Captain Peg used to trust the 'official record' without question.
The Navy transcripts. The standardized protocols. The neat columns of numbers that told him who was 'good' and who was 'bad.' Who deserved promotion and who didn't. Who was smart and who was struggling.
He learned the hard way that the most important knowledge isn't always written down. That a sailor's courage couldn't be measured on a spreadsheet. That a leader's empathy didn't show up in a performance review. That the crew members who saved the ship during the storm weren't always the ones with the highest test scores.
Your child's report card is the same. It's missing the best parts.
We've been sold a lie. A simple, easy-to-digest, one-size-fits-all lie that's been packaged as 'accountability' and 'standards' and 'excellence.'
The lie is that a handful of numbers can define a child. That a letter grade can capture their curiosity. That a standardized test score can predict their future. That intelligence is a single thing that can be measured with bubbles on a page.
It's a lie that serves the system, not the child. It makes things easy for administrators and policymakers. It creates tidy spreadsheets and clean data sets. It allows politicians to claim they're 'holding schools accountable.'
But it comes at a staggering cost.
It creates a world where millions of children believe they're 'average' or 'below average' simply because their genius doesn't fit in the boxes. Where a child who can build a robot from scratch gets a C in science because they can't memorize the periodic table. Where a natural storyteller fails English because they struggle with grammar worksheets.
As the National Education Association puts it bluntly, standardized tests are "inaccurate, inequitable, and often ineffective" at gauging what students actually know [1]. They don't measure creativity, critical thinking, or collaboration. They don't reward innovation; in fact, they often penalize students who think outside the box [2].
In other words, standardized tests measure privilege, not potential.
This isn't just an abstract policy debate. There's a human cost. A cost measured in anxiety, stress, and shattered confidence.
Research shows that children in high test anxiety groups have significantly lower performance on standardized tests of reading comprehension than children in low anxiety groups [3]. Some children's cortisol levels; the stress hormone; spike on testing days [4]. Others develop what educators call "test phobia," where the mere thought of an exam triggers panic [1].
Think about that. We're creating a generation of children who associate learning with fear.
And for what? For data that doesn't even tell us what we think it tells us.
Here's the problem. We're in a vicious circle, and we can't seem to break out.
Tests measure a narrow slice of ability; primarily analytical skills like memorization and pattern recognition. Schools, under pressure to improve test scores, "teach to the test." Teachers spend weeks drilling students on test-taking strategies instead of fostering curiosity and critical thinking [5].
Children, in turn, learn that what matters isn't understanding; it's getting the right answer. Not asking questions; it's following the formula. Not thinking creatively; it's staying inside the lines.
Robert Sternberg, one of the world's leading researchers on intelligence, has spent decades arguing that our obsession with analytical intelligence ignores the creative and practical intelligence that are essential for success in life [6]. He calls it "successful intelligence"; the ability to adapt to, shape, and select environments to achieve one's goals.
You can't measure that with a bubble sheet.
But here's the thing. Most schools don't have the time, resources, or permission to do performance-based assessment. They're trapped in the same system we all are.
In 1983, Howard Gardner, a professor at Harvard, published a theory that should have changed education forever. He called it the Theory of Multiple Intelligences [7].
Gardner argued that intelligence isn't a single thing. It's not just the ability to solve math problems or memorize vocabulary words. Intelligence is multifaceted. There are at least eight distinct types:
Gardner's theory was revolutionary. It said, in effect, that every child is intelligent. The question isn't "how smart are you?" but "how are you smart?"
The theory was embraced by educators around the world. Books were written. Workshops were held. Teachers were trained.
And then... nothing changed.
Why? Because the system didn't change. The tests didn't change. The report cards didn't change. Schools were still judged by standardized test scores, so schools kept teaching to standardized tests.
Gardner's theory became a nice idea that lived in professional development sessions but died in the classroom.
