That’s where it started. I was a teenager working at Ivy Hills Country Club, learning how to roll clay courts, line baselines, and scrape off the dried teneco when it got too thick. I knew how to hustle. I knew how to show up. But I didn’t know I had something to give.
Enter Brett.
He didn’t just teach me how to coach, he taught me how to carry myself. How to speak with purpose. How to hold the line when nobody’s watching. There was a precision to the way he ran things, but also a presence, like every interaction mattered. He wasn’t just building tennis instructors and players. He was building people.
He saw something in me early on. Maybe it was potential. Maybe it was stubbornness. Maybe he just needed another set of hands on the court. But whatever it was, he handed me a clipboard, a basket of balls, and a level of responsibility I didn’t think I’d earned yet. I stumbled through those first lessons, missed more targets than I hit, but he never pulled the plug. He let me grow.
And more than that – he expected me to.
Brett once told me, “Find a job that pays you even when you’re not working.” I’ve thought about that a lot over the years. At first, I thought it was financial advice. Now I know it’s about legacy. About being so present, so intentional, so damn all-in that your impact keeps echoing long after the bell rings or the last ball bounces.
Teaching is that job for me.
Some days, I still feel like the kid who couldn’t feed a forehand. But I carry Brett’s voice with me, in how I mentor kids, how I show up for colleagues, and how I keep raising the bar for myself. I try to be that person who sees someone before they see themselves.
My parents divorced when I was young. I spent most of my time with my mom and stepdad; and his mom, Irene.
For years, I wondered what to call her. Was she my grandma? Step-grandma? Something in-between? I spent too long trying to figure out a title, but looking back now, it didn’t matter. She didn’t need a label. She was just Irene. And she was one of the most important people in my life.
She lived to be 99. That alone is remarkable. But it’s not the number that sticks with me, it’s everything she lived through along the way. She survived breast cancer. Multiple strokes. Multiple heart attacks. She lost her eyesight to macular degeneration. Her hearing slowly faded. Her mobility declined. And yet, she was the happiest, most positive person I knew.
She’d sit at the kitchen table, smile wide, and tell me stories. About the year she got oranges for Christmas. About riding her horse, Jigs, to school in the cold, sometimes in the snow, like it was no big deal. Her voice would light up when she talked about those days. Not because they were easy, but because she had found joy in them.
Irene didn’t complain. She didn’t focus on what she’d lost. She focused on what she still had: people, memories, faith, and the ability to love. She’d ask about my day, even when she could barely hear the answer. She’d laugh even when she couldn’t see who was in the room. That shaped me.
Her strength didn’t show up in loud moments or big speeches. It showed up in the quiet way she kept going. In the way she kept finding good in the world, no matter how much the world took from her.
Irene didn’t need to be called Grandma. She was love, presence, joy, and grit, all in one. Sometimes the people who shape us most don’t come with official titles. They come with oranges at Christmas, a horse named Jigs, and stories that still echo long after they’re gone.
“Not sure if I should say good morning or good night as it is 1:40am. We were talking about school and you came up in the conversation. I wanted to thank you for making learning easier and enjoyable.”
That was the email. No subject line. No assignment attached. Just a student, up late, thinking, and choosing to send a thank you. I didn’t need anything more.
These kinds of messages hit different. They’re not about test scores. They’re not about grades. They’re about how the learning felt.
And let’s be honest: that phrase: ‘easier and enjoyable’ didn’t come from thin air. It came from structure. From intentional repetition. From low cognitive load with high cognitive payoff. It came from EduProtocols.
I get messages like this often. Not every now and then. Often. Kids will tell me in class or write a note after the year ends. They’ll say things like:
“I actually liked coming to your class.”
“We learned but it wasn’t stressful.”
“It felt like we were doing something different every day, but I could always keep up.”
“We actually create things in your class.”
That’s not magic. That’s the outcome of running Fast & Curious consistently. That’s what happens when we build Thin Slides into weekly routines. That’s what Thick Slides and Sketch & Tell allow for talking, processing, seeing, and remembering.
