We do not talk enough about the people who have dedicated their lives to the emotional lives of children. We talk about test scores. We talk about technology. We talk about professional development and curriculum adoption and district buy-in. But the people quietly building the systems that help a third-grader whose mom had to go to court that morning actually get through the day, those people do not always get a room.

We gave them a room.

Around the table were Pam McNall, founder of Respectful Ways; Dr. Chris Culver, otherwise known as Dr. Kindness; Lindsey Cannon of Reify Educates; Dr. Jan Harrell, a clinical psychologist with forty-six years in practice; Michelle, a Thinkering Fellow and second-grade teacher in Aurora, Colorado; and Eric Kussin, founder of Same Here Global. What followed was one of the most honest, useful, and genuinely moving conversations we have had in this space.

The Data Will Come. Stop Chasing It First.

Michelle is a Thinkering Fellow that teaches at a school in Aurora that sits in the middle of one of the most challenging neighborhoods in the country. Venezuelan gang activity, low-income immigrant and refugee families, a community that on paper should not be winning awards. They got named one of eighteen schools of excellence in Colorado this year.

She said the reason without any drama: they focus on social-emotional learning. When you focus on that and not on data, the data comes.

“When you focus on that and not on data, the data will come. We are lacking so many resources, but I’m looking at things that are easy, not another thing on a teacher’s plate. Just something you can embed into the day, not a full half-hour thing. Something easy, embedded, and impactful.” — Michelle, Thinkering Fellow

Dr. Culver had spent the year in a school where sixty percent success on literacy metrics was good enough for most of the staff, and the other forty percent was not a conversation anyone wanted to have. By his last visit two weeks prior, the room had shifted. Teachers were collaborating. They were talking about character development. Attendance was improving. Discipline referrals were down. Friendships were being built.

The data was not there yet in the way administrators measure it. But belonging was there. And belonging is what learning sits on top of.

“We’re not addressing the whole child. When I think back to my last visit, the conversations look so differently. We’re making growth. Students’ attendance is improving, there are less discipline referrals, we’re seeing more belonging, increased friendships. Those are the critical components we know are necessary for student success.” — Dr. Chris Culver

Five Minutes Every Morning

Michelle starts every day with tapping. Five minutes. Every single day, before anything else. She started before COVID and has not stopped.

She said it so matter-of-factly that it almost landed as obvious. Then she named what it is actually doing: grounding twenty-odd second-graders who arrived at school having absorbed their morning. Mom could not find her keys. Brother ate the lunch. The fight in the car on the way over. Kids carry all of that through the door, and nobody asks them to put it down before they are expected to learn.

“Five minutes, boom, every single day, consistent with that. I’ve noticed huge improvements in my classroom. But I’m one of very few people who does that every single day. I imagine if we did that with everyone.” — Michelle, Thinkering Fellow

One day, one of her students arrived in tears. Her mom had to go to court. Michelle gave her a weighted blanket, a quiet corner, and told her it was going to be okay. The next day, the girl came back: my mom came home, I’m not worried, thank you for everything you did.

Michelle did not do much. She had a couple of small resources and the instinct to reach for them. That is what five years of consistent practice builds. Not a curriculum. A reflex.

Pam McNall added the science behind why this works, which is worth knowing. When a child is dysregulated, cortisol floods the bloodstream. It takes forty-five minutes to an hour to fully clear. A child who arrives in that state and gets asked to sit down and open to page fourteen is being asked to do something neurologically impossible. The five-minute ritual is not soft. It is physiological. It changes what the brain can do for the next three hours.

“These calming and coping strategies change the brain of a dysregulated child and bring them back to the capability of learning.” — Pam McNall, Respectful Ways

The Three Rivers

Eric Kussin has a framework for the resistance that SEL and mental health work runs into in schools, and it is the most useful thing I have heard on the subject in a long time.

There are three rivers. River One is the yoga enthusiast with Tibetan singing bowls in the classroom who cannot wait to get started. River Two is the person who has heard about this stuff but has never had it explained in a way that clicked for them. River Three is the arms-crossed-in-the-back educator who is not getting involved, period.

Most programs aim at River One, congratulate themselves on the reception, and wonder why adoption stalls. Eric’s point is that the goal is migration. If a River Three person moves to River Two, that is a win. If a River Two person moves to River One, that is a win. And the way you move people is not by pitching harder. It is by making sure the River Ones in the room are visibly thriving in a way that River Threes cannot ignore forever.

“The way they’re interacting with Michelle is so different than how they’re interacting with me. There’s something I’m missing out on that I need to get on board with.” — Eric Kussin, Same Here Global

He added something that goes deeper than strategy: the resistance is often not about being against the work. It is about not wanting to acknowledge that you personally might need it too. When a teacher sees tapping, they are not just seeing a classroom management tool. They are seeing something that implies they, too, have things to regulate. And if they have never been given language or permission to acknowledge that, the instinct is to dismiss the practice rather than examine the discomfort.

Nothing Is Wrong With You. You Have a Puzzle.

Dr. Jan Harrell has been a clinical psychologist for forty-six years. She developed an emotional education curriculum that she gives away for free to any school or organization that wants it. Philadelphia School District has it. Districts in Wisconsin and California. An association of independent schools in Australia. A nonprofit aiming at four hundred schools in Africa. Prison re-entry programs. Juvenile corrections in Hawaii, Ohio, New York, Chicago.

The curriculum does not need her to run it. In prisons, the facilitators are inmates. The Ohio Department of Youth Services is training some of its more advanced residents to become facilitators themselves.

The idea at the center of everything Jan does is this: nothing is wrong with you. You have a puzzle you have not solved yet.

“I refuse to have a problem in my life. I have events or people that are challenging for me that I don’t particularly enjoy. And my process, as a psychologist, as a teacher, as a human being, is a normal thing in life. There is nothing wrong with you. We just have yet to find a solution.” — Dr. Jan Harrell

She described what happens when she introduces this framing to a group, whether it is children or adults or incarcerated gang members who nobody else could reach. The judgment melts. The shame lifts. People feel relieved rather than labeled. The smoke alarm is not a sign that the building is on fire. It is a signal that something needs attention. Anger, fear, anxiety, depression: they are signals. Not disorders. Not moral failures. Puzzles.

The gang members in the prison became, in her words, little sweethearts over twelve sessions. That is not soft language. That is what happens when you stop telling people something is wrong with them and start treating their inner life as something worth engaging with intelligently.

What Fellows Need to Know

The conversation turned toward advice for the Thinkering Fellows coming into the SEL and mental health fellowship cohort, people who are building innovations in this space and need to know where to start.

Lindsey Cannon said the most practical thing first: reverse engineer the experience you want to create. Paint the picture of what the classroom looks like when the work is working. Every teacher in River Three wants engaged students who can actually access instruction. That is common ground. Start there, not with the framework or the vocabulary.

Then bring people in early. The sooner someone feels like a co-creator of a program, the less they feel like a subject of an intervention.

“The sooner you bring people into the planning, the sooner you will start building buy-in. Teach them a little bit, give them the resources, but then let them build. Which, by the way, is exactly what we need to do with our students too.” — Lindsey Cannon, Reify Educates

Dr. Culver added the reminder that none of this is language-neutral. In Oklahoma, SEL is not just unfamiliar. It is politically charged. The work does not stop because the word is unavailable. You find another door. Belonging. Psychological safety. Character development. The students still need it regardless of what the legislature has decided to call it.

“Just because it may be restricted in your area, or people think it’s woo-woo, or it’s different. Be open to serving this generation, because they are different. Be an advocate for children. Work the system and figure it out.” — Dr. Chris Culver

Michelle offered something simpler and more personal. She signed up for the Thinkering Fellowship without fully knowing what it was. She got an email, she said yes, because she is always willing to learn something new. She found tapping at a trauma-informed conference years ago, brought it into her classroom, and watched it change things. Then she used it herself while surrounded by hundreds of sharks in the Galapagos and realized it worked there too.

Find the thing that has already made an impact in your own life. Then take it further.

“Find something that you have some passion or care about and have had some impact with. Anything that makes an impact to you personally, professionally, and then to all the people that you touch in your life. Find that passion and truly go with that.” — Michelle, Thinkering Fellow

What Is Coming

Dr. Culver’s children’s book, Ollie the Orange Sparrow and Azulita the Blue Bee, is a bilingual launch with curriculum built out for every level from elementary through corporate leadership teams. His memoir, Be the Light, follows shortly after. His 30-Day Brain Reset is already in the hands of an executive team at the University of Arizona Global Campus, and the idea of doing it publicly, as a community, is one we are actively thinking through together.

