There is a sentence I hear everywhere now: “We’ve made it easier.”
Schools say it. Employers say it. Banks say it. Apartment complexes say it. Every company that wants you to download another application says it.
Easier for whom?
I have three children in three different schools. I spent years working as a principal. I know why schools send information home. I know why procedures exist. I know how hard school employees work to keep families informed. And I also know that the volume of information families are expected to process has become absurd.
There are building newsletters, district newsletters, teacher messages, parent portals, classroom platforms, athletic registrations, lunch accounts, transportation notices, attendance procedures, field-trip permissions, health forms, technology agreements, and handbooks. Each has its own location. Some require a password. Others send you a link to a place where you need another password.
Then something goes wrong, and the answer is: “Didn't you read the email?”
Which email?
Sending information is not the same thing as communicating it. A district can document that a message went out without establishing that the people who needed it understood it, remembered it, or could reasonably find it when they needed it.
Think about picking up your own child from school. Of course the school should verify who you are. Of course safety matters. But after your identity and authority have been confirmed, why should a routine pickup require navigating a maze of procedures that changes from building to building? The objective is to get the child safely to the authorized adult. Everything else should be judged by whether it helps accomplish that.
We keep mistaking a procedure for a solution.
And this isn't just about schools.
Try applying for a job. Before you can even tell an employer why you're qualified, you may need to create an account, verify an email, enter information already on your résumé, and remember yet another password. Apply somewhere else, and you start again.
Try renting a place. You may need an account to view the listing, another to submit the application, another to pay, and another to communicate with management. Even ordering food or parking a car can come with a request to download an app.
Every organization has optimized its own little piece of the process. Nobody seems responsible for what happens when all those little pieces land on the same person.
That is the part we aren't measuring: the time transferred to the customer, the parent, the applicant, the patient, or the employee.
A task that used to take two minutes at a counter now requires a login, a verification code, an update, and a password reset. The organization may save labor. The individual inherits it.
I am not against technology. I use it every day to write, research, record, edit, and publish. Some technology genuinely makes life better. But that should be the test. Does this tool make the actual task simpler for the person who has to complete it?
If a system requires a five-page explanation and three reminder emails, maybe the answer isn't a fourth reminder.
Maybe the answer is a simpler system.
We should be asking schools and every other organization a question they rarely seem to ask themselves: What could we stop requiring?
Not what new platform could we purchase. Not what new form could we add. What could we remove?
Because a family shouldn't have to become a part-time systems administrator just to participate in ordinary life.
We've made everything easier.
For whom?