Students feel the difference when we stop overloading them and start giving them rhythm. EduProtocols create a culture where thinking becomes normal. Where success doesn’t depend on who finished the worksheet, but who was brave enough to share a thought.
And because of that rhythm, because they know what to expect, students actually engage. They don’t need every direction reexplained. They don’t need to ask, “What are we doing today?” Every protocol becomes a stepping stone toward learning how to learn.
It’s easy to think EduProtocols are just about efficiency. About lesson planning made easier. But they’re also about connection. They shift the cognitive load to students without turning school into a grind. They open the door for late night thank you emails that aren’t about content, but about feeling seen and capable.
That email wasn’t just a thank you. It was proof. Proof that EduProtocols aren’t just changing the workflow – they’re changing how students experience school.
In the past I have been asked, “How do you decide which EduProtocols to use, and how do you stack them together?”
On the surface, a rack and stacked lesson looks like it just works. Kids are engaged and the transitions are smooth. But there’s a lot of planning behind that flow. Decisions that start long before the first Gimkit or Frayer Model ever hits the board.
It’s not just about which EduProtocols I like. It’s about what kind of thinking the content demands, and what kind of thinking I want students to practice.
Start with the End in Mind
Every lesson starts with one question: What should students know or be able to do by the end of this?
For Manifest Destiny, I wanted students to understand the concept and controversy of the idea—why people believed in it, what it looked like, and how it’s viewed today. They needed to analyze both visual and written sources and make comparisons between historical and modern perspectives.
For the Nullification Crisis, the goal was to understand how tariffs sparked tension between state and federal power, and to analyze Jackson’s leadership through that conflict. This wasn’t about memorizing dates—it was about understanding motivations, perspectives, and consequences.
The learning targets were content-specific, but they were rooted in bigger historical thinking skills: sourcing, analyzing POV, sequencing causes and effects, and making comparisons.
Build the Stack Around Thinking, Not Just Activities
Here’s where the rack and stack comes in. I don’t start with a random list of EduProtocols. I think about how the brain learns (I’ll fully admit, no clue if these terms are correct, but it’s how I think about them):
That learning arc helps me organize the protocols in a way that makes sense.
My coauthor Scott Petri would always stack (sequence) EduProtocols in a way to help students create something/express themselves at the end of a lesson. An example of this is his use of Fast and Curious and Thin Slides throughout a lesson that would build to the Thin Slides being used for an Ignite Talk.
Manifest Destiny Stack
Fast & Curious: Vocabulary primer to retrieve key terms
Wicked Hydra: Generate questions from a controversial headline to spark curiosity
Sourcing Parts: Analyze the “American Progress” painting to tackle symbolism and sourcing
MiniReport: Synthesize a textbook excerpt and a modern article into a structured comparison
Nullification Crisis Stack
Fast & Curious: Start again with vocabulary retrieval
Frayer Model: Use student data to target the most-missed terms for clarity and fluency
Somebody-Wanted-But-So-Then: Sequence the conflict with a narrative lens
2xPOV: Explore Jackson vs. Calhoun’s stances through primary source excerpts
The protocols change, but the pattern doesn’t. Start with retrieval, build into context and complexity, and finish with a chance for students to show their creativity/knowledge.
Let the Content Shape the Thinking
The thinking flow stays the same, but I adapt it based on what the content demands.
Manifest Destiny is full of imagery, myth, and legacy. It asks students to wrestle with beliefs, intentions, and consequences. I use EduProtocols that bring those pieced to life through visuals, structured writing, and modern-day connections.
The Nullification Crisis, on the other hand, is rooted in power dynamics and constitutional interpretation. It’s about understanding who wanted what, why they clashed, and how it played out. So I lean into story structure and POV work to help students break it down.
I’m not asking, “Which protocols do I like?” I’m asking, “What kind of thinking does this content require?”
Some Skills Go Beyond the Content
There’s another layer here, too. Sometimes it’s not just about history skills, it’s about cognitive skills that matter long after students leave the classroom. I’m trying to take care of the present while preparing kids for the future.