Pam McNall is presenting a three-year case study out of Erie, Pennsylvania at the Attachment and Trauma Network Conference in Dallas, showing what trauma-informed SEL actually does to a school over time. Students Express Magazine, the nonprofit arm of Respectful Ways where students write stories and share artwork on SEL topics, is growing.

Jan is chasing a research study in Australia that may end up being presented to the Australian government. Her curriculum is still free. Email her at JanHarrell.now@gmailcom and it is yours.

Lindsey is building partnerships with middle schools and designing systems that make student outcomes more predictable without reducing students to data points.

Eric is connecting the Same Here app’s polyvagal check-in scale to school LMS systems, so behavioral and attendance changes can be tracked alongside emotional regulation changes. He is also working toward a common clinical language between what is taught in schools and what happens in therapy offices, so that students do not arrive at a clinician speaking one vocabulary and leave with a completely different diagnosis.

And Michelle is writing three books. The first is almost done. The second is waiting. The third is the one she needs help with: she wants teenagers to submit essays and stories about what they have been through, anonymously if they need, so that the next teenager who feels completely alone can pick up the book and understand they are not.

If you know a teenager who needs to be heard, that is the project that needs them.

The Thinkering Collective Healthy Minds Fellowship is now open. This space is for educators building innovations at the intersection of learning and wellbeing. For information on joining as a fellow or a community partner, reach us at hello@thinkeringcollective.org. Follow Dr. Chris Culver at orangesparrow.org. Learn more about Same Here Global at samehereworld.com. Find of Respectful Ways at respectfulways.com. Reach Dr. Jan Harrell to request her free curriculum at JanHarrell.now@gmailcom. Connect with Lindsey Cannon at Reify Educates.

By Tatiana Ciccarelli, Senior Director of Strategic Partnerships @ Edmentum/Impact Board Member @ Thinkering Collective

By the time May and June arrive each year, most educators are running on fumes. Teachers have spent months balancing instruction, intervention, grading, meetings, testing windows, parent communication, shifting initiatives, and the emotional labor that comes with supporting students every single day. Before anything else needs to be said, this should be stated clearly: summer should not become another school year. Rest matters. Time with family matters.

At the same time, summer can provide educators with an opportunity to reconnect with their purpose, reflect on the previous year, and re-engage with learning in ways that feel energizing rather than exhausting. Some of the most meaningful professional growth educators experience does not happen through formal professional development sessions at all. Instead, growth often emerges through curiosity, reflection, and intentional moments of exploration that happen naturally throughout the summer months.

For teachers, staying professionally sharp during the summer does not require overwhelming schedules or major commitments. Sometimes the most impactful thing a teacher can do is simply remain intellectually curious. That may look like reading a professional book that genuinely sparks interest, listening to educational podcasts while walking or traveling, exploring new instructional strategies in small and manageable ways, or learning about emerging technology tools without feeling pressured to master them immediately. Summer also offers teachers the opportunity to reflect honestly on what worked well during the previous school year and what could be improved moving forward. Growth rarely comes from dramatic overhauls; more often, it develops through small moments of reflection and intentionality that gradually shape stronger practices over time.

Tatiana is one of our Impact Board Members, meet the team here: www.thinkeringcollective.org

For principals and school leaders, summer often becomes consumed by operational planning almost immediately. Yet the season also provides something that is increasingly rare during the school year: space to think strategically. Summer creates room for leaders to step back and consider deeper questions about their schools and systems.

These reflections matter because schools today are navigating constant noise, pressure, and competing demands, and thoughtful leadership requires moments of pause before reaction.

At the district level, summer becomes an opportunity for superintendents and district leaders to examine whether systems are genuinely supporting educators or unintentionally overwhelming them. Leaders can ask whether priorities are clear, whether instructional expectations are sustainable, and whether educators are being equipped with meaningful tools rather than additional burdens. Professional learning remains important, but educators increasingly value learning experiences that are relevant, actionable, and respectful of their time and energy. Summer provides a chance for leaders to reconsider how growth opportunities are designed and delivered.

Perhaps most importantly, education must remember that rest itself is productive. Burnout does not create stronger teaching, and exhaustion does not produce better leadership. Some of the clearest thinking educators experience happens only after they finally have space to slow down. Creativity often returns when people are given room to breathe. Sustainable educators are the foundation of sustainable schools, and protecting time for recovery is not separate from professional growth, it is an essential part of it.

The educators who often transition back into the school year most successfully are not necessarily the ones who spent every week of summer working. Instead, they are the ones who used the time intentionally. They rested. They reflected. They stayed curious. They invested in manageable and meaningful growth. Most importantly, they returned remembering that education is still deeply human work, rooted not only in productivity and outcomes, but also in relationships, creativity, empathy, and care.

A second-grader I’ll call Marcus is pulled from his classroom three times a week for “services.” Thirty minutes of occupational therapy down the hall. Forty-five minutes of speech therapy across the building. A weekly check-in with the school counselor. By any reasonable measure, Marcus is well supported. His IEP is thick. His team is competent. His parents are grateful. And yet, every Tuesday at 10:15, Marcus melts down in the cafeteria.

The team meets to review the data. They wonder whether they need to add another goal, another service, or another fifteen minutes. What no one asks, and what we rarely ask, is whether the cafeteria itself, with its fluorescent hum and ninety voices bouncing off cinder block, has anything to do with it. Or whether the thirty minutes of regulation work Marcus does in a quiet room with a trusted adult bears any relationship to the world he returns to when the bell rings.

And here’s what makes this question more urgent than it was a decade ago. Marcus is not an outlier. Since the pandemic, teachers across the country have been telling us the same thing in different words: the nervous systems entering our classrooms are not the same as those we used to teach. Anxiety is up, and sensory tolerance is down. Self-regulation skills once assumed at certain ages must now be taught, sometimes for the first time, sometimes again. The students who arrived in kindergarten during lockdown are now in second and third grade. The students who lost a parent, a routine, or a sense of safety are sitting in every class. We are not dealing with a small group of dysregulated students in otherwise regulated classrooms. We are dealing with classrooms full of children and adults whose baselines have shifted.

This is the quiet failure at the center of school-based therapeutic support. It’s not a failure of intention or skill. It is a failure of design. And it’s a failure that now affects far more students than those whose names appear on a service log.

What We Get Wrong

After more than two decades of working alongside school-based occupational therapists, special educators, and the students they serve, I’ve come to believe that schools tend to get three things wrong about therapeutic support. Not because the people inside them are doing anything wrong, but because the model itself is misaligned with what we now know about how regulation, learning, and development work.

The first is the pull-out default. We treat therapeutic support as something that happens to a student in a separate room, on a separate schedule, with a separate adult. The clinician is excellent, and the intervention is evidence-based. But the student returns to a classroom that hasn’t changed to meet them. They come back to the same lighting, the same transitions, and the same expectations delivered the same way. We then puzzle over why skills don’t generalize. Research on motor learning, sensory integration, and self-regulation has long shown that skills are context-bound. If we want them to transfer, we have to build the bridge.

The second is treating behavior as the problem rather than as a signal. A child who cannot sit still is not choosing not to sit still. A child who shuts down during reading is telling us something about the demand, the environment, or the nervous system in front of us. Yet many school behavior plans are still organized around extinction (reduce the unwanted behavior, reinforce the wanted one) without first asking what the behavior is for. All behavior is a form of communication, so what is this student trying to say? The literature on co-regulation, interoception, and trauma-informed practice has moved well past this, but our individualized behavior plans often haven’t.

The third, and perhaps the most painful, is mistaking compliance for progress. A quiet, still child is not necessarily a regulated child. A child who has stopped asking for help is not necessarily one who needs less help. Autistic students, in particular, are frequently rewarded for masking, for performing neurotypically at enormous internal cost, and we record this performance as success. The data point looks good, but the child is drowning.

What Schools Get Right (When They Do)

I want to be careful here, because the schools I admire most are doing extraordinary work, and the educators inside them deserve to be seen.

When schools get this right, a few things tend to be true. Therapists are embedded. They coach teachers, co-teach lessons, and consult with paraprofessionals, rather than delivering services only in a back room. Universal Design for Learning principles are applied to regulation and sensory experience, not just to academic access. Classrooms feature predictable transitions, sensory-aware lighting, and real choice architecture for how students engage. Every adult in the building, including the bus driver, the lunch monitor, and the front office staff, understands themselves as part of the therapeutic team because they are. The research base for this is robust: school-based occupational therapy outcomes improve with collaborative consultation models; MTSS frameworks reduce the over-identification of students for restrictive services; and trauma- informed school practices are correlated with better attendance, fewer behavioral referrals, and stronger relationships across the board.

