that ask us to show up. 

And this may be one of the most important educational conversations of the next decade.

This week, two teachers take a hard look at what happens when you hand a problem to a tool and trust it to solve that problem. David Webb, a school teacher based in Jakarta, India, spent a year vibe coding an AI-powered library app called LibraryAid and discovered exactly where the algorithm ends and the educator begins. Then, California high school teacher Gabe Nitro makes a counterintuitive argument: the phone pouches sweeping his district may be swallowing the very instructional time they were designed to protect.

WHAT YOU’LL LEARN

• David Webb built LibraryAid, a personalized book recommendation app, using vibe coding techniques with no prior computer science background, and the tool now tracks approximately 30 factors, including student interests, reading history, and classroom topics, to generate personalized reading recommendations.

• One student reading two grade levels below placement made three times the average reading progress after the app matched him to a book series he loved, demonstrating both the power and the limits of algorithmic recommendation.

• A study from the National Bureau of Economic Research found that Yondr pouches had no statistically significant impact on standardized test scores for high schoolers in English, a finding that surprised even teachers who had adopted the pouches.

• Gabe Nitro argues that phone pouches consume up to 49 minutes of instructional time per school day in enforcement alone, and that the real distraction problem simply shifts to Chromebooks once phones are sealed away.

Listen to the episode:

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ISTE+ASCD — the organization behind the editorially independent news site EdSurge — announced a new official name on June 28: The International Society for Transforming Education.

The announcement was made at the opening general session of the organization’s annual conference in Orlando, Florida. Jeremy Owoh, president of the International Society for Transforming Education and superintendent of Jacksonville North Pulaski School District, explained that the name change had been in the works for more than a year.

“We knew that the [merger] needed to happen first and then once we grew together as a community then we could take on that [renaming] task,” he said. “This is a change we’re making very thoughtfully.”

Richard Culatta, CEO of the International Society for Transforming Education, told attendees that the name change is intended to reflect a global focus on aligning instructional strategy, technology use and educator practice to improve student outcomes and engagement. 

“We believe that this name most effectively captures what both legacy organizations were always about,” he said. “Our new name shifts the focus from how we do it, to why we do it. And it shows how serious we are about transforming learning together.”

Some attendees expressed enthusiasm over the new name. “Oh, I’m excited,” said Elizabeth Diamond, an associate professor at Temple University in Philadelphia. “Words are so important, and those words are where we’re headed as teachers.”

Julie Keller, also a Temple University associate professor, added, “There’s power in the words, and it really brings together what we’re trying to do.”

Other attendees, including legacy-ASCD member Ruth Letang-Horton, vice president of the North American Division of SDA, were less enthusiastic. “I feel like the ASCD part is really lost,” she said. “Your feeling is like, ‘Wait a minute, what about ASCD?’ It’s because I’ve been an ASCD member for decades.”

The new name is the latest phase of the merger between ISTE and ASCD, which happened in 2023. According to Culatta, membership, educator certifications, the ISTE Standards and professional learning programs will continue without interruption under the new brand.

Read the full press release here.

(Editor’s note: EdSurge is an editorially independent newsroom of the International Society for Transforming Education.)

Across the United States, K-12 schools have spent the past decade building one-to-one device programs. These initiatives have established an essential baseline for digital access, making it easier for students to complete daily schoolwork across grade levels and subjects. By putting a device in the hands of every learner, districts have created a standard foundation for digital literacy, research and everyday classroom engagement.

As STEM programs continue to grow and mature, however, school leaders are beginning to encounter new questions about how well those devices support more advanced coursework. Pathways in fields like robotics, engineering, cybersecurity and data science increasingly rely on specialized professional applications that reach well beyond general-purpose classroom software.

In many cases, students can successfully complete introductory work on school-issued devices. But as instruction progresses, the tools required for STEM programs place different demands on student computing resources. As a result, educators and technology directors are taking a closer look at how hardware capacity can keep pace with shifting curricular needs.

STEM Tools and Computing Demands

While web-based applications work well for introductory coursework and daily assignments, many expanding STEM pathways introduce entirely different technical requirements. Courses in engineering, 3D modeling, cybersecurity and data science rely on industry-standard applications that demand substantial local computing capacity, robust memory and dedicated graphics processing.

A prime example is SolidWorks, a professional computer-aided design (CAD) platform used in both higher education and engineering industries. When students build detailed, multi-part models or run stress-test simulations, the performance of the device they’re using directly affects how efficiently they can work. Insufficient hardware can lead to severe rendering delays, software lag or sudden crashes that disrupt the entire classroom flow. 

This reality highlights a practical procurement consideration for districts: As STEM curricula mature beyond basic web-browsing activities, classroom devices must have sufficient local processing power to keep up.

Credit: ASUS Education

A Robotics Program in Practice

To see how these hardware dynamics play out in a real classroom, consider the experience of the Firebots robotics team at Fremont High School in Sunnyvale, California. The team competes each year in the FIRST Robotics Competition, a global program where students design, build and program large robots to complete complex engineering challenges under tight, real-world constraints.

Credit: ASUS Education

The work inside a competitive robotics program closely mirrors a commercial engineering environment, spanning mechanical design, fabrication, electrical systems and software development. Students use CAD tools to design components from scratch, test digital iterations and refine mechanisms on a tight competition timeline.

To support this technical workflow, the Firebots use ASUS TUF Gaming laptops. In robotics programs like this, student devices are not just tools for looking up information; they are central workbenches used across multiple stages of the design process. Students rely on them for modeling, code compilation, data logging, documentation and coordination among subteams.

Reliable on-device performance eliminates a common source of classroom friction. When software runs consistently and responsively, students can spend their limited class time troubleshooting their designs rather than troubleshooting their devices. Free from technical slowdowns and long file loads, they can focus on testing solutions and iterating on ideas. Ultimately, the Firebots’ systematic approach and focus on execution earned the company the FIRST Excellence in Engineering Award, which recognizes strong engineering design and system integration.

Credit: ASUS Education

What This Means for STEM Instruction

The experience of programs like the Firebots raises a broader question for school leaders and instructional technology directors: How should district-wide device strategies evolve as STEM instruction becomes more technically demanding?

One-to-one computing programs continue to serve as the foundation for most day-to-day classroom learning, providing the baseline connectivity and performance needed for a modern education. At the same time, STEM courses can reveal distinct moments where standardized, general-purpose devices reach the limits of demanding software and workflow requirements.

In many districts, this variation is already being managed through a mix of approaches. Some schools rely on shared physical lab spaces equipped with higher-performance workstations dedicated to specialized software. Others use cloud-based streaming solutions where possible, while reserving more resource-intensive local applications for specific instructional settings.

The goal is not to dismantle existing one-to-one initiatives, but to recognize where a single hardware standard may limit technical pathways. As STEM education continues to expand and diversify, school leaders find themselves balancing the competing priorities of deployment consistency, procurement cost and instructional fit. In this changing landscape, device planning is no longer treated as a separate IT purchasing decision. Instead, it is increasingly part of a larger conversation about how schools design learning environments that accurately reflect the kinds of hands-on work students are being asked to do.

Recommended Resource

Learn more about ASUS Education Solutions: Accessible, adaptive education technology

This story is part of a two-part series on the latest guidance on screens in schools.

Within the first 24 hours of my daughter’s life, I put a screen in her face.

I know. That’s the opposite of all the research I had highlighted and annotated while my wife was pregnant. But it wasn’t by choice. That screen was the only way my wife could meet our newborn.

As soon as our daughter was born, she was rushed to the NICU, tubes and cords draped across her swaddle while clinicians moved quickly around her. My wife was rolled out of the operating room in the opposite direction to receive intravenous magnesium for suspected preeclampsia.

She couldn’t hold our baby for the first 24 hours of her life. So I held up a phone.

Through FaceTime, my wife met the tiny fighter she had just brought into the world. I still have the screenshot from that moment. When we finally brought our baby home, we tried to avoid screens altogether. We had read the guidance: infants should have little to no screen exposure. But screens were everywhere.

We became parents at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, when every new virus variant seemed to appear just as we were finally ready to walk into a grocery store again. So our daughter met grandparents, cousins and friends through screens.

As parents of a premature baby, we watched her like hawks. Every eye movement. Every babble. Every head lift. Our developmental pediatrician warned us about possible delays, so we studied every tiny milestone. Ironically, it was a screen that gave us one of our most reassuring moments.

During the 2020 Summer Olympics, our barely 60-day-old preemie tracked a ping-pong rally across the television. Her head moved side to side, and her tiny eyes followed that tiny ball. Another time, she would instantly stop crying or giggle when the catchy theme song from the ’90s sitcom Smart Guy came on. (Yes, we are those nostalgic millennials rewatching childhood shows.)

Because we weren’t around many other people during lockdown, the sounds and visuals in our home became strange little markers of development.

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When our daughter grew into toddlerhood, we cautiously experimented with a few children’s programs.

Our rotation included Ms. Monica’s Circle Time and Ada Twist, Scientist for culturally relevant and playful introductions to phonics, object identification, and scientific thinking. Word Party was great for reinforcing vocabulary and early language exposure.

But we rarely just pressed play. Most of the time, we were watching with her, singing along, repeating sounds and asking questions.

Researchers call this co-viewing: when adults watch and interact with media alongside children. Studies show that when caregivers talk with children during media use, repeating words, asking questions or connecting what’s on screen to real life, children process and remember more of what they see.

In other words, the screen isn’t doing the teaching by itself. Much of the learning happens in the conversation around it.

But I’ll be clear: we have not figured this out. Parenting and technology evolve at about the same pace, and that pace is quick.

We’ve had our share of “Here, take the tablet and sit still while I finish this” moments. And we learned quickly how counterproductive that can be. Because when screen time stretches too long, the cognitive overload monster shows up.

Young children’s brains are still developing the executive functions that regulate attention, emotion and self-control. These skills rely heavily on the prefrontal cortex and develop gradually throughout childhood. Highly stimulating digital media that includes features like fast pacing, constant motion, bright colors, and rapid scene changes can overwhelm children’s brains. Experimental studies have found that exposure to fast-paced media can temporarily disrupt executive function in preschool children.

In other words, the same design features that capture children’s attention can also overstimulate their developing brains. That complexity is part of why pediatric guidance around screen time is evolving.

For years, the conversation focused on how many minutes children spent in front of screens. But newer research suggests the question isn’t just how much screen time children get. A major update in science shows that what also matters is what kind of digital environment surrounds them.

The American Academy of Pediatrics’ updated guidance reflects this shift. Instead of focusing only on minutes, the organization encourages adults to think about children’s digital ecosystems, which are the broader environment of devices, content, digital algorithms, and interactions shaping how children experience media.

Their recommendations still include familiar guidance:

• avoid screen exposure for children under 18 months, except for video calls

• ensure media does not interfere with sleep, physical activity or social interaction

• prioritize high-quality programming

• co-view whenever possible

The updated framework recognizes what many families already know: screens are not disappearing from children’s lives. In fact, they’re becoming ubiquitous earlier in children’s lives. The goal is not to pretend they don’t exist. Guidance from pediatricians suggests we carefully curate how the environments surrounding them influence children’s development.

For my family, that realization started with a phone screen glowing in a hospital room. That moment reminds me that screens themselves are not inherently problematic. What matters is the environment we build around them.

In my next column, I’ll look at how this research is shaping debates over screen use in schools and what educators should consider as states begin regulating instructional technology. In the meantime, let me know what you think about screens in schools.

Mi Aniefuna is the senior manager of EdSurge Research.

Recently I placed an empty cardboard box in the center of my preschool classroom of 4-year-olds. No label. No instructions. No purpose given. A few years ago, that simple box would have instantly transformed into something magical — a castle, a race car, a pirate ship, a cozy home for tiny animals. Instead, my students stood around it, waiting. One finally asked, “What is it supposed to be?”

In that moment, I realized something deeper than a simple change in play had occurred. When a box is no longer a castle, it isn’t just imagination that is missing, it is wonder. And in a world filled with screens, schedules and endless stimulation, wonder no longer appears on its own. It must now be intentionally restored.

Hema Khatri

Children today are just as bright, curious and capable as ever. What has changed is the way they engage with the world. Many of my students now hesitate to begin open-ended play without direct instruction. They wait for something to be defined for them instead of defining it themselves.

I often see children repeating lines from television shows or mimicking characters from online videos instead of creating their own stories. The pause before pretend play is longer. The ideas come slower. The confidence to imagine feels weaker.

This is not a sign of laziness or lack of intelligence. It is simply a reflection of the environment they are growing up in, one that is fast paced, highly structured and heavily influenced by screens. When children spend more time consuming content than creating it, the part of the brain responsible for imagination gets less opportunity to grow. Like any skill, imagination weakens when it is not practiced regularly.

Ready-Made Creations

Technology is not the enemy. Screens can teach, connect, entertain and inform. Many children learn letters, numbers, languages and songs through digital tools. But when screens begin to replace play instead of supporting it, something essential begins to disappear.

Screens provide ready-made worlds: characters, voices, sounds, colors and stories are already created. There is nothing left for the child to imagine. They move from being creators to being viewers.

In the past, boredom often led to creativity. A child with “nothing to do” would invent something. A stick became a wand. A blanket became a cape. A cardboard box became a castle. Today, even a few seconds of boredom is quickly filled with a device.

The silence that once gave birth to imagination is replaced by noise, movement and constant stimulation. Over time, children become more comfortable being entertained than entertaining themselves. Wonder does not disappear; it simply falls asleep.

Why Wonder Matters

Imagination is not just child’s play. It is essential to development. When children pretend, they practice:

• communication and language

• emotional expression

• empathy and understanding

• planning and problem-solving

• cooperation and negotiation

• confidence and independence

Wonder teaches children how to think, not just what to think. In a world that demands creativity, adaptability and emotional intelligence, imagination is not optional. It is foundational.

Restoring Wonder — Together

The responsibility to protect imagination does not belong to teachers alone. Nor does it belong only to parents. It lives in the space between them.

Restoring wonder in children requires partnership. When home and school move with the same intention, magic begins to return. Children feel safe enough to imagine freely again. Imagination does not return because we demand it. It returns when the adults in a child’s life agree to protect the space for it together. Here are simple yet powerful ways families and educators can work together:

• Make space for unstructured play. Children need time with no agenda, no instructions, and no screen. Even thirty minutes a day can make a difference.

• Offer open-ended materials. Boxes, fabric, paper, paint, blocks, tape, water, and natural items invite imagination far more than expensive, pre-designed toys.

• Let boredom exist. When a child says “I’m bored,” it is not a problem to fix. It is an invitation to imagine. Instead of offering a screen, try asking: “What could you do?”

• Ask open-ended questions. Instead of correcting, wonder with them: “What is this becoming?” Who lives here?” “What happens next in your story?”

• Create screen-free moments. Choose a time each day when screens are put away. Protect it as imagination time.

• Communicate across home and school. A simple conversation with the teacher helps: “What is my child interested in lately?” “What do you see them creating in class?” “How can we support that at home?”

A Quiet Call Back to Wonder

The world is louder now. Faster. More digital than ever before. But a box is still a box. A child is still a child. And inside every child, a castle is still waiting to be built.

Wonder is not gone. It is waiting.

Waiting for silence. Waiting for time. Waiting for trust. Waiting for space.

Perhaps the real question is not what children have lost, but what we, as adults, are willing to return to them. And maybe the moment we choose to slow down, to listen, and to leave a box unlabeled, we will begin to see castles rising again.

Hema Khatri is an early childhood educator in Michigan and a TEACH scholarship recipient currently completing her bachelor’s degree in education. Her work centers on social-emotional learning, family partnerships and nature-based, child-led approaches.

