Laura K Spencer, Ed.D.

Category: Teaching and Learning

  • Adoption Isn’t Impact: The Quiet Failure of Learning Innovation

    Adoption Isn’t Impact: The Quiet Failure of Learning Innovation

    I keep seeing the same pattern across schools, organizations, and learning platforms.

    The tools keep getting better.
    The outcomes… not so much.

    AI is more capable. XR is more immersive. Platforms are more polished than ever. And still, leaders feel it. That quiet, nagging sense that learning isn’t actually working the way it was promised.

    Engagement spikes. Pilots multiply. Dashboards fill up.
    Clarity about impact stays frustratingly out of reach.

    This isn’t a technology problem.
    It’s a design problem.

    Most learning systems were never built to absorb this level of change. New tools get layered onto old structures. Innovation gets bolted onto workflows designed for stability, not adaptability.

    The result is fragmentation.
    Good intentions. Scattered execution.

    I hear versions of this all the time:
    “We’ve adopted the platform.”
    “We’ve rolled out the tool.”

    What’s missing is the harder question:
    What is this actually changing about how people learn, think, and make decisions?

    Adoption is visible.
    Impact is not.

    Impact only shows up when there’s alignment. Between learning strategy, leadership expectations, culture, and the realities of day-to-day work. Without that, even the most advanced tools struggle to matter.

    Another common miss is over-indexing on features instead of purpose.

    Yes, AI can personalize learning paths.
    Yes, XR can simulate environments.
    Yes, analytics can surface patterns.

    None of that answers the real questions:
    What capabilities are we trying to build?
    What skills matter here?
    What should change when the tool is no longer new?

    When those questions go unanswered, technology defaults to efficiency, not meaning.

    I also see responsibility for learning outcomes get diffused. Innovation teams experiment. IT enables. Designers design. Leaders cheer from a distance.

    No one owns coherence.
    No one is accountable for the system as a system.

    Learning doesn’t break down because people aren’t trying.
    It breaks down because no one is tasked with connecting the dots.

    The organizations making real progress look different.

    They slow down before they scale.
    They clarify what learning is for before deciding what to buy.
    They treat technology as a lever, not a strategy.

    Most importantly, they treat learning as a leadership function, not a procurement decision.

    Leaders are involved early. They set priorities. They make tradeoffs. They resist the urge to pilot everything and instead commit to a few things done well.

    Learning stops being something that happens “over there.”
    It becomes part of how the organization thinks and operates.

    This shift isn’t flashy. It doesn’t generate big announcements.
    But it creates durability.

    What’s encouraging is that more leaders are starting to feel this gap. In conversations with superintendents and edtech leaders, I hear the same frustration surfaces again and again.

    Money is being spent.
    Capability isn’t always following.

    There’s a growing recognition that more tools aren’t the answer.

    The path forward isn’t about rejecting technology.
    It’s about designing systems that can actually hold it.

    That means:

    • treating learning as a connected ecosystem, not a collection of initiatives
    • aligning leadership expectations with learning goals
    • designing for judgment, adaptability, and human skill, not just completion and compliance

    When learning is designed this way, technology amplifies it.
    When it isn’t, technology just accelerates confusion.

    The future of learning won’t be decided by the next platform or algorithm.

    It will be decided by whether organizations are willing to do the harder work of design. Clarifying purpose. Creating coherence. Building systems that support how people actually learn and grow.

    The organizations that get this right aren’t chasing better tools.
    They’re designing better systems.

    Everything else follows.

  • Thrive by Lisa M. Lawson: Rethinking How We Support Adolescents in Education

    Thrive by Lisa M. Lawson: Rethinking How We Support Adolescents in Education

    Lisa M. Lawson’s new book, Thrive, doesn’t read like a policy manual. It feels more like a long-overdue shift in how we view young people, especially teenagers.

    Adolescents have always challenged the systems around them (Trust me, I know! haha). They question rules, seek out new experiences, and care deeply about what their peers think. We’ve spent decades treating those behaviors as problems, which is ironic considering we had the same behaviors as teens. But what if that’s exactly what teen brains are designed to do?