None of this is exotic. It is, however, rare. Here’s where I want to be direct: many schools have adopted these frameworks in name only, not in practice. MTSS charts hang in the front office while the building still operates as a referral-and-pull-out system. Trauma-informed language fills the professional development calendar while the master schedule remains hostile to regulation. The framework is sound. The issue is fidelity, and fidelity is where design lives.

The reason this gap persists is not that educators don’t want something better. It’s the dominant model, the pull-out, service-delivery, fix-the-child model, which most schools were built around, and most of us were trained within it.

Three Shifts That Change Everything

If I had to distill what separates schools that support students well from those that merely serve them, it would come down to three reframes.

• From service delivery to ecosystem design. Stop asking who needs therapy and start asking what this environment asks of every nervous system within it. When we examine the cafeteria, the hallway transition, or the unstructured fifteen minutes before dismissal, we usually find that what we called individual deficits were predictable responses to environments no one had thought to design. Therapeutic expertise belongs at the level of the building, not just at the level of the child.

• From behavior management to nervous system literacy. Every adult who interacts with students should have a foundational understanding of regulation, sensory processing, and co-regulation. Not graduate-level training, foundational fluency. The paraprofessional who can distinguish defiance from dysregulation is worth more than another half-hour of pull-out service. Share the knowledge, and stop hoarding it in specialist offices.

• From extraordinary supports for a few to ordinary supports for many. Most of what helps disabled and neurodivergent students helps everyone. Visual schedules, sensory breaks, movement built into the day, and predictable structure with embedded choice. Wonder and play as legitimate vehicles for learning, rather than rewards for finishing the real work. Build these in by default, and you reduce the number of students who need individualized supports in the first place, so the students who do need them get more of what they need.

What’s Actually at Stake

The students who need integrated support most are often the ones who experience school as a place that asks them to disappear to belong. They learn early that being themselves is expensive. They learn that help comes in thirty-minute increments, in rooms that don’t look like their lives. Some of them stop asking, some of them stop trying. By middle school, some of them have built such effective masks that no one notices what it costs to make them.

Educators are not the obstacle here. They are the most underused resource in the therapeutic equation. The teacher who greets a student by name at the door, notices the shift in posture before a meltdown, and reorganizes a transition because she understands why it keeps failing: that teacher is doing therapeutic work, whether or not anyone calls it that.

The question I’d leave you with this week is small, but I think it matters. Pick one student you’ve been worried about. Don’t ask what services they need. Instead, ask what your classroom, hallway, and school are asking of them, and whether that ask is reasonable.

Then ask what one thing you could change about the environment before Tuesday at 9:15am.

Now to the Panthers.

Flora. Vera. Astrid. Harper. Aydin. Five seniors from Saint Mary’s College High School in Berkeley. They had spent four years in classrooms, two of them studying India, its history, its civilizations, its place in the shape of the world. And then Bunny Miller mentioned a trip. An immersion. Southern India. Eight weeks away. And one by one, they said yes.

When I sat down with them, they were freshly back. Still processing. Still reaching for words that were not quite landing the way they wanted. That is, it turns out, one of the things an experience like this does to you. It hands you something too large for regular language.

This is the first of our new series in immersive learning. Here, the why. Later, the teaching, what happened when students became teachers. And finally, what service actually looks like when you get close enough to feel it.

The Pull Toward Something They Could Not Fully Name

I asked each of them what had drawn them across the world to a place they had only ever read about. The answers were different in their details and identical in their structure.

One had spent years studying India and wanted to see whether what she had learned held up in real life.

“To see somewhere that has that lengthy of a history and is that rich in person was just something that really spoke to me.”

Another had been pulled toward the culture through music and could not quite explain why.

“It was just such a gift… I’ve just been so honored to take that.”

Another traced it back to her mother, shared films, shared meals, something that had been building over time.

“It just seemed like something I was ready for… and it really paid off.”

What is striking is not just what they said, but what they did not say. No one framed it as a strategic decision. No one talked about how it might look later. They described a kind of internal pull that had been forming long before the trip was announced. The decision to go seems, in retrospect, less like a choice and more like a continuation.

The Parents in the Room

Every student on a trip like this is also carrying the perspective of a parent at home. I asked what those conversations looked like.

There was a full range. Some parents had been to India themselves and immediately encouraged it. Others were more cautious, especially around distance, health, and the reality of sending a high school student across the world.

One response stayed with me.

“My mom was also scared, but she was excited that I would meet a new place in the world… and they were both really proud that I even wanted to go.”

What stood out was how the students interpreted that hesitation. None of them described it as resistance. They understood it as concern paired with support. That distinction matters. It reframes the moment from permission to partnership.

What Immersion Actually Means

The word immersion is easy to use and harder to define. I asked whether they felt they had actually experienced it or simply observed it.

Their answers pointed in the same direction. They were not staying in hotels. They were living alongside the people they had come to learn from, sharing meals, daily rhythms, and space. They were in villages, not just cities, and that shift alone changed their understanding of what life there looked like.

But the most telling part of their answer had less to do with location and more to do with what happened to their expectations once they arrived.

The schedule they had before the trip began did not hold. Plans changed constantly. At first, that created some frustration. There was a desire to know what was happening, to have a clear structure, to understand how each day would unfold.

And then, gradually, that need started to loosen.

“You definitely can’t plan on having a set schedule… it’s just not gonna happen. But either way, it was great.”

And later, even more clearly.

“I’m just gonna go with the flow. The schedule doesn’t really matter anymore… I think we had a better experience than what was actually on the schedule.”

Looking back, they were clear that this shift improved the trip rather than detracted from it. The parts that were unplanned ended up being the most memorable. The lack of control created space for something more responsive and, in many cases, more meaningful.

That is a difficult adjustment to make, especially for students who have spent years succeeding in systems that reward planning and predictability. It is also one of the most important things that happened.

The Woman in the Sari

One moment kept resurfacing as they spoke.

In a village, a woman named Uma noticed that one of the students was admiring her sari and offered to dress her in one. What followed was not a quick interaction, but a process that unfolded over several hours. There was time spent fitting it properly, walking back to her home, meeting her family, and being welcomed into a space that was clearly not designed for visitors in the way a formal program might be.

What the students describe is not just the act of wearing the sari, but the experience of being invited into the process around it.

“I think that was such a connective experience… that experience was just so magical.”

Another student, watching this unfold, chose to participate as well.

“I didn’t want to decline… I thought it would be a missed opportunity.”

What she reflected afterward is worth holding onto.

“There’s this very fine line between culture appreciation and appropriation… and that was just a moment of full appreciation.”

That level of awareness does not come from distance. It comes from proximity and participation.

The Beginning of Letting Go

Early in the conversation, almost in passing, the students admitted something that ends up reframing much of what follows. They were, at times, unsure of what was happening. Plans shifted. Directions changed. There were moments where the structure they expected simply was not there.

Initially, that uncertainty was uncomfortable. It ran against the instincts they had developed in school, where clarity and planning are often tied to success.

What changed was not the situation, but their response to it.

“At the beginning… I was getting a little frustrated… I need to know what’s going on.”

And then.

“I was like, you know what, it’s fine… I’ll just go with the flow… because at the end of the day, you’re there to be immersed.”

In hindsight, they were clear that this shift made the experience better. The moments they could not have planned were the ones that stayed with them. What felt, at first, like disorganization revealed itself as a different way of moving through the day.

What They Came Home With

When I asked what had stayed with them, even in these early reflections, their answers pointed in a consistent direction.

They talked about letting go of the idea that there is a single path forward. About being less rigid in how they think about what comes next. About paying attention to what is in front of them rather than constantly measuring it against what they expected it to be.

“There’s not just one way of life… it’s really helped me not stress so much about what my next steps are.”

The trip did not give them a plan. It changed how tightly they feel the need to hold one.

This is the first piece in a series on Saint Mary’s student immersion program. The next piece is about what happened when students became teachers, the language barrier, the dance floor, and what it felt like to be on the other side of the room.

To join in on changing the future of humanizing education, join us and become a Thinkerer. Visit www.ThinkeringCollective.org

FETC is always a fun spectacle.

The floor is packed with screens, dashboards, and promises about what the next generation of technology will do for learning. Artificial intelligence shows up in nearly every booth. Vendors are launching tools faster than educators can evaluate them. The pace is loud and fast and full of possibility.

But when the Thinkering Media team slows down and actually listens to the conversations happening between educators, something different begins to surface. Beneath the technology is a deeper question.

