As I think ahead to my applied project in the Learning Design and Technologies program, I keep returning to the same tension: clarity versus choice.
In my current role, I don’t just teach kindergarten math. I teach parents how to homeschool. I support English learner populations. I administer ELPAC. I act as a subject matter expert for instructional tools like IXL and Amira. And as a school support lead, I help teachers and families navigate systems that are intentionally flexible, but often ambiguously defined.
That flexibility is part of what makes our independent study model powerful. We are a school of choice. One size does not fit all — and it shouldn’t. Families come to us for different reasons, with different capacities, languages, time constraints, and educational philosophies. Any attempt to “standardize” learning too tightly would undermine that core value.
At the same time, flexibility without structure can create confusion.
Over and over, I see parents asking the same questions:
What am I actually responsible for?
What does “enough” look like?
How do I use tools like IXL meaningfully, not just compliantly?
How do I support my child without becoming overwhelmed or doing school for them?
Teachers ask similar questions, just from a different angle:
How much guidance is appropriate?
How do we ensure equity when families have different levels of support?
How do we onboard parents without creating 250 different interpretations of expectations?
Right now, much of this learning happens through one-off meetings, live presentations, emails, and well-intentioned Google Sites full of resources. I’ve built one of those sites myself, and I’m proud of it — but I’m also increasingly aware that having resources available is not the same as designing a learning experience.
Recently, I designed and delivered an “IXL Expert” presentation for both parents and teachers. It went well. People were engaged. Questions were thoughtful. And yet, I know from experience what happens next: some attendees apply what they learned immediately, some remember pieces, and many forget most of it once the session ends. The problem isn’t motivation — it’s design.
This has me wondering:
What would it look like to move parent education from isolated presentations and static resources into a coherent, asynchronous learning system?
Not a rigid program. Not a script. But a structured onboarding and learning experience that:
- Clarifies the non-negotiables of our system
- Honors flexibility in how learning is delivered
- Supports parents as learning partners, not just compliance agents
- Provides multiple pathways based on needs, language, and confidence
- Generates data we can actually learn from
I’m drawn to the idea of a Parent Learning Coach onboarding experience — something that lives in one place, is accessible on demand, and helps parents understand both the “what” and the “why” behind our systems. Coupled with that, I’m increasingly interested in what a data-informed parent support system could look like: simple feedback loops that tell us which supports parents use, where they get stuck, and how confident they feel over time.
The goal wouldn’t be to force uniformity in a school built on choice. The goal would be to reduce ambiguity where clarity matters most — especially for families who don’t already know how to “do school.”
As I continue working through this program, I want to keep designing in that space between structure and autonomy. If my capstone project can help make expectations clearer, support more equitable access, and still honor the flexibility that defines our model, then it will be worth the work — regardless of where my career path eventually leads.
For now, I’m not trying to solve this problem — just to name it clearly and keep working out loud as my thinking evolves.