    Brain science is finally catching up. Researchers now understand that adolescence is just as important a developmental stage as early childhood. The prefrontal cortex doesn’t fully mature until around age 25, which I remind myself every time my daughter makes me want to cringe. And because the adolescent brain is still flexible, it can grow and recover, even after hardship, when the right support is in place.

    Lawson explains:

    “We have to stop treating normal adolescent behavior like a problem. The science is clear: Teenagers take risks, push boundaries and follow their peers because their brains are still developing. Instead of blaming them, let’s build systems that understand them – with more mentors, more positive opportunities to engage their active minds and more real-world learning.”

    That kind of shift doesn’t start with programs. It starts with people.

    In Thrive, Lawson outlines five essentials that create a strong bridge to adulthood: stable relationships with caring adults, meaningful education pathways, support for basic needs, opportunities to earn and manage money, and spaces where youth feel seen and heard. Not someday. Now.

    And if we’re listening, technology can help. AI can support teachers by recognizing patterns and offering insights they might miss. VR can open doors to experiences many students wouldn’t otherwise have. But tools don’t build trust. People do.

    If we’re going to talk about thriving, then we need to look beyond performance charts and compliance checklists. We need to pay attention to what teenagers are telling us in the ways they show up, tune out, or act out. And we need to design learning that respects where they are, not just where we want them to be.

    When we choose to see adolescence as a window of opportunity rather than a stage to survive, we’re not just helping students thrive. We’re investing in a better future for all of us.

    P.S. Share this with someone who is struggling to understand the teenagers around them.

  • More Than Content: Why the Future of School Must Be Human

    More Than Content: Why the Future of School Must Be Human

    Everywhere I turn, people seem exhausted. Not just by the pace of change, but by the growing sense that our systems, especially in education, are still answering the wrong questions.

    We’re designing for efficiency when what we need is empathy. We’re measuring content mastery when what’s slipping through the cracks is human development.

    I keep coming back to a question I shared recently with educators at our Elite kickoff:

    What if school wasn’t built for content delivery, but for human development?

    It’s not just a question for classrooms. It’s a lens for our entire society.

    If we keep treating education like a conveyor belt of content, we’ll keep producing students who know what to memorize, but not how to belong, contribute, adapt, or lead.

    But if we build schools where curiosity is safe, connection is prioritized, and hope is cultivated? Then maybe, just maybe, we’ll raise a generation that can heal what’s fractured and build what’s missing.

    Because in a volatile world, content is important. But character, compassion, and critical thinking are essential.

  • Creativity, Failure, and Starting Late

    Creativity, Failure, and Starting Late

    There’s a bit of irony in the title of the first book I picked up from the d.school book club: Make Possibilities Happen. Because I joined the club months ago, full of energy and good intentions, and promptly… fell behind. Haven’t made it to a single Zoom meet. Still playing catch-up on the reading.

    So maybe this is my version of possibility-making. The slow, quiet kind. The kind that happens in between work calls and late-night note scribbles. The kind that shows up long after the calendar reminder has passed but still feels meaningful.

    As I work my way through the books and recorded discussions, I’ll be sharing reflections here. Consider it my asynchronous book club journey, with plenty of margin for detours and delayed starts.

    Creativity Isn’t a Trait. It’s a Practice.

    One of the biggest myths we carry, especially in education, is that creativity belongs to a select few. You’ve probably heard it (or said it) before: “I’m just not creative.” It’s the same script as “I’m not a math person,” and it does just as much damage.

    The truth is, we’re all creative. We just haven’t all been given the space or encouragement to practice it.

    Grace Hawthorne doesn’t let you off the hook with that kind of thinking. She reminds us that creativity isn’t something you have. It’s something you do. And doing it means letting go of the pressure to get it perfect the first time.

    That shift matters. In classrooms. In leadership. In design. When we treat creativity like a skill instead of a talent, we open up space for trying things before we’re ready. We make room for mess. For feedback. For growth.

    Whether you’re planning a lesson, testing out AI, or brainstorming a new learning experience, creativity isn’t about brilliance. It’s about movement.

    Small Mistakes Matter

    There’s a line in the book I keep coming back to: make small mistakes so you can course-correct along the way.