Let me introduce you to Zahara. She's 11, lives in Bristol, UK, and she's one of our 46 user personas that we've researched and built The Scrubbing Squad around.
On paper, Zahara is struggling. She has dyslexia and freezes on written exams. Her report card is a sea of red ink. Her teachers worry about her. Her parents worry about her. And Zahara? She's starting to believe she's not smart.
But if you sit down and talk to Zahara; really talk to her; you'll discover something remarkable.
She's an "Oral Oracle." She can craft and deliver complex, compelling stories with a beginning, a middle, and an end. She can hold an audience captive. She can argue, persuade, and inspire. She can take a simple prompt; "tell me about a time you were brave"; and turn it into a five-minute narrative that makes you laugh, cry, and think.
Her verbal intelligence is off the charts. Her interpersonal intelligence is extraordinary. Her ability to read a room, adjust her story on the fly, and connect with her audience is a skill that most adults never develop.
Where is that on her report card? It isn't.
Do you have a Zahara in your life? A child whose genius doesn't fit in the boxes?
Maybe it's a visual learner who can look at a diagram once and understand it completely, but struggles to explain it in words. Maybe it's a kinesthetic wizard who can take apart a bike and put it back together, but can't sit still during a lecture. Maybe it's a musical prodigy who hears patterns in everything, but gets marked down for "not showing their work" in math. Maybe it's a natural-born leader who can organize a group project and keep everyone on task, but gets in trouble for "talking too much."
Of course you do. We all do.
Because children aren't one-dimensional. They're not data points. They're complex, creative, curious human beings with unique combinations of strengths and challenges.
Here's what decades of research on intelligence and learning actually tells us:
Alternative assessment methods, like performance-based assessment, provide a much richer and more accurate picture of student learning [1]. They reduce anxiety, increase engagement, and allow students to demonstrate knowledge in ways that align with their strengths.
But here's the catch. Alternative assessment takes time. It requires teacher training. It demands smaller class sizes and more resources. It's harder to standardize and compare across schools.
So we stick with the bubble sheets. Because they're cheap, fast, and easy to score.
I'm not just a founder. I'm a parent.
I've looked at my own brilliant, funny, creative child and wondered why the school only sees a B- in math.
This is why I'm building The Scrubbing Squad. This is why we're creating The Hero Community For Children.
We're not building another educational app that drills children on math facts or vocabulary words. We're not creating digital worksheets or gamified quizzes.
We're building something fundamentally different.
The Hero Community For Children is designed around the principle of multiple intelligences. Every character, every mission, every interaction is designed to recognize and celebrate different forms of genius.
Take Uncle Jamie, one of our 18 characters. He's a master storyteller. He's not a teacher; he's a guide. His missions won't involve writing essays or taking comprehension quizzes.
Instead, children like Zahara will:
Uncle Jamie's missions are designed for children with high linguistic and interpersonal intelligence. But we have 17 other characters, each designed to unlock different forms of genius.
Lobster Bob - The Humbled Explorer
Private Rose - The Meticulous Mentor
Every child will find a character that speaks to their strengths. Every child will have missions where they can shine.
This is Childhood Re-Imagined. This is what happens when you design for diversity, not standardization.
We're at the very beginning of this journey. We don't have our community app / product yet. We won't launch until April 2025. Right now, we're finishing our research, building our Shopify store for merchandising, and setting up and registering our Unlocking Heroes Foundation Charity and creating the waitlist.
But here's the thing. We're not building this in a vacuum. We're building it WITH you.
Every story you share shapes our character missions. Every piece of feedback influences our design. Every question you ask helps us build something better.
We're not just building an app. We're building a movement. A movement of parents, grandparents, educators, and carers who are ready to say "enough" to the narrow, broken system.
A movement of people who believe that every child deserves to see their genius reflected back at them.
A movement that's ready for Childhood Re-Imagined.
Let's celebrate the unsung heroes in our children's lives and build a brighter future, together. "Heroes Start Here."
With gratitude,