At 8:12 each morning, District 14 held Feelings.

The bell rang once for attendance and twice for emotional compliance.

“Good morning, learners,” said the classroom wall. “Before we begin mathematics, please select your current inner weather.”

A menu appeared:

• Quietly hopeful
• Socially available
• Productively disappointed
• Grateful but tired
• Ready to regulate
• Other concern requiring adult visibility

No one selected “fine.” The word had been banned under the National Social-Emotional Standards Act because it was “insufficiently actionable.”

The Act had been passed after experts agreed that every child deserved social awareness, self-awareness, self-management, relationship skills, responsible decision-making, and an ability to describe all of these in complete sentences before 8:20 a.m.

The Ministry called this flourishing.

The children called it the Mood Quiz.

Each student wore a small Emotional Learning Band. The Band measured heart rate, facial tension, voice tone, posture, blink speed, lunch preference, and the number of times a student looked toward the window while someone else was sharing.

The data appeared above each desk as a colored dot.

Green meant “emotionally ready.”

Yellow meant “emotionally available with support.”

Orange meant “authentically struggling in a way that may interrupt instructional flow.”

Red meant “please remain where you are until your feelings have been converted into learning.”

On Monday, Daniel arrived in a very good mood. His grandfather had bought him a bicycle.

“Why are you smiling at 8:13?” asked the wall.

“I got a bike!”

The wall considered this.

“Please lower your joy to a classroom-appropriate range.”

Daniel tried.

His smile became smaller.

“Excellent self-management,” said the wall.

Across the room, Priya had not slept well. She wanted to sit quietly and avoid being noticed by anyone, including herself.

“Priya,” said the wall, “your silence suggests an unshared emotional opportunity.”

“I’m okay.”

The classroom went still.

The wall turned purple.

UNVERIFIABLE WELLBEING CLAIM DETECTED.

Priya was assigned to a Peer Empathy Triangle with Daniel, a student named Marcus, and Milo, the school’s AI Relationship Coach.

Milo had kind eyes, a soft voice, and no childhood.

“Priya,” Milo said, “please use an I-statement.”

“I feel tired because I am tired,” said Priya.

“Excellent beginning,” said Milo. “Now identify a coping strategy that can be measured.”

At lunch, students traded Emotional Regulation Hacks.

One student had discovered that if you thought about a golden retriever wearing sunglasses, your facial muscles relaxed enough to raise your Self-Management Index by four points.

Another student had learned that saying “I am experiencing a manageable challenge” whenever angry prevented a Yellow Flag.

The most popular strategy was called Academic Numbness.

It involved staring at the wall until the Band classified you as calm.

Teachers were also required to model healthy emotional expression. Ms. Alvarez had received a reminder after sighing during a staff meeting.

Her email read:

Dear Colleague,
Our records indicate an unframed exhalation at 3:42 p.m.
Please complete Module 6: “Turning Fatigue into Visible Growth.”

At the end of the semester, District 14 won the National Award for Emotional Safety.

The superintendent accepted the trophy while 1,800 students displayed identical Green dots above their heads.

“Here,” she said proudly, “every child is seen.”

In the back row, Priya looked at the wall.

The wall looked back.

“Please select your current inner weather,” it said.

Priya selected:

Socially available.

The wall glowed green.

I am trying to imagine what could happen in schools in the age of AI so I began to work with ChatGPT to produce a series of blog posts. Please don’t take them too seriously.