    It’s simple, but it cuts through so much noise. In education, we’re often so focused on getting it right the first time. But what if we shifted the goal? What if we built space for mistakes that teach us something?

    When I support teams who are exploring things like AI or designing immersive VR learning experiences, I remind them: we don’t have to launch with perfection. We just have to start. Reflect. Adjust. Keep going.

    It’s not failure. It’s feedback.

    The Power of Putting It on Paper

    Another gem from Grace: when the idea feels too big, get it out of your head.

    Sounds obvious, but how many of us let big ideas swirl until they turn into stress?

    When I’m working on early-stage lesson design, especially for VR or other emerging tech, the hardest part is getting started. The second I sketch something on paper,even if it’s a mess (and sometimes especially when it’s a mess), it stops feeling like a mountain and starts feeling like a puzzle.

    Grace’s advice here isn’t just tactical. It’s kind. She respects the overwhelm but doesn’t let it win.

    Detours as the Main Road

    One of the most encouraging ideas from the book was that detours often become the real path.

    I didn’t plan for much of the work I do now. None of it was on some neat five-year plan. But somewhere between the classroom, school leadership, and the world of instructional design, I started following threads that felt like purpose. That still surprises me.

    And yet, those side trails have led to some of the most aligned work I’ve done.

    Grace’s reminder gave me permission to stop apologizing for the path I didn’t plan. Sometimes the unexpected turn is the destination.

    Final Thought

    I may not be caught up with the book club, but I did add “catch up on the book club” to at least three to-do lists this month so that counts, right? And while I haven’t earned any gold stars for participation, I have wrestled with big ideas, highlighted half the book, and scribbled questions in the margins. Maybe that’s what making possibilities looks like sometimes: quiet, nonlinear, and slightly behind schedule.

  • “Stand Back,” Said the Elephant: What a Children’s Book Taught Me About Leadership, Innovation, and Intentional Impact

    “Stand Back,” Said the Elephant: What a Children’s Book Taught Me About Leadership, Innovation, and Intentional Impact

    “Stand Back,” Said the Elephant: When Leadership Echoes Louder Than We Think

    The other day, I was chatting with a new mom, trading favorite childhood books, when one came rushing back to me:
    “Stand Back,” Said the Elephant, “I’m Going to Sneeze!”

    If you’ve read it, you know how it goes. A giant elephant announces he’s about to sneeze and total jungle chaos breaks out. Birds panic. Monkeys flip. Even the crocodile gets nervous.

    Why? Because the last time he sneezed, the whole forest turned upside down.

    As a kid, I thought it was hilarious.
    Reading it now, I see something else entirely.

    Leadership (and Sneezes) Are Bigger Than They Seem

    The elephant wasn’t being reckless. He wasn’t out to scare anyone. In fact, he gave fair warning. But still, his sneeze carried a force he couldn’t fully control. His size made even a simple act feel seismic.

    That image has stuck with me. Not just because it’s funny, but because it’s true.

    In leadership, we often forget how much weight our words and decisions carry. What feels like a small adjustment, such as a platform update or a new policy, can send ripples through a whole system.

    To us, it’s just a sneeze.
    To others, it might feel like the whole jungle is shaking.

    Leading Innovation with Intention

    At our charter school, we’re stepping into bold new territory: integrating artificial intelligence and virtual reality to create immersive, student-centered learning experiences.

    It’s exciting, no doubt. But we’re not doing it just because it’s cutting-edge. We’re doing it because we believe it can deepen learning, elevate student voice, and open doors to new ways of thinking and creating.

    And that means being intentional at every step.

    This kind of innovation requires more than cool tools. It requires care. It requires asking: Are our teachers supported? Are students engaged, not just entertained? Is this helping them grow, or just adding noise?

    We’re not handing students a VR headset and saying, “Go.” We’re inviting them to explore the moon, to train with an AI-powered speaking coach, to step into simulations where empathy, critical thinking, and creativity all matter.

    Yes, we’re introducing new tech. But more importantly, we’re creating new opportunities for students to see themselves as capable, curious, and connected.