Here are three skills I intentionally built into these stacks:
Adopting a Different Perspective: The POV Analysis protocol pushed students to consider two very different interpretations of the same conflict: Jackson and Calhoun’s views on states’ rights and federal authority. That’s more than a history lesson. That’s about being able to hold multiple perspectives in tension, something we all need more practice with in and out of school.
Synthesizing Messages: In the Manifest Destiny lesson, the MiniReport asked students to combine ideas from a traditional textbook and a more critical, modern article. They had to make sense of competing viewpoints and turn it into a coherent written product. That’s the kind of synthesis skill that transfers to writing, speaking, and decision making.
Asking the Right Questions: Wicked Hydra helped students generate their own questions from a provocative headline. We didn’t start with answers – we started with curiosity. That habit of inquiry matters. It helps students know what to ask when things get unclear or when they need to dig deeper, whether it’s in history or real life.
Final Thoughts
When I rack and stack, I’m not just filling time or tossing in a protocol because it’s fun. I’m designing a flow. A lesson that moves students from buiulding background knowledge/retrieval to confident creation – without burning them out along the way.
Even though the topics change, the thinking stays consistent:
Start with the goal
Build the sequence that supports the right kind of thinking
Keep the cognitive load manageable
Let students do the heavy lifting, at the right time, with the right support
If you’re just getting into racking and stacking, here’s my best advice:
Start small. Pay attention to the thinking each step requires. And when in doubt, ask: What do I want students to do with their brain next? That’s the question that drives everything I build.
After years of using EduProtocols, I’ve learned that a few always rise to the top, especially in a year with content to cover, AI to manage, and routines to maintain. These three protocols: Fast and Curious, Number Mania, and Thick Slides became the top 3 EduProtocols I used this year.
It set the tone for class, gave us quick retrieval, and got vocab into students’ brains before they needed to use it in a deeper task. I stuck with Quizizz most days and kept the sets short, tight, and tied directly to our content theme. Played it twice: once cold, once after a fast reteach or class discussion. Bonus if the class average hit our target, they earned 100% in the grade book.
How I used it:
Previewed key terms for units on Colonization, Constitution, Expansion, Industrialization, and Civil War
Included terms like mercantilism, urbanization, checks and balances, sectionalism
Built student buy-in by letting them submit terms to include
Used it mid-lesson when attention dipped or as a quick Friday review
Turned Quizizz class averages into a challenge: beat your Monday score by Friday
Fast and Curious Tip:
You can easily find premade quizzes on Gimkit or Quizizz – simple, easy, ready to go. However, I don’t often do that because they are not worded in a way that I teach or word things. So, I will often take the textbook section of readiongs for the week and upload those to ChatGPT. I have ChatGPT extract vocabulary words and create questions that fit with the content.
Number Mania
This protocol moved from a go to graphic organizer to one of the most powerful thinking routines I used all year.
At first, it was just about identifying meaningful numbers. But it quickly became the tool that helped students back up their claims with evidence, especially when layered into short writing tasks or argument structures.
How I used it:
After short readings on Jamestown survival rates, Revolutionary War casualties, Constitutional compromises, factory wages, and Civil War production
Students pulled 3 – 4 key numbers, paraphrased them, and explained their significance
Paired with icons, AI generated visuals, or short captions
Rolled right into Short Answer responses or “Divide the Pie” arguments
Posted top examples to Padlet and used them as models
The extension that worked best: I started requiring students to use two of their numbers in a Short Answer claim. For example: “Why was the North better positioned to win the Civil War?” They had to cite the railroad mileage, factory output, or population numbers they had just worked with. The writing was better because the thinking was already done.
Bonus variation: AI generated “Truth with Sprinkles” – I gave them a fake paragraph with incorrect numbers, and they had to fix it using their Number Mania notes. Quick, smart, and fun.
Thick Slides
This became my go to for synthesis and creative output.
Students got one slide to make their thinking visual. We used a set structure title, visuals, stat or quote, short summary and it let me see quickly who got the content and who needed help.