When high school students step into a cybersecurity internship, they enter a field where the stakes are real. The tools, threats and responsibilities extend well beyond the classroom. In rural communities, such opportunities can be transformative — for both learners and the regions working to build a future-ready workforce.

In eastern Alabama, cybersecurity pathways are creating new opportunities for collaboration between educators and employers, reflecting a broader lesson: Workforce development is more impactful when industry helps shape learning early. As cybersecurity threats grow more complex, many employers say preparing future talent does not begin at the point of hiring — it starts earlier, through partnerships connecting classrooms, credentials and real-world experience.

For district leaders and career and technical education (CTE) directors designing career-connected learning, these partnerships can help align instruction with workforce realities while expanding students’ access to high-demand careers.

Credentials matter, but they only tell part of the story. What really prepares students for cybersecurity work is exposure — seeing how systems operate in the real world and understanding the responsibility that comes with protecting them.— Scott Ross

Industry as a Co-Designer

Cybersecurity is a field that depends on industry insights. The tools and threats defining the work often evolve faster than traditional curriculum cycles, and employers see firsthand how quickly skill requirements change.

Scott Ross, director of information technology at HudsonAlpha Institute for Biotechnology, has seen how quickly the field changes throughout his career. While professional credentials such as Certified Information Systems Security Professional (CISSP) can signal readiness, Ross points to internships and applied experience as equally critical.

“Credentials matter, but they only tell part of the story,” Ross said. “What really prepares students for cybersecurity work is exposure — seeing how systems operate in the real world and understanding the responsibility that comes with protecting them.”

That perspective shapes HudsonAlpha’s engagement with regional education partners. As cybersecurity roles expand across sectors, from defense and healthcare to biotechnology and agriculture, employers are increasingly invested in helping students understand the range of opportunities available and the expectations that come with them.

How a regional alliance is opening doors to cybersecurity careers

A Regional Effort Takes Shape

In eastern Alabama, those connections are coordinated through the East Alabama Regional Cybersecurity Alliance (EARCA), a collaboration among K-12 districts, postsecondary institutions and industry partners focused on growing local cybersecurity talent. Rather than operating in isolation, schools and employers are aligning around shared goals: relevant curriculum, meaningful credentials and work-based learning opportunities tied to workforce needs.

Ross sees this regional approach as essential. “Cybersecurity isn’t limited to one industry,” he said. “When education and employers collaborate across sectors, students gain a clearer picture of where these skills apply, and regions build stronger, more adaptable talent pipelines.”

With thousands of unfilled cybersecurity roles in the state, that alignment helps keep learning connected to opportunity.

When students know their learning connects directly to real jobs, it changes how they approach the work. They’re not just completing assignments; they’re preparing for environments they know they’ll encounter.— Tanner Gamble

How Industry Partnerships Shape Learning

For educators, industry engagement can change what is possible inside schools. Tanner Gamble, the computer science and cybersecurity teacher at Childersburg High School in Talladega County, has seen how employer involvement reshapes student motivation and confidence.

“When students know their learning connects directly to real jobs, it changes how they approach the work,” Gamble said. “They’re not just completing assignments; they’re preparing for environments they know they’ll encounter.”

Preparing teachers for industry-aligned instruction is also central to the effort, said Ira Lacy, who trains educators and connects them with employers to support cybersecurity pathways across Alabama.

“When you train teachers using industry practices and give students access to authentic experiences, you start building a pipeline that lasts,” Lacy said. “We’ve seen graduates in North Alabama come back to mentor younger students and invest in their hometowns, and now we’re applying the same approach in eastern Alabama.”

Internships and industry-aligned credentials help validate pathways at the school level by demonstrating clear connections between classroom instruction and real workforce needs.

“Internships and credentials act as the ‘proof of work’ for school cybersecurity programs,” said Hillary Rogers, principal of Childersburg High School. “They bridge the gap between theory and real-world practice, ensuring students aren’t just learning about the digital front lines — they’re equipped to operate in them.”

Gavin (right), a junior at Childersburg High School, poses with a classmate after passing the Tech+ certification exam at Central Alabama Community College.

Learning That Changes Trajectories

That impact is evident in Gavin’s experience, a junior at Childersburg High School who participated in a summer internship with the IT department at Heritage South Credit Union. During the internship, Gavin worked alongside IT staff, troubleshooting real systems, building and maintaining network infrastructure, and learning how access and risk are managed in real-world settings.

Learn More:

• Read this student’s reflection on how his district’s cybersecurity pathways program lifted him into the future.

• Explore this statewide pathways blueprint for designing and scaling career-credentialed pathways.

• Watch how students, educators and industry partners are collaborating to expand access to in-demand cybersecurity roles.

The experience opened the door to continued applied learning. Gavin now supports the IT department at Childersburg High School and earned his CompTIA Tech+ certification, an early milestone in a pathway focused on technical skill development and professional responsibility.

“The internship allowed me to start dreaming for myself and what I want my future to look like,” Gavin said. “I’ve always been interested in space, and now I can see different paths, like working in aerospace or eventually leading an IT department near Huntsville.”

For employers and educators, helping students see concrete future pathways is a powerful outcome of early work-based learning.

Why Employers Invest

While not every employer is positioned to host interns, those who engage early gain clearer insight into student readiness and stronger workforce alignment. Early exposure helps employers identify motivated learners and reduce uncertainty in later hiring decisions.

“If we wait until graduation to connect with talent, we’ve missed an opportunity,” Ross said. “Early exposure helps students prepare, and it helps employers build a workforce that understands their needs.”

At a regional level, these investments can contribute to rural economic stability by increasing the likelihood that students will pursue and remain in local careers.

A Blueprint for Other Regions

EARCA is part of broader efforts led by Digital Promise’s Center for Learner Pathway Innovations to develop statewide cybersecurity pathways that connect education and workforce systems. Pathways are strongest when learning, work and community are connected early. For students like Gavin, that collaboration opens doors. For employers, it helps ensure the next generation is ready to meet that demand.

A new survey shows households with children under age 18 are experiencing economic strain, with parents suffering from depression, burnout, and hopelessness. 

Capita launched the new national survey, Quarterly Insights from American Families, in partnership with YouGov. The survey will be conducted quarterly.

“This is the baseline,” said Elliot Haspel, a senior fellow with Capita. “We really want to be able to ask questions that serve as an early warning system for family well-being.”

Haspel said what stood out to him from the survey is “how much parents are facing precarity right now… I think that it tells us that families are really struggling and they really need support.”

The questions

YouGov, on behalf of Capita, surveyed 1,000 parents with children under age 18 between Feb. 2 and Feb. 16, 2026. North Carolina is one of four states that were oversampled in the survey, meaning the results are especially representative of those facing parents in our state. 

The survey consists of 69 questions (available here) designed to track families across three dimensions: stability, predictability, and quality of life. Capita defines the question underlying each dimension:

• Stability: Can families meet basic needs without falling into crisis?
• Predictability: Can they plan their lives without constant disruption?
• Quality of life: Do they have the time, health, and connection to flourish, not just survive?

Haspel explained that this survey is meant to fill the gap between surveys such as RAPID, which focuses on parents and caregivers of young children, and surveys of all Americans more broadly.

Sign up for Early Bird, our newsletter on all things early childhood.

He said two-thirds of the survey questions will remain the same each time, and another third will shift based on Capita’s specific areas of interest at a given moment.

Haspel pointed out that for all Americans, life can be stressful, and parenting in particular will always come with its own stressors.

“The issue is, what are the artificial, unnecessary stressors that we put on families as a result of policy choices?” Haspel said. 

The answers

One of the main findings from the survey revolves around the economic pressure that families are facing. As the Capita report puts it: “Multiple indicators point to significant and widespread financial stress.”

Here are some of those indicators:

• More than a third were worried at some point in the last year that food would run out before they had money to buy more — and almost as many actually had that happen. 
• One in 5 reported skipping out on needed medical care due to costs in the last year, and 15% skipped filling a prescription for the same reason. 
• In the last three months, 20% of households reported a member losing a job or having their hours cut.
• In the last month, 25% of respondents said they had a shift canceled, shortened, or extended with less than 24 hours’ notice. The same percentage were required to be “on call” — available without guaranteed hours — during that period. 

Courtesy of Capita

Financial stress can be a leading driver of “toxic stress.” This compounding, long-term stress can do permanent damage to the health of parents and the development of children — and can sometimes lead to Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs). 

Evidence shows that safe, stable, and nurturing relationships with adults can protect children from the negative outcomes of ACEs and toxic stress. But the survey suggests most parents are struggling to maintain that kind of relationship with their children. 

Two-thirds of respondents said that in the last month, stress made it hard to be as patient with their children as they wanted to be. And half of parents reported feeling down, depressed, or hopeless in the last two weeks. 

There are several questions in the survey that pertain specifically to work and child care. Here are some related findings:

• More than 70% of respondents describe their job as family friendly.
• Almost two-thirds said family life is a top priority, and they want their job to fit around it.
• In the last year, 27% of respondents missed work or lost pay because of child care problems.
• One in 5 parents regularly supervise their children while working. 

Despite the challenges presented by scheduling, about 70% of parents report being satisfied with their existing child care situation, whether they have children who are school age or below. And 81% said their communities are welcoming to families with minor children.

But 43% said their work schedules made it hard to keep consistent routines for their children, and that matters. 

“That lack of control over one’s schedule contributes to lack of control over one’s life more broadly, and it can affect parenting relationships,” Haspel said. 

As the Capita report explains:

Volatile schedules make it hard for people to be the kind of parents they want to be. They may have to forego baseball games or dance recitals they planned to attend, skip sitting down to dinner as a family, or miss tucking their kids into bed. Instability also has a significant impact on child development. Consistent routines are the foundation for children’s growth, learning, and feelings of security. Chronically disrupting those routines not only stresses parents but also interferes with their children’s long-term trajectory. Inconsistent or nonstandard parent work schedules are associated with cognitive delays and behavioral outcomes, especially if they begin during a child’s first year of life. 

“Job quality or schedule quality is often thought of as labor policy, it’s not thought of as a family policy,” Haspel said. “If you care about having strong, healthy families, this is a contributing factor.”

The meaning

While this first set of survey results represent the baseline of what Capita plans to measure over time, there are still significant takeaways from this early warning system. 

“A lot of what we’ve been hearing around the issues with affordability, the issues with being able to navigate all the extra challenges of parenting in 2020s America is showing up in family well-being,” Haspel said. 

Here’s what Capita has to say about the initial survey results:

This first survey of Quarterly Insights paints a troubling picture of families feeling economic strain and suffering from depression, burnout, and hopelessness. These conditions reinforce one another, making it harder for parents to show up for their children, their partners, and themselves, maintain routines, and flourish. Ultimately, all of these factors make stability feel perpetually out of reach. While the heaviest burdens often land on those earning the least, working-class and middle-class families also feel the enormous weight of these compounding pressures.

The report goes on to point out that policies supporting the well-being of children and families are most likely to succeed if they address multiple aspects of family hardship and reach all families who are affected. 

Editor’s note: This article was corrected to say that four states were oversampled in the Capita survey.

Katie Dukes

Katie Dukes is the director of early childhood policy at EdNC.

The approach of a new school year conjures images of teachers preparing their classrooms and principals greeting students as they walk through the doors on the first day of classes.

Parsing education data into snack-sized servings.

But federal data shows that the education jobs that will see the most growth over a decade are supporting roles like substitute teachers, therapists and technologists.

The findings are bracketed by changes in student enrollment and the ending of federal school emergency funds, which are reshaping school districts’ staffing outlooks. School districts across the country continue to grapple with millions in budget deficits, leading to hundreds of job cuts in some cases.

Recent reports show that schools are likely to struggle to fill the most in-demand roles.

Highest-Growth Areas

Looking at 10 education roles that will gain the most net jobs by 2034, short-term substitute teachers top the overall rankings with an increase of more than 10,000.

Malia Hite says that Utah is among the states that will see an increase in jobs for teacher assistants and paraeducators, who will specifically support student behavior and early literacy, thanks to an infusion of state and federal funds. Hite serves as the Utah State Board of Education’s executive coordinator of education licensing.

She adds the caveat that it’s tough to attract candidates to those roles, particularly in early childhood education — a problem felt strongly around the country.

“However, I will say that those positions, because those positions are typically an entry-level position with a low wage or part-time, they’re hard positions to fill,” Hite says. “Even in the current job market, [where] it’s hard to find positions, we’re still seeing openings in our paraeducator job market statewide. Some of them are making $9 an hour, so why would I do that when I can go somewhere else and make $15 in an entry-level position?”

Hite is cautious when talking about education growth overall because it’s not equal among sectors. Increased demand is expected for non-teacher and non-administrator staff like speech language pathologists, social workers and occupational therapists, she says.

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“This is now our second year that we’ve seen a decrease of student enrollment, and so that means we need fewer teachers, there’s less funding, and so we’re seeing a lot of things like schools close,” she explains. “So in that way, there’s no way that education jobs are going to grow.”

A report from the Consortium for School Networking, a professional organization for K-12 tech leaders, found that schools struggle to retain IT staff across all specialities and levels. Among school leaders that it polled, 16 percent said they were in danger of losing IT staff due to the winding down of federal relief money that was allocated to schools during the pandemic.

Health Workers In Demand

The rest of the list, however, is filled by health therapy roles and technology roles. A recent analysis by staffing company ProTherapy predicts physical therapist assistants, speech-language pathologists and physical therapists will be the most in-demand education jobs of 2026 and continue to see double-digit percentage growth.

Schools employ physical therapists and assistants to ensure that students with disabilities can participate in school activities to the fullest extent, while speech language pathologists help students with communication disorders.

Dakota Long, who headed ProTherapy’s 2026 School Workforce Demand Index, says these jobs are growing in demand because schools are aiming to identify students with disabilities and set up interventions as early as possible, as early as age 3 in some schools.

But another factor in the demand for these specialists – physical therapist assistants, in particular – is the job market they are graduating into.

While teacher graduates are overwhelmingly likely to work in the classroom, newly minted health care workers can be wooed by jobs in hospitals, clinics and home health agencies in addition to schools.

“From my perspective in working with schools, they’re wanting to identify those things early on,” Long says, “that way they can provide the best services for these kiddos before it gets to age 7, 8, and then they realize, ‘Oh gosh, we could have been supplying these services earlier.’ So you have early intervention, more kiddos needing these services, but then employees that could be taking on these roles have a lot of different options, as well.”

Hite says that while non-teacher jobs are expected to increase in Utah, though realistically not by as much as ProTherapy’s projections, some nuance is required when looking at what the growth rates mean.

“If I look at the subsector of audiologist, we had two [full-time employees] six years ago, and now we have 11,” she says, an increase of more than five-fold. “We’re talking about 10 people.”

Nadia Tamez-Robledo (@nadiatamezr) is a reporter covering K-12 education for EdSurge with focuses on student and teacher mental health and changing demographics. You can reach her at nadia [at] edsurge [dot] com.

This article is part of the collection: Teaching Tech: Navigating Learning and AI in the Industrial Revolution.

A little over a decade ago, schools were swept into what many described as a movement to prepare students for the future of work. That work was coding — “Hello, world!”

Districts introduced new courses, nonprofits expanded access to computer science education and a growing ecosystem of programs promised to teach students the skills needed to enter the tech workforce. For many, it felt like a necessary correction to a rapidly digitizing world. But over time, a more complicated picture emerged.

While access to computer science education expanded, the relationship between early coding exposure and long-term workforce outcomes became uneven. The “learn to code” movement raised an important question that still lingers today: Which skills actually endure when technologies change? That question has resurfaced in a new form.

Today, generative AI is driving a similar wave of urgency. Schools are once again being encouraged to adapt quickly, often with the same underlying rationale that teachers must prepare students for a future shaped by emerging technologies.