    The Pause Before the Sneeze

    What I keep coming back to is this: the elephant didn’t sneeze without warning. He paused. He looked around. He gave everyone a chance to prepare.

    That’s leadership.

    It’s not just about vision or bold ideas. It’s about noticing who’s in your path and being thoughtful about how your actions might affect them. It’s asking: Who will this impact? Are they ready? What support do they need?

    Because innovation without awareness can flatten people.
    But with empathy, it can lift them.

    At Elite Academic, we ask ourselves these questions constantly:

    • Is this truly serving students?
    • Are we empowering teachers, not overwhelming them?
    • Does this leave room for curiosity, for voice, for choice?

    Sometimes, the most important thing a leader can do is pause, take a breath, and ask:
    Is now the right time to sneeze?

    The Books That Stay With Us

    I didn’t expect a children’s book to circle back into my life like this. But it did, and not just for the nostalgia.

    It reminded me that leadership isn’t always about big moves or dramatic moments. More often, it’s about the quiet awareness of how much our presence can shape what happens around us. Even small decisions can carry weight. Even good intentions can have unintended effects.

    And sometimes, the most important thing we can do is slow down long enough to notice that.

    I’m still smiling at the story. But now, I’m also thinking about what it means to move through the world, especially as a leader, with care.

    So now I’m curious:
    Has a children’s book ever stuck with you in an unexpected way?
    What story from your childhood keeps showing up in your thinking today?

    I’d genuinely love to hear it.

  • The AI Revolution: A Wake-Up Call for Real Learning

    The AI Revolution: A Wake-Up Call for Real Learning


    The recent buzz around AI in education, exemplified by Elon Musk’s assertion that AI-assisted learning can already outperform human teachers, has sparked important conversations. However, I believe we’re focusing on the wrong question.

    We’re asking if AI will replace teachers, but we should be asking: is AI already replacing students in their own learning process?
    This question was recently raised on LinkedIn by Elena Beretta, who shared her observations of students leveraging large language models (LLMs) for everything from writing essays and solving homework to debugging code and even drafting theses. The driving force behind this widespread adoption? Increased productivity, she asserted. Students are drawn to the efficiency AI offers, allowing them to complete assignments in a fraction of the time. As Beretta points out, this isn’t necessarily about cheating – universities are addressing that – but about a fundamental shift in how students perceive learning.
    Beretta’s insights highlight a crucial trifecta of concerns: the shifting definition of learning, the delegation of “worthwhile” knowledge to AI, and the increasingly difficult role of educators. When productivity becomes the primary goal, the process of learning is devalued. If AI can instantly generate answers, what incentive do students have to grapple with critical thinking, problem-solving, and the development of structured arguments – skills that only improve through dedicated practice? This leads to AI effectively dictating what is “worth” learning, as students bypass the struggle inherent in developing these crucial skills. Consequently, educators are finding themselves in an exhausting loop, becoming less teachers and more AI-police and content verifiers. This begs the question: how can we equip students with the skills they truly need when AI makes it so easy to circumvent the learning process?
    I believe this situation underscores a pre-existing and deeply rooted problem in our educational system: the transactional view of schooling. For too long, students have been conditioned to see education as a series of tasks, points, and high-stakes tests, prioritizing metrics and data over genuine intellectual growth and the joy of learning. This transactional approach has already diminished the value of deep learning, and the advent of AI only amplifies this crisis. The “hustle” mentality, focused on efficiency and output, has become even more entrenched.
    If we don’t address this fundamental issue, we risk losing any hope of real learning taking place in schools. We need a paradigm shift, moving away from a system obsessed with productivity and embracing a performance-based model that prioritizes meaningful topics and the cultivation of essential skills. What matters most is fostering critical thinking, creativity, and a genuine love of knowledge – qualities that cannot be replicated by AI.
    Perhaps the disruption caused by AI can serve as a much-needed wake-up call. It’s time to fundamentally rethink our approach to education and ensure that learning isn’t just about completing tasks quickly, but about developing skills that are truly valuable and relevant for the future. This reality check could be precisely what we need to redefine learning for the better, shifting our focus from mere efficiency to the cultivation of human potential.