Educating the AI Generation
As educators, we must adapt to the changing landscape of technology and learning. Banning AI in the classroom might feel right, but it overlooks the deeper challenge: helping students thrive in a world where AI is part of daily life. Let’s explore how to integrate these tools, so we don’t just keep up—we lead.
"I'll make sure you fail if I detect that you're using AI to complete your assignments."
Like many other professors, I believe I have the right to establish this policy in my class. Academic freedom gives us the ability to shape our classrooms, and it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve restricted certain technologies. I like to start with the 90s... Walkmans, pagers, scientific calculators, laptops, cell phones and now AI.
But here’s the thing. Banning AI isn’t going to help us educate this current generation of students, nor the next.
Sure, banning it lets you get through the semester on your own terms. It might even feel good to uphold traditional learning methods and honor the educators who've shaped us. After all, what’s an essay worth if it’s magically written by AI in seconds?
But that’s just passing the buck, if you think about it. Students will still use AI in the next class, with the next instructor who’s more “open-minded” or “relevant.” They’re using it throughout their daily lives anyway, so what’s the point of telling them it’s not okay in our class? Are we really that special?
As educators today, we need to understand AI and keep pace with its rapid evolution. We have to see how these tools are changing the way we process information, so we can evolve the manner in which we educate. It’s still our job to teach them.
We just can’t be monolithic teachers at the whiteboard anymore. That’s not going to work.
We’re both EDUCATORS and TECHNOLOGISTS now. We have to keep learning in order to teach. We need to bring technology into our classrooms and integrate it into the learning process. Otherwise, we risk failing ourselves and the very students we’ve set out to educate.
Remember that technology and learning don’t have to wreak havoc on each other. In fact, if we orchestrate them well, they’ll complement each other in ways we haven’t yet imagined.
We Have an Office! A Big Step for BTR TMRW on the Ohlone College Campus
Big news: BTR TMRW now has its first official office—right here on the Ohlone College campus in Fremont. It’s a small step, but a meaningful one as we continue building inclusive pathways for students with intellectual disabilities.
Pretty cool news: We have our first-ever, official BTR TMRW office location.
Okay, it’s technically a cubicle in a shared workspace, but it’s real. It’s ours. And more than anything, it’s progress.
If you know me, you know I’m all about making marginal gains. One step at a time. One small win stacked on top of the next. That’s how this mission has grown from an idea into something real—and now, into something with an address.
I’m especially excited because this cubicle sits right on the Ohlone College campus in Fremont, where we’re sharing space with the Community Education team. For a nonprofit like ours, one that’s all about building inclusive college and career pathways for students with intellectual disabilities, this is exactly the right place to be.
What better launch point than a community college campus that’s deeply connected with local businesses and organizations? It’s the kind of setting where real-world progress begins—where ideas turn into programs, and programs change lives.
And honestly? It just feels good to say, “I’m going to the office” again.
This is just the beginning. But it’s a meaningful one. Thanks to everyone who’s been part of the journey so far.
A Speech for the Educators Who Carry Us
This week, I had the honor of speaking at the Mission Valley SELPA Special Education Recognition Awards. What started as a deeply personal reflection turned into a heartfelt thank-you to the educators who show up every day for our kids—and for parents like me, who sometimes need that extra bit of hope to keep going.
This week was special.
I had the privilege of speaking at the Mission Valley SELPA Special Education Recognition Awards—a room full of people who make a real difference in the lives of students with disabilities and their families.
As I stood at the podium, I spotted a familiar face in the crowd: Mrs. Kusum Gala. She was one of my daughter Ella’s elementary school teachers. The kind who sticks with you. The kind who sees the whole child. We’ll always be grateful for her quiet strength and unwavering belief in Ella.
I don’t usually share my speeches word for word, but this one felt different. This one was from the heart. It was written during one of those nights when the weight of the future felt too heavy—but the hope of community pulled me through.
Here’s what I said:
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I don’t know about you, but it’s usually in the dead of the night that I find myself face-to-face with my worst fears. It’s when I’m just lying there wide-awake, thinking and pondering about all the things that could happen. I’m left feeling helpless and I hate it – because I know full well there’s nothing I can do about any of it during those ungodly hours.
What gets me the most is the fact that the future is so abundantly unclear. That no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, there’s only so much I can do. And, that’s terrifying to me.
As Ella’s dad, I’ve been on this journey for almost 16 years now and I’ve had my share of ups and downs. I’ve struggled and I’ve celebrated, but I’ve been with her every single step of the way.
And though I’m still incredibly worried about what the future holds, there’s one thing I do know that inspires me to move forward each day.
It might seem obvious, but I’ve come to understand – and accept – that I don’t have to do it all by myself. That there are people in this world who care just as much, who work just as hard, who devote just as much of their lives to supporting students with special needs, and who are there alongside our children when we, as parents, are unable to do so.
“It’s all of you in this room tonight who have saved me and who continually keep me from succumbing to my worst fears.”
I’m humbled to have this opportunity to personally thank each of you for the honorable work you do.
