The Most Important AI Tool We Gave Teachers Was Time

This week, our secondary educators participated in an in-person professional learning day designed to support the curricular work already underway across our district. Each content team was spending the day engaged in essential standards work—clarifying what matters most for student learning.

And that was the key.

When we carved out a 90-minute window for AI professional learning, we were intentional about not treating AI as the “new shiny thing” to bolt onto instruction. Instead, we rooted our work in the same anchor as everything else happening that day: standards, learning targets, and student outcomes. Because this isn’t about tools. It’s about what teachers can build when we give them space to think.

We didn’t have much time — but we made it count

We met once with each content area. Ninety minutes. In person. Fast-paced. We covered the essentials: prompt building, AI literacy, and how large language models work in plain language. We talked about the fact that these tools are prediction machines, not truth machines—and that they will confidently produce false information. We also addressed policy. We wanted clarity around what was allowed, what wasn’t, and what responsible use actually looks like in the classroom.

But the most important part of our sessions wasn’t the information we delivered. It was the time we protected. We carved out space for teachers to imagine the tools in their environment, with their students, teaching the content they love. We gave examples. We modeled. We left them with a recipe. Then we got out of the way.

Teachers didn’t need convincing — they needed permission

Before the day began, we knew one word would show up early and often: cheating. It’s one of the most persistent concerns educators have raised in recent months. And it’s a valid one. Teachers care deeply about authentic student work.

So we addressed it head-on. We talked clearly about the reality: our policy does not support AI being used for cheating, and teachers have every right to define when AI is not appropriate. But we also made something else clear: AI cannot be treated as a tool that is never allowed as a standing rule.

And something fascinating happened. Once teachers had clarity—once they had permission, clear answers, and an opportunity to see the tool used differently—the word cheating disappeared. In every session. The tone shifted from fear to curiosity.

What teachers did with time

Teachers didn’t need more slides (don’t worry — we had that part, too, for the mini-lesson). They needed a window to think, create, and collaborate. And the moment we gave them that window, they did what teachers always do: they started building.

Snapshot #1: “Wait… I could have students critique the AI.”

At one point, a teacher pulled me aside during work time and said:

“Oh my gosh. I could have my students critiquing the work the AI did. I had never thought of that.”

That moment mattered because it represented a shift away from seeing AI as an answer machine—and toward seeing it as a thinking partner. Critiquing AI output isn’t a shortcut. It’s analysis. It’s evaluation. It’s exactly the kind of cognitive work we want students doing more often.

There were other moments like this. Moments when teachers realized they did not have to do the work of translating every document for students if they taught students how to have the tools translate the document for them. They didn’t have to curate every resource into a NotebookLM and then share it with the students if they taught students how to create their own NotebookLM with the resources already provided.

And that has an impact on students as well. The idea that you have to put in the work, learn the tools, and be responsible for creating your own learning opportunities is something that will serve all students well in the future. The maid and butler of their learning environments has been let go. They have to learn how to survive and succeed, to do for themselves, and to make the most out of the tools and opportunities they are given. That will have a positive impact on student learning.

Snapshot #2: A team built a project-planning AI tool in real time

In another room, a group of teachers focused on a familiar student challenge: students often begin project-based learning without a plan, and productivity suffers quickly. So they built one. In our 7 minutes of work time on that tool, they literally had a working prototype. The powers of AI technology were in full display.

Using Gemini, they designed a project-planning “Gem” that could guide students through building a plan, organizing resources, identifying deadlines, and staying focused. In less than 90 minutes, teachers went from “What even is a Gem?” to creating something that could immediately support students.

Snapshot #3: Reflection feedback that changed student productivity

One teacher shared that he had already been using a Gemini Gem for weekly student reflections in his project-based learning environment. The results weren’t small.

He explained that the immediate feedback students received through the tool had shifted their productivity in a meaningful way. Students weren’t waiting days for feedback—they were getting real-time coaching they could apply immediately.

Not only was he able to share a success story, but he also grew a network. I noticed two other teachers meander over during work time to see his reflection gem in action. They weren’t from his school. They didn’t know the work he had been doing. And in about 8 minutes of work time, they made a connection and he felt seen for the idea he put into the room.