But if the instructional role of AI remains unclear, and if the tools themselves are likely to evolve rapidly, the more persistent challenge may lie elsewhere.

After conducting a two-year research project alongside teachers, who are adapting and are open to integrating AI, we found that uptake is still minimal. Most of our participants, including those who are engineering or computer science teachers, still struggle to identify a clear or universal instructional use case for widespread AI integration.

So, what should students learn to help them adapt to whatever comes next?

A growing body of research suggests that the answer may lie not in teaching students how to use a particular AI system, but in helping them understand the computational ideas that make those systems possible.

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The Limits of Teaching the Tool

In recent years, many discussions about AI education have centered on teaching students how to use generative tools effectively. Prompt engineering, for example, has become a common topic in professional development workshops and online tutorials.

Yet, focusing heavily on tool-specific skills can create a familiar educational problem, because technology changes faster than curricula.

Teaching students how to interact with a specific interface risks becoming the equivalent of teaching to standardized tests, rather than teaching students important lessons that don’t appear on state exams.

The history of computing education offers a useful example. In the early 2010s, a wave of coding initiatives encouraged schools to teach programming skills broadly. While many of those programs expanded access to computer science education, subsequent analysis showed that workforce pipelines in technology remained uneven, and many students learned tool-specific skills without developing deeper computational reasoning abilities.

That experience offers a cautionary lesson for the current AI moment. If the goal of integrating AI into education is long-term preparation for technological change, focusing narrowly on how to use today’s tools may not be the most durable strategy.

The Skill That Outlasts the Tool

A growing body of research suggests that computational thinking is a more durable educational objective.

Computational thinking refers to a set of problem-solving practices used in computer science and other analytical disciplines. These include:

• breaking complex problems into smaller components

• recognizing patterns

• designing step-by-step processes

• evaluating the outputs of automated systems

These skills apply not only to programming but also to fields ranging from engineering to public policy.

Importantly, they also help students understand how algorithmic systems operate.

When students learn computational thinking, they gain the ability to analyze how technologies like AI produce results rather than simply accepting those results as authoritative.

In this sense, computational thinking provides a conceptual bridge between traditional academic skills and emerging digital systems.

What Teachers Are Already Doing

Many teachers in our study were already moving in this direction, often without using the term computational thinking.

When teachers asked students to analyze chatbot errors, they were encouraging students to examine how algorithmic systems produce outputs. When they designed exercises comparing training data and algorithms to everyday processes, they were helping students reason about how automated systems work.

These approaches do not require students to rely heavily on AI tools themselves. Instead, they position AI as a case study for examining how technology shapes information.

That framing aligns with longstanding educational goals around critical thinking, media literacy and problem-solving.

Implications for Educators

If the instructional use case for generative AI remains uncertain, educators may benefit from focusing on skills that remain valuable regardless of which tools dominate in the future.

Several practical approaches are already emerging in classrooms. Teachers can use AI systems as objects of analysis, asking students to evaluate outputs, identify errors and investigate how models generate responses.

Lessons can connect AI to broader topics such as data quality, algorithmic bias and information reliability.

Assignments that emphasize reasoning, structured problem solving and evidence evaluation continue to support the kinds of cognitive work that remain central to learning.

These approaches allow students to engage with AI without allowing the technology to replace the thinking process itself.

Implications for EdTech Developers

The experiences teachers described also highlight an opportunity for edtech companies.

Many current AI tools were developed as general-purpose language systems and later introduced into education contexts. As a result, teachers are often left to determine whether and how those tools align with classroom learning goals. Future products may benefit from deeper collaboration with educators during the design process.

Teachers in our conversations were already experimenting with small classroom applications, designing AI literacy lessons and building course-specific chatbots.

These experiments resemble early-stage product development.

Partnerships between educators, edtech developers and product managers could help identify instructional problems that AI systems could realistically address.

The Next Phase of the Research

The conversations described in this series represent an early attempt to document how teachers are navigating the arrival of generative AI.

As schools continue experimenting with these tools, the next challenge will be to develop governance frameworks that help educators evaluate when and how AI should be used in learning environments.

Our research team is beginning the next phase of this work by partnering with school districts to develop guidance for AI governance and inviting edtech companies interested in exploring these questions collaboratively.

Rather than assuming that AI will inevitably transform classrooms, this phase of the project will focus on identifying the conditions under which AI tools actually support teaching and learning and how to reduce harm when they don’t.

The fourth grade teacher’s question remains a useful guide: What can I actually use this for in math?

Until the answer becomes clearer, many teachers will likely continue doing what professionals in any field do when new technologies appear: experimenting cautiously, adopting what works and relying on their judgment to decide where or if the tool belongs.

If your school, district, organization, or edtech company is interested in learning more about joining our next project on AI governance, contact our research team at research@edsurge.com.

On a recent evening in suburban Chicago, a group of parents, teachers and administrators gathered to talk about something that, until recently, rarely drew this level of public scrutiny: the role of technology in their schools.

The meeting was part of a three-session tech and learning focus group organized by Mary Jane (MJ) Warden, chief technology officer of Community Consolidated School District 15, in conjunction with the Teaching, Learning and Assessments Department.

The district, which serves 11,000 preK-8 students, spent the past several years — like so many others — adding digital tools. Now, with budgets tightening and concerns about screen time rising, it was time to take stock.

A re-examination of digital tools was already happening with curriculum reviews and tightening budgets after the pandemic. And then the screen time concerns arose.

Participants discussed everything from screen time to what district technology use looks like at home. Out of those conversations came something new: a “Portrait of a Digital Learner,” derived from the district’s Portrait of a Graduate, meant to develop clear expectations around what skills students need and, by extension, which technologies are worth keeping and how technology would be used by students toward positive learning outcomes.

“We’re trying to get much [clearer] about what this is going to address,” says Warden. “What do we need students to learn, and which tools will help us understand where they are?”

Across the country, district leaders are asking similar questions. After years of rapid expansion, many are now engaged in a quieter but more consequential phase: reassessing what stays, what goes and how to decide.

From Buying Tools To Proving Value

For much of the past decade, edtech decisions often began with the product. A new platform promised to boost engagement or personalize learning; districts piloted it, added it to an already crowded ecosystem and moved on.

That approach is no longer sustainable, says Erin Mote, CEO of InnovateEDU, a nonprofit focused on systems change in special education, talent development and data modernization in schools.

In March, the State Educational Technology Directors Association released a free EdTech Quality Action Toolkit, designed to help school and state leaders apply a common set of standards when selecting and reviewing products. The resource provides step-by-step guidance for integrating five indicators — safety, evidence, inclusivity, interoperability and usability — into the full lifecycle of edtech decision-making.

“We’re seeing a shift from ‘Does this look cool?’ to ‘Does this work?’” she says. “Districts have less money now; they have to be smarter.”

The end of pandemic-era federal funding has intensified that pressure. Technology leaders are now expected not only to manage infrastructure and compliance, but also to demonstrate what Mote calls a return on instructional impact.

In practice, that is changing how districts approach procurement. Instead of starting with vendor demos, many are beginning with specific learning needs.

“If you need to improve third-grade reading comprehension, you start there,” Mote says. “Then you ask: Which tool can move that needle?”

New Playbook For Evaluation

As districts rethink their approach, a more structured and more skeptical evaluation process is emerging.

One major shift is toward tracking actual usage. Platforms like ClassLink and Clever now give districts detailed analytics on which tools students and teachers are accessing, how often they’re used and, in some cases, how much time is spent in each application. That data has helped uncover what some leaders call “zombie licenses,” products that continue to be renewed despite minimal use.

At Joliet Public Schools in Illinois, technology leaders review usage data each spring alongside feedback from a districtwide technology committee.

“If we’re not getting usage or we have another product that does it better, we start asking hard questions,” says John Armstrong, chief officer for technology and innovation.

But usage alone is not enough. Districts are also weighing cost, redundancy and alignment with instructional goals.

During the pandemic, many schools layered new tools on top of existing ones. Now, leaders are working to simplify.

“We had so many products that teachers were going to four different places to run a lesson,” says Kelly Ronnebeck, associate superintendent for student achievement in East Moline School District 37 in Illinois. “We’re trying to get back to a slower, more intentional process.”

That often means replacing several standalone tools with a single platform that can do multiple jobs — even if it means giving up some features teachers value. In some cases, a newer system can replace several standalone tools at a lower cost but may not match each one’s individual strengths.

“It’s not always a perfect swap,” admits Armstrong. “Someone gives up something.”

At the same time, districts are placing greater emphasis on interoperability and data privacy. Tools must integrate with existing systems like learning management platforms and single sign-on tools, and vendors have to be willing to sign increasingly stringent data privacy agreements.

“If a company can’t meet those requirements, that’s a red flag right away,” says Phil Hintz, CTO of Niles Township District 219 in Illinois.

The Challenge Of Proving What Works

Even as districts adopt more rigorous processes, it remains stubbornly difficult to determine whether edtech tools actually improve learning.

“It’s such a huge challenge,” says Naomi Hupert, director of the Center for Children & Technology at the Education Development Center. “We see so much that doesn’t seem to make a difference but costs a lot of money.”

Part of the difficulty lies in the sheer breadth of what “edtech” encompasses, everything from learning management systems to specialized math platforms to communication tools. Each category has different goals, users and measures of success.

“It’s like asking whether ‘books’ work,” says Hupert. “It depends on the book, the context and how it’s used.”

District leaders have to piece together evidence from multiple sources: vendor-provided analytics, small pilot studies, teacher feedback and, occasionally, external research. But those data points don’t always align.

Jason Schmidt, director of technology in Oshkosh Area School District in Wisconsin, describes his approach as “trust but verify.”

“I know vendors are collecting tons of data, and they have to, but I still need to talk to teachers and understand how the tool is actually being used,” he says.

Even then, results can be uneven. A platform might show strong engagement overall but fail to support certain groups of students — or vice versa.

In Alexandria City Public Schools in Virginia, leaders are developing a formal framework to evaluate both edtech and nontech programs. But defining “value” has proven complex.

“It’s not just usage and cost,” says CIO Emily Dillard. In a district with a high number of English learners, some tools play a critical role for students who need targeted or specialized support.

“You might have a tool that isn’t working for most students — or takes time to show results — but for a small group, it’s the best thing we have. We have to think about what’s best for them, too,” says Dillard.

Building Systems for Quality

Recognizing these challenges, a growing coalition of organizations is working to create clearer signals of quality in the edtech marketplace.

Through the Edtech Quality Collaborative, 1EdTech, CAST, CoSN, Digital Promise, InnovateEDU, ISTE, and SETDA are developing a shared framework built around five indicators: safety, evidence, inclusivity, interoperability and usability.

The goal, says Korah Wiley, senior director of edtech R&D at Digital Promise, is to reduce the noise.

“Right now, there are a lot of certifications and labels, and it’s hard for districts to know what to trust,” says Wiley. “We want to brighten the signal of what quality looks like.”

The initiative includes a planned directory of vetted validators, an implementation guide for districts and a central hub to connect educators with high-quality tools. Leaders hope it will help districts make decisions more confidently and push developers to meet clearer standards.

“This is the cost of doing business in education,” says Mote. “If you want to be in classrooms, you need to be building evidence and demonstrating impact.”

What Happens When Tools Are Cut

For all the talk of frameworks and data, the hardest part of reassessment often comes when districts decide to let a tool go.

Those decisions can affect classroom routines, teacher preferences and even student outcomes. And they are rarely straightforward.

In some cases, tools are phased out because of cost or low usage. In others, they are replaced by more comprehensive platforms. Sometimes, they no longer align with district priorities.

But even when the rationale is clear, the transition can be difficult.

“Teachers build practices around these tools,” says Warden. “We have to be thoughtful about how we support them through change.”

Districts are increasingly pairing those decisions with professional development, clearer communication and, in some cases, community engagement. In Warden’s district, the focus groups that helped define the “Portrait of a Digital Learner” are also shaping how the district explains its choices to families.

“We want to be transparent about what we’re using and why,” she says.

A More Intentional Future

As districts move into this new phase, many leaders describe it as a reset that is forcing them to be more deliberate about how technology fits into teaching and learning.

That includes pushing back on broader narratives that treat all screen time as equal.

“There’s a big difference between passive consumption and purposeful edtech and we need to be clear about this,” says Mote.

It also requires clearer alignment between technology decisions and instructional goals. Without that, even the best tools can fall short.

“If you don’t know what you want teaching and learning to look like, it’s very hard to decide what tools you need,” says Keith Krueger, CEO of CoSN.

Back in District 15, Warden and her colleagues are trying to build that alignment. The conversations sparked by their focus groups are informing not just which tools they keep, but how they define success.

“We’re still digging out from COVID, when we had to move fast and add a lot. Now we have an opportunity to be more strategic.”

For district leaders across the country, that shift may be the most important change of all. The future of edtech, they suggest, will not be defined by the number of tools schools use, but by how thoughtfully they choose them.

Becoming a Voices of Change fellow empowered me to believe I could be a teacher with all my flaws — that “perfection” is not necessary. In fact, it is antithetical to good teaching. I remember sitting in our first workshop where we learned how to write a pitch and discussed what successful pitching looks like.

My takeaway from that workshop was that this fellowship was going to push me in ways I’d always been afraid of, that I’d have to practice a kind of vulnerability that went deeper than what I modeled for my students. I’d have to face myself.

The fellowship taught me that what makes me unique is what makes me the best teacher I can be. My individual voice and reflections were what I had to offer, and not just the restatement of well-researched best practices. During my fellowship, I learned that the more vulnerable and specific I was in telling my story as a classroom teacher, the more my voice as a writer would shine through. This sense of authenticity translated into my teaching, as I felt empowered to be myself and to see my differences as gifts.

My essay describing the time when two birds flew into my classroom taught me that play is education, and to this day, I can breathe when things go awry because, through writing that essay, I reaffirmed to myself that it’s okay for curriculum to slow down, for community building to be at the center.

My essay exploring the power of neurodivergence led me to connect with other neurodivergent teachers and reminded me that my experiences are what make me the best teacher I can be. I used to be sad that my brain was built differently, but both the process and the outcome of that essay taught me that being different is a gift to share with others. I was most afraid to write that essay, but now I am most proud of it. I was once again reminded of the power in speaking my truth, especially when I’m most afraid to.

Overall, my essays taught me to pay attention to every moment of teaching, that sometimes the most mundane days of instruction offer kernels of truth and exploration. Topics such as boredom, artificial intelligence and allyship have been explored ad nauseam, but my editor empowered me to see that despite this, I still have a voice worth sharing, even when I didn’t think so.

As a result, I developed a confidence in myself that I carry with me to this day. I became more embodied as a human being, more present, because I realized that what made me me was actually what would allow me to connect more meaningfully with my students and the world. In extending that expansiveness and empathy towards myself, I had more empathy to give my students on their off days and more encouragement to give them on their better days. Ultimately, realizing that the most important stories I had to tell were topics I was too afraid to address publicly made me see that the core of education will always be about courage. Courage to be all of myself, to try new activities outside of and inside the classroom. I had to be ready to share myself to have the biggest impact as a writer. Similarly, I would have to do the same to be the best teacher I could be.

Since completing this fellowship, my identity as a human being has expanded. I now see myself not just as a teacher, but as a writer, a thinker, and an observer who has something to say. I feel more comfortable being me, and even empowered to do so. With each essay, I chipped away at my fears and accepted that the joy was in the process itself. Now, I tell my students something I have had to tell myself repeatedly during this fellowship: trust your voice.

This story is part of an EdSurge series chronicling diverse educator experiences. These stories are made publicly available with support from the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative. EdSurge maintains editorial control over all content. (Read our ethics statement here.) This work is licensed under a CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.

Fatema Elbakoury (she/her) is a high school English language arts teacher at June Jordan School for Equity in San Francisco.