What kind of learning are we actually trying to create?

One of the more thoughtful conversations we captured at the conference happened between Thinkering’s Possibility Architect Garrett Wilhelm and Tatiana Ciccarelli, National Solutions Director at Edmentum and a former New York City public school teacher.

What began as a typical conference interview gradually turned into something more reflective. The discussion moved through career pathways, technology boundaries, teacher agency, and the role failure plays in real learning. It also revealed something that kept appearing across many of our FETC conversations this year: a sense that education may actually be rediscovering parts of itself that were lost for a while.

Career Pathways Are Finally Reentering the Conversation

For years, career and technical education lived in a strange corner of the system. It existed, but it was rarely celebrated. In many schools the message was subtle but clear: college was the main road, and everything else was a secondary option.

That cultural framing is beginning to change.

Tatiana described seeing that shift happen across districts as career-connected learning becomes a more central part of how schools think about preparing students for the world beyond graduation.

“I actually think we’re throwing it back a little bit. When I was in high school the vocational tracks were like a dirty word.”

What is changing is not just the perception of career pathways but also when students are introduced to them. Too often the conversation begins late, once students are already deep into high school.

Tatiana pointed out that by ninth grade many students have already started forming their sense of what work looks like and what opportunities are available to them.

“A lot of school districts start to think about college and career when it’s too late. Ninth grade… is not the time to talk to students about what they want to be when they grow up.”

Earlier exposure matters. Students need time to explore, pivot, and discover what connects with their interests before the pressure of graduation arrives.

That is one of the places where technology, when used well, can help. Career exploration tools, pathway mapping, and real-world simulations can give students a window into professions and industries they might otherwise never encounter.

Technology Should Support the Craft of Teaching

With so much conversation at FETC centered on AI, automation, and new digital tools, it was refreshing to hear a grounded perspective on where technology belongs in the classroom.

Tatiana framed it simply.

Technology should help teachers do their work better. It should not attempt to replace the craft of teaching.

“We have to have healthy boundaries with the tech.”

She compared today’s moment to the introduction of calculators in math classrooms decades ago. At the time, many educators worried students would lose their ability to think mathematically if calculators were allowed.

Instead, calculators eventually became what they were always meant to be: a tool.

The same principle applies now.

“It shouldn’t be replacing evergreen best practices like differentiation, data, and assessment literacy.”

In other words, the fundamentals of good teaching are not going anywhere. Strong instruction, thoughtful assessment, and meaningful relationships between teachers and students will remain the core of learning regardless of how advanced technology becomes.

The tools should amplify those practices, not override them.

Learning Requires the Kind of Failure Schools Often Avoid

One of the most memorable moments in the interview came when the conversation shifted toward failure.

Not the kind of failure that appears as a grade in a gradebook, but the kind that forces students to wrestle with a problem long enough to figure something out.

Tatiana described an activity she used with students that captures this idea perfectly.

“Buy something from Ikea and give it to your students.”

The box arrives with parts, diagrams, and no words explaining what to do. Students must interpret the instructions, collaborate with one another, and make decisions about how to proceed.

“They have to infer the directions. They have to work as a team. They play to each other’s strengths and communicate.”

Eventually the piece of furniture comes together. Or it doesn’t. Either way, the learning process becomes visible.

“It’s not an A-plus or a B. It’s persevering through a difficult situation and problem solving.”

Moments like that build something deeper than academic performance. They build resilience, communication, and the ability to navigate uncertainty. Those are the skills that matter long after a test is forgotten.

Teacher Agency Matters Too

Another thread that ran through the conversation was teacher burnout. Education discussions often focus on student engagement, student voice, and student agency. Far less attention is paid to the agency of teachers themselves.

Tatiana spoke openly about that imbalance.

“We talk about student agency and student interests, but we never talk about teacher interests.”

Her own experience as a classroom teacher illustrated that tension. She taught mathematics but also held a second degree in art. Eventually she found ways to bring those two worlds together in her teaching.

“I was a math teacher, but my second degree was in art. I had to bring art into my math classroom because it was a matter of survival for me.”

That idea resonates with many educators. When teachers are able to bring their creativity, personality, and passions into the classroom, students respond. When those elements disappear under layers of mandates and scripts, classrooms become mechanical.

Agency matters for teachers just as much as it does for students.

A Future That Looks Surprisingly Human

Toward the end of the conversation, the discussion turned toward the future of education. With AI advancing rapidly and digital tools becoming more sophisticated every year, it would be easy to imagine a future dominated by technology.

Tatiana offered a different perspective.

“While we have more technology than ever, I actually think we’re throwing it back a little bit.”

In her view, technology may actually push education to rediscover what makes learning meaningful in the first place. Students want to feel connected to their work. They want to see the relevance of what they are learning. They want experiences that help them understand themselves and the world around them.

Technology can create new opportunities for those experiences, but it cannot replace the human relationships at the center of them.

At one point she said something that every educator recognizes instantly.

“Kids are funny, they’re fun. They’re genuinely positive.”

When classrooms remember that truth, learning becomes easier.

What Thinkering Media Is Hearing Across FETC

Across the dozens of interviews Thinkering Media conducted at FETC this year, a pattern keeps emerging. The most thoughtful voices in education are not chasing technology for its own sake.

They are asking a more interesting question.

How do we use technology to support the human side of learning?

Tatiana captured that idea in a simple line near the end of the conversation.

“Failure is not the end of the world. It’s just an experience to learn and an opportunity to try again.”

If education can hold onto that idea while the technology landscape evolves around it, the future of learning may look more human than many people expect.

A Pi Day Gift for Classrooms

While we were covering conversations about the future of learning at FETC, something much simpler and joyful landed in our inbox that felt worth sharing with the Thinkering community.

A new Pi Day Circles Song video just dropped from our friends at Learning Upgrade, one of Thinkering’s partners working to make foundational math and reading skills more engaging for students. Their apps are phenomenal, and as a musician, I appreciate that the songs aren’t just because they needed songs - they are made by musician founders / staff and with love. So cool!

The video features the Upgradors, a new set of animated characters designed to help students learn core academic skills through music and storytelling. Their Pi Day song celebrates the famous mathematical constant while introducing younger learners to the idea of circles, rhythm, and pattern in a way that feels playful instead of instructional.

Pi Day officially lands today, March 14 (3.14) - the Learning Upgrade team shared the video so teachers can use it in classrooms throughout the week.

It’s a small reminder that sometimes the most effective learning tools aren’t the most complicated ones. Sometimes a good song and a little curiosity go a long way.

Happy Pi Day on 3.14.

Enjoy the Upgradors Pi Day Circles Song from the team at Learning Upgrade, and feel free to share it with your students this week.

The Upgradors create songs that teach reading and math fundamentals and will soon be available across YouTube, Spotify, and upcoming app releases.

To learn more about the gamified learning straight from the co-founder, Vinod Lobo, check out his Thinkering Mindss interview!

Watch the video here:

That’s how Evin Schwartz, founder of Belouga and co-founder of the Thinkering Collective, was greeted when he walked into McMillan Senior Public School—a 7th and 8th grade campus in the Toronto District School Board. He wasn’t there to talk about the future of education.

He was there to help build it.

What unfolded in that classroom wasn’t a presentation. It was a partnership. It was students giving a full tour, explaining how they breed and deliver fish to nearby schools, how their ceiling-mounted AI rain system recreates a rainforest, how they’re wiring the room to respond to light and sound.

It was, quite literally, a classroom built for thinking.

“It’s the most AI-eco-forward classroom I’ve ever seen,” Evin told us. “These kids are four days into the school year and already owning the space.”

This isn’t a vision board. It’s a real capstone—part of Thinkering Collective’s model to empower educators and students to design what school could be. And it’s just getting started.

A Studio, Not a Stage

At the heart of this project is a full production studio. But this isn’t about training kids to be influencers. It’s about teaching real skills—media production, team collaboration, design thinking, sound editing, marketing, and storytelling—in an environment where students call the shots.

“We’re treating it like a business,” Evin explained. “There’s no budget. So students reach out to partners, make asks, build it from scratch.”

The studio has four core teams: management, marketing, design, and production. Each team is supported by expert mentors. The first set being built is a student-designed bedroom or living room—fully imagined and executed by them. From foam on the walls for sound, to lighting, audience seating, and editing workflows, everything is student-owned.

And the content? Entirely theirs.

From cooking shows and music sessions to mental health discussions and athlete interviews, the creative potential is unlimited—and deeply tied to who these kids are and what they want to express.

“One kid suggested an editing software,” Evin said. “I made him the lead editor on the spot.”