Bonus snapshot: A sassy AI conversation with Frida Kahlo

And then there was the moment that reminded us what learning really looks like. A teacher experimenting with Spanish prompts began challenging the AI’s colloquial language, pushing back on phrasing and tone, refining it, and correcting it.

He started imagining students having a conversation in Spanish with AI as Frida Kahlo. At one point, he got a little sassy with the AI, challenging it like a student would. It was funny—and also exactly what we want students to do: engage critically and push beyond surface-level answers. He was also now empowered to improve the AI bot, as he had learned to control it through prompt creation and iterative prompt generation.

The real takeaway: Teachers want to learn

At the end of each session, we were met with gratitude and enthusiasm. Teachers want to make an impact on students every day. They don’t show up to be ineffective. They show up because they care about kids and they care about doing the work well.

What we saw in these sessions was a group of professionals doing what teachers do best: imagining what’s possible. And they did it with a few free tools and a small amount of time.

AI training isn’t the point. Empowerment is.

The biggest success of our professional learning day wasn’t the tools we demonstrated. It was the space we protected. Because the most important AI tool we gave teachers wasn’t Gemini, or prompt structures, or a list of resources. It was time.

Time to think. Time to build. Time to reimagine learning.

And if 90 minutes produced this kind of momentum—imagine what teachers could do with more.

Legacy, Forward: Young Educators Leading at a Critical Turning Point

If you’re a pre-service teacher, a first-year, or somewhere in that foggy stretch between “I love this job” and “I’m not sure this is what I signed up for,” this one’s for you.

Make it stand out

You entered education with a picture in your head.

Maybe it looked like inspiring discussions, meaningful relationships, creative lessons, and the occasional lightbulb moment that reminds you why this work matters.

Maybe it looked like a beautiful opus of student success stories. Maybe your goal was to make a lasting impact on your local community, Possibly you even held a vision of an older version of yourself having served generations of families in the same community. Maybe it also looked like summers off, stable benefits, and a sense that if you worked hard and cared deeply, the system would meet you halfway.

I won’t sugarcoat this: parts of that picture were real. Other parts of it may need to be revised.

And none of those assumptions make you naive. That has been the story in education for a long time, and you were wise to assume some of these truths of the role. The reality is that things are changing, and that makes our profession — well — like any other profession: imperfect and uncertain.

You’re Not Wrong—School Is About to Change (Again)

Let’s start with an anchoring truth of education: learning. Learning is ultimately our business. And if you see learning as the constant, rather than focusing on the construct of what schools should look like, you have your eye on the ball. Some things about learning will never change:

• People learn better in community.

• Relationships matter more than strategies.

• Engagement isn’t fluff—it’s fuel for deepening understanding and thoughtful consideration.

• Relevance is the difference between learner compliance and authentic curiosity.

Those truths are timeless.

But the structures wrapped around them? The way we have traditionally done school? The world is shaking those structure and traditions. Those realities about what school looks like are absolutely up for renegotiation.

Public education is standing in a wash—between what school has always been and what it has to become. And whether we like it or not, you are entering the profession right at that breaking point. To be fair, people have been predicting the “end” or “reinvention” of school for decades, and I may sound like just another voice forecasting a future that never fully arrives. But this moment feels different. We’re seeing multiple pressure points hit public education all at once: ongoing funding challenges, intensifying political scrutiny, private companies recognizing schools as a massive untapped market, a societal expectation that everything be personalized on demand, and the sudden arrival of AI tools that are reshaping how work and learning happen everywhere else. Taken together, the reality is this—schools aren’t being nudged to change. They’re being pummeled from every direction.

And if we are being honest, this system — at least on a micro level — didn’t work well for many of you as students. You felt it. You lived it. You survived classes that prized sitting still over thinking deeply, coverage over understanding, and tradition over relevance. (And if it DID work well for you, I promise there were students all around you in those classrooms who felt differently.)

And yet—you still chose this work. (Thank you!)

That tells me something important.

You Matter More Than You Think

You are our most experienced experts at being students in modern schools. You’ve seen the best and worst up close as students. You know when learning feels authentic and when it feels like we are all just playing “traditional school” because that is what the schedule says to do. And at the same time, you have traded hats and started to see that system with different eyes. You have recently completed your coursework, learned the latest educational theories, and witnessed the classroom in the teacher’s shoes.