“I’m just not a good writer.”

It’s a phrase teachers hear too often, usually at the exact moment a writing task is assigned. For many students, the leap from understanding a concept to putting it on paper feels like an impossible hurdle. Writing is often treated as a final “reveal” of learning at the end of a unit — potentially a high-pressure task that can feel overwhelming for students who haven’t been given a clear roadmap.

Educators are increasingly recognizing that to help students succeed, they have to move beyond simply assigning writing and start explicitly teaching it.

Dr. Barrie Olson

Vice President, Reading Curriculum & Instruction, Curriculum Associates

To explore how to make this shift, EdSurge caught up with Dr. Barrie Olson, vice president of reading curriculum and instruction at Curriculum Associates. Drawing on her experience as a literacy designer and former college professor, Olson discusses why students struggle with the demands of writing and how a “backward design” approach can transform writing instruction in the classroom.

EdSurge: We’ve seen a major shift toward research-based, explicit reading instruction over the past decade. Is writing on a similar trajectory? What does strong instruction look like in practice?

Olson: The research base around writing is clear: Students become stronger writers when instruction is explicit, structured and grounded in knowledge-building content. So when we think about strong writing instruction, it is not about assigning more essays; it’s really about directly teaching the craft of writing.

We have to clarify the final product to bring that necessary focus and coherence to instruction. Each lesson across a unit should move students incrementally closer to that final writing task.

What are the most common reasons students struggle with writing, and what do those challenges look like in real classrooms?

It’s important to remember that writing is one of the most cognitively demanding things that students do in a classroom. Writing asks students to generate ideas, organize those ideas, select evidence, construct sentences and monitor conventions — all at the same time. For many students, that cognitive load can feel overwhelming.

I think a lot of writing struggles stem from gaps in foundational writing skills. So students may not have had enough structured practice to organize their thinking, or they may struggle to express ideas orally, which, if you think about it, is just going to make it that much harder for them to then get it down on paper.

For teachers looking to strengthen writing instruction, what first step makes the biggest difference?

Writing is one of the most cognitively demanding things that students do in a classroom.— Dr. Barrie Olson

The most powerful starting point is backward design. It starts not with “What is the teacher doing with the student?” but with the teacher asking, “What do I want students to be able to produce at the end of this unit? Is it a literary analysis? Is it an evidence-based argument? Is it an explanatory essay? And then what kind of thinking do I want to see from my students?” Once that endpoint is clear, teachers can plan a coherent sequence of lessons that build the necessary skills step by step.

Writing prompts play a central role in instruction. What makes a writing prompt truly effective for students?

What I always tell people is that the quality of student writing is determined by the quality of the prompt. Are we giving them the information they need to be successful at this task? We see people who want to use shorter prompts or less complex ones. They think it’s easier when, in fact, vague prompts increase the cognitive load for students because they are left guessing.

Clear prompts make instruction and assessment stronger because they can be aligned with explicit teaching. A well-designed prompt might feel hard, but it sets these students up for success because it is transparent about expectations. Any writing prompt should require students to return to the text, to quote, analyze and explain, which reinforces close reading skills while strengthening writing.

Even with strong prompts, writing can feel overwhelming. How can teachers scaffold tasks without oversimplifying?

When we talk about scaffolding writing, the key is chunking complexity. It is also starting much earlier than most people realize. Work doesn’t begin the day that students are told, “Hey, start your essay.” It begins on the first day of the unit. The key is not lowering the bar. The scaffolds and progression make rigorous writing achievable for all students.

The most powerful starting point is backward design. It starts not with “What is the teacher doing with the student?” but with the teacher asking, “What do I want students to be able to produce at the end of this unit?”— Olson

These scaffolds not only help students get where they need to be and give them a clear sense of purpose, but they also send a really important message: Learning involves collecting information, layering it onto what we already know and then communicating what we’ve learned.

Why is it important to teach reading and writing together, and how can teachers integrate them in daily instruction?

Reading and writing are reciprocal processes. When students analyze a text’s structure, an author’s argument or use of evidence, they’re building a blueprint for their own writing. Teaching reading and writing together makes literacy instruction more efficient and impactful because writing becomes a tool for thinking. It’s a cycle: Stronger reading leads to stronger writing, and stronger writing helps students defend their thinking and deepen comprehension.

I want to walk into a classroom that’s loud because kids are so excited about what they’re learning that they can’t keep it in. Writing gives them a way to leave a permanent record of their thinking.

This article was sponsored by Curriculum Associates and produced by the Solutions Studio team.

More California 4-year-olds are in publicly funded preschool than ever | EdSource

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When it comes to universal pre-kindergarten, California has made significant progress — 62% of 4-year-olds were enrolled in publicly funded early childhood programs in 2024–25, up from 42% in 2019–20, according to a new Learning Policy Institute report. Transitional kindergarten (TK) alone enrolled 55% of 4-year-olds, or about 177,000 children. But access remains uneven: nearly 4 in 10 4-year-olds still aren’t enrolled, and the share of eligible children actually signing up has declined. Families may be unaware that TK is an option for their children, or they face other barriers to enrolling. This school year marks the first time every 4-year-old in California was guaranteed a TK spot.

62

Percentage of California 4-year-olds enrolled in transitional kindergarten (TK) and other publicly funded early childhood education programs, up from about 208,300 in 2019–20 to more than 264,000 in 2024–25, a 27% increase.

55

Percent of California 4-year-olds or 177,570 children enrolled in transitional kindergarten (TK) in 2024–25.

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Yuxuan Xie

Published

April 13, 2026

When it comes to universal pre-kindergarten, California has made significant progress — 62% of 4-year-olds were enrolled in publicly funded early childhood programs in 2024–25, up from 42% in 2019–20, according to a new Learning Policy Institute report. Transitional kindergarten (TK) alone enrolled 55% of 4-year-olds, or about 177,000 children. But access remains uneven: nearly 4 in 10 4-year-olds still aren’t enrolled, and the share of eligible children actually signing up has declined. Families may be unaware that TK is an option for their children, or they face other barriers to enrolling. This school year marks the first time every 4-year-old in California was guaranteed a TK spot.

62

Percentage of California 4-year-olds enrolled in transitional kindergarten (TK) and other publicly funded early childhood education programs, up from about 208,300 in 2019–20 to more than 264,000 in 2024–25, a 27% increase.

55

Percent of California 4-year-olds or 177,570 children enrolled in transitional kindergarten (TK) in 2024–25.

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A big civil rights deadline that impacts schools and vendors will hit this month.

Federal law has required accessibility for people with disabilities for decades, says Glenda Sims, chief information accessibility officer at Deque Systems, a company that specializes in digital accessibility.

But two years ago, the federal government finally gave schools a way to measure whether their websites, mobile apps and digital content were accessible under law when it released a “final rule.”

In essence, the final rule updated 2024 Title II of the Americans with Disabilities Act, a federal law concerning equal opportunity, setting out standards for public institutions around website and mobile app accessibility. When the deadline was put in place, disability experts told EdSurge that the rules provided clarity for schools and edtech vendors, and also set a ticking clock for when they would have to make changes. The rule set varying deadlines for school districts and state and local governments — in April 2026 or April 2027, based on population size.

On April 24, the first deadline will hit. By then, institutions have to make their web content and mobile apps comply with Level AA of the Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG) 2.1, a widely recognized accessibility standard that includes accommodations such as a minimum contrast ratio and a requirement for audio descriptions.

But with the well-advertised deadline just days away, schools are well behind schedule.

Some advocates worry that digital accessibility is being swept up in broader political trends. So, what happens when the deadline hits?

Not Ready for Prime Time

Only 14 percent of districts had completed the accessibility updates required by law, according to a survey from the National School Public Relations Association released last December. The survey also found fewer than half of districts prioritized digital accessibility or had procedures for vetting vendor accessibility, which is required by the rule.

It’s not just about course content, but also the apps that a school may use, says Sambhavi Chandrashekar, global accessibility lead at D2L, a company that runs a widely used learning management system. “I doubt if a single K-12 district in the U.S. or anywhere else has an inventory today of all the web apps and forms and content that they have that are not accessible,” Chandrashekar says.

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Figuring that out requires performing an audit, which most schools likely haven’t done and which can be expensive, she adds.

At EdSurge’s request, AAAtraq, a company that sells disability-related legal compliance services, surveyed around 20 of the largest schools across a number of states — in California, Colorado, Florida, Illinois, New York, Texas and Washington state. Many school websites and online PDFs failed along “basic accessibility fundamentals,” based on a benchmark the company uses to assess legal exposure. Alt text was missing, there was not enough color contrast and many websites didn’t have an accessibility statement, the company reports. The company found that 88 percent received an “F,” the lowest possible grade.

The company uses AI in its assessments, which do not cover all of the WCAG technical guidelines, and its assessment was meant only as rough barometer. In some cases, the use of AI in accessibility is controversial.

“Title II should have been a wake up call,” said AAAtraq CEO Lawrence Shaw in an emailed comment, referring to the major disability law behind the “final rule.” Yet many schools, including some of the largest in the country, have left themselves open to legal action.

Digital Exhaustion

Schools’ relationship to technology has also changed since two years ago, from rushing to embrace it to trying to limit it.

These days, beset by digital exhaustion and regret over the reach of tech into children’s lives, schools have sought to restrict screens in schools.

But it’s important for schools and lawmakers to distinguish between meaningful tech and doomscrolling on social media, says Luis Pérez, senior director of disability and accessibility for CAST, a digital access advocacy group. Students are under more pressure to manage their own attention, Pérez says, but those with disabilities and multilingual learners rely on certain digital tools, such as text-to-speech and adjustable text sizing to navigate daily learning. When used correctly, digital tools that expand accessibility can foster a sense of belonging, especially for underrepresented groups.

He worries that screen time laws that lump all screens together could make digital accessibility harder.

K-12 schools may be having the toughest time. Universities are usually more prepared for digital accessibility than state or local governments, which run K-12 public schools, says Sims of Deque. That’s partly because students with disabilities represent a more identifiable group in universities and that allows them to advocate for accommodation, she says.

These schools are heavily reliant on vendors for accessibility, Sims says.

It doesn’t help that there’s uncertainty at the moment.

Old Rules, New Rulers

While the accessibility deadline is still in place, the intentions of the federal government have become murky.

Last year, the Department of Justice signaled that it might issue a new “interim final rule” that would impact the deadline. And recently, the Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs — a federal agency that is usually not involved with accessibility — has been holding meetings on the rule, as “credible rumors” have circulated that the rule is in danger of getting delayed or scrapped.

Yet, the federal government has not publicly released information about its intentions, according to Jarret Cummings, senior adviser for policy and public relations at Educause.

The Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs did not immediately respond to a question from EdSurge about whether a delay is expected.

However, some documents related to the meetings are publicly accessible, giving a glimpse into what they are hearing.

A group representing more than 800 Minnesota cities argued in written testimony that none of the Minnesota cities that would be impacted by the rule are fully compliant with the law. The letter states that the cost of compliance would squeeze small government budgets. In a similar argument, testimony from the National Association of Counties estimated that it would cost small counties about $32,000 to fix problems with accessibility on their sites, and large counties as much as $700,000.

Cummings’ organization, Educause, has also argued that two years was not enough time for most higher-ed institutions to make changes. It suggested that the government alter the timeline.

In contrast, Mark Riccobono, president of the National Federation of the Blind, testified that the rulemaking process has been ongoing for decades, with ample time for comment. The bill represents a compromise that clarifies rules, while reducing the burden of those under the law by providing exceptions and generous timelines, Riccobono argued.

Politically, the national mood has changed since the rule was issued a couple of years ago.

The affiliation of accessibility with diversity, equity and inclusion has politically backfired under the Trump administration. The administration has shredded grants it has identified with “radical” DEI ideology, and mass firings have gutted agencies like the Education Department, which the administration is actively trying to dismantle.

For students with disabilities, it means that there’s no guarantee of federal support, even when a federal complaint is filed.

“I would say that so many of the places that were reasonably staffed… have been reduced to almost bare bones, nothing. And so even if there are complaints coming in, there’s no way to truly handle them,” says Sims, of Deque.

Indeed, mass firings have led to 90 percent of all student civil rights complaints, including from students with disabilities, being dismissed by the federal government in the second half of last year, according to a nonpartisan government watchdog report published in January.

In the absence of federal help, people with disabilities have turned to the courts. There were more than 3,000 accessibility lawsuits filed in federal court last year, according to legal analysis of court data.

Long-term Goals

Pérez of CAST maintains that advocates should keep on track, focusing on long-term strategy, no matter what happens at the federal level. Accessibility benefits everyone, regardless of their background or disability status, he says.

Sims, of Deque, has also made a “business case” for considering accessibility during the design of products, suggesting that as schools embrace accessibility, the vendors that can show they build accessibility into their products will be rewarded.

Some hope that artificial intelligence tools will help students with disabilities access information on their own, and point toward tools like Aira, an AI tool that aids in remote video interpretation for people with visual impairment.

But even there, disability law experts insist that the federal rule hasn’t actually changed. “The rule is the rule until it isn’t,” wrote Lainey Feingold in early March.

This story is part of a series commemorating the five-year anniversary of the Voices of Change fellowship. Jennifer Yoo-Brannon, a Voices of Change fellow in 2021-22, is an instructional coach and professional learning leader in El Monte, California.

In 2021, I was a demoralized educator: not burnt out, but demoralized. As I shared in my first article for EdSurge, demoralization occurs when teachers “encounter consistent and pervasive challenges to enacting the values that motivate their work.”

That year, the pervasive challenges seemed obvious and communal. We were all navigating online platforms, figuring out how to replicate student services virtually and struggling to make up for lost time in instruction, social-skill development and relationship-building for when students returned to in-person schooling.

When I think about what feels most pressing now, it seems those challenges persist but are perhaps less obvious to society at large. As the authors of “Going the Distance: The Teaching Profession in a Post-COVID World (2024)” wrote:

A crisis is not merely an event: it’s the context in which an event takes place and the response to that event.” The global pandemic has ended, but how much has the context changed and did the response meet the needs?

Right now, I believe teaching is the most important thing we can do. When the world is on fire, what feels most pressing is teaching students to claim their humanity and helping educators understand how much the communal learning experience matters. Five years later, I have come full circle.

This time, I return to that same claim with a broader and deeper understanding of what makes a school. We use that old adage, “It takes a village…” More and more, I see that we, as school communities, are the village and the villagers that we need right now. What really makes a school more human is not just the principals and teachers, but the child welfare staff, paraeducators, campus supervisors, guidance counselors, cafeteria workers, coaches, librarians, custodians and secretaries. The list is long, but it feels necessary to name the people on campus who make students feel like they belong, support them and have their backs when students need it. These are the colleagues who have shown me what it is like to truly model humanity to our students.

The truth is that the onus is on all of us to create an environment in which mutual respect and empathy are the baseline expectations. So, as an instructional coach, as a leader and as a voice of change in this context, what can I do? How do I communicate to teachers that, while they have been beaten down and blamed for society’s ills, they also have the herculean task of helping students learn how to be human together?

In 2021, I said that I was demoralized. In 2026, I am revitalized and committed to my role as an educator, instructional coach and teacher advocate.

Since participating in the inaugural cohort of the Voices of Change fellowship, I have contributed essays to The California Educator, Edutopia and EdSurge. I have joined podcast panels to talk about social-emotional learning, culturally responsive teaching and civil discourse in the classroom.

This fellowship showed me the power of personal writing for representation and advocacy. I have started to write children’s books about my own neurodivergent children. I have presented at local and state conferences and will continue to use my voice and my words to advocate for students, for educators, for quality professional development and schools that model the best of humanity. Writing for the Voices of Change fellowship has helped me claim my voice, my humanity and my power.