Where Innovation Meets Frustration

It’s easy to romanticize this work. But it’s happening in spite of structural obstacles.

McMillan’s total budget? $65,000. That includes buses, equipment, sports gear, and more. Just replacing the locks on the lockers would eat up 20% of it. Teachers get a $300 stipend per year—barely enough for a pizza party, let alone materials.

“Forget the $300. That’s an insult,” Evin told us. “This project is what a teacher’s dream looks like when there are no limits.”

This is the promise of Thinkering: to fund, coach, and elevate what educators would build if they weren’t told no so often.

Why This Matters

There’s a broader mission here. This isn’t just about McMillan or Toronto or Belouga. It’s a replicable framework—one that can plug into schools anywhere, fueled by community partnership, student interest, and creative bravery.

“The surprising theme so far?” Evin said. “How open everyone is. No resistance. Just students and teachers excited to create.”

That openness is the real currency. It’s the thing most schools are starved for. But with models like this, we can scale engagement, creativity, and possibility—from one classroom to many.

Support the Work. Spread the Model.

This capstone is only the beginning. If you’re fired up about what you just read, there are two ways to take action:

📚 Follow the journey at our storytelling hub:
thinkeringmedia.substack.com

💡 Fund more of this innovation—help us bring these dreams to life:
givebutter.com/thinkeringcollective

This is what happens when students are trusted, teachers are empowered, and the question isn’t “what’s allowed?”—but “what’s possible?”

Let’s build it. Together.

Nominate an educator or apply to become a Thinkerer and join our fellowship program!

Noa isn’t new to innovation. A 30-year educator, creator of Building Outside the Blocks, and founder of The Mentoree, she’s spent her career challenging the transactional model of learning. For Noa, mentorship is relational. It’s not about filling a vessel—it’s about building bridges. It’s not about delivering wisdom from on high—it’s about asking better questions and creating the conditions where both mentor and mentee learn with and from each other.

“Mentorship is a strategy for teachers—and anybody in life—to continually grow and stay open to learning. It’s high-yield professional development.”

In our conversation with Noa, she shared the story of fighting to be mentored herself—despite being an experienced educator—when entering a new International Baccalaureate (IB) school. That experience opened her eyes to the systemic gaps in how mentorship is used (or misused) in schools. It also launched her into an collaborative inquiry into the impact of one-to-one, self-directed mentorship, which became The Mentoree. She emerged with a powerful insight:

“We haven’t leveraged mentorship properly in education.”

With Thinkering, she’s now bringing that insight to life.

Rethinking Mentorship: A Lens, Not a Ladder

One of Noa’s most memorable lines from our discussion was this:

“Be a sounding board, not a billboard.”

Too often, mentors talk at their mentees, rather than walk with them. At Thinkering, Noa is designing a model where every fellow is supported, and no mentor is left to mentor in isolation. It’s a mentorship ecosystem—reciprocal, evolving, human.

And it’s not just about helping teachers build their projects. It’s about building them up in the process.

“Teachers want to be heard. Having someone just to hear them—that alone can change everything.”

Mentorship That Mirrors Learning

Noa believes that mentorship should mirror the kind of student-centered, agency-rich learning we want for kids. That means giving teachers the ability to articulate how they learn best, choose when they’re ready, and identify the kinds of support they need to bring their ideas to life.

It also means mentors are learners too.

“All people should be both mentors and mentees. There are times when you’re not ‘mentorable,’ and that’s okay. But when you are ready, mentorship gives you someone to unpack with. To reflect. To evolve.”

Why It Matters at Thinkering

In the Thinkering Fellowship, educators design and launch dream projects that change learning for their students—and often, their schools and communities. Mentorship isn’t a sidebar; it’s a core pillar of how we do what we do. But with Noa helping us imagine what’s possible, mentorship at Thinkering becomes something more:

• A support system rooted in trust and transformation

• A relationship model that extends beyond the 10-week fellowship

• A reminder that we don’t grow alone—we grow because someone else believed in us

“If you want to be a mentor in Thinkering, you just want to be a champion for educators.”

With Noa as our Mentorship Imaginator, we’re not just assigning mentors. We’re building a culture that breathes mentorship at every level.

Ready to Build With Us?

If you’re an educator with a bold idea and nowhere to take it, the Thinkering Fellowship is where it begins. You bring the spark. We bring the people, the platform, and the purpose to help you ignite it.

👉 Apply or nominate someone to the Fellowship now

Follow for awesome insight.

Stay in touch with all things and her incredible storytelling and projects on Substack!

Let’s build this next era of learning—together.

If you walk into any school today and whisper the letters “A-I,” you’ll feel it before you hear it. The tension. The uncertainty. The lingering fear: Are robots coming to replace teachers?

It’s a valid concern. We live in a world where automation is no longer theoretical—it’s practical, profitable, and already shaping entire industries. So of course education is next on the chopping block, right?

But here’s the truth: AI doesn’t threaten the future of education—unless we let it.

At the Thinkering Collective, we’re not just exploring how AI fits into classrooms. We’re actively designing tools and experiences—like Thinkerbot—not to replace the teacher, but to amplify the most human parts of learning.

Let me explain.

We’re Not Teaching Robots—We’re Raising Humans

The fear that AI will teach students comes from a misunderstanding of what true teaching is. Teaching isn’t about delivering content. It’s about noticing. Listening. Adapting. Provoking curiosity. Holding space for failure, growth, and discovery. It’s about relationship.

You can’t code that.

What makes a teacher irreplaceable isn’t their mastery of standards—it’s the moments of micro-humanity they facilitate:

• The side conversation with a student who’s having a rough day.

• The gentle redirect that turns a mistake into a learning loop.

• The spark of connection that lets a student feel seen—really seen—for who they are and who they might become.

That’s the irreplaceable.
And ironically, it’s also what AI can help us preserve—if we build it right.

AI as a Mirror, Not a Machine

Thinkerbot isn’t built to deliver information. It’s built to reflect back the learning journey, helping fellows and students alike capture the insights, questions, and meaning-making that so often gets lost in the noise of school life.

Instead of automating learning, Thinkerbot invites users to slow down and reflect:

• “What did you discover about yourself this week?”

• “What would you try differently next time?”

• “Who helped you reimagine a challenge?”

These are not robotic questions. They are deeply human ones. And they’re rooted in our TMSR model: Thinkering, Making, Sharing, Reflecting—a cycle of creativity and consciousness that AI can support, but not replicate.

Boundaries Matter: Why We Draw Lines in the Digital Sand

We are not blindly pro-AI.

We’re boundary-builders.

Our role at Thinkering is to continuously ask:

• Where does AI add value, and where does it distract from it?

• How do we ensure that students don’t become passive recipients, but empowered co-creators of knowledge?

• What shouldn’t AI do?

These questions guide every design decision we make. They’re why Thinkerbot isn’t a chatbot that gives you answers, but a co-pilot that asks better questions.

Because in a world increasingly full of answers, what students need most is space to wonder.

Let AI Handle the Busywork—So We Can Focus on the Soul Work

One of the greatest gifts of AI is time.

When educators are buried in grading, email threads, data entry, and lesson templating, they’re robbed of the energy needed for relationship-rich teaching.

Imagine a future where Thinkerbot auto-collects reflective journals, generates story templates for capstone projects, tracks micro-moments of learning, and even alerts mentors when a student is disengaging—all so that educators can spend more time doing the human work only they can do.

This isn’t about outsourcing.
It’s about reclaiming.

What’s at Stake: The Human Condition in an AI Age

We often say that students need empathy, agency, and creativity. But the real challenge is this: We don’t yet know the full range of what makes us human.

There are aspects of consciousness, connection, and care that we are only beginning to understand.
If we allow AI to dominate education without human-centered design, we risk dulling the very capacities we have yet to uncover.

That’s why our work is urgent.

That’s why Thinkering Collective exists—to create ecosystems where human learning thrives alongside intelligent tools, not beneath them.

The Future We’re Building—Together

We believe the future of learning is:

• Relational, not transactional.

• Curiosity-driven, not compliance-based.

• Mentorship-rich, not content-saturated.

• And yes—powered by AI, but rooted in humanity.

Let’s be clear: robots won’t teach our children.
They will remind us why we must.

Because in a world of infinite information, what we need most is not more content—but more context, more connection, and more courage to be fully human.

We’re not here to replace teachers.
We’re here to help them remember what they’re made of.

Let’s build that future. Together.

At the Thinkering Collective, we’ve heard it before—people see our focus on “humanizing education” and assume we’re anti-tech. They think we’re pushing back against the rise of AI, digital tools, and machine learning in schools.