How I used it:
Wrapped up content from Colonial Regions, American Revolution, Industrialization, Reform Movements, and Civil War
Assigned AI image generation to visualize abstract concepts or quotes
Had students screenshot their slide and upload it to MagicSchool for feedback
Turned slides into gallery walks or Padlet posts to compare perspectives
The best variation this year: After students created their slide, I had them use it in a Divide the Pie activity. Each student argued which reformer, event, or region had the biggest impact—using only the details from their slide. It forced them to know what they made and defend it.
Final Thought
These three: Fast and Curious, Number Mania, and Thick Slides did more than fill time. They became a rhythm. Retrieval led to analysis. Analysis led to argument. Argument led to creative synthesis. They worked with any unit, played well with AI, and kept students focused.
Let me know if you want copies of my Number Mania prompts, Thick Slide templates, or how I stack these across a full week. Always happy to share.
Not long ago, I had a job interview where someone implied I might not be great at building relationships with students.
Fair enough. I get how I come off. I’m dry. I’m short and to the point. I’m introverted. I don’t do grand entrances. I’ve always been that way.
But if you think I can’t connect with kids—ask my students.
Coaching tennis helped me figure that out. When you’re on a court, you don’t have to be the loudest person in the room, you have to be on. You have to read the situation, encourage through frustration, and know when to step in or back off. Teaching is the same. Presence matters more than performance.
Over the years, my students have taught me more than I could ever teach them. I’ve seen middle schoolers walk into class after nights of chaos at home and still manage to be kind, still find ways to work hard. I’ve had students crack jokes that stopped me mid lesson. I’ve seen creativity in unexpected forms, a side conversation that turns into a brilliant project, a single sentence that says more than a five paragraph essay.
I’ve learned to listen more and assume less. I’ve learned that just showing up day after day matters more than people realize. And I’ve learned that connection doesn’t always look like a hug or a pep talk. Sometimes it looks like a quiet nod, a sarcastic comment, or a student hanging out in your room just a little too long after the bell.
I still have the letters. The artwork. And a letter of recommendation a student typed up for my Ohio Teacher of the Year application. Not because they had to, but because they wanted to.
So yeah, am I quiet? Definitely. But don’t mistake that for disconnected.
This year was tough. No sugarcoating it. I don’t know if it was being new at a school, trying to make the best out of a textbook that felt like a brick, or being told to follow it even when I knew it wasn’t right for the students. Structure? Absolutely. But textbook structure? Not it. The chapters were overloaded, the pacing felt artificial, and truth be told the cognitive load was off the charts.
A colleague reminded me of something simple: if students don’t know 95% of the vocabulary in a passage, comprehension will fall dramatically. That was us. All year. I watched kids stumble not just over words, but phrases and meanings we take for granted. For example, so many kids didn’t know the meaning of “conflict.” And it made everything feel harder, every reading, every discussion, every attempt to stretch thinking.
Still, I tried to keep showing up the only way I know how: with EduProtocols, lessons built on the science of learning, attention to cognitive load, and creativity. Some days? They worked. Some days? They didn’t. And honestly? The “not so great” days started to feel like they were outweighing the good ones.
But here’s what I can point to: these kids wrote. More than they ever had. I was told writing in social studies wasn’t part of their experience before this year. But we stuck with it Class Companion, Short Answer reps, writing routines, and honest feedback loops. It took time, it took struggle, but I watched growth happen on the page. That matters. That’s something.
I tried to raise the rigor, tried to stretch into DOK 2 and DOK 3 all year. But the climb was steep. I don’t know if I made an impact. Some days I really wonder. But then I hear my good friend and coauthor Dr. Scott Petri in my ear:
“Moler, you worry too damn much. Your worst day of teaching is probably someone’s best day.”
So here’s to holding onto that.
Here’s to writing gains, honest effort, and showing up—especially on the hard days.
And now: I’m onto new things. More to come on that in the future.
A kid once turned in an answer to question 3 that just said: “Answers will vary.” It was clearly Googled and lifted from a teacher Weebly page of TCI answer keys.
I looked at it, shook my head, and said, “If you’re going to cheat, at least cheat correctly.” Then I realized the question I asked didn’t require them to think – it just needed Google… or now, from AI.