This story is part of an EdSurge series chronicling diverse educator experiences. These stories are made publicly available with support from the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative. EdSurge maintains editorial control over all content. (Read our ethics statement here.) This work is licensed under a CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.

In my application to the Voices of Change Fellowship, I quoted musician Olu Dara’s words to his son, the rapper Nas:

Quit school if you want to save your own life.

These words stunned me as an educator and student who understands the stakes confronting Black youth in education. Nas’ conversation with his father did not feel unfamiliar, nor did it feel cavalier; it carried the audacity Black folks have had to nurture and maintain to survive.

Before I began writing for the fellowship, I reflected on the roots of my educational lineage. What led my father to leave school before graduating? What pushed my mother out of the schoolhouse? What was the quality of education for my grandparents and great-grandparents, and who said it was fit for their learning needs? I wondered if, maybe for them, quitting school was saving their own lives, too, so that future generations would not have to endure the challenges they faced.

I’ve had similar questions that have followed me throughout my education journey. I’ve climbed through the tacks and splinters of multiple presidencies that mocked the humanity of anyone not born white, able-bodied, heterosexual, male, wealthy or a citizen. I’ve climbed through the torn-up boards of heart-wrenching grief after laying every elder in my immediate lineage to rest. I’ve climbed through the dark of a global pandemic that exposed the violent systems Black and Brown folks have been screaming about for centuries — systems engulfed in flames.

As a Voices of Change fellow, I sought to present the classroom as a radical space of possibility. In August 2023, I published my first essay, which explored the freedom-dreaming power of Black literature. In my second essay, I reflected on the emancipatory power of radical Black joy. For my third essay, I tackled the impact of discriminatory school policies targeting natural hair textures on Black students. And last, for my fourth and final essay, I settled into my role as director of diversity, equity, inclusion and belonging at a preK-8 Catholic Montessori school in Cincinnati. I shared the collaborative goals that outlined my school’s strategic plan to embrace DEI and the work taking place to meet those goals.

But there is a price to be paid for bringing radical possibility to life. All too often, Black women in education and leadership ignore the signs of burnout until it is too late. I am in community with these women: I coach these women; I am one of these women.

One day, I woke up and realized I hadn’t taken a full week off from work in three years. I woke up mourning the deep misalignment I felt in my attempt to transform systems designed to resist me at every turn. I woke up wishing that I could remain asleep, unhappy and unfulfilled with my life. Though I was celebrated for my accomplishments with awards, I was tired. I am tired.

I was paying the price for radical possibility with my mental health and my life.

Nas once said, “I didn’t care about America. I didn’t believe that [America] believed in me.”

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In a radical act of self-preservation, Nas crossed the threshold of his liminal space and walked into the promise of his own freedom dreams. He did not wait for the permission of a society that did not believe in him.

As I navigate my own liminal space, I am granting myself the permission to set myself free and save my own life.
With a pocket full of freedom dreams, healing-centered entrepreneurship and the audacity to claim rest and renewal as an enduring freedom practice, I am trusting myself to boldly claim ownership of my life.

This story is part of an EdSurge series chronicling diverse educator experiences. These stories are made publicly available with support from the the Learning Commons. EdSurge maintains editorial control over all content. (Read our ethics statement here.) This work is licensed under a CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.

Global data on math achievement is revealing a dismaying trend: Girls are doing worse than boys — and the margins are huge.

Parsing education data into snack-sized servings.

In 2023, fourth-grade boys outperformed their female peers in a vast majority of schools, growing the gender gap that existed prior to the pandemic, according to an international study released last week.

Among eighth-graders, the rate of boys scoring higher than girls increased exponentially since 2019, rolling back gains in math equity that had been shaping up for more than a decade. Matthias Eck, a program specialist for UNESCO’s Section of Education for Inclusion and Gender Equality, tells EdSurge that prior data showed girls were catching up with boys in math achievement.

“But in the latest data, we see that the gap is widening again between girls and boys, and that’s at the detriment of girls, which is quite concerning,” he says.

This international trend echoes what U.S. analysts saw when data from the Nation’s Report Card was released last year.

The latest analysis is based on data from the Trends in International Mathematics and Science Study (TIMSS), a global study published every four years that measures math and science achievement among fourth- and eighth-grade students. The International Association for the Evaluation of Educational Achievement performed the analysis in partnership with UNESCO.

Widening Achievement Gaps

The new data is part of the first set of TIMSS results that measure student performance following the onset of the pandemic. The analysis shows that among top performers in fourth grade, 85 percent of counties’ results skewed toward boys. Slightly over half of the countries and territories from which data was collected have an advanced math achievement gap that favors eighth-grade boys, while none are lopsided toward girls in either grade.

Eck, one of the report’s authors, argues the data shows a correlation between longer school closures and higher rates of learning loss in math, with some variation among countries and territories. “One of the hypotheses is really that those disruptions during the pandemic may have exacerbated existing disparities and have reduced learning opportunities for girls, and potentially those that were at risk of low achievement have been more affected,” Eck says. “The fact that girls were out of school and were not in the learning environment, it could have impacted their confidence, but that’s just the hypothesis.”

But the numbers contain other alarming signals.

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For example, the share of regions with a gender gap among fourth-grade students who are failing to reach basic math proficiency is on the rise, and most of them have a higher proportion of struggling girls, according to the report. And while the gender gap in underperformance among eighth-graders is shrinking, the proportion of countries and territories where girls have a higher failure rate spiked.

Researchers are being cautious when it comes to drawing conclusions about the causes behind the results, but girls’ experience of gender stereotypes and confidence in their math abilities can play a role.

“Boys and girls are equally able in mathematics, but these learning outcomes can be shaped by a range of factors,” Eck explains, “and that can be persistent gender stereotypes, but also teacher expectations — and they’re based, of course, on those gender stereotypes.”

Targeted Solutions

UNESCO is pushing education systems across the globe to take a hard look at whether their gender equity strategies are working, especially efforts aimed at younger students.

Eck notes that the consequences of girls’ achievement in math can have far-reaching effects in their lives — and very real consequences in societies writ large. “We know that mathematics is quite foundational to learning across the school subjects, it’s also critical for pathways into science, technology, engineering, mathematics careers,” he says. “These sectors are at the center of innovation, technology advancement, inclusive growth and sustainable development, so that’s quite concerning in terms of those sectors.”

But there’s no widely accepted solution to this problem.

Increasing girls’ math performance will take work at the national policy level, local communities, within families and the culture of classrooms, Eck says. And changes have to include challenging gender stereotypes that limit how far girls think they can go in mathematics, he adds.

“I think what is really critical is that we see those large gaps emerging early, at the fourth grade level when students usually are around 9 or 10 years old,” he says. “That means that whatever we do, the action we take to address the issue must start quite early and must be very targeted.”

Nadia Tamez-Robledo (@nadiatamezr) is a reporter covering K-12 education for EdSurge with focuses on student and teacher mental health and changing demographics. You can reach her at ntamez-robledo [at] iste [dot] org.

Among the increasing concern about screen time in school comes a new culprit: the vetting process for school software.

A growing group of parents and teachers has spent the last few years fighting against cellphones in the classroom, with some extending that to all digital devices. But the school-issued laptops, and the software accompanying them, have been left largely unscathed.

“A lot of the issues with personal devices can move to the district-issued devices,” said Kim Whitman, co-lead for Smartphone Free Childhood US, in a previous interview with EdSurge. Whitman explained that when students do not have cellphones, they can still message with friends on their Chromebooks, or through tools like Google Docs. “There are definitely issues with school-issued devices as well.”

Proposals in three states – Rhode Island, Utah and Vermont – are now tackling these concerns.

Better Vetting Processes

At the start of this year’s legislative session, all three states concurrently proposed reviewing the vetting process of education software.

In most districts, school boards, IT personnel and administrators choose vendors, often relying on the vendors’ own data to prove the products’ safety and efficacy.

“There is nobody right now that is confirming these products are safe, effective and legal,” Whitman said in a previous interview. “It should not fall on the district’s IT director; it would be impossible for them to do it. And the companies should not be tasked with doing it — that would be like nicotine companies vetting their own cigarettes.”

The proposed legislation is looking to change that.

Vermont

Bill: An act relating to educational technology products

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Status: Passed by the House March 27; currently before the Senate Committee on Education

This bill proposes to require that providers of educational technology products register annually with the state. It also requires the secretary of state to create a certification standard and review process for these products before schools can use them.

Any provider of an educational technology product — specifically student-facing tools that are used for teaching and learning in schools — must register with the secretary of state, pay a registration fee of $100 and provide its most up-to-date terms and conditions and privacy policy.

The secretary of state would work with the Vermont Agency of Education to review registrations.

Criteria for certification include:

• The product’s compliance with state curriculum standards

• Advantages of using it versus non-digital methods

• Whether it was explicitly designed for educational purposes

• Design features, including artificial intelligence, geotracking and targeted advertising

While the initial bill proposed that any edtech provider not certified by the state, but continues to operate, could be liable for fines of $50 a day up to $10,000, that language was struck by the final bill passed from the House.

If passed by the Senate, the bill would go into effect July 1, 2026. By November 2027, the Agency of Education would submit a written report on which state entities should be involved in the edtech certification and any other recommendations for certification.

Utah

Bill: Software in Education

Status: Signed into law on March 18

The bill requires the Utah Board of Education to study the use of software and digital practices in public schools, review best practices and provide guidance for responsible use.

The state also passed a Classroom Technology Amendments bill tackling screen time at every grade level, banning it entirely from kindergarten through third grade, except for computer science and assessments. Middle school students must have their parents “opt-in” to taking devices home and high school students will be allowed to bring home devices unless parents “opt-out.”

“We’re not anti-technology,” Rep. Ariel Defay (R-UT) said in a statement. She is a sponsor of the Classroom Technology Amendments bill. “We just want to ensure that education technology is used intentionally and actually helps students to learn.”

Rhode Island

Bill: The Safe School Technology Act of 2026

Status: Passed by the House April 14; currently in the Senate Education Committee

This bill, proposed by three Rhode Island representatives who are also mothers, is part of a six-bill package focused on protecting children from social media, artificial intelligence and digital platforms.

The Safe School Technology Act bill would be enacted this August if approved, banning software providers from activating or accessing any audio or video functions on a device outside of school-related activities. It also bans the use of location data.

The initial bill lists a litany of concerns that the “lack of regulation” caused, including increased screen time, and “marketing commercial products as educational with no accountability; children being given devices without proof of developmental appropriateness and parents being excluded from decisions about their child’s digital exposure.”

But the main concern, argued by state Representative June Speakman (D-RI), who sponsored the bill, is that a majority of school districts’ technology policies do not have limits on tracking student devices. She added roughly two-thirds of districts also do not limit school-issued device’s ability to activate audio and video.

“Passing this bill will provide clear, consistent protection across all schools in the state that assures students and their families that their devices cannot be used to invade their privacy or track their activities,” Speakman said in a statement.

“They deserve to feel confident that their privacy is protected when they use technology that is required for school,” she added.

Tech Pushback

Several technology proponents have pushed back.

The Software and Information Industry Association spoke out against the Rhode Island bill in March, saying if the bill passed it would make the state be one of the most restrictive in the nation.

In an open letter to Joseph McNamara, chair of the Rhode Island House Education Committee, Abigail Wilson, director of state policy at the Software and Information Industry Association, said the bill “proposes an overly restrictive regulatory framework that will severely disrupt classroom instruction, impose massive unfunded administrative burdens on local schools, and deprive Rhode Island students of critical, evidence-based learning tools.”

Keith Krueger, CEO of the nonprofit Consortium for School Networking, told NBC News that the proposed legislation “does keep me up at night.”

“I think some well-intentioned policymakers … are rushing so quickly that they haven’t thought through the implications,” he said.

A cyberattack against one of the world’s largest digital education platforms has forced attention onto the vulnerability of U.S. schools’ data.

Instructure, the company behind Canvas, a learning management system used by thousands of schools which has 30 million active users, had its service interrupted late last week. According to a company statement, hackers breached Instructure’s “free for teacher” account, or those specifically offered to give teachers access to Canvas courses.

The criminal hacking group ShinyHunters claims to have stolen 275 million records from roughly 9,000 educational institutions around the world, per reporting from Security Week.

In the latest, at the beginning of this week, Instructure published a note saying that it had reached a deal with the hackers to return the stolen data and had received digital confirmation of data destruction, along with assurance that none of its customers would be extorted. The note did not mention what Instructure gave in return. But the note announced a webinar with “Instructure leadership” scheduled for Wednesday.

According to Instructure, this is the second data breach within the year. The latest included a breach of customer — including teacher and students’ — email addresses, usernames, enrollment information and course names.

The attacks happened around finals for many colleges. Canvas was back online as of Saturday, according to a note about the incident on Instructure’s website. But at least six universities and school districts in a dozen states sent out alerts noting they had been impacted by the attack, according to reporting from CNN. Prior to Instructure’s deal, CNN noted that ShinyHunters had set a Tuesday deadline for schools to “negotiate a settlement.”

The education sector is an attractive target for hackers, with experts describing it as “target rich, resource poor.”

The breach comes amid immense frustration and legislative pushback against the extent schools have become reliant on edtech since pandemic closures forced schools to rush to embrace digital instruction and tools. Some wonder whether the attacks raise thorny questions about trust and the ability of schools to respond when outside vendors are targeted.

While this latest incident has renewed attention, cyber attacks against schools are not a new concern. Cybersecurity was even identified as a top concern in EdSurge’s 2025 trends forecast.

Indeed, the frequency of attacks has increased dramatically in recent years against both higher ed and K-12 schools, and some experts worry that AI is making attacks more sophisticated.

The figures are startling. For example, 82 percent of K-12 organizations reported a cyber security incident, according to a 2025 report from the Center for Internet Security, which noted 9,300 confirmed incidents.

Schools have struggled to figure out how to respond to new cybersecurity threats. Here are some notable highlights from the past few years:

• 2022: A cyberattack against Illuminate Education made the rounds. In 2018, the European Union passed the General Data Protection Regulation, or GDPR, providing clarity into what data protection parents, teachers and students should get. But a few years later, during the Illuminate attack, experts noted that the U.S. lacked a national consensus, though states were beginning to pass legislation.

• 2022: Later that year, after a major attack against Los Angeles Unified School District, one of the largest in the country, experts warned EdSurge that schools represent “honey pots of highly sensitive information.” In that attack, a ransomware gang dumped 500 GB of files, including sensitive student and teacher information, on the dark web when the district refused to pay.

• 2025: Early into the Trump administration’s second term, experts noted that coordinated federal attacks had been impacted by cuts, weakening federal support for schools. At the time, districts noted that they were operating “in the dark” with an uncertain future around cybersecurity issues.

• 2025: In a two-part EdSurge series, “Under Siege: How Schools Are Fighting Back Against Rising Cyber Threats,” reporter Ellen Ullman tracked how districts around the country are responding to AI’s rise in cyber incidents. Ullman’s reporting found that many schools remain weak on the fundamentals of cybersecurity, with small schools becoming attractive targets for cyber criminals. Schools are having to learn that the first line of defense against scams is humans, Ullman notes.

Some argue that the latest attacks are a sign that institutions need more meaningful expectations around cybersecurity, since the audits and certifications they currently rely on are failing to safeguard student data.

“Too often they serve as compliance theater and as weak shields against liability,” wrote Douglas Levin, national director of K12 Security Exchange Information, on social media.

Over the years, cybersecurity experts have shared a range of tips for schools to stay secure — from educating staff and students to seeking outside help to deal with the mounting threat.

With increasingly sophisticated attacks, there’s more than ever pressure for schools to secure student data despite all the challenges.

Keri Rodrigues, a mother of five boys, knows the value of screens.

For her boys, four of whom receive school accommodations, screens serve a practical purpose at school.