I’d like to leave you with a quote that describes how I think of each day, especially after one of those tough nights:
“When you keep searching for ways to change your situation for the better, you stand a chance of finding them. When you stop searching, assuming they can’t be found, you guarantee they won’t.”
To the parents out here tonight, I encourage you to join us in the Community Advisory Council so that together, we can build toward a better tomorrow.
For the teachers and staff members in this room, thank you so much for believing in our children, and for your dedication to our students. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
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I walked away from that stage feeling full of gratitude, of hope, and of deep respect for everyone in that room. It reminded me that we don’t carry this work alone.
We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. But for now, I’m just thankful we get to do it together.
It’s why the BTR TMRW Center for Advancement exists. To carry forward the work of those who came before us. To join hands with the educators and allies already transforming lives. And to build a future where no parent lies awake wondering if their child will be okay—because they’ll already know they’re not alone.
Reimagining Purpose: Advocating for Inclusive Education at the California State Capitol
I returned to Sacramento for Legislative Sharing Day, joining fellow advocates to amplify the voices of students with disabilities and champion inclusive education that empowers every learner to thrive.
At BTR TMRW, we believe bold dreams require intentional action—and that purpose-driven steps, no matter how small, can spark generational change.
For me, this belief is personal. I’ve spent years reimagining my career to align with one mission: creating lasting impact for individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities. While these dreams are bold—sometimes even audacious—I’ve learned that with consistent, incremental steps, they’re not only possible, they’re inevitable.
A Return to Sacramento with Purpose
Yesterday, one of those steps led me back to Sacramento, a city filled with personal milestones—from my undergraduate days at UC Davis to my early years teaching 6th grade at Glenwood Elementary School.
This time, I stood with hundreds of special education professionals, district leaders, and parent advocates at the California State Capitol for Legislative Sharing Day.
Our mission was clear:
To share our stories
To amplify our collective voice
To fight for systems that ensure students with disabilities receive: equitable access to quality education, opportunities for inclusive higher learning, pathways to meaningful employment, and the right to live independently with dignity
In essence, we were there to breathe life into the dreams of our children.
Highlight: Inclusive Higher Education in Action
A defining moment of the day came when Beth Foraker, founder of the Redwood SEED Scholars program, took the stage alongside two incredible students.
Their presence wasn’t symbolic—it was transformative.
They proved that inclusive post-secondary education isn’t a theory—it’s a living, breathing reality that changes lives.
Beth’s work continues to inspire my own journey, reaffirming the importance of building inclusive college pathways for students with intellectual disabilities. Her leadership speaks volumes: Inclusion isn’t just a policy—it’s a promise.
Why This Matters to BTR TMRW
This experience reflects the mission of BTR TMRW: To redefine inclusion so individuals with intellectual disabilities can thrive, lead, and shape an equitable future.
By participating in advocacy efforts like Legislative Sharing Day, we stay grounded in the work that matters—connecting with real stories, real families, and real change-makers.
We understand that systemic change doesn’t happen overnight. But through sustained advocacy, coalition-building, and education, we move one step closer to a future where every student is supported and seen.
Final Thoughts: Keep Showing Up
Sacramento reminded me of something profound:
Advocacy isn’t a task—it’s a calling.
And when we show up—purposefully and consistently—we create space for every child’s dream to be possible.
We’re just getting started.
Expanding Inclusion: What I Learned at the California School for the Blind
A visit to the California School for the Blind opened my eyes to the intersection of visual impairment and intellectual disability—and inspired a new path for inclusive advocacy at BTR TMRW.
Did you know that many students with visual impairments—including those who are blind or have low vision—also have intellectual disabilities?
The statistics are staggering, and honestly, I was taken aback when I first learned about the overlap. It’s something I hadn’t fully grasped until recently—a blind spot in my own understanding of inclusive education.
That changed when Fremont City Council Member Kathy Kimberlin invited me to join her for a visit to the California School for the Blind, located right here in the heart of Fremont.
A Wake-Up Call Close to Home
As we toured the school and met with staff, it became clear that this intersection of disability—visual impairment and intellectual disability—is not only more common than many realize, but also deeply underrepresented in broader conversations about access, support, and equity.
Although I may be arriving late to this conversation, BTR TMRW is stepping in with full intent. We’re exploring how we can contribute meaningfully to the lives of students who navigate these unique and complex challenges. Because when we know better, we must do better.
Meeting Changemakers: Rebecca Rosenberg of ReBokeh
One of the most inspiring moments of the week came when I met Rebecca Rosenberg, founder and CEO of ReBokeh Vision Technologies, Inc. Based in Baltimore, she’s pioneering accessible tech that enhances visual experiences for people with low vision.
To meet someone so deeply committed to innovative inclusion on a global scale—and to do so right after my visit to the School for the Blind—felt like more than coincidence. It felt like a signal.
Listening to the Universe—and Taking Action
I say it often, but I’ll say it again: I’m grateful for the extraordinary people I’ve had the chance to meet through this work. When you lead with intention and listen carefully, the universe tends to place the right people in your path.
This feels like a beginning. A new chapter in BTR TMRW’s journey toward advancing equity for students with disabilities—especially those who are too often overlooked. The best is yet to come.