We’re in a world where students can Google or AI their way through any worksheet. So instead of harder questions, or. ore questions, we need better ones. Questions that actually require students to think, reflect, and decide.
Here’s how I’ve started reworking my questions:
Old Question
Better Version
What caused the American Revolution?
If you were a colonist, which British action would’ve pushed you to rebel—and why?
What did the Great Compromise do?
Which Constitutional compromise matters most today? Defend your choice.
What is Manifest Destiny?
Would you have supported Manifest Destiny in the 1840s? Explain your POV.
What were working conditions like?
Create a pro-factory ad. Then explain what you left out—and why.
What’s federalism?
Draw a symbol of federalism. Explain how it shows two governments sharing power.
These shifts help because AI can explain the facts, but it can’t choose for the student. When students have to justify, reflect, or take a position, it brings their voice into the work. AI might help them brainstorm, but it can’t replace their thinking.
Add Simple Reflection
Asking better questions helps, but building in quick metacognition takes it further. Here are 3 go-to prompts I use:
“What was the hardest part of this task—and how did you deal with it?”
“What part of your answer are you most confident in?”
“What changed your thinking today?”
Nothing over the top, just 1–2 sentences. We do it after Sketch & Tell-o, Thick Slides, Number Mania, or a writing task. It keeps the focus on how they thought, not just what they said.
Focus on the Process
During our Industrialization unit, I gave students a fake, rosy paragraph about factory life. Instead of writing something new, I had them revise it using evidence from our Number Mania activity (factory rules, fines, wages, etc.). The magic happened in the follow up: “What did you change—and why?”
That’s where I got real thinking. Students weren’t just reporting facts. They were spotting spin, making decisions, and defending edits. That’s process.
Final Thought
If a chatbot can do the assignment better than your students, it’s time to change the assignment. Ask questions that need them. Build in time to reflect on the how, not just the what. Focus less on “finishing” and more on thinking out loud.
And when you start making these shifts, it’s eye-opening to see how much students have been relying on Google or AI to get by. The shortcuts get exposed, but so does the opportunity to help them become real thinkers.
There’s a growing perception in classrooms that when feedback or grading comes from AI, it feels less human. Students sometimes see it as impersonal, maybe a sign that the teacher doesn’t care. And to be honest? That feeling isn’t entirely wrong.
Part of good feedback is relationship. The tone, the nuance, the “I see you” moments that students pick up on when a teacher scribbles a star or writes “Nice!” in the margin. AI doesn’t do that. It can’t. So when students say it feels different, we should listen.
But here’s the other side of the story: AI feedback doesn’t have to replace the human part. AI can free us up to be more human. Instead of spending hours hand-marking spelling errors or rewriting the same comment over and over, teachers can let AI handle the routine, and then use class time for real conversations: mini-conferences, revision chats, side-by-side re-reads.
Some ways to make AI feel more human in your feedback loop:
Let students co-pilot: Have them ask AI for feedback and critique the response. Was it accurate? Helpful? What would they change?
Add a human layer: Record a short audio note responding to AI’s comments or add a sticky note that says “This is solid, especially that last sentence!”
Use AI as the start, not the end: “Here’s what the AI noticed, now let’s talk about what I noticed.”
In the end, AI can feel less human. But when we use it alongside teacher insight, not instead of it, it can lead to more feedback, more revision, and more meaningful learning.
Maybe it’s not about choosing between care and AI, it’s about using AI to create more space for care.
This week’s theme was “A Nation Prepares for War,” and I’ll be honest—I ran out of time. I really wanted to get into Reconstruction, but I refuse to gloss over material just to say I “covered” it. If I’m going to teach something, I’m going to do a thorough, intentional job. Otherwise, what’s the point?
It’s been a tough week. So I started Monday with something easy. Low prep. Low stress. But still effective.
We kicked off with a Gimkit that I ran twice—once for warm-up and once after feedback. It was packed with vocab and content-based questions: secession, sectionalism, Lincoln’s election, states’ rights, etc. A quick way to reactivate prior knowledge and see what stuck from last week.