“When you get a kid who’s got [a learning plan] for anxiety and a substitute teacher that hasn’t read his 504 [plan] and there’s nobody there to de-escalate him, he’s got to use his phone to call mom so I can FaceTime with him and do a breathing exercise,” Rodrigues says.

But this use of screens bumps against a new concern. Fueled by distress over the mental health impacts of too much screen time, lawmakers have begun to pass device bans and other restrictions for schools, in a rising “techlash” across state capitols.

“We’ve got to make sure we’re not stomping on kids that are actually utilizing these devices for really important reasons.”Keri Rodrigues, president of National Parents Union.

Now, as the country wrestles with restricting screens, some parents and disability advocates are beginning to express concerns about whether students who rely on accessibility tools are being excluded from the rulemaking process. Some of these advocates say they agree that new tech restrictions are necessary, but they are calling for careful consideration in how these rules are written.

Many neurodiverse students need assistive technologies for learning, and it’s common for digital tools to be prescribed in the plans schools use for these students. Assistive technologies support functional and social needs for these students’ daily lives, argued Sambhavi Chandrashekar, global accessibility lead for D2L, an online learning platform, in a series of emails to EdSurge.

Chandrashekar and others worry that lawmakers aren’t consulting families with neurodiverse students enough when crafting new restrictions, and that screen time laws could impinge on accessibility tools. They worry that the gains these students have made are becoming swept up in larger political battles.

Advocates are calling for a proactive approach to avoid potential problems down the road, and EdSurge has not yet found an example of a student blocked from using an assistive device because of these new bans.

Students with ADHD might use screens for reminders, alarms, timers, or even medical alerts, says Rodrigues, the mom. Students with autism use it for self-regulation, and students with anxiety, epilepsy, asthma, or vision and hearing differences rely on specific accessibility features on their phones. One of her own sons, a senior in high school, uses a meditation app to de-escalate, she says.

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In her position as president of the advocacy group National Parents Union, Rodrigues wants caution from lawmakers. The new legislation is “really well intended,” she says. But: “We’ve got to make sure we’re not stomping on kids that are actually utilizing these devices for really important reasons.”

“Phones aren’t just toys for kids,” Rodigues says.

Inclusion as the Norm

Disability laws such as the Individual with Disabilities Education Act guarantee students the right to assistive technologies, sometimes including screens.

But the new restrictions occur at a particularly tense time for these families.

Mass firings and funding cuts under the Trump administration have cast doubt on the reliability of federal civil rights protections and processes, some argue, leading to an increase in accessibility-related lawsuits, as families look to protect their rights. For instance, according to a nonpartisan government watchdog report, the Trump administration’s cuts to the office which reviews civil rights complaints contributed to a 90 percent dismissal of student civil rights complaints in the later months of 2025.

Recently, the U.S. Department of Justice delayed a long-anticipated deadline that required schools and vendors to meet widely accepted accessibility guidelines, after it became clear that schools and governments were not ready.

And advocates have already called attention to bills that would subject students with disabilities to surveillance cameras in classrooms, in the hopes of curbing physical restrains against these students, as EdSurge has reported.

‘Unintentional Segregation’

As for the latest screen restrictions, many of the bills note that they do not apply to students with disabilities under law. For example, laws from Alabama and Tennessee carve out blanket exemptions for students with disability plans. And Tennessee’s bill also includes an explicit exception for literacy and dyslexia screenings.

Still, advocates are concerned.

Local and regional policies can limit access to tools like screen readers and predictive text software even if they don’t mean to, argues Andrew Kahn, an associate director for Understood, a support organization for people with learning differences. But these tools can be necessary for those students to keep up in class. It’s not obvious to everyone that these tools can help students, even some who don’t have formal plans, Kahn says.

Typically, when these rules mention students with disabilities, they will exclude anyone covered by disability law, says Lindsay Jones, CEO of CAST, a nonprofit focused on assistive technology and learning. But they are still relying on local school districts or other agencies within the state to provide guidance about how to implement the law, she adds.

Without sufficient guidance, a concern is that teachers might become uncomfortable working with students who need screens for accessibility reasons and might restrict these tools because of that, Jones says. For instance, advocates fear that a teacher, wary of breaking the new law, might tell a student not to use a screen, even though it was prescribed by an individualized education program, or IEP.

“It’s not typical that a student [with disabilities] is sitting alone at a screen, which I think is what seems to be driving much of the concern,” Jones says.

But even if students with disabilities aren’t prevented from using the screens, there’s unease about whether these new rules will contribute to shaming or separation.

Reading some of these laws without guidance, it’s unclear how to implement them without banning screens in the classroom, Jones says. In order to follow these rules, it’s possible that students who are exempt from the bans could be moved into another room, she worries.

“That’s immediately going to bring — or raises our concerns about — stigma for these kids,” Jones says. “One of the beautiful things is when technology is built into systems that we’re all using, and we can use them together, and it reduces the feeling that you’re separate and different in a way that can be especially harmful.”

It’s an apprehension that others in the space share.

“You would be restricting [students with disabilities] because the access to technology is creating that stigma and that segregation,” says Kahn of Understood. “Anything that leads to difference between kids, that accentuates and magnifies, has the really strong potential to further stigmatize and make these kids feel singled out.”

Education should always take place in the least restrictive environment possible, he adds.

Rodrigues says that she and other parents also worry about whether students will become reluctant to use their disability tools because of the stigma. “Kids might actually choose to suffer rather than being singled out socially,” she says.

But ultimately, for some proponents of accessibility tech, the disquiet is largely about who gets consulted for new rules and how they get enforced.

It’s not that these restrictions shouldn’t be pursued, but that families of students with disabilities should be more thoroughly included in the rulemaking process, these advocates argue.

“Parents with children who have a disability must have a seat at the table,” Chandrashekar wrote: “Blanket rules that are blind to fundamental human differences will do more disservice than good to students at the margins.”

The U.S. Surgeon General’s office issued a warning yesterday about the harms of extended uses of screens on children, raising concerns about its impact on academic performance, physical health and mental well-being.

The advisory follows a contentious debate over screen time that has been fraught in recent years as schools that implemented 1-to-1 device ratios amid the pandemic now struggle with student attention, behavioral and mental health issues that took root around the same time.

The latest advisory urges kids to pursue — and for the adults in their lives to encourage — a “broader world, beyond the confines of screens,” Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. said in an opening letter. The role of U.S. surgeon general has been vacant since January 2025, but the advisory was issued by a committee led by Kennedy Jr.

The report encapsulates what researchers and education experts have been long saying: Excessive time in front of devices like smartphones and tablets can worsen mental health and academic outcomes for students.

The American Academy of Pediatrics took a more nuanced approach to a similar report it released, Whitney Raglin Bignall, associate clinical director of The Kids Mental Health Foundation, tells EdSurge. Researchers rolled back their specific limits on screen time in favor of “family media plans” that set boundaries for media consumption.

The Surgeon General’s advisory calls on schools to implement plans that many districts are already adopting or considering: bell-to-bell cellphone bans, or bans that do not allow the use of phones during the entirety of the school day, including passing periods and lunchtime. It also proposes screen time limits. The advisory specifies that screen time limit exceptions should be made for students who have individualized education programs or other needs for assistive devices — something about which disability advocates have expressed worry.

It also urges schools to teach digital citizenship and digital literacy along with offering students social and physical activities that don’t involve screens.

The report hits back against tech companies, like those that recently lost a California civil case over social media addiction. They were called by the advisory to eschew designing their apps for engagement in favor of user well-being by incorporating warnings about harmful screen use every time a user opens the app. The advisory also calls for tech companies to encourage children to socialize with friends and play outside, and get rid of features like recommendation algorithms and notifications.

Correlation, Not Causation

Raglin Bignall, associate clinical director of The Kids Mental Health Foundation, cautions that while research has found a correlation between screen time and poor mental health, there’s not yet cause-and-effect evidence.

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“There might be kids who need less [screen time], or those who are doing lots of different types of things with that content that’s interactive that is not harmful,” Raglin Bignall says. “Nevertheless, it should be monitored. By doing that, we make sure that we’re not doing too much [with screens], and that whatever we are doing is beneficial.”

Teachers might notice students being distracted, not listening, being irritable or having a hard time being away from screens, Raglin Bignall says. Fatigue or lack of sleep among students may also be signs of too much screen time. She adds that screen time should especially be monitored for children who have attention or hyperactivity disorders.

Not all screen time or content is equal, Raglin Bignall says. Teachers don’t need to rush to boot quality, evidence-based education apps from their lesson plans.

The warning calls attention to harmful online behaviors like bullying and gambling. The content children encounter on these platforms can encourage risky behaviors like self-harm and substance use, the advisory claims, or put them in the path of exploitative strangers.

In general, good content is educational, slow-paced and isn’t trying to market any products, Raglin Bignall says. Adults should pay special attention to what teens and tweens are seeing online, as those who struggle with confidence could be particularly vulnerable to harmful content like accounts that promote eating disorders.

“I wouldn’t want to make it seem that all screen time is bad,” Raglin Bignall says. “I often recommend co-watching with adults during those younger ages. As kids get older, it’s still important for adults to monitor the level of content and what is being offered to them.”

Nadia Tamez-Robledo (@nadiatamezr) is a reporter covering K-12 education for EdSurge with focuses on student and teacher mental health and changing demographics. You can reach her at ntamez-robledo [at] iste [dot] org

For the past few years, our nation has been flooded with headlines declaring the demise of the college degree. This trend was exacerbated by COVID-19, which accelerated a decline in college interest.

I understand, really, I do. Tuition costs are rising. Student debt is real.

Rita Finkel is co-president of the Armory Foundation and Director of The Armory College Prep program.

Artificial intelligence (AI) is also reshaping white-collar work by automating routine cognitive tasks, changing hiring patterns and increasing the use of AI tools in professional occupations. A 2025 Gallup survey found that AI use at work among U.S. employees nearly doubled from 21% in 2023 to 40% in 2025.

This is drawing many to a simple conclusion: a four-year college degree is no longer worth the time or money.

But the data, and the broader reality of how careers and life actually unfold, tell a different story.

Yes, the labor market for recent graduates has become more competitive. Yet college graduates still consistently outperform non-graduates in employment, earnings and long-term career resilience, according to new national data from the College Board Education Pays 2026 report.

But more importantly, a degree from a competitive college with a high graduation rate cultivates the ultimate asset in a rapidly changing economy: the ability to think critically. This includes being able to understand AI, as those who do will be better positioned to shape how it’s used ethically and responsibly.

That matters now more than ever.

Recent analysis from the Federal Reserve and labor economists shows that while the wage gap between graduates and non-graduates has narrowed, college graduates still maintain lower unemployment rates overall and stronger long-term job stability. A 2025 analysis from the St. Louis Fed found that from 2000 to 2025, workers with only a high school diploma consistently faced unemployment rates at least 2.3 percentage points higher than workers with bachelor’s degrees.

Even amid a softer hiring market, the advantage remains clear. Data cited by Goldman Sachs and other labor researchers showed unemployment for young non-college workers hovering around 7% in 2025, compared with roughly 4.6% for recent college graduates.

That is not a meaningless difference. In a large economy, a few percentage points represent millions of jobs.

Critics often focus narrowly on whether college guarantees a job immediately after graduation. That framing misrepresents the real purpose of higher education. College is not merely vocational training. It is preparation for a lifetime of economic and intellectual change.

The modern workforce is evolving too quickly for any technical skill to remain permanent. Entire industries now transform within a decade. Many students entering college today will eventually work in jobs that do not yet exist. In this environment, being able to think critically becomes the ultimate career skill.

A strong college education teaches students how to analyze information, communicate clearly, solve unfamiliar problems, conduct research, collaborate with different kinds of people, and learn independently. Those capacities transfer across different industries and technologies.

Ironically, the rise of AI may make these human skills even more important. Employers increasingly value workers who can think critically, interpret nuance and make judgments machines cannot easily replicate, according to Western Governors University, which surveyed more than 3,000 employers. Technical skills may evolve every few years; the ability to learn and think critically endures. According to McKinsey, “Human skills will matter more in the age of AI.”

The ability to think and process information is also why college graduates tend to weather recessions better over the course of their careers. Historically, workers with higher educational attainment have experienced lower unemployment during recessions and often recover faster in labor market recoveries, though this advantage varies by industry, age, and economic cycle. In 2024, unemployment for bachelor’s degree holders was 2.5%, compared with 4.3% for high school graduates and 6.1% for people without a diploma, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.

Of course, higher education must confront legitimate concerns about affordability and workforce alignment. There’s nothing wrong with questioning college directly after high school if a student is interested in pursuing a low-demand degree with high debt or if the student has yet to define a clear career goal.

But seeing college as only a trade school, in my opinion, is the wrong way to look at it. There are tremendous educations available where financial aid is available to help those who need it to meet the demands of higher education costs. There are wonderful State Schools and City Schools that are great choices for students.

This is an endorsement of a 4-year college degree, at a competitive school, to learn how to think critically, for a lifelong ability to learn new things. One thing we do know about the future is that we will need a population that has the ability to synthesize information quickly and accurately.

The real question is not whether college guarantees success. Nothing does.

The question is whether developing analytical ability, communication skills, flexibility, and intellectual independence still matters in an uncertain economy.

I am here to say they do. Perhaps more than ever.

The future will belong not simply to people who know things, but to people who can keep learning new things. College, at its best, remains one of the strongest environments for building that habit.

A college degree and a stable career can benefit generations. Earning a college degree is linked to longer, healthier lives, higher incomes, greater civic participation and better career alignment. While economic benefits are substantial, the lifestyle advantages extend to health, social engagement and personal fulfillment.

And that is why it is still worth it.

Rita Finkel is co-president of the Armory Foundation and Director of The Armory College Prep program.

To be an educator and a writer is to inhabit a rollercoaster world of hope; at times, you are filled with the excitement and power of possibilities, and at others, you are terrified of losing it.

During the Voices of Change fellowship, I not only grew as a writer but was also inspired by educators who gave me the gift of “freedom dreaming.” I’ve since sought opportunities to practice freedom dreaming daily in the classroom. Embedding joy and equity into the curriculum and building authentic relationships with students are my north stars. I refer to my students as family, and to highlight that, I have a banner with a quote by Gwendolyn Brooks on my door. It reads, “We are each other’s magnitude and bond.” I’ve placed photos of the students in my classes all around the banner.

I’ve also begun teaching world history. This class energizes me and makes me want to revolutionize and freedom-dream the way history is taught and explore people and stories that matter.” Facing History and Ourselves” and the “Remedial Herstory Project” have been instrumental in helping me find my way and voice as a history teacher.

Despite teaching a new subject that gives me joy, this particular school year has been one of the most emotionally exhausting and difficult for me. I live in Minneapolis, where our 2025-26 school year began with the mass shooting at Annunciation School, a community with close ties to my school. Then, in December, the havoc of ICE removing neighbors and family members from our communities began and culminated in the murders of Renée Good and Alex Pretti. On the hardest days, I held back tears as I tried to instruct my classes. The students and I were scared; our mental health was tested and we were often distracted by everything outside of our school.

I can’t help but feel that one of the first steps to legitimizing the brutal and dehumanizing treatment of Brown and Black people and those protesting against ICE was creating a narrative that DEI is antithetical to academic learning. However, as a Spanish and history teacher, I know that DEI pumps life into the themes and lessons I teach. I believe it is necessary to center women’s voices and Indigenous histories and to honor Black and Afrolatine lives in our curriculum, creating dynamic lessons with more complex, richer perspectives.

Most inspiring to me has been watching neighbors and friends rise up to protect the safety, integrity and heartbeat of our city as we experience the violence and injustice of ICE. Seeing the strength of my community motivates me to eliminate the idea that hope is lost and inspires me to do my part in the classroom.