But let me set the record straight: we are not anti-technology. In fact, we believe that embracing technology—specifically when it's designed to empower human connection—is how we move education forward.

The future we’re building isn’t less technical. It’s more human.

What It Means to Humanize Learning in a Digital Age

Humanizing education doesn’t mean rejecting modern tools. It means reclaiming space for human presence, creativity, and care in learning environments that have long prioritized compliance, standardization, and efficiency.

We’re not trying to keep tech out of classrooms. We’re asking a more powerful question:

“What if we used technology not to replace educators, but to restore the humanity in learning?”

Imagine classrooms where AI handles the tedious tasks—grading, organizing, data tracking, administrative paperwork—so teachers can be fully present with their students. Where machine learning supports personalized learning plans, but teachers design and guide the journey. Where every minute saved by automation is poured back into curiosity, storytelling, project work, and mentorship.

That’s the version of the future we’re fighting for.

Thinkering’s Approach: Tech in Service of the Human

We’ve embedded this belief into the heart of our programs. Our Thinkering Fellowship and mentorship model blend AI-powered tools—like Thinkerbot—with high-touch, relational coaching from experienced educators.

Thinkerbot isn’t there to “teach.” It’s there to capture learning artifacts, prompt reflection, suggest resources, and track growth. It helps fellows focus on what really matters: thinking, creating, connecting.

This is a model of education where AI frees us to be more human—not less.

Why Human Skills Are the Real Future-Proof Curriculum

As AI gets more powerful, the question isn’t if learners will use it—it’s how.

We’re entering an era where creativity, empathy, collaboration, critical thinking, and adaptability aren’t “nice to have.” They’re the core skills that will define success. These are the uniquely human capacities that machines can’t replicate—and that our learners need now more than ever.

So our job as educators isn’t to gatekeep tech. It’s to teach students how to wield it responsibly, creatively, and with purpose. It’s to help them navigate the world AI is shaping, while staying grounded in their own voice, values, and agency.

This Isn’t a Binary: It’s a Blend

Too often, conversations about education get polarized: you're either a tech enthusiast or a traditionalist. But real progress lives in the in-between.

Thinkering lives in that middle space—where relational mentorship meets personalized learning; where community impact meets digital tools; where storytelling meets data.

We believe the most human classrooms of the future will also be the most technologically advanced—not because tech will replace us, but because it will support the kind of presence, connection, and creativity that human learning has always required.

So What’s Next?

If you’re an educator, leader, or changemaker trying to reconcile your values with the pace of innovation—know this:

You don’t have to choose between being a compassionate, creative teacher and being a tech-savvy one.

You can be both.
You must be both.
And we’re here to build that path with you.

Let’s stop asking if AI belongs in classrooms.
Let’s start asking how we’ll use it to reclaim our most human moments inside them.

—

Follow along or join the movement at thinkeringcollective.org.

The response from the teachers was overwhelming. Out of more than 30 different sessions offered across three schools, the mindfulness session I facilitated was reported as the most popular. That feedback is telling. It signals to us that educators are yearning for fresh ideas, new tools, and practical approaches to better support the learners in their classrooms. Teachers are asking for ways to not only teach academics, but also to meet the emotional and developmental needs of their students.

Mindfulness, at its core, is about regulation: the ability to pause, to notice, to breathe, and to respond rather than react. For young learners, especially in the early grades, this skill is foundational. Self-awareness and emotional regulation allow children to engage with others more empathetically, approach challenges with resilience, and think critically about their own choices. These are not just skills for the classroom—they are skills for life.

As we look toward the future of learning, we know that the demands of the 21st century will place a premium on what we often call "human skills": self-awareness, logic, critical thinking, creativity, and the capacity to collaborate. These are the qualities that automation cannot replace, and they are precisely the capacities that mindfulness practices help cultivate. By introducing mindfulness early—through breathing exercises, moments of reflection, or mindful movement—we give children access to tools that can grow with them throughout their educational journey.

The resonance of the session with the teachers in Loudoun County is more than a compliment; it is a signal. It tells us that educators are ready to embrace practices that humanize education. It tells us that our work at Thinkering is aligned with the deepest needs of classrooms today. And most importantly, it tells us that there is an appetite to build futures where learners are not only academically prepared, but also emotionally grounded and critically aware.

At Thinkering, we believe that mindfulness is not just a practice—it is a pathway. A pathway to classrooms where joy, curiosity, and resilience thrive. A pathway to schools where future-ready learners are being shaped every day. And a pathway to a society where human skills are at the center of how we learn, work, and live.

This moment with Loudoun County teachers reaffirmed for me that we are on the right track. The question now is: how do we continue to scale these practices, and how do we ensure every child has access to them? That is the work that lies ahead—and it is work worth doing.

"The question isn’t whether AI and robotics will be in the classroom—it’s whether we’ll still recognize classrooms as places to grow humans."

As a father, early childhood innovator, and someone knee-deep in designing AI tools for educators, I stand at a unique intersection—where code meets creativity, and future-tech meets the fragile brilliance of childhood learning.

We’re edging closer to a reality where bots tutor, software scores, and dashboards tell teachers who’s “on track.” But it begs a deeper question:

What is the appropriate use of AI and robotics in the K–12 classroom?
And more urgently: How do we ensure we’re still building humans, not just systems?

AI Is Here—Let’s Use It With Intention

AI already writes lesson plans, scores essays, and tracks engagement—faster than any teacher can finish their morning coffee. Robotics kits are becoming classroom staples, not novelties.

These tools hold real power. But power without intentionality is just noise.

At Thinkering Collective, where I mentor educators and fellows, we believe the future isn’t about choosing between humans and machines—it’s about centering the human even as the tools get smarter.

What AI Can’t Replace

• The moment a child feels truly seen.

• The magic of a teacher’s improvised empathy.

• The mentor’s reflective nudge that turns confusion into clarity.

AI can be trained to teach, assess, or suggest.
But it cannot mentor. It cannot listen with heart. It cannot teach purpose.

From Surveillance to Storytelling

Let’s be honest—most AI in education trends toward surveillance: flagging behaviors, measuring “learning loss,” and optimizing outputs.

At Thinkering, we do it differently.

We use Thinkerbot to prompt reflection, capture learning moments, and build narrative portfolios. It doesn’t track students—it learns with them.

Instead of grading for correctness, we ask:
"What did you discover?"
"How did you grow?"

This is the real power of future tech: not to reduce the human experience, but to expand it.

How Do We Promote Human Skill-Building?

If AI will handle routine tasks, then educators must double down on growing the irreplaceable:

• Curiosity: sparked through inquiry and exploration

• Empathy: built through shared storytelling and listening

• Agency: developed when students own their learning

• Reflection: practiced when students pause, journal, and evolve

These are not just “soft skills.” These are the future-proof ones.

And our Thinkering Fellows are already making this shift—guiding students to design capstones that explore identity, community, and impact using both analog and digital tools.

So, What Is an Appropriate Use of AI?

YES to tools that…

• Support educators without replacing them

• Spark student creativity, not just compliance

• Strengthen community, not isolate it

• Build reflection, not just data

NO to tools that…

• Reduce learners to scores

• Standardize at the cost of identity

• Strip away human connection

• Replace relationships with interfaces

Final Reflection: Reclaiming Purpose

As AI becomes part of daily classroom life, the challenge isn’t if we use it—it’s how we use it to stay human.

Let’s bring AI into the classroom,
not to replace human connection—
but to make more space for it.

We gather in classrooms to connect, to wonder, to grow.
That must never change.

About the Author
Garrett Wilhelm is the founder of Creative Gardens and CEO of EdStart, where he designs AI tools and early education models that reflect creativity, curiosity, and learner agency. As a mentor with the Thinkering Collective, he supports educators in building more human-centered, tech-enhanced classrooms.

Yes, the room was full of curiosity about AI. But the overwhelming feeling in the room was uncertainty. It wasn’t just about whether we could use AI. It was about how, when, and most urgently—why. Educators were unsure about the ethics of it all. Some feared being replaced by machines. Others wondered if AI would push us further away from what makes learning so meaningful in the first place: relationships, stories, struggle, and growth.

It was humbling to look out at a room full of veteran educators and realize that despite their decades of experience, they were being made to feel like novices again.

I reassured them with what recent research continues to affirm: AI isn’t replacing teachers—it’s reshaping what it means to be one. And in that shift lies a profound opportunity.