That perspective is not a weakness. Instead, it’s the seed of innovation.

But here’s the hard truth: caring about being a good teacher alone won’t be enough anymore.

If schools don’t evolve, if teachers don’t make the leap to a new model of teaching and learning —someone else will happily do it to us.

Education is moving closer to an Amazon model than the guaranteed monopoly it has long been in the United States. Schools cannot simply assume families will stay local to community schools because we have always existed. As public schools, we are local businesses with a public mission. That means we must fight harder for relevance, trust, and impact.

That doesn’t mean becoming cold or corporate. It means being clear about what actually matters: learning.

Let Go of What Doesn’t Serve the Mission

No matter what you hear from others, know this: You don’t need to carry everything the system hands you.

Some practices schools embrace are relevant and meaningful to learning. Some practices are valuable traditions. Some are habits. Others are pet projects, failed initiatives that have yet to fully dissolve, leadership preferences, community expectations, or a boisterous colleague’s inaccurate perspective.

You will need to think through everything you agree to do in your classroom from this point forward. Each habit, tradition, practice, initiative, and preference you embrace and practice, you permit to be a part of what school will look like in the future.

Here’s your permission slip:

• You can question systems that prioritize compliance over curiosity.

• You can redesign learning instead of just delivering it.

• You can use technology to liberate time and personalize learning, not just digitize worksheets.

• You can push back—with professionalism and purpose—when policies don’t serve students.

Innovation doesn’t mean burning it all down. It means asking one honest question, over and over:

“Does this help students learn better?”

If the answer is no, the tradition may not deserve your loyalty. While you may have to read the room and the situation. (education is a social business that serves many purposes, and there is rarely black and white answers — everything lives in the grey), you may need to push back on accepted norms of schools.

As a young, inspired, thoughtful educator, uncovering that something that has been embraced by the system but does not support student learning should definitely lead you to ask more questions.

Be Human First. Everything Else Is Secondary.

Here’s the part no prep program can fully prepare you for:

Your greatest impact won’t come from being perfect. It will come from being present.

AI and technology will play an important role in the classroom of the future. It has to for us to compete, to stay current, and to transform our educational institutions meaningfully to serve the next generation of learners. But that does not mean educators like you, the people who stepped forward to make a difference, do not have a role in this transformation.

Your humanity is what will make learning and schools the special place they have always been. Lean into family partnerships. Build trust before you build rigor. Let students know they are seen before they are assessed. Show up as a real person who listens, adapts, and believes in them—even when the system feels heavy.

And modernize! Learn the tech tools that are available to you. Ask how they can serve your mission and streamline your work.

Ironically, modernization can help you do the human side of teaching (the most valuable part — the part you signed up for and are most eager to do) more, not less.

When tools handle the logistics, you get time back. When learning is personalized, relationships deepen. When school stops pretending one size fits all, teachers stop pretending they’re okay being exhausted all the time.

This shift—if done well—can actually lead to more balance, more joy, and more sustainability. It can lead to stronger schools, happier teachers, and better learning. Schools that make this transformation will re-assert their place as a foundational pillar of the community.

You Will Be Questioned. That Means You’re Doing Something Right.

You will be challenged by colleagues who benefited from the old system. You will be questioned by families who don’t yet see the urgency. This is especially true for those families whose success is attributed to the way school was in the past. They may end up being the harshest critics of change, because they are also experts on education (and it worked for them).

You will feel the tension of pushing for change that won’t immediately benefit everyone equally.

That discomfort isn’t failure. It’s leadership. And you don’t need a title to lead.

As an educator, regardless of your role right now, you are in the perfect position to lead from your vantage point. This change won’t happen because a superintendent, or a director, or a principal said it should and started an initiative. It will happen because professional educators across the country acknowledge that the time for meaningful change is here and agree that the essential outcome is a system that prioritizes student learning.

And you won’t be doing it alone. There are seasoned educators — rooting for you — who know the system must change and are ready to stand beside you, not in your way.

Hold Onto Your Why—And Be Willing to Rewrite the How

You didn’t enter this profession to protect structures. You entered it to help people grow. That mission hasn’t changed. The methods must.

