WHEN BILLIONAIRES BUILT A TEACHER
THE GLORIOUS DESTRUCTION OF PUBLIC EDUCATION OR THE DISRUPTION WILL BE MONETIZED
There's a particular species of billionaire—let's call them Homo Disrupticus—who wakes up every morning, sips a $47 adaptogenic mushroom latte, and asks themselves: "What ancient human institution can I turn into an app today?"
They've already conquered taxis (Uber), hotels (Airbnb), and the entire concept of "having friends over for dinner" (DoorDash). But there remained one final boss level in the game of late-stage capitalism: the public school teacher.
That 19th-century relic. That union-protected, pension-having, summer-vacation-enjoying dinosaur who insists on teaching all children—even the unprofitable ones—how to read.
How quaint. How inefficient. How ripe for disruption.
Welcome to 2026, where the chalkboard has been replaced by the chatbot, where "school choice" means choosing between Algorithm A and Algorithm B, and where the phrase "personalized learning" has been so thoroughly weaponized that it now means "your child, alone, staring at a screen for seven hours while a billionaire's stock portfolio grows."
This is the story of how we got here. Pour yourself a drink. You'll need it.
ACT I: THE GOSPEL OF DISRUPTION (Or: How We Learned to Privatize Everything)
The Prophet Clayton and His Holy Text
In 2008, Clayton Christensen—Harvard Business School professor and patron saint of creative destruction—published Disrupting Class. The thesis was seductive in its simplicity: Public education is a "monopoly" suffering from "sustaining innovation" (incremental improvements). What it needs is "disruptive innovation" (radical, market-based transformation).
The book became the Bible of education reform. Venture capitalists clutched it to their chests. Charter school advocates quoted it like scripture. And somewhere in Silicon Valley, a 23-year-old Stanford dropout read it and thought: "I could build that. And I could make it profitable."
The philosophy was elegant:
- Find the "non-consumers": Students who are failed by the current system (dropouts, rural kids, special needs).
- Offer a "good enough" alternative: Online courses, adaptive software, AI tutors—cheaper and more scalable than human teachers.
- Move upmarket: Once the technology improves, it replaces the "overserved" mainstream.
- Collect the spoils: Public funding follows the student. The student follows the app. The app belongs to... well, you can guess.
It's the same playbook that destroyed Blockbuster, Barnes & Noble, and every mom-and-pop taxi service. Except this time, the "product" being disrupted is your child's cognitive development.
What could go wrong?
The Unbundling of Childhood
Historically, a public school was a "bundle":
- Academics (reading, math, science)
- Socialization (learning to share, argue, make up, and not bite)
- Childcare (so parents can work)
- Nutrition (breakfast and lunch programs)
- Safety net (counselors, nurses, social workers who notice the bruises)
But bundles are so 20th century. The disruptors saw an opportunity: What if we could slice this apart and sell each piece separately?
By 2026, the "unbundling" is nearly complete:
- Academics: Outsourced to AI tutors (Khanmigo, MagicSchool, Duolingo Max).
- Socialization: Replaced by "supervised playdates" you book through an app (think Uber for recess).
- Childcare: Your problem now. Or pay for "learning pods" run by gig-economy "facilitators" with no teaching credentials.
- Nutrition: Here's a QR code for a meal delivery service. (Venture-backed, naturally.)
- Safety net: LOL.
The beauty of unbundling? You can charge for each piece. And if a family can't afford the full package? Well, that's called "school choice," sweetheart. They chose poverty.
ACT II: THE RISE OF THE ROBO-TEACHER (Or: I, For One, Welcome Our New Silicon Overlords)
The Teacher as "Triple Threat" (And How AI Killed Two-Thirds of Her)
Let's be honest: Teachers have always been overworked and underpaid. They were expected to be:
- Content Expert (the "Sage on the Stage")
- Administrator (grading, attendance, paperwork)
- Mentor (the human who notices when a kid is struggling and cares)
AI didn't disrupt all three roles equally. It went for the low-hanging fruit first.
Disruption #1: The Death of the Lecture
Why listen to Ms. Miller explain the Pythagorean theorem when an AI can:
- Explain it in 50 different ways
- Tailor the explanation to your interests ("Here's how Pythagoras applies to Minecraft redstone circuits!")
- Never get tired, never get frustrated, never need a bathroom break
By 2026, the "lecture" is dead. Teachers are now "curators" and "facilitators"—fancy words for "the person who makes sure the kids don't just ask the AI to do their homework."