The Human Opportunity of AI

In a 2024 report by UNESCO titled AI and the Futures of Learning, researchers emphasized that as AI takes over more technical and routine tasks, the most essential skills for future learners will be “empathy, ethical judgment, cultural fluency, and creativity”—in other words, the most human qualities of all. Meanwhile, organizations like the OECD are doubling down on “social-emotional intelligence” and “adaptive expertise” as necessary for learners in an AI-integrated world.

Put plainly: the future of learning is human-centered, not machine-driven.

This aligns with what we’ve been working toward at The Thinkering Collective—creating learning ecosystems that help students and teachers lean into their humanity, not away from it. In our mentorship model, fellows engage with AI not as a replacement for thoughtful instruction, but as a companion in the reflective, creative process.

What We Need to Teach More Of

In my talk, I shared what AI can't do:

• It can’t build belonging in a classroom.

• It can’t mentor a student through grief or self-doubt.

• It doesn’t know what to do when a kid throws a chair—or finally finds their voice.

It doesn’t dream.

If anything, our job as educators becomes more urgent in this next chapter: We need to teach more empathy, more agency, more purpose. We need students to think critically and compassionately. We need learning spaces that spark questions, not just deliver answers.

And ironically, as AI gets smarter, our learners will need to become more human—not less.

A Room Full of Courage

I left the conference reminded of something I hadn’t expected: the educators I met weren’t afraid of AI—they were afraid of being asked to navigate this alone. That’s why communities like ours matter more than ever.

In our fellowship cohorts, we’re not just talking about AI—we’re experimenting, reflecting, and building new practices together. And with tools like Thinkerbot, we’re designing ways for educators to track learning, reflect deeply, and craft stories of transformation without losing their voice in the process.

The Future Is a Partnership

AI will keep evolving. The tools will change. But what won’t change is the truth at the heart of education: learning is a human experience.

Let’s embrace the tools, yes. But let’s also double down on our role as designers of wonder, facilitators of courage, and stewards of story.

If we do that, we won’t be left behind by AI—we’ll be leading it, hand in hand with the next generation.

Garrett Wilhelm
Founder & CEO, Creative Gardens
Thinkering Collective| Senior Advisor| Mentor | Early Childhood & AI Integration

Want to explore human-centered AI in your classroom? Join the Thinkering Fellowship this fall—because the future of education should be written by educators, not algorithms.

At Thinkering Collective, our mission is rooted in iteration, innovation, and rehumanizing learning. So why wouldn't our AI be part of that journey, too? Thinker-Bot isn’t just a model trained on outcomes; it's an active participant in shaping those outcomes. It learns not just from us, but with us.

This approach breaks the mold. Most educational AIs are retrofitted to meet classroom needs. Thinker-Bot is co-constructed with educators, learners, and districts in real time. It grows as our understanding grows. It adapts as our values and visions evolve. It helps us not only reflect on where we are but imagine where we could go next.

Thinker-Bot plays a role in everything we touch—from designing custom learning journeys for fellows in our Thinkering Collective Fellowship to working with entire school districts to craft their own AI assistant. These are not one-size-fits-all tools. Each bot can serve multiple roles: administrative support, instructional design partner, student learning coach, or even a community engagement assistant. It’s modular, contextual, and relational.

The power in this is not just automation. It’s augmentation of human creativity and insight. It’s about helping people do what they do best—think, tinker, build, and reflect—with more clarity and less burnout. And it's about equity. Every district, every classroom, every learner deserves access to tools that recognize their uniqueness, not flatten it.

We are not building tools for the future of learning. We are building with the future of learning.

Thinker-Bot is a different kind of intelligence. Because we believe the future isn't something we predict. It's something we co-create.

Wanna co-create together? Contact jim@thinkeringcollective.org

We often hear about personalized learning as an asset in education: tailored paths, adaptive technologies, differentiated content. It feels like what we’ve been craving: a way to meet students where they are. Tailored content is cool, but is it truly personalized?

Something can be branded, even delivered with our names in the subject line, just like personalized marketing emails or algorithmically recommended playlists, but that doesn’t really make it personal. I love getting my Spotify Wrapped each year, but let’s be honest: that kind of personalization is based on segmentation and assumption, not relationship and resonance. Something is truly personalized when it includes the person.

What Does “Personalized” Really Mean?

Personalized learning often positions the teacher or the system as the designer, predictor, and provider of what the student needs, based on data, profiles, or perceived preferences. It assumes that if we know enough about someone, we can design for them. But knowing about someone is not the same as truly knowing them. You can’t truly personalize until you see the world through a person’s eyes.

Needs shift. Identity evolves. Contexts change. No amount of pre-planning can substitute for a relationship built in real time.

Personalized learning is prescriptive.
Personalizing learning is invitational.

From Personalized to Personalizing

Personalizing learning doesn’t presume to know what the learner needs. It creates space for them to explore who they are, what they care about, and discover what they need through authentic and meaningful learning opportunities.

In personalizing learning, the educator isn’t tailoring every detail behind the scenes. Instead, they’re designing the conditions for self-discovery. They offer open structures that welcome identity, voice, and reflection.

Personalizing learning flips the dynamic. In a world where personalization is often about consumption, personalizing is about authorship. It honours the complexity of learners and affirms their capacity to shape their learning journey. Personalizing builds dignity and identity into the very act of learning.

From Intent to Impact

Personalizing learning isn’t about control or anticipating every need. It’s about making space for needs to emerge. It’s about creating the conditions where students and educators can bring their full selves into the learning process.

It’s not about delivering something “just for you.”

It’s about saying: “You matter. Here’s a place to bring your whole self.”

That's why personalizing is at the heart of human-centred learning. That subtle shift, just a few letters, is the difference between learning that is done to you and learning that is truly owned by you.

TL;DR

It’s June. Your to-do list has its own to-do list. But balance isn’t about doing less—it’s about doing the right things, at the right time, with the right tools. Here’s how. You ever try juggling flaming swords while sprinting through a confetti storm?

Welcome to June.

This month isn’t just busy—it’s a full-on performance. You’ve got grades due, emails piling up, students bouncing off the walls, admin asking for “just one more thing,” and somehow you’re also supposed to plan next year?

Let’s stop pretending you’re supposed to thrive in chaos without a plan.

• Your calendar is like a Jenga tower—every time you add something, you’re holding your breath hoping it doesn’t all crash down.

• You’re not burned out because you’re “bad at balance”—you’re exhausted because the system was never built for sustainability.

• Self-care isn’t about bubble baths. It’s about knowing what you can drop, what you can delegate, and what actually deserves your energy.

Quick Wins to Try This Week

The 3-3-3 Rule (TDI Strategy Highlight)
Each day, aim for 3 priorities, 3 10-minute breaks, and 3 minutes of prep for tomorrow. That’s it.

Use Your Paras
If you’re lucky enough to have a paraprofessional or co-teacher, give them direction and permission to take real ownership of something. Empowerment is a time-saver.

The “Email Drain Rule”
If you can’t reply in 2 minutes, snooze it until Friday. June isn’t the time to write essays in your inbox.

At Teachers Deserve It, we’re building a different kind of PD—one that’s rooted in teacher sanity, not just strategy.

From short coaching videos to plug-and-play tools, everything we share is meant to save you time and help you breathe.

What’s one thing you’re saying “no” to this June to protect your peace?

Hit reply and tell me.

Let’s normalize not doing it all.

-Rae

At Thinkering Collective, we believe education must speak to the whole human experience.

That’s why we invited Eric Kussin, founder of #SameHere Global, to present to our amazing Thinkering Fellows.

The message?

It’s time to rethink how we understand, talk about, and support mental health - especially in schools.

Breaking the Binary

The dominant narrative says mental health issues only affect “1 in 5.” But as Eric shared, that binary mindset is broken—and harmful. Life doesn’t spare 80% of us from stress, grief, trauma, or struggle. Mental health is for everyone—because everyone lives a life that includes pain, pressure, and loss.

Instead of splitting kids into “fine” and “needs help,” we should ask: Where on the continuum are they today? And how do we know?

The Mud Analogy: Trauma We All Carry

Eric illustrated this beautifully with a story. Picture yourself ringside at a wrestling match. The chaos, the pain, the fight—it splashes onto you. Even if you’re not in the ring, you feel it. That’s what trauma does. It doesn’t require direct impact to change us. Observed suffering still leaves its mark—physiologically, neurologically, emotionally.

We all carry some of that mud.

From Labels to Language

Rather than boxing students into categories, #SameHere developed a groundbreaking alternative: the #SameHere Scale—a six-phase continuum based on polyvagal theory. It’s a non-numeric, easy-to-use check-in tool that helps children, teachers, and staff identify how they’re really doing—without judgment or clinical labels.