Next, we jumped into a Thin Slide activity on Padlet. The prompt: Why did the South secede? I gave them a short reading to skim and told them to pick one word or phrase and one image that represented the core reason. But what made this one different was how we used AI.
Instead of finding an image, students used Padlet’s AI image generator. They entered a short phrase, made it their caption, and used the body of the post to explain what their image represented. That move—credit to the students—was gold. It made the captions matter. It made the explanations more thoughtful. And it gave them a creative outlet that still demanded analysis.
We wrapped the day with a blank map—labeling Union, Confederate, and Border States. I’ll admit, I don’t usually like blank maps. But sometimes the brain just needs a break. This was the break. A little coloring. A little labeling. Still purposeful, but low cognitive load to help everyone ease back in.
Tuesday – Sides of the Civil War
Tuesday’s lesson focused on understanding the advantages of each side heading into the Civil War. I kept it simple and familiar because I’m a big believer in reusing quality material when it works.
We started by running the same Gimkit again—this time as a Fast and Curious. The repetition wasn’t just for review—it was to reinforce accuracy and let students feel some early success. Their scores went up, and they felt it.
After that, students completed a Number Mania based on a short reading about Union advantages. The prompt was direct: Why did the Union have an advantage over the Confederacy in the Civil War?
Their task:
Include 4 numbers from the reading with paraphrased explanations
Add icons or images that helped visualize the data
Give it a title
Keep it clean, clear, and creative
This was a solid way to push students beyond just copying facts. They had to decide what numbers mattered and explain why.
We wrapped the day with a short EdPuzzle covering the four major battles: Fort Sumter, Gettysburg, Vicksburg, and Appomattox Courthouse. It was a simple close to the day, but effective. The video reinforced the bigger picture—how the war escalated, where it turned, and how it ended.
Wednesday & Thursday – Why Did People Fight?
This was the heart of the week, and it spanned two days. We started both days with a Quizizz for retrieval practice—Fast and Curious format again.
Then came the layered lesson. Students read a series of primary and secondary sources about different groups in the war: Union soldiers, Confederate soldiers, Black soldiers, and women. Afterward, they submitted four reasons for fighting through a Google Form.
Here’s where AI came in: I fed their responses into ChatGPT and asked it to create six categories based on student submissions. These included things like defending homeland, fighting for freedom, or protecting rights. I shared these categories back with the class.
From there, students completed a Divide the Pie activity:
Choose 5 of the 6 motivations
Assign each a percentage based on how influential they believed it was
Justify their thinking with specific details
It was reflective. It was writing-heavy. It worked.
Students weren’t just reciting facts—they were categorizing, weighing, and defending ideas. This is exactly what we need more of.
Friday – Wrapping Up the Theme with Netflix and Retrieval
Friday’s goal was simple: wrap up our “A Nation Prepares for War” theme and give students a creative outlet to show what they’d learned. We started with one last round of our Quizizz fast and curious—same questions from earlier in the week, but now serving as a final review. The ALL-class average was 85%, which was awesome, especially considering the quiz covered three weeks’ worth of content.
Next up: the Netflix template. I used an old template I’d saved (no idea where it originally came from), but it always works because it looks like an actual Netflix series layout. That visual hook alone helps students lock in.
The success criteria came straight from the yellow arrows in the template:
Slide 1: Series title, image, and a 3–4 sentence summary. They had to explain the division of states, why the South seceded, Fort Sumter, and reasons people were willing to fight.
Slide 2: Three creative episode titles—each tied to a big idea from our unit. Each episode needed a 2–4 sentence summary explaining the problem, the response, and the result.
To finish, I created a Magic School classroom for writing feedback. Students uploaded screenshots of their slides and received quick AI feedback. We had great conversations about the suggestions—what to take, what to ignore, and why. It’s not about AI replacing thinking; it’s about helping students reflect and revise.
This was a great way to end the theme. Students retrieved information, created something meaningful, and got instant feedback to grow their thinking. Simple. Structured. Creative. The way learning should be.
Moler's Musings 