
There are moments in our work that we don’t fully understand when they happen, but later, we realize they changed everything.
In 2009, I made my first visit to High Tech High. I was part of a group of over 90 educators from Hawaiʻi in the first year of the Schools of the Future cohort. I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to experience.
What became unseeable to me that day wasn’t just the quality of the work. It was the relational nature of learning.
As we walked through classrooms, you saw students actively creating, giving feedback, and interacting with each other, with their teachers, with tools, and with the natural world. There was a palpable energy and a shared purpose. Teachers working collaboratively on behalf of students. Hallways and classrooms celebrating beautiful, challenging, powerful student work that inspired us all.
A group of students approached me, not because a teacher asked them to, but because they wanted to. They wanted to share what they were working on. To celebrate and to get feedback. To have someone take their thinking seriously. This moment stuck with me because at that point with over three decades in education, I had never experienced that. That moment changed the trajectory of my work.
The journey: from doing, to sharing, to defining
Looking back, the past 17 years have unfolded in three phases.
First, we did the work ourselves.

In our MPX program at Mid-Pacific, we began building integrated, community-based learning experiences. There were ups and downs and a lot of trial and error. But we had a clear North Star: learning that mattered beyond the classroom. That clarity allowed us to keep moving even when the path wasn’t clear.
Second, we opened our doors.
We began inviting teachers in. At first, those summer workshops were as much for us as they were for them. They forced us to clarify what we believed about project-based learning and what we were actually seeing in classrooms. In trying to help others, we sharpened our own understanding. Ma ka hana ka ‘ike – in working one learns.
Third, we stepped into the work more fully.
As Kupu Hou evolved, we moved into year-round partnerships with schools where we were designing professional learning that met educators where they were. This wasn’t just about workshops anymore. It was about building systems, structures, and cultures that could sustain deeper learning over time.
So why does this summer 2026 feel like a culmination?


Working alongside our friends and colleagues at High Tech High, this is no longer about visiting or learning from afar. It’s about co-creating and bringing together locally grounded work in Hawaiʻi with globally experienced faculty. The result feels aligned with a phrase we see in the Hawaiʻi DOE: globally competitive, locally committed.
But this time, it’s not just a phrase. It’s something we are actually building.
What we’ve come to understand about deeper learning
For a long time, we showed deeper learning through examples like student murals, culturally grounded artwork, performances, exhibitions, and tuning protocols. But over time, we’ve had to make it clearer for our teachers. At its core, deeper learning is a shift from content coverage to authentic practice.
– It’s not just learning science—it’s being a scientist.
– Not just studying culture—it’s learning through culture.
– Not just completing tasks—it’s engaging in work that matters.
The psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi described the idea of flow, moments when we are so immersed in meaningful work that time seems to disappear. That’s what deeper learning looks like in classrooms. It is students and teachers engaged in authentic, meaningful work. It is learning that is contextual, personalized, culturally connected, and tied to ideas that make it worth doing in the first place.
What schools still get wrong
Too often, schools see deeper learning as something you do after the basics are covered. But learning doesn’t work that way. Just like Bloom’s taxonomy isn’t a ladder you climb once, higher level deeper learning is something we move in and out of. Students build foundational knowledge through meaningful application. This great article from Jal Mehta explores this idea.


In our work with schools, we also encounter a belief that only certain students can do this kind of work, but the reality is the opposite. Deeper learning is one of the most powerful equity levers we have. Across age, background, and context, students rise to meet meaningful expectations when given the opportunity.
And finally, there’s the fear that this won’t prepare students for tests or for school success. We need to back up and ask the question: Are we preparing students to play the game of school, or the game of life? If we do this work right we can do both.
What it takes—for students and for teachers
One of the biggest shifts in our work has been understanding that you don’t get deeper learning for students without deeper learning for adults. We’ve learned that three things have to be true:
Symmetry — adults experience the kind of learning we want for students
Leadership — leaders actively create the conditions, systems and structures that allow this work to take root and grow
Equity — all learners are seen, valued, and challenged
Teachers need time and a shared language. They need visible examples of what it looks like in practice. And they need collaborative spaces where the work is valued for being in progress, not polished, because that’s where the real learning happens.

What we hope for this summer
No one becomes an expert in deeper learning in three days, but that’s not the goal. What we hope educators walk away with is a shift in how they see their work. We want them to develop a clearer vision with stronger models to guide them and better tools for design and assessment. We believe teachers are already on this path, and that they can take the next step.
What becomes possible
When deeper learning takes root, learning becomes more joyful. There’s a sense of shared purpose where students and teachers work together to understand themselves and the world around them. That kind of learning is hard to walk away from once you’ve experienced it. It’s why so many people who visit places like High Tech High say the same thing:
You can’t go back.
Looking back—and forward
If I could go back and talk to my 2009 self, I’d say this:
You started teaching in 1982 because you wanted to make a difference in students’ lives. Now you’ve seen what that can actually look like, not just for some students, but for all students. This happens not just in isolated classrooms, but across entire systems. So it’s time to raise the bar and amplify the work.
It is time to move closer to that original goal of changing the world, one student at a time.
You can’t go back.

















