About us
My mother was a teacher.
She taught kids who were eight, nine, ten years old, and she wrote her lesson plans by hand, in notebooks. Every week, part of that work landed on our kitchen table on a Sunday.
She never called it overtime. It was just what Monday required.
That was a long time ago, and the Sunday has not changed. In Arkansas today, the notebooks are laptops and standards documents. The unpaid part stayed exactly the same.
When AI got good enough to genuinely help, I assumed teachers would pile in. They didn’t. Not because they didn’t want the help. Because they didn’t want the risk: the district email nobody could interpret, the student name pasted into somebody else’s server, the tool that markets hard in August and vanishes by June.
So I built the tool I would have wanted on her kitchen table. It knows the Bentonville course list and the Arkansas codes. It is sized for the 90-minute block. It never stores a student’s name, it never trains on your work, and it never makes the call, you do. And it is free for teachers, because the first job is to be useful, not to be sold.
If you teach science at Bentonville, this was built for you. If something is missing, tell me. I read everything.