Disruption #2: The Administrative Dividend
Teachers used to spend 40% of their time on paperwork. AI has "liberated" them from this drudgery by automating:
- Grading: AI reads essays, checks math, provides instant feedback.
- Differentiation: AI generates 30 versions of the same reading passage, each tailored to a different reading level.
- Parent emails: AI drafts the "Your child is struggling" message. The teacher just hits "send."
This is sold as a gift to teachers. "Now you have more time for the human stuff!"
Except... the "human stuff" isn't scalable. It doesn't generate data. It can't be monetized. So guess which part gets cut when the budget tightens?
Disruption #3: The Mentor Becomes Optional
Here's the quiet part out loud: If AI can teach and grade, why do we need teachers at all?
The answer, in 2026, is that we don't—at least, not as many. The new model is:
- 1 "Lead Learner" (formerly "teacher") per 50-100 students
- AI handles instruction (via adaptive platforms)
- Gig-economy "coaches" (no benefits, no job security) handle discipline and tech support
The billionaires call this "efficiency." The rest of us call it "mass layoffs with a TED Talk."
ACT III: A DAY IN THE LIFE OF AN AI CLASSROOM (Or: Black Mirror, But Make It Educational)
Let's visit a "cutting-edge" AI-integrated school in 2026. Grab your visitor badge. Try not to make eye contact with the venture capitalists touring the building.
7:30 AM – The Teacher's "Command Center"
Ms. Miller arrives. No coffee in the teacher's lounge (it was converted into a "server room" for the AI infrastructure). She opens her dashboard.
AI Briefing: "Good morning! 12 students didn't complete last night's adaptive module. 3 haven't logged in for 48 hours. Student #4187 (formerly known as 'Jamal') is showing 'engagement dip indicators.' Recommend intervention."
Ms. Miller sighs. She teaches 150 students across five "learning cohorts." She can't remember all their names, but the AI can. It knows Jamal better than she does—his click patterns, his hesitation time, his biometric stress markers from the mandatory Fitbit.
She asks her AI assistant to generate three "hooks" for today's lesson. It spits out options in 4 seconds. She picks one. She used to spend hours on lesson plans. Now she spends hours wondering if she's still a teacher or just a middle manager for a robot.
8:30 AM – Personalized Learning (AKA: Everyone Stares at a Screen)
Students arrive. No morning meeting. No "How was your weekend?" Just: "Log in. Begin your adaptive module."
- Sarah (gifted track) gets a quantum physics simulation.
- Leo (remedial track) gets basic fractions—again.
- Jamal (the "engagement dip" kid) gets a notification: "You're falling behind! Unlock bonus XP by completing this module!"
Gamification. Personalization. Isolation.
Ms. Miller walks the room. Her tablet pings: "Leo stuck on Problem 2." She kneels beside him. He's been stuck for 6 minutes. The AI didn't help—it just narced.
"Why didn't you ask for help?" she whispers.
Leo shrugs. "I didn't want to bother you."
There are 34 other kids in this room. She's the only human.
10:00 AM – The "Immersive" Lesson (Or: AR Can't Hug You)
The class puts on AR headsets. Today: Ancient Rome.
They "walk" through a digital Forum. An AI chatbot—dressed as a Roman merchant—answers questions. It's historically accurate. It's engaging. It's... lonely.
A student raises her hand. "Ms. Miller, why did the Romans—"
"Ask the AI," Ms. Miller says, because she's been told to "let the technology do the teaching."
The student lowers her hand. She doesn't ask the AI. She just... stops wondering.
1:00 PM – The "Unbundled" Workshop (Or: Chaos with a Rubric)
Project time. The room splits:
- Station 1: Students use AI to generate a song about thermodynamics. None of them understand thermodynamics. But the song slaps.
- Station 2: Ms. Miller leads a Socratic seminar with 8 students. It's the best part of her day. It's also the part that will be cut next year because it "doesn't scale."
3:30 PM – The Grading That Isn't Grading
School ends. Ms. Miller opens her AI grading assistant. It's already scored 150 essays. It's drafted personalized feedback.
She reviews. Changes a few comments. Adds a smiley face emoji to one. Hits "send."
She's done in 45 minutes. She used to spend 4 hours on this.
She should feel grateful.
Instead, she feels obsolete.
ACT IV: WHY EQUITY IS NO LONGER THE GOAL (Or: The Quiet Part Out Loud)
Here's the thing about "disruption": It's not designed to help everyone. It's designed to help the people who can pay.
