Deeper Learning

School left me feeling empty. As a 14-year-old navigating a pandemic, with social avenues shut down and support networks scattered I felt disconnected from almost everything. When school is society's only expectation for students like me, there was nowhere to hide my frustration. Day after day, I sat bored out of my mind, wondering if this was all there was.

Then 2021 changed everything. Attending High Tech High Mesa became a pivotal moment in my life. I found mentors who challenged me, friends who laughed with me, and a head start on professional connections that would transform my trajectory.

One connection that resonates most deeply is the Deeper Learning community. Each year, nearly a thousand people gather for the Deeper Learning conference hosted by the HTH Graduate School of Education. It's a place that doesn't just explore the future of education—it legitimized my experience as someone who always felt education needed a complete rethink. Suddenly, I saw the possibility of helping reshape learning not as a thought experiment, but as something I could actually contribute to.

My connection to Ron Berger began long before we met in person at DL23. Years earlier, my mom had translated An Ethic of Excellence into Japanese, not knowing how deeply its message would one day resonate with her son. So when I was chosen to support Ron at his "Dive into Disco" Deep Dive session, it felt like the universe folding in on itself—part serendipity, part legacy, and part recognition that we were kindred thinkers.

That session crackled with energy. People were eager to reconnect, and we dove headfirst into exploring disco's cultural significance—analyzing primary sources, unearthing its relevance to marginalized communities, and drawing parallels between the social upheaval of Demolition Night and the protests of our time. It culminated in the only appropriate way: giant afros, sequined pants, and an impromptu dance floor where the music spoke louder than words.

But beyond the sparkle, what stuck with me most was the concept of crew. "Crew" is a deceptively simple term, but when spoken in our circles, it carries profound weight. It means taking responsibility for the whole and showing up not just for yourself, but for others. We were crew when we moved desks together. We were crew when we danced, vulnerable and unafraid.

It made me wonder: could that same energy exist in a traditional classroom? Could 28 sophomores—each carrying different backgrounds, economic realities, cultures, and traumas—form a real crew? Not just a cohort, not just classmates, but a crew. Could we design classrooms that didn't just tolerate diversity, but built bonds strong enough to embrace and celebrate it?

That question still echoes in me.

After volunteering as a student ambassador at DL23, I returned to DL24 with my own workshop on practices for transformative communities and deeper connection from a student perspective. Then, in summer 2024, something extraordinary happened. Kana Ashida, a former HTH GSE graduate, partnered with Tomotake Damon, Etsuko Tsukagoshi, Sato Fujiwara, Hanako Fujiwara, Charlette, DJ Midori, and Ron Berger as keynote speaker to host the first-ever Deeper Learning Japan in Tokyo and Kyoto. This opened doors to an entirely new realm of possibility.

Even in Japan, where educational systems face even greater pressure to conform to rigid standards, I witnessed something powerful. After joining a community of educators who, like me, carry a strong desire to reshape education for the next generation—and who truly live that commitment in their work and in who they are—I understood the transformative power of this movement. I've never felt more at ease knowing that good things are happening in the world, and that I can be part of them.

People often try to define Deeper Learning—as a framework, a philosophy, maybe even a feeling. If you asked me to recite the Deeper Learning competencies, I could list them for you. But honestly, the work isn't about what the words say. It's about what they mean. That gray space—that ambiguity—is where some people thrive and others recoil. But that's true education: messy, authentic, transformative.

Raising children, guiding students, witnessing someone come into themselves—it's all beautifully chaotic. It's ink splotches, crooked paint lines, and half-formed ideas slowly taking shape. Maybe that's exactly the point. Deeper Learning gives educators just enough structure to resist conforming to systems that kill curiosity, flatten joy, and strip students of authenticity. Ask ten educators how they embody it, and you'll get ten wildly different answers. That's the beauty.

Our growth emerges from fleeting, often quiet moments—acts of kindness, moments of reflection, instances of openness—that leave lasting marks on who we become. It's hard to quantify what a conference like this accomplishes. Will it lead to measurably better outcomes in every district that participates? Who knows. But when people doing hard work in distant places laugh together, open up about their challenges, and remind each other they're not alone—that's transformation too.