Like clockwork, at the start of every new school year, the training links arrive in your inbox. You already know the routine: bloodborne pathogens, child abuse, harassment and bullying, suicide awareness… Click. Next. Click. Next. Scroll. Quiz. Pass. Next.
You’ve seen these video modules before, maybe over a dozen times if you’re a veteran. You could recite the scenarios by heart, and no matter how many ways the platform tries to engage you with animated narrators or interactive checks for understanding, the end result is the same: you fly through overly familiar content just to get to the certificate that verifies you’ve met the mandatory requirement.
It’s not that the topics aren’t important, because they are. But the sheer number of minutes—no, hours—combined with their repetitive delivery and questionable necessity, has turned something meant to protect and inform into a tedious compliance ritual that feels like an utter waste of time. Throughout New Jersey, public school staff are required to complete anywhere from eight to 31 of these trainings annually.
Read that again. It is not a typo.
The intention behind all of this is sound. The implementation? Not so much.
Surveying “mandatory” trainings across districts
What started as a streamlined routine for back-to-school logistics became the focus of a passion project I took on in 2024 through the Google for Education Certified Innovator program. In looking for ways to encourage teachers to seek more meaningful and personalized professional development, a hard truth became quickly apparent: our plates are simply too full, and something must be taken off before anyone can consider adding anything else.
As I began discussing with friends and former colleagues in other districts all the extraneous tasks that have accumulated for us over the years (including an exorbitance of generic and obligatory professional development), I started to realize there was a discrepancy in how many trainings we each have to do, even though many of us are completing them using the exact same video platforms.
But these trainings are state-required, right? Then why do staff in my school have to complete 17 while staff in other schools have 12, 11, 10 or even fewer? And why is anyone doing 31?
So I did some digging.
Curious just how widespread this discrepancy was, I began requesting mandated training lists for the 2024-25 school year from contacts I had in several dozen schools around the state. I transcribed their responses into a master spreadsheet. My final data sample covered certificated instructional staff from 20 different New Jersey public districts across 10 counties.
The results? Startling.
In addition to the wide range of required trainings—again, spanning from eight to 31—the total time allotment varied even more dramatically: as short as 176 minutes’ worth (under three hours) to as long as 820 minutes’ worth (nearly 14 hours). This isn’t just a minor difference in how long it takes to click “next,” but rather it’s a fundamental inequity in how teacher time is being consumed outside the classroom.
Analyzing training inconsistencies
Of course, I needed to understand why the totals were so inconsistent, so I asked my own central office what source was used to determine which trainings to assign. I was provided with a PDF, dated 2020, listing the New Jersey Department of Education’s (NJDOE) requirements and told that a close read would reveal some problematic ambiguity.
When I searched the NJDOE website myself, I discovered an updated list that reflects more current guidance, some of which is also nonetheless ambiguous. That raised an important question: Are we assigned trainings based on outdated, unclear documents and inaccurate assumptions?
Because this fact-finding mission began as part of my Google Innovator project, I turned to Google’s AI tool, Gemini, for help. I created a Gem, which is a specialized version of Gemini AI, to audit my school’s training list against the NJDOE’s current online documentation. To make sure I was thorough, I also included documentation of relevant federal regulations and Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) requirements. The results confirmed what I suspected: several of the trainings we were assigned aren’t actually required.
But I didn’t stop there. To verify the accuracy of my findings, I repeated the AI-based audit using two other well-known large-language models (LLMs), OpenAI’s ChatGPT and Anthropic’s Claude. Each one independently reviewed the same state and federal resources, cross-checking them against my school’s training list. While the results closely matched Gemini’s, I triangulated the findings of all three AI tools to establish a final consensus.
In the end, all three LLMs agreed that only six of my school’s trainings were definitively required, with three others potentially necessary depending on the interpretation of vaguely worded government regulations.
As for the rest? Perhaps they were assigned based on outdated documentation. Or maybe they were recommended by the training platform vendor. It’s also possible that they were added on account of the general culture of risk aversion that has become deeply ingrained in public institutions. But regardless of why, the fact of the matter is that in my school, staff are being asked to complete about double what’s required. And what about for my colleagues in districts where 31 trainings are assigned? They’re doing more than triple.
Who’s even in charge of all this?
As I dug deeper into the issue, a related question kept popping up: Who exactly decides which trainings get assigned in the first place? At my school, it’s the Human Resources Department, sort of. When I reached out to the HR specialist who communicates the process to staff each year, it was clear that our school is doing what I suspect most others are doing, which is their very best to follow the rules and keep the district in compliance. The specialist even echoed the frustration with such vague government guidance and expressed a willingness to revise the list if clearer criteria could be confirmed.
And that’s the thing. It’s not as though