If we do this right — if we lean into connection, creativity, flexibility, courage, and the tools and structures needed to modernize the educational system — we don’t lose the heart of education. We finally get to center in on the real reason we got into education in the first place. That is an important part of the recipe. It will help to make sure you are a part of the educational solution not just today or tomorrow, but far beyond this school year.

And one day, much sooner than you think, someone newer will be watching you. (I know you don’t believe this. I am telling you from experience — it is true.)

Think about what you want them to say about you and your legacy in education. They will have the opportunity to feel the courage and passion it required to push for meaningful change. They will be experiencing what meaningful transformation of school looks like. They will learn what the new structure of school is and how it benefits learners and supports learning. They may even be pushing up against the changes that your generation of educators pushed for in an attempt to modernize and change with the times.

They will be copying plays out of your educational playbook.

Make them worth copying.

Legacy in Education: The Work You Leave Behind

In this line of work, we talk a lot about learning targets, benchmarks, and growth. But the longer I stay in education, the more I think about something we don’t name nearly enough: legacy.

Not the dramatic, marble-statue kind. More like the “How did I show up today—and did it matter?” kind.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I’m someone who’s built their life around learning—showing up every day, trying to be a little better than yesterday, trying to serve students and staff in ways that actually matter. That’s why most of us got into this business in the first place. Not the freedom of wearing jeans on Fridays. Definitely not the meetings that could have been emails . We are here for the kids and the colleagues who make this work feel purposeful.

But this reflection isn’t about just me. It’s about the teachers who are rounding that final bend of their careers.

You know who you are.
Maybe you’re counting years, months, or the “After winter break, only 78 more Mondays” kind of countdown.
Maybe there’s nowhere up left to climb on the salary schedule.
Maybe this is your third time on the pendulum ride of educational philosophy, and you're thinking, “Didn’t we already do this in ’09? And guess what, folks—it worked then, too.”
Maybe the connection with kids has shifted—still there, still meaningful, but not quite the same spark you had at 22, or 32, or even your early 40s.

And yet… here you are.
Still standing.
Still showing up.
Still carrying decades of experience that no workshop, no webinar, and no AI tool (hi!) can replicate.

The Truth We Don’t Say Out Loud Enough

The era of teachers staying in one place for their whole career may be fading, but it’s definitely not gone. And honestly? We need the ones who’ve stayed. Desperately.

Because these are the people who bring:

• Stability when the system shifts for the nineteenth time.

• Perspective when new ideas show up claiming to be “revolutionary.”

• Sanity when someone suggests changing the bell schedule… again.

• Impact—the kind you only earn after touching thousands of student lives and mentoring dozens of colleagues.

And here's the part we don’t talk about nearly enough:
Your greatest impact might not be behind you. It might actually be right now.

Not because of test scores or lesson plans or committees you’ve chaired, but because of what younger educators see when they look at you.

They’re watching how you finish.

Teaching Young Teachers What the Profession Really Is

This generation of young teachers is entering a profession that is harder, louder, more public, and more scrutinized than ever. They need models—real ones. People who have seen the highs and lows, who’ve reinvented themselves more times than an iOS update, and who still show up with dignity and purpose. People who know the realities of the hard days, and know that the best days make the hard days worth enduring!

This is where legacy comes in.

We get to show young educators:

• That the profession still matters.

• That you can evolve and still stay true to who you are.

• That you can choose collaboration over competition.

• That being seasoned doesn’t mean being cynical.

• That curiosity doesn’t have an age limit.

Kids need you, yes. But young teachers might need you even more. They need to see that resilience is a skill. That joy is a choice. And that you can walk into retirement not burned out and bitter, but proud—and dare I say—just as energetic as the 24-year-old across the hall… in your own “seasoned professional” way.

So, What Will They Say When You Leave?

Legacy isn’t what we intended to do. It’s what people remember we actually did.

So we all get to decide:

Will young teachers say we were stubborn, cranky, and disinterested in anything invented after 2015?

Or will they say we modeled growth, generosity, and the kind of grounded wisdom that makes this profession feel like a calling again?

Public schools need that version of us now more than ever.

And someday—when you walk out for the last time, keys turned in, badge deactivated—you’ll know you left something behind that can’t be measured but absolutely can be felt.

A legacy worth talking about.