Moving across the country was a big decision, but it turned out to be one of the best I’ve ever made.

This week marks 32 years in Washington State. Along the way, I’ve had a rewarding career, built lasting friendships, and, most importantly, met Gayle. This July, we’ll celebrate 20 years of marriage.

Looking back, I’m grateful I took the chance. Washington has been home for more than half my life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I was also honored to be one of seven faculty members receiving the award this year, and I want to congratulate the other six recipients. There are so many talented and dedicated people doing incredible work across this college, and I’m proud to be included alongside them.

What makes this especially meaningful to me is that this is now the third time I’ve received the award during my years at Clark College.

When I first came to Clark College in 2013 after many years working in industry, I never imagined something like this would happen once, let alone three times. Teaching has been one of the most meaningful chapters of my life. Exhausting at times? Absolutely. Frustrating sometimes? Of course. But also rewarding in ways that are difficult to explain unless you’ve worked closely with students and watched them slowly build their confidence.

I’ve always tried to bring a real-world perspective into the classroom. Technology changes fast. Sometimes faster than education can keep up with. I want students to see the reality of the field they are entering, not a cleaned-up version. That means learning technical skills, but also learning how to adapt, communicate, collaborate, solve problems, and keep learning when the tools inevitably change again next year.

Accessibility has also been a huge part of my teaching. As someone who is legally blind, I have never found this theoretical for me. It’s part of my daily life, and I’ve worked hard to make it a foundation of our Web Development program at Clark College.

And then there’s AI, which is obviously the elephant in the room right now.

I honestly don’t know exactly what the future holds for two-year Web Development programs. I think anybody claiming they fully know is probably fooling themselves a bit. The technology world is shifting incredibly fast right now, and higher education is trying to figure out where it fits in. Maybe in the future, it will become less a traditional web development degree and more an AI-first program centered on design, development, accessibility, problem-solving, and human-centered technology. I think we’re already starting to see that shift happen.

What I do know is that students still need guidance, mentorship, honesty, and people willing to help them navigate uncertainty.

What means the most to me about this award is knowing that students are part of the nomination process. That matters to me more than I can probably put into words.

To my students, past and present, thank you. Thank you for trusting me, pushing me, challenging me, making me laugh, and occasionally putting up with my long stories and stubbornness.

And to my colleagues across Clark College, thank you as well. None of us does this work alone. I’ve been fortunate to work with incredibly thoughtful and supportive people over the years, and I’ve learned a great deal from all of you.

I also want to acknowledge many of my friends who may be reading this. A lot of you have helped shape who I am in ways you probably don’t even realize. Some of you are friendships I’ve kept since childhood, while others came from previous jobs, industry work, organizations, and different chapters of my life over the years. Some of you have been there through career changes, personal struggles, difficult moments, successes, losses, long conversations, random technology debates, music discussions, and all the twists and turns life throws at people over the years. All of that matters more than people sometimes say out loud.

And finally, to my family, including my wife Gayle and my parents, thank you for helping shape the person I am today. Your support, patience, honesty, and encouragement carried me through more than you probably realize.

I’m deeply grateful for all of it.

This was only my second application in 14 years, so I would be lying if I said I was not disappointed. Interestingly, both of my sabbatical proposals over those 14 years focused on accessibility and AI, two areas I believe are increasingly important.

This latest proposal focused on reworking Intro to Programming and Problem Solving to make it more accessible and to thoughtfully integrate more AI into the course. It is also a foundational course in our Web Development program, so changes to it could affect students throughout the entire pathway.

Although I did not receive it, I am still proud of the work I proposed. Accessibility matters. AI is changing everything around us, and our courses need to evolve with it. Students deserve learning experiences that meet them where they are and prepare them for where the world is heading.

Congratulations to the faculty who received sabbaticals. Sabbaticals are important, and I know the work they are doing will benefit students, programs, and the college as a whole.

Right now, I am on FMLA leave, which gives me a moment to step back and reflect. I still believe deeply in the ideas behind this proposal. Accessibility and AI are not passing trends. They are part of the future, and I hope the work I outlined eventually makes its way into the classroom in one form or another.

For the first time since COVID, I was back teaching full-time in person. This quarter, I taught Intro to Programming and Problem Solving (CS50P), PHP with SQL 1, and Web Interface Design. Walking back into full classrooms again felt good. There is something about hearing students talk before class starts, seeing whiteboards filled, watching students help each other, and feeling the energy in the room that you simply cannot recreate online.

I’ll be honest, though. Teaching full-time in person really drains you. There’s something about it that feels like being part of an interactive educational show. You’re on your feet, constantly moving, reading the room, trying to keep students interested, answering questions, shifting gears, and making sure no one gets left behind. That gets harder with age, and by the end of some days, I definitely feel it.

Attendance was close to 100% throughout the quarter. Participation counts for 30% of the grade, which certainly helps, but students still had to choose to show up, be engaged, ask questions, contribute, and work with each other. They did, and that meant a lot. College works better when people are actually in the room together.

There were some struggles, too. One of the software development tools we needed was not accessible in our classrooms, so students had to spend the first 15 to 20 minutes of class installing it on their own devices before we could even begin. That became an unexpected routine for a while. It was frustrating, and it took away valuable class time. That is probably a story for another day.