Kids don’t just say “fine” anymore. They learn to say, “I’m fluctuating,” “I’m sinking,” or “I’m gliding.” And teachers learn what that actually means. A common tongue.

Healing Starts in the Body

Another critical shift: understanding that mental health isn’t just in the head. Stress and trauma leave fingerprints on the nervous system, affecting the vagus nerve, the HPA axis, and even the gut. Healing, then, must include the body—creating safety, not just insight.

As Eric said: “Healing starts with quieting the brain and restoring safety in the body.”

Scaling Care in Schools

The #SameHere Schools program puts this into action with an app that helps students regularly track how they’re doing, based on real emotional patterns—not diagnostic tests. Teachers aren’t asked to become therapists. Instead, they’re invited into a system of peer-to-peer support, common language, and early recognition.

This isn’t a “nice to have.” It’s a lifesaving shift.

We’re proud to stand alongside #SameHere Global in building a world where mental health is normalized, understood, and supported at scale. Because this isn’t about “them.”

It’s about all of us.

-Jim

You can check the App out at the links below:

https://5in5inc.com/scale/

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.rc.sameherescale&hl=en_US

https://apps.apple.com/us/app/samehere-scale/id1564682569

The future of education isn’t robots teaching kids.

It’s teachers reclaiming time to be human — with a little help from intelligent tools.

That’s the promise behind ThinkerBot, a new kind of AI assistant developed by and for educators inside the Thinkering Collective. ThinkerBot isn’t here to replace teachers. It’s here to support the messy, creative, thoughtful process of building learning experiences — and lives — that matter.

What Makes ThinkerBot Different?

Unlike ChatGPT or Google Bard, ThinkerBot is trained specifically on the voices, values, and visions of the Thinkering Collective.

That means it:

Knows what “humanizing learning” actually means

Understands how to scaffold project-based, community-driven learning

Recognizes burnout, nuance, and the creative chaos of real classrooms

Can help Fellows track their progress, brainstorm Capstone ideas, access relevant tools, and reflect meaningfully

Think of it less like a chatbot, and more like a copilot — a behind-the-scenes teammate who knows your goals, your challenges, and your timeline.

What It Can Do

• Answer fellowship-related questions in real-time

• Store your project ideas, timelines, and reflections

• Recommend tools, strategies, or articles from the Collective

• Offer tailored suggestions based on your progress

• Help you plan Capstone milestones

• Give thoughtful feedback and reframe stuck thinking

And most importantly: it learns with you.

AI With a Soul (Sort Of…) =)

We’ve trained ThinkerBot not just on data, but on ethics, context, and care.

It draws from real transcripts of Thinkering conversations and mentorship. It incorporates the language and frameworks of reflective learning (like PEARL). It understands the emotional landscape of education — not just the cognitive load

As Garrett Wilhelm (creator of ThinkerBot) says:

“We don’t want AI doing your job. We want it helping you do your best work — and still have energy left for your real life.”

Thought Experiments

• What if your AI tool could coach you instead of control you?

• What would you build if you had 5 extra hours each week?

• What if students had access to tools that helped them reflect and revise — not just finish faster?

Thinkerers Say…

“ThinkerBot isn’t just helpful — it’s freeing. I spend less time searching and more time thinking.”

“I’ve used it to prototype, plan, and push myself. It’s like having a coach in your corner.”

In one of our recent Thinkering Fellowship sessions with Dr. Mara Huber, a single phrase stopped me in my tracks…

“Let someone borrow your care.”

It’s a simple idea. But if we’re being honest, it might be one of the most radical and transformative things we can do, not just in education, but in society at large, especially in a time when nearly every conversation feels polarizing or performative.

What Does It Mean to Let Someone Borrow Your Care?

To me, this phrase speaks directly to the heart of what we’ve been building at Belouga for almost a decade, and what has made Thinkering so impactful in such a short time. It’s about the human side of learning, relationships, empathy, and shared experiences that create real, lasting change.

Letting someone borrow your care doesn’t mean fixing things for them. It means holding space. It means saying:

“I’m with you. I see you. I believe this matters because it matters to you.”

It’s what happens when a teacher stays after class just to listen. When a student pauses to understand a peer’s perspective. When a community leader champions a cause, they won’t personally benefit from. When a company shows up not just with funding, but with attention, presence, and humility.

This is what makes learning meaningful. This is what makes change stick.

Why This Matters in Education (and Beyond)

In education, we often talk about test scores, metrics, and outcomes. But none of those matter without connection. Without someone who cares enough to say, “Your growth matters to me.”

At Belouga, we’ve seen how empathy-centered experiential learning transforms students, not just into better learners, but into more thoughtful, engaged humans. At Thinkering, every successful community or district project we’ve led has started with someone who chose to care first.

Care is the bridge between the classroom and the community, between learning and action, between individual growth and collective impact.

How You Can Let Someone Borrow Your Care

You don’t need a title, a budget, or a big plan to do this. Here are a few ways anyone can start:

Listen deeply. Put your phone down. Make eye contact. Let someone finish their story. Be present!

Ask, not assume. Before offering solutions, ask what someone really needs.

Show up consistently. Sometimes, presence matters more than words.

Advocate. Use your voice to elevate issues that affect others, especially if you have privilege they don’t.

Learn beside them. Be willing to say, “I don’t know either, but let’s figure it out together.”

These actions may seem small, but they build the kind of culture where trust, innovation, and equity thrive. I’ve seen it firsthand: when stakeholders, especially students, are invited into the process not just as participants, but as creators, everything changes.

Building Systems of Care

What excites me most is this: care isn’t just a feeling. It can be a system.

We can build schools that prioritize wellness and belonging. We can design learning experiences that put empathy at the center. We can lead organizations where listening is more valued than performance.

As my career in education continues, I’ve come to realize that my underlying mission is to embed care into the design of learning, leadership, and community. To create environments where every person knows: You matter. Your story matters. Your future matters.

And sometimes, until someone fully believes that for themselves, we let them borrow our care.

That’s the question we found ourselves exploring—intentionally and organically—during a recent Thinkering Fellowship session with Dr. Mara Huber, founder of the PEARL Project and longtime leader in experiential education, civic engagement, and international partnership development.

And while we expected inspiration, what we witnessed was something else entirely:
- Fellows being activated.
- Capstones coming into focus.
- A framework for experiential learning coming to life in real time.

This wasn’t a presentation. It was an invitation for innovation.

From Lecture to Activation

The session began with the usual discussion of impact and opportunity - but Dr. Huber took the mic and invited Thinkering Fellows into a new model for education—one where college is not the ultimate destination, and experiences are “the new coin of the realm.”

And that line landed.

Suddenly, Fellows weren’t just listening. They were reimagining. Repositioning. Reframing their work—not as curriculum units, but as opportunities to leverage care into curiosity, and curiosity into community-powered change.

The PEARL Framework in Motion

Dr. Huber introduced PEARL as both a philosophy and a guide for educators and students to design meaningful, experiential learning journeys:

• P – Prepare

• E – Engage

• A – Add Value

• R – Reflect

• L – Leverage

She explained how this framework has helped university students build globally recognized initiatives—and how it could be translated into middle school, high school, and community-based settings just as powerfully.

But the most powerful moment?
Watching our Fellows begin to map their own Capstones onto the PEARL arc.

We saw:

• A virtual reality storytelling project that could invite students to engage with Indigenous history and earn digital credentials

• An idea for an outdoor leadership course that suddenly had a way to connect kayaking with academic outcomes

• A health equity initiative gaining clarity around what it means to “add value” to community health work

These weren’t abstract conversations. They were immediate applications of Mara’s framework.

What Makes This Different?

Traditional PD asks teachers to listen, take notes, and go back to business as usual.

The Thinkering Fellowship says:
What are you building—and how can we help you build it?

This session with Dr. Huber was a model of that ethos:
Fellowship mentors didn’t just talk. They connected.
Tools didn’t replace— they scaffolded.
Fellows didn’t just absorb—they activated.

It was a reminder that when you treat educators as collaborators, not consumers, you unlock something profound.

What Comes Next

We’re continuing to integrate PEARL into:

• Fellowship Capstone design

• AI prompts in ThinkerBot

• Our research collaborations with university partners

• New digital credential pilots focused on experience-based learning

Because this isn’t just a framework. It’s a mirror—showing us what’s possible when students, educators, and communities co-design learning that matters.

“Curiosity rooted in care is more powerful.”
— Dr. Mara Huber

We agree. And we’re building a fellowship around that truth.

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🎧 Explore the previous Thinkering Minds episode on PEARL with Director of Experiential Learning Network at University at Buffalo, Christina Heath.