Everyone has at least one skill or ability that stands taller than the others. For a long time, I thought mine was building programs. I believed my strongest talent lived somewhere between logic and code – the product of years spent studying Management Information Systems (MIS) and Computer Science (CS).
I was wrong.
MIS taught me the strategic side of technology: deciding what to build, why, and how to make solutions meaningful for real people. CS taught me the technical side: getting a computer to do what you wanted. I excelled at both. But the moment that stuck with me most wasn’t tied to a project or an assignment. It was something my MIS professor said during my senior year:
“You have a unique ability to translate complex ideas so everyone can understand. That will take you far.”
I didn’t know it then, but he wasn’t describing my skill in technology.
He was identifying my capacity to teach – especially adults.
Six years later, I was teaching high school computer science. My students were thriving, and I loved the classroom. Teaching CS was like solving a new puzzle every day: part logic, part creativity, part psychology. And then something unexpected happened.
Teachers began stopping by my room.
“Can you show me how to…?”
“I’m stuck on something.”
“I keep getting this error.”
“Will you stop by later?”
At first, it felt like a handful of small questions. Quick fixes. Easy explanations. But the requests grew – in number, complexity, and depth. Teachers with decades of experience were coming to me not because they didn’t know how to teach, but because they needed someone who could make technology feel approachable.
It took me awhile to recognize what was happening:
My skill wasn’t coding. It was teaching adults.
I could sit beside someone and break down something complicated in plain language. I could see their shoulders drop, hear the relief in their voice, watch their confidence rise. Someone who walked in overwhelmed could walk out empowered.
That lit something in me I couldn’t ignore.
When the district began offering summer professional learning, I volunteered immediately. I facilitated sessions. Answered questions. Created resources. And as the questions grew more complex, I found myself loving the work even more.
My principal saw the pattern too and offered me a hybrid position: teach computer science half-time and support educators the other half. I loved teaching students, but I couldn’t ignore the growing gap among adults. They didn’t need someone who could fix things for them; they needed someone who could help them understand – someone who could build confidence, not dependency.
So I said yes.
At first, the work was chaotic. I ran from classroom to classroom putting out fires, troubleshooting, solving urgent problems. I offered optional workshops, but turnout was low. Why give up your lunch period when Wren would just come to you?
I realized something had to change. I couldn’t scale myself, and I didn’t want the adults around me to stay dependent on quick fixes.
So I redesigned everything.
I began sending a weekly newsletter filled with practical tips – answers to questions teachers hadn’t even asked yet, but inevitably would. I met with departments to understand what was working, what wasn’t, and what they wanted to learn. I looked for champions within each team and built structures around them. Slowly, I shifted from answering individual questions to designing professional learning that built capacity across the building.
When the district adopted Google Suite, I created a cohort-based training mapped to Google Certification Level 1 and 2. Eighty-seven percent of participants passed. That success rippled across the district. Other schools asked to join.
Then came a wave of new systems – new gradebook, new attendance tools, new student information system. Change layered on top of change, each requiring new learning, new habits, new support.
And again, educators turned to me. Not because I had every answer, but because I knew how to teach adults through change. I knew how to break down complexity, calm anxieties, and help people move forward with confidence.
Through all of this, something had become undeniably clear:
Teaching adults wasn’t something I happened to be good at.
It was who I was.
And then, years later, AI entered the picture.
The first time I opened a large language model, I didn’t feel fear, confusion, or skepticism. I felt recognition. AI wasn’t a departure from the world I knew; it was a magnification of it. Not because I was an expert in AI, but because I instantly understood what adults would need in order to navigate it.
For many people, AI felt like a leap into the unknown.
For me, it felt like the next chapter of work I’d been doing my whole career.
Helping adults understand complex ideas.
Helping them build confidence with new tools.
Helping them shift from overwhelmed to empowered.
Helping them see possibility rather than threat.
AI didn’t awaken my love of technology.
It awakened my purpose as an educator of adults.
AI is the biggest learning shift in decades. It touches writing, planning, communication, analysis, problem-solving, and creativity. Adults everywhere are being asked to rethink how they work, what they know, and how they adapt.
They don’t need more tools thrown at them.
They need someone who can guide them through change.
Someone who can humanize it.
Someone who can translate complexity into clarity.
AI is not my strongest skill.
Teaching adults is.
AI simply gives me the most meaningful place to use that skill right now.
AI lights a fire in me because it brings together everything I love:
helping people feel capable
designing learning that makes the hard feel simple
giving adults time back
reducing stress and cognitive load
building confidence instead of dependence
elevating human judgment rather than replacing it
Through Mynd Shyft, I get to watch adults experience the shift that matters most – not a shift in technology, but a shift in belief:
From “I’m not good with this stuff” → to → “I can absolutely learn this.”
From “AI is scary” → to → “AI helps me do more of what matters.”
From “This is too much change” → to → “I can adapt and even thrive.”
This work lights a fire in me because it brings together every part of who I am: my love of teaching, my love of clarity, my technical background, my ability to translate complexity, and my belief that adults are far more capable than they realize.
AI doesn’t diminish the human part of the work.
It reveals it.
I get to stand in rooms – virtual or in person – and watch adults rediscover their ability to learn, experiment, adapt, and grow.
Teaching adults is the heart of my work.
AI is the spark that makes it urgent, meaningful, and full of possibility.
And I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