Students today are different from those they were six years ago. Their confidence has changed. Their communication styles have evolved. Their attention spans are shorter. The world has shaped them differently. However, one thing remains the same: students still seek connection, support, structure, encouragement, and someone who believes in them.

This quarter reminded me why I still love teaching. There is something special about a full classroom, pizza days, rubber ducks on tables, group work, inside jokes, and the quiet student who finally raises their hand for the first time.

I am grateful for all of it.

And thank you to Juniper, Katie, Theo, Tiffany, Chef Earl, Niira, Fellene, Robert, Tom, Zach, Karl, Adam, Lucy, David, Rongxin, and, of course, Gayle for helping make the quarter a success.

This week, during one of my coding classes, an unexpected lesson in financial responsibility took place. Students were happily using Copilot in Visual Studio Code to assist them with their programming questions until their tokens suddenly ran out.

RUT ROH!

Suddenly, the class conversation shifted from “Prompt the AI again” to “Maybe I should think about this for a minute.” Not even their rubber ducks could help them solve this situation.

Budget your resources, ask better questions, and take the time to think. It turns out that learning to code and learning to manage money have something in common.

Lesson learned: sometimes the best teacher in the room is a token limit.
AI Tokens and the Value of Thinking First

I asked him how his day was going, and he told me it wasn’t going so well. I asked why, and he explained a challenge he was facing with learning a specific baking technique. I could tell it was really weighing on him.

He mentioned that the college was teaching it differently from how he had learned it on YouTube, and he was struggling mentally. I could tell.

I then introduced myself, shared what I teach at the college, and told him a story I often share with my students.

Before attending Stevens Institute of Technology, I took a summer course on the Fortran programming language. I told him how much I struggled and how the course brought me to tears. So much so that I didn’t want to attend college in the fall. I did wind up passing the course with a passing grade.

I also reminded him that I now teach what I once struggled with and how much joy it brings me now. I think I made his day, and I plan to check in with him tomorrow.

He thanked me for sharing my story, and I saw him break into a big smile.

Hello one and all,

Let me tell you something that makes a bigger difference than most people realize: caring matters.

When you care about your work, your classmates, and your instructor, it shows. It shows in the way you write code, how you communicate, how you follow through, and how you respond when things do not go your way. Believe me, people can feel it.

Caring is not about trying to impress anyone; it’s about being genuine. It is about respect. It is about saying, “I value this class, the people in it, and the time we are all putting into it.” You can show care in simple ways that carry a great deal of weight. Come to Student Hours. Send a message in Canvas or Slack when you need help. Please let me know if anything is unclear or if you encounter any difficulties. Those small things tell me you care, and they make it much easier for me to show up for you.

When I see students who take extra time to ask a question, share an idea, or put in real effort, I notice it every time. You do not have to be perfect. You do not even have to know what you are doing half the time. What matters is that you care enough to try, to learn, and to connect.

The truth is, caring is contagious. When you care, others start to care too. That is how a class turns into a community.

Let us keep that energy going. It makes this whole thing worth it.

Bruce

In the piece, I reflect on how AI has quietly established itself in our daily lives, including my own morning routine. Yet, far more importantly, I raise the deeper question: modern AI systems are astonishing at pattern recognition and prediction, but what does it mean to know something today? I asked, “What does it mean to know something in 2025?”

I remain committed to helping students do more than just use AI. It’s not enough to hand over the facts. We must guide them toward understanding the story behind the facts, the reasoning behind tools, and the ethics behind technology. In my classes, I emphasize that AI is not neutral. It mirrors the choices and incentives of its creators; it may “know what’s right” but not why it’s right.

One concrete approach I’ve shared: an AI-driven version of the old rubber duck debugging trick. Students explain their thinking step by step, now supplemented by an AI “duck” that doesn’t give answers but provokes thought. It’s about building reasoning, not shortcutting it.

If you’re curious about how AI influences education, ethics, or simply how we live and work, I invite you to read the full article over at Clark College, reflect on the questions raised, and decide where you stand. The future won’t wait.

Here’s my slide deck >

After today, I’m convinced. Starting this winter, I’ll be bringing my courses back to being fully in person. I’ll still have a few online sections, but not many. My goal is to get them all back to the classroom eventually. There’s an energy and rhythm that come from being together that technology can’t replicate.

Because it was our first in-person class in a while, I handed out rubber ducks to each student. They’re part of how I teach coding, a symbol of debugging, reflection, and patience. Watching students line them up on their laptops made me grin. It reminded me that learning works best when it’s hands-on, a little playful, and shared with others.

To top it off, my morning class enjoyed cookies, pumpkin loaf, and scones from the Clark College bakery. For a moment, the room felt like a true community again, warm, curious, and connected.

There’s also an honesty to being in a physical classroom. You can’t hide behind AI or a screen. You have to show up, think on your feet, and engage. That’s where the real learning happens. And yes, I’m still an AI proponent. My students use it, and I teach them how to use it responsibly. However, AI doesn’t replace the value of showing up, questioning ideas, or learning face-to-face.

Technology has its place, but the best learning still happens when we share the same energy, the same attention, and the same spark that only real presence can create.

After five hours of what can only be described as interactive educational theater, I’m wiped. But in the best possible way.

Fellow educators, have you experienced this difference as well?