The students and I work to banish the hate and inequity infiltrating our lives, and freedom dreaming has pushed me to channel the world I want to live in into the curriculum. For example, I built a lesson for my Spanish class entitled “In Times of Crisis, Humanitarian Help.” We learned about the devastation caused by Hurricane Melissa in many Caribbean countries, but focused on World Central Kitchen and humanitarian José Andrés’s work to restore people’s dignity and ability to live after natural disasters by preparing meals for them.

In world history, we spent longer than necessary on the Mauryan Empire and Ashoka’s legacy in Buddhism, highlighting principles of peace, nonviolence, and respect for all creation. One student told me this lesson made her strongly consider converting to Buddhism. For me, it is crucial for students to know that even though politics and society seem rife with conflict, it is possible to lead with peace, love and fierce empathy.

My life as a writer and educator has continued to evolve. After the fellowship, I earned a Pushcart Prize nomination for poetry in 2024. Receiving the Voices of Change fellowship and then the poetry honor gave me the confidence to apply for and receive a summer writers’ residency this year. I’m excited by the opportunity to continue exploring the part of me that wants to write about my experiences in and out of the classroom, no matter how challenging they may be.

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Yet, after over 20 years of teaching, what’s remained constant is creating moments of joy, humor and connection in the classroom. Don’t get me wrong, we still build competencies — not just for school, but for life.

My goal is for each school day to be permeated by the unwritten hope of freedom dreaming, so that the students and I — and, by extension, our wider community — believe in the barrier-breaking power of unity and a world thriving on dignity and respect for all.

Amanda Rosas is a mother, veteran educator and Pushcart Prize Nominated poet in Mendota Heights, Minnesota.

K-12 education is navigating an AI landscape that is shifting faster than most school policies can keep up, and teachers are getting caught in the middle. Join us on This Week with EdSurge where we look at new data on where ed tech decision makers actually stand on AI adoption, and hear from a leading expert on what it would take to bring educators meaningfully into the conversation.

Districts Are All In on AI, But Their Budgets Are Not.

A new report suggests that districts are moving on AI faster than many expected, but the infrastructure needed to do it responsibly is struggling to keep up. EdSurge reporter Lauren Coffey digs into the latest CoSN State of Ed Tech report, which finds that three-quarters of districts now have AI guidelines in place, a notable jump from just a year ago. The same report, however, surfaces a harder question: as schools move faster, who is making sure the tools and systems they are building on are actually secure, accessible, and ready?

82 Percent of Teachers Have Received No Formal AI Guidance. Here’s Why.

A new survey from Gallup and the Walton Family Foundation finds that the vast majority of teachers have not received formal guidance on how to use AI in their work, and about a third have gotten none. Joseph South, Chief Innovation Officer at ISTE+ASCD, joins the show to unpack what is driving the disconnect and what schools can do about it. South points to a combination of factors: AI was not part of most teacher preparation programs, administrators are hesitant to lead with something they do not fully understand yet, and schools are already stretched thin. Two districts are starting to show what is possible, and South thinks the path forward is more accessible than most administrators assume.

The districts getting this right have a head start. Find out what they are doing and whether yours can do the same. Listen to the episode.

This Week with EdSurge is produced by the EdSurge newsroom. Subscribe to the EdSurge newsletters for education news and analysis delivered to your inbox every week.

Stay informed, stay curious.

Most conversations about generative artificial intelligence in schools eventually zoom in on using AI in the classroom. Before districts redesign teaching and learning around AI, they may need to answer a more fundamental question: Can schools afford an AI-first future?

The question sounds strange because generative AI is often presented as software with free and low cost tiers to individual users. Teachers open a browser window, type a prompt, and receive a response in seconds. The experience feels almost weightless and as simple as a Google search. The infrastructure behind that interaction is much more complicated.

A useful way to think about generative AI is to remember the large desktop computers that once sat in school computer labs. Students interacted with a monitor and keyboard, but much of the important work happened elsewhere inside a massive tower packed with hardware.

Today’s AI systems operate similarly, except the tower has been replaced by massive data centers located hundreds or thousands of miles away — and increasingly in some cases, just a few miles away. 

Cost of Compute

An explanation is in order. How do chatbots and the hardware behind them work? Think of the chatbot prompt as the remote control. The hardware stored at the data center is the wiring within a television, and the chatbot’s output is what appears on screen as you watch and flick through channels. 

Every student prompt, teacher-generated lesson plan or AI-assisted feedback comment depends on specialized processors, networking infrastructure, electricity, water, and increasingly scarce computing capacity.

Most discussions about AI in education begin after those systems are already in place. However, a growing body of research suggests schools should pay closer attention to the infrastructure itself.

Researchers studying AI adoption in education have largely focused on classroom implementation, AI literacy and governance. Stanford’s review of the evidence base for AI in K-12 education found that adoption continues to outpace rigorous evidence about educational outcomes. At the same time, UNESCO and other organizations have increasingly emphasized governance, transparency and human oversight as schools experiment with AI tools.

A separate body of research examines the infrastructure that makes those tools possible. Urban planners, computer engineers and environmental researchers have begun documenting the physical footprint of artificial intelligence. Their work points to a reality that is largely invisible to educators: generative AI is both software and hardware that requires robust infrastructure to support and scale. 

Research by Xiaofan Liang, PhD on data centers describes how AI expansion increasingly shapes land use, energy systems, local planning decisions and community development. Research by Shaolei Ren, PhD on power and water demand demonstrates that large-scale AI deployment carries substantial resource requirements that extend well beyond the technology sector. Researchers and policymakers are now examining how data center growth affects electricity demand, water consumption, electrical grid capacity, and environmental sustainability. 

According to estimates cited by the Congressional Research Service, U.S. data centers consumed about 176 terawatt-hours of electricity in 2023, roughly 4.4% of all U.S. electricity consumption. Using average residential electricity consumption estimates from the U.S. Energy Information Administration, that’s enough electricity to power nearly 17 million American homes for a year. The map below shows where the United States sits in the world’s energy picture and why AI’s growing appetite for power matters.

Attribution: Hannah Ritchie, Pablo Rosado, and Max Roser (2020) – “Energy Production and Consumption” Published online at OurWorldinData.org. (archived on May 18, 2026).

Traditionally, districts purchase educational technology such as learning management systems, assessment platforms and instructional software through licensing agreements that can often be forecast years into the future. But generative AI operates differently.

Unlike traditional software, which becomes cheaper to distribute as it scales, generative AI continues generating costs each time users engage with the system. Industry observers increasingly point to what’s called “inference costs,” which are the computing resources required to generate responses. These are some of the major costs of LLMs for consumers and one of the central economic challenges facing AI companies.

For schools, how can a district plan for these costs, and what happens when the costs far exceed expectations? Put another way, it’s unclear whether generative AI is financially feasible for schools. 

Many districts are currently experimenting with AI through pilot programs, limited licenses or AI features embedded within existing products. There are few examples of what universal access would actually cost. 

What would it mean for every student and their teachers to have access to generative AI every day? Before we address this question, there is another cost variable to consider: data privacy.

Many educators and parents have expressed concerns about student information flowing into commercial AI systems. One response has been to advocate for private deployments, district-controlled systems or locally hosted models that offer greater oversight and protection.

Those approaches may provide stronger governance, but they also require additional investment. That makes student data privacy a matter of policy and infrastructure. The more control schools want over data, the more likely they are to encounter costs related to storage, cybersecurity, hardware, networking and technical expertise.

Understanding the Generative AI Market

Meanwhile, the broader market continues to evolve.

OpenAI, Anthropic and other major AI companies are still competing to define the commercial landscape. Product offerings change frequently. Pricing models continue to evolve. Infrastructure investments remain enormous.

The result is a technology ecosystem with long-term economics that remains uncertain at precisely the moment schools are being encouraged to integrate it more deeply into teaching and learning. This uncertainty arrives during a challenging financial period for many districts.

Federal ESSER funding has expired. States continue debating educational technology spending priorities. District leaders face growing pressure to justify technology investments while responding to staffing shortages, student mental health concerns, and academic recovery efforts post-COVID-19 school shutdowns.

Against that backdrop, AI presents a different kind of procurement question: Do districts understand the long-term commitments they may be making when AI becomes embedded in curriculum, assessment and daily operations?

There is still one more cost factor to consider: community impact around data centers. Data centers are expanding rapidly across the United States. Local governments and residents are increasingly debating the benefits and tradeoffs associated with new facilities. Questions about energy demand, water consumption, environmental exposure and land use have become common features of public meetings and planning discussions.

For educators, these debates may seem distant from classroom practice. But every discussion about AI in schools ultimately depends on the infrastructure being built in communities across the country.

Schools are currently debating how to integrate AI into teaching and learning while the infrastructure, economics and governance systems required to support large-scale adoption are still taking shape.

Before schools decide how deeply AI belongs in classrooms, they may need a clearer understanding of how much it costs and if it’s feasible to maintain the systems that make an AI-ready classroom possible.

What Happens to Kids When Schools Take Away Recess and Add More Screens?

Schools have been quietly chipping away at recess for nearly a decade, and a sweeping new update from the American Academy of Pediatrics says the consequences are real, measurable, and showing up well beyond elementary school. At the same time, the federal government has issued a formal advisory on children and screen time, calling on schools, parents, and tech companies to act. Both stories point in the same direction, but the path forward is far less obvious than the headlines suggest.

The Fight to Bring Recess Back

For the first time since 2013, the American Academy of Pediatrics has updated its recess guidelines, and the expansion is significant: the new recommendations extend to middle and high school students, not just younger children. EdSurge reporter Lauren Coffey has been reporting on what that guidance actually means for administrators under pressure to protect instructional time, whether the evidence on attendance and attention is strong enough to move policy, and why advocates say the answer may be simpler than schools are willing to admit.

A Federal Advisory With Unfinished Business

A formal screen time advisory from HHS Secretary Robert F. Kennedy calls for bell-to-bell phone bans, warning labels on apps, and the elimination of recommendation algorithms for children. But researchers are being careful: the evidence linking screen time to negative outcomes is correlation, not proven cause and effect, and the line between harmful social media and beneficial education technology is one that schools and families are still figuring out how to draw. EdSurge reporter Nadia Tamez-Robledo breaks down what the advisory actually asks of schools, why the tech industry response will be the real test, and what the carve-outs for students with IEPs reveal about the limits of a one-size-fits-all approach.

Stories Mentioned in This Episode

Recess Took a Break in Some Schools. A Push Is On to Bring It Back by Lauren Coffey

Surgeon General Advisory Wants Kids to Live Beyond the Confines of Screens by Nadia Tamez-Robledo

Join us on This Week with EdSurge where we ask whether the research is pointing toward a simpler solution than most schools are willing to try. Listen to the episode.

This Week with EdSurge is produced by the EdSurge newsroom. Subscribe to the EdSurge newsletter for the latest in education news delivered straight to your inbox.

I am going to start where no good teacher should start, with a $10 word: epistemology. It refers to a branch of philosophy that explores how we know what we know – something scholars like John Dewey argued is deeply tied to experience, not just information.

This word takes me back to my doctoral graduation when my father-in-law said with good-natured humor, “Well, Ev… there’s a lot of [stuff] you can’t learn from a book.” At the time, I didn’t know what to say, but any teacher worth their salt will tell you: he’s right.

Pre-service teachers – myself included – often lament that they didn’t really learn to teach until the rubber-meets-the-road experience of student teaching or that first job. This is the challenge of teaching pre-service teachers. I’ve been doing it for a handful of years now, and I see a trend – the TikTok way of knowing in education. It’s got me wondering how we adapt our practices based on my experience during my recent final exams with pre-service teachers.

The TikTok Way

For example, I ask my students to make two tangible items to try and circumvent AI. One item is a teacher creed. I hand out “fancy” paper and tell them to create something they might read every teaching day – something to remind them not if, but when teaching gets hard. These are heartfelt, colorful creations. They write things like, I will show up with a good attitude. Even on my worst day, I will be someone’s favorite teacher. I cringe a bit, knowing how more seasoned educators might scoff but that is perhaps why I assign them – to bottle that early hopefulness in a landscape that often doesn’t create it for new teachers.

The second item is to create “One One-Pager to Rule Them All!” Students make non-linear, doodle-style notes throughout the semester, and this final asks them to zoom out and represent everything essential we’ve learned through a map of connections, images, and ideas.

I love this assignment because I can see who is connecting the dots and who is simply regurgitating the text. I sit with each student for five to seven minutes as they “show and tell” the work. As they read their creeds, I am heartened and sometimes even tear up. And in conversation after conversation this semester, I heard the same phrase, almost as a confession mid-conference:
  “I know it’s not research-y, but in a TikTok I saw…”
  “I know it’s not the best source, but I saw a reel that said…”
  “This guy I follow always says…”

Each of these notes expanded or connected my own thinking about course content. Some couldn’t be backed in my mind of research, but others could. So, instead of arguing, I asked questions: Who created that content? What might their motivation be? Why does it matter to you? This kind of questioning reflects what Marilyn Cochran-Smith and Susan Lytle describe as “inquiry as stance” – an orientation where teachers are active investigators of knowledge.

An Epistemological Shift

We are in a shift in epistemology. Future teachers are learning not only through peer-reviewed research or textbooks, but also through short-form video, personality-driven content, and lived teacher experience shared in real time – what media scholars like Henry Jenkins describe as a more participatory culture of knowledge. This is democratizing, the dismantling of the silo that has long held educational research out of reach. But this is also destabilizing.

During my first years of teaching, I cried in my car a lot. If I had had the megaphone of TikTok influencers celebrating how they left education, or even my own content microphone, I’m not sure I would have made it through to my later years of teaching that are still hard but more grounded and fulfilling.

Admittedly, some positions are ones to leave. Yes, at times educator working conditions are not what they should be but how do we help pre-service and early-career teachers move through the baptism-by-fire years while being bombarded by voices – many from people who have left the profession and now narrate it from the outside? Some of the content is helpful. Some of it is not. And all of it is loud.

I wonder if our teacher preparation programs are keeping pace with how knowledge is actually being formed. It leads me to my favorite teacher question, “So what? What do we do now?” How long do we hack away at the plant growing up the wall, and when is it time to embrace the aesthetic of a vine-covered building as something worth studying?

Instead, what if we become weavers of stories? What if we help students craft their own and build connections of knowing? What if we engage lived experience not as secondary to research, but as a complementary form of knowing? When have we had so much access to real-time teacher voices about things that happened to them in the classroom that day?

Just because something is visual, narrative, click-baity, and social doesn’t mean it is missing the mark or doesn’t engage a pedagogical question worth exploring. This TikTok wondering is happening whether we embrace it or not, so what if we see it as a new charge to help future teachers engage these voices critically, rather than pretending they don’t exist?

Here are some ideas I’m playing with. I’m curious what you might add.

Ed Content Fridays. Students bring in content that connects with the week’s readings and learning from their own scrolling. Discuss it in a Spider-Web format that employs elements of a librarian CRAAP test to help students develop habits of mind around credibility and content creator motivation.

Use a C3WP writing strategy that engages reels and posts to kick off class. Start with what students know as a free write and then bring in content to have them expand their arguments and defend thoughts with research from our shared text.  If students bring it in, they find it interesting, and we can require a citation connection to the course text or researchers.

Like/Share/Subscribe. Share strong online content that sings from reputable sources with students. Syllabi and course hubs can be places to curate rich content collaboratively.

Have students create their own content. CapCut on a desktop or Edits on a phone are surprisingly easy plug-and-play tools to make short form videos, and we can up the academic requirements with or without student posting. Thoughtful content can grow out of our rich history of educational research, bringing rich, thoughtful voices in among the pervasive ranting. I’m not saying we shouldn’t be about the work of educational reform and that a good rant doesn’t have its place, but this new way of knowing and sharing knowledge is sitting in our desks waiting for us to light the fire.