The AI Divide
By 2026, there are two kinds of schools:
- The "AI-Enhanced" Schools (wealthy districts): AI is a tool. Teachers still teach. Class sizes are small. Students learn to use AI critically.
- The "AI-Replaced" Schools (poor districts): AI is the teacher. One "facilitator" per 100 kids. Students learn to obey AI uncritically.
Guess which one your kid attends? (Hint: Check your ZIP code.)
The Death of the "Public" in Public Education
The endgame of "school choice" isn't choice—it's privatization.
- Charter schools: Publicly funded, privately run, selectively enrolled.
- Vouchers/ESAs: Public money funneled to private (often religious) schools.
- AI platforms: Subscription-based. Your tax dollars pay for the license. The billionaire owns the data.
The "public" school—the one that has to educate every child, regardless of profit margin—is being starved, defunded, and dismantled.
And when it finally collapses? The disruptors will point to the rubble and say: "See? Government doesn't work. Let the market fix it."
Equity? That's So 2019
The old goal of public education was equity: Every child, regardless of background, deserves a quality education.
The new goal is efficiency: Maximize outcomes per dollar spent.
And here's the problem: Equity is expensive.
- Special needs students? Expensive.
- English language learners? Expensive.
- Kids with trauma? Expensive.
AI doesn't want to teach them. It's not profitable. So they get the cheapest version of the "personalized" platform—the one that just keeps them quiet and clicking.
The billionaires call this "meeting students where they are."
The rest of us call it educational triage.
ACT V: THE NEW GRADING POLICIES (Or: How to Measure a Soul)
To "survive" the AI disruption, schools are changing how they grade. Because if AI can write a perfect essay, what are we even grading anymore?
From Product to Process
Schools now require:
- Version history: Prove you wrote it yourself, one painful draft at a time.
- Oral defenses: Explain your essay out loud. If you can't, you plagiarized (or the AI did).
- Process journals: Write about how you used AI. (Yes, you now have to write an essay about writing an essay.)
It's more authentic. It's also exhausting. And it assumes every kid has the metacognitive skills to narrate their own learning.
Spoiler: They don't.
Competency-Based Grading (AKA: You Never Escape)
No more A-F grades. Now you're graded on "mastery" of "durable skills."
Sounds great, right? Except:
- You can retake assessments forever (which means teachers are grading the same test 47 times).
- "Mastery" is defined by the AI (which is trained on data from... who, exactly?).
- You never actually graduate (because there's always another "micro-credential" to earn).
It's the gamification of education. You don't finish. You just... keep leveling up. Forever.
The "Un-Grading" Movement (Or: Feedback Without Accountability)
Some schools have abandoned grades entirely. Instead: continuous feedback.
The AI gives you notes. The teacher gives you notes. You revise. Repeat.
It's humane. It's growth-oriented. It's also impossible to scale without burning out every teacher in America.
And when the teacher quits? The AI keeps going. Alone.
EPILOGUE: THE BILLIONAIRE'S DREAM (And Our Nightmare)
Let's end where we began: with the billionaire.
He's in his Palo Alto office, watching the dashboard. Every click, every quiz, every "engagement metric" from 10 million students flows into his servers.
He doesn't see children. He sees data.
He doesn't see teachers. He sees inefficiencies.
He doesn't see a public good. He sees a market.
And he's winning.
The Endgame
By 2030, if current trends continue:
- 50% of teachers will be gone (replaced by AI + gig workers).
- Public schools will serve only the "unprofitable" students (poor, disabled, traumatized).
- The middle class will pay twice: once in taxes (for the public system they don't use), again in subscriptions (for the AI platforms they do).
- The wealthy will still have human teachers (because they always do).
This is the "disruption" we were promised. Not innovation. Destruction.
CODA: WHAT DO WE DO NOW?
If you've made it this far, you're probably either:
- Enraged (good—use that)
- Despairing (understandable—but not useful)
- A billionaire (hello! please stop)
Here's the truth: Technology isn't the enemy. Privatization is.
AI could be a tool that frees teachers to do the human work of teaching. But only if:
- Teachers control the tools (not venture capitalists).
- Public funding stays public (no vouchers, no ESAs, no "school choice" scams).
- Equity remains the goal (not efficiency, not profit).
The fight isn't over. But we're running out of time.
Because the billionaires have already built the teacher.
Now we have to decide: Do we let them replace the human?
THE END (Or is it?)
Author's Note: This article was written by a human. For now. Check back in 2027.
