When I first walked into New Britain High School, mornings were chaotic. More than 2,400 students entered through 510 exterior doors. Some arrived early and wandered the halls; others came rushing in just as the bell rang. Teachers started their days already tense, trying to corral energy that felt scattered before the first class even began.

When I think about academic efficacy—the belief that you can learn, problem-solve, and persist—I think of Julia.

Social development is one of the most important and complex milestones of adolescence. During these years, the “social brain” is rapidly developing, making young people more sensitive to peer feedback, belonging, and social norms. That sensitivity can lead to missteps—but also provides an enormous opportunity for growth.

My eleven-year-old daughter loves screens. She can lose herself for hours in streaming shows or watching YouTube gamers play her favorite Nintendo titles, sometimes while she’s playing those same games herself. Because she loves these things so much (and they’re so designed to keep her hooked), we’ve created a structure to help her develop self-management skills: the screen-time dollar system.

“Trust.”

That’s what my 13-year-old daughter tells me at least once a week.

She says this when I’m encroaching on her autonomy—“It’s cold outside, are you going to wear a jacket?” or “Do you have homework tonight?” And she’s right. I do need to trust.

I taught middle and high school from 1999 to 2009 — long before Chromebooks, Google Classroom, and AI became part of students’ daily lives. You might think a decade in the classroom would have fully prepared me to parent my own two middle schoolers. In some ways it has. I understand adolescent development: their drive to experiment, to define their identity and autonomy, and their simultaneous need for clear expectations and boundaries.

But teaching looks very different today.