Yes, my step-dad is right, there is so much we can’t learn from a book, but maybe there is still so much we can learn from our own students in their own ways of knowing, even if we don’t fully understand them ourselves. What if our ways of knowing weave together, creating something beautiful?

Recently, my kindergartner climbed onto the scale and asked me what dinosaurs also weighed 50 pounds. Thanks to Claude, we quickly learned, to my son’s delight, that he is the size of a juvenile velociraptor.

Artificial intelligence helped me with a question I couldn’t have answered on my own. But it didn’t replace me as a parent or my son’s role as a learner. A few weeks later, I had forgotten the answer, but my son didn’t. He was the keeper of knowledge, and I was the conduit.

Something like this is happening in schools and colleges, too. Information is more easily accessible than ever before. Anyone anywhere can ask an AI tool a question and receive an answer that seems reasonable, at least on the surface. It’s not surprising, then, to see predictions of the demise of traditional schools and colleges.

But education has never been only about access to information. Students need much more to become capable members of society. They need the ability to assess the quality of information, recognize strong work, and connect ideas. Students also need to grapple with the reality that not everyone agrees, and that’s okay. This kind of learning requires human relationships that expose students to the friction of life that sycophantic AI models tend to obscure.

The big question is how to know when AI supports real learning and when it leads to the “cognitive surrender” of accepting AI-generated answers with minimal scrutiny. Recent research findings shed some light on that.

Learning by AI Type

First, learning varies significantly based on the type of AI used. The dangers of cognitive surrender are greater when students use the standard, free versions of LLMs. Those models are designed to be helpful and therefore simply provide answers to the questions they are asked. Brain activity and retained learning are lower when students are working with AI in this way.

In contrast, tools that scaffold learning and support in-person instruction can produce outcomes even more impressive than my son’s memory of the size of teenage dinosaurs. One study of an introductory undergraduate physics course found that students using a carefully designed AI tutor had twice the learning gains of those receiving active, in-person instruction.

Learning Process Matters

Second, the role that AI plays in the learning process matters, and it should be off-limits at times. The authors of the physics course study cautioned that structured AI tutoring may not be appropriate for tasks “requiring complex synthesis of multiple concepts and higher-order critical thinking.” In a larger-scale example, Estonia’s education minister—who is overseeing the country’s ambitious partnership with OpenAI to provide a custom AI platform in upper secondary schools—has described a blended model. Students use handwriting to form memories early in the learning process and, later, use digital tools for feedback and AI-assisted learning. Estonia is not introducing AI in earlier grades so that students can build foundational knowledge and skills first.

Support for Educators Needed

Third, because the outcomes are so far apart between good and bad AI use in learning, educators need support to add AI to their teaching toolkit responsibly. In one study from Sierra Leone, secondary school educators completed a one-day training before adding AI tools in the learning process and only then saw math learning gains equivalent to more than a year of additional schooling.

Google, OpenAI, and Anthropic all offer learning modes and other supports built on these ideas. Still, those features are typically opt-in and getting harder to find for non-enterprise users. OpenAI, for example, launched “study mode” in July 2025 but quietly removed it from the standard ChatGPT interface this spring. The feature remains available to schools and systems with enterprise contracts. These contracts are expensive but drive demand for the types of AI that educators actually want, especially when leaders collaborate across systems and make similar asks of tech companies in procurement.

Schools, colleges, and educators should not be alone in navigating these waters. Philanthropy can help, for example, by supporting training that respects teachers’ expertise, conducting independent research on what works, and advancing advocacy work that counterbalances the size of tech firms. They can also help make enterprise contracts more affordable and support the development of procurement standards that protect learning, student data, and educational institutions’ sovereignty over their own systems.

This fits with philanthropy’s history of helping the benefits of new learning approaches reach everyone. For example, as compulsory schooling laws were passed at the turn of the 20th century, communities benefited from Andrew Carnegie’s 2,509 libraries (many of which served as classrooms) and Julius Rosenwald’s 5,000 schools that educated a third of Black children in the rural South.

Looking even further back in time gives me confidence that humans can weather tech-driven transitions and come out in a better place. German apprenticeship programs are strong today in part because, during the Industrial Revolution, German guilds adapted their models to fit an evolving economy rather than resisting change outright.

Today’s overflowing supply of information began with the printing press, which expanded access to texts and eventually reshaped who could claim expertise. I can capture and share these thoughts with you in part because, very long ago, writing transformed curriculum, credentialing, and information exchange.

Humans may not be as cool as velociraptors, but we have incredible agency and potential to evolve to meet the moment. All of us—including tech providers, educators, and philanthropy—can play an active role in shaping what’s next for students.

Two school days. That’s all it took.

In 2024, I chaperoned field trips two days in a row, for two different grade levels, and came back to roughly 450 ungraded assignments.

I knew what to do, I’ve done it before, mark them credit or no credit and move on. Students get something out of that. They did the practice. But if any of them were practicing it wrong, nobody catches it, nobody tells them, and the misunderstanding rides along into the next unit.

That pile of work led me to build an AI grading assistant. And this past April, I removed its most automated feature: the one that could return an AI-generated grade and comment to a student before I had reviewed it.

Building that feature was easy to justify. Removing it taught me which part of grading a teacher can’t hand off.

Most of what students turn in to me isn’t a clean essay. I teach engineering, and my students submit designs, schematics, code, and photos of physical work. That’s part of why many teachers I know still don’t grade with AI. They’ll use it to scaffold a unit or soften an email to a parent, but grading with it usually means pasting work into a chatbot one assignment at a time, which is so slow I can grade it faster myself. So, I built my own tool.

I teach mechatronics, and if mechatronics teaches you anything, it’s that efficiency matters. You optimize the system and eliminate friction. I brought that mindset to the product I built, and the logical endpoint was auto-return. The AI could evaluate the work, draft the grade and comment, and send it back to the student without another click from me, late submissions included. I had spent hours tuning it to grade against my assignment, handouts, instructions, and rubric.

Then a student came up to me one day, happy about the encouraging comment on an assignment. The comment had motivated him to redo the work and resubmit it.

When AI Takes Control

The problem was that I didn’t write the comment. I hadn’t even seen it.

If it had passed by my eyes and I’d confirmed it, edited it, or decided it belonged there, this would be a different story. But in that moment, the student thought the encouragement came from me, and I wasn’t actually in the exchange.

Nothing about the feedback was inaccurate. That almost made it harder to explain. After more than two decades in a classroom, I couldn’t put words to what felt wrong. I just knew it did. The issue wasn’t whether AI could draft useful feedback. It could. The issue was whether a student should receive a teacher’s judgment when the teacher hadn’t made one.

So, I removed auto-return, and the automatic grading of late work went with it. What replaced it is a review dashboard: the AI drafts every grade and comment against my rubric and lays it out in front of me. I can edit, override, reject, or return the feedback in one pass. It’s still fast. But now my eyes and my judgment touch every grade before a student sees it.

That changed how I think about human review. It can’t mean glancing at a score and clicking approve. It must mean checking the student’s work against the rubric and owning the result.

The software can propose a judgment. It cannot own one.

Policy is starting to move the same way. New York City’s public school guidance now says AI must not replace educator decision-making, and other states are weighing rules on human review and student data. The rules will keep changing. The principle shouldn’t; a student’s grade needs a person who is accountable for it.

When I walked one of my administrators through the tool, what he liked most wasn’t the time savings. It was that it requires a rubric. Teachers write rubrics for big projects, but the daily, low stakes work rarely gets one, and that’s exactly the work that gets marked credit or no credit and never comes back with feedback. The trade runs both ways: students get clearer expectations up front and comments on work that used to get a checkmark.

He had two concerns, both fair. Parents and students should know when an AI-assisted tool is grading, so it belongs in the syllabus. And if a student contests a grade, the teacher should re-grade it by hand. We agreed the second should happen anyway, with or without AI. Humans make grading mistakes too.

My students know I built the AI tool. What they care about isn’t the technology. It’s whether the feedback is fast, the rubric is clear, and the grade is fair. A few times the tool has docked points for work it missed, almost always because a screenshot cut off the edge of the page or the writing was too faint to read. Those students came up to me, I looked at the work, and I gave the points back. I want that. A grade should be something a student can question.

What surprised me is that a student will challenge the AI long before he’ll challenge me. A kid will walk right up and say, “The AI got this wrong, I should have full credit.” That same kid won’t tell me, to my face, that I made the mistake and owe him ten points. Both of us can be wrong, but the machine is easier to push back on than the teacher, and that’s good for the student. The grade still passes through me. The draft between us just makes it easier to speak up. If a grading system makes students afraid to challenge the result, the system is wrong.

AI Grading Advice

If your school is wrestling with AI grading, start with the disclosure. Don’t say “AI may be used.” Say what that means: comments and grades are drafted by AI and reviewed by the teacher. Then answer the harder questions. Where does student work go? Is it stored, or used to train models? How secure is the platform, and has anyone independent reviewed it?

We are teachers, not graders. We grade, yes, but we also sit in IEP meetings, call parents, design lessons, and try to notice the student who is quieter than usual. If a grading assistant hands me back the hours I spent marking daily work, and I spend them on better lessons and better feedback, everyone wins.

But when a student asks, “Why did I get this grade?” the answer cannot be, “Because the system said so.”

It has to come from me.

In the early 2000s, classrooms were simple.

One desktop computer sat in the back of the room, usually reserved for Accelerated Reader quizzes, and a computer lab down the hall hosted weekly keyboarding lessons. When laptop carts arrived, it felt like the future had rolled in on wheels.

My principal believed in slow, intentional adoption. The first month, she handed each teacher a laptop and said, “Keep it on your desk. Turn it on. That is all you have to do.” No pressure. No mandates. Just familiarity.

For most teachers across the country, the shift looked nothing like this. Schools scrambled to adopt technology, sometimes for learning, sometimes simply to keep up.

Debates emerged: Should we still teach cursive if students will be typing anyway? Should computer labs disappear? Should every student have a device?

As the years progressed, students arrived more digitally fluent than ever and quickly outpaced teachers despite ongoing professional development.

Districts kept adding more software, more platforms, more bells and whistles. Learning management systems became central to instruction. Individually, each tool was an advancement. Collectively, they created noise.

COVID accelerated everything, but it was not the sole cause of technology fatigue. By 2021, 90% of schools had adopted at least one new digital platform, but fewer than half provided sustained professional development to support its use. Teachers were overwhelmed. Parents were unprepared. Students were distracted.

So where did we go wrong, and how do we get back on track?

1. We Adopted Technology Without Guardrails or Purpose

Before adopting any tool, districts must answer a simple question: Is this for learning, productivity, accessibility, or innovation? The distinction matters. Digitizing worksheets is not innovation.

Tools should help students create, collaborate, and solve problems—the very skills the future workforce will require. Guardrails also mean limiting screen time to when it is instructionally essential. Unstructured screen time can reduce attention and retention. Technology should amplify learning, not replace thinking. So how do we make sure we are using tech with purpose? Classroom teachers should decide when, how, and why to use a tech tool.

For example:

• If your students are in a 1: 1 environment, establish clear norms for when devices should be open or closed, and teach these routines from day one.

• A simple visual cue—like a device GO or CLOSED sign—helps students internalize expectations without constant reminders.

• Before anyone opens a laptop or iPad, model the steps students will take. This 30-second preview prevents the

• “Tech scramble” that derails lessons and keeps the focus on learning instead of troubleshooting.

• Start every class with a short, analog bell-ringer in a composition notebook to signal from the very beginning that attention and thinking come first.

• When students learn this routine on day one, it becomes clear that devices stay closed until the learning calls for them.

• In elementary classrooms, station rotation can quickly become device-heavy if every center includes a screen.

• Build in intentional no-tech stations for word work, manipulatives, partner games, writing, or read-to-self so students practice foundational skills without device distraction. This helps young learners build stamina, independence, and social interaction while keeping technology in its proper place as just one part of the rotation, not the default.

2. We Overspent on Redundant Tools Instead of Building Coherent Ecosystems

Schools often pay for multiple tools that serve the same purpose.

• Gimkit and Kahoot? Pick one.

• Nearpod and Pear Deck? Pick one.

• Three reading platforms that all claim to personalize learning? Pick one.

Districts use an average of 2,739 edtech tools per year. A lean ecosystem increases fidelity, clarity, and impact.

This year, model the same intentional learning you want for your students. Choose one tool you truly want to master and commit to it. Consistent use builds coherence, reduces cognitive load, and strengthens instructional impact.

Attend professional development, watch videos, learn from colleagues and even your students, and look for ways to integrate the tool across units. Becoming deeply skilled with one platform is far more powerful than dabbling in many.

Admin and district tech leaders, work with your curriculum departments to evaluate actual usage data and efficacy of redundant tools. Consider budgets and which tools have the most impact for their cost.

3. We Removed Agency from Teachers and Students

Forced technology use backfires. When a tool does not meet the needs of the teacher or learner, it becomes a barrier rather than a bridge. Teacher autonomy is directly linked to higher instructional quality and student engagement. Agency builds ownership, and ownership builds authentic use.

Teachers, when it’s instructionally appropriate, give students the choice to work digitally or on paper. Choice builds ownership and reduces frustration. For example, some students prefer reading a novel on a device because they rely on accessibility tools, while others focus better with a print copy. Offering both options, when feasible, helps students select the format that supports their learning needs.

Administrators and coaches should classrooms with the intention of learning and gathering information. Pay attention to how long navigation takes, where students get stuck, and when technology supports or interrupts the learning goal.

Use these observations as data to shape coaching and professional development, and give teachers choice within required platforms so they can align tools with their instructional purpose.

4. We Went All-In on Technology Instead of Balancing It with Authentic Methods

In the rush to modernize, we saturated the system with software, tools, and devices. Teachers became device managers. Students became tab switchers. Parents became technology police.

Blended instruction, not technology-heavy instruction, produces the strongest learning gains. Students need both the tactile and the digital, the concrete and the abstract, the human and the automated.

To find it:

• Seek clarity on expectations. Professional development on tech does not automatically mean mandatory use.

• If a tool feels unrealistic for your students, ask your administrator to clarify how and when it should be used. Alignment with student needs matters more than checking a box.

• Set a time limit for digital tasks and compare it to the analog alternative. Choose the method that protects instructional time.

• Model the workflow before students touch devices so the focus stays on thinking, not troubleshooting.

• Build in device-free moments during the lesson such as discussion, think-pair-share, and modeling to keep the cognitive load on the learning, not the screen.

5. We Failed to Adapt Quickly Enough, Especially to AI

It took years to reach basic technology integration, and now AI has changed everything overnight. AI literacy is now considered a foundational skill. Districts must embrace AI as a learning partner, train teachers to use it for planning and feedback, teach students to use it ethically, and encourage experimentation. Adaptation is the new literacy, and we need to strike while the iron is hot.

Don’t wait for a district policy to start building your own AI fluency. Experiment with low-stakes, everyday tasks such as planning a trip, organizing a grocery list, or drafting a message so you can explore features without pressure. Take advantage of free professional learning from Microsoft Elevate for Educators, Grow with Google, Code.org’s AI 101 for Teachers, and many others.

And the most important thing you can do right now: be open-minded.

The Train Has Not Left the Station

Edtech did not fail us. We failed edtech by implementing it without vision, guardrails, balance, or humanity.

But we can get back on track. We can return to what my early principal modeled: slow, intentional, joyful integration that starts with people rather than devices. We can build systems where technology supports learning rather than drives it.

The future of education is not defined by more devices or apps. It is defined by smarter systems, thoughtful integration, streamlined tools, and curriculum guiding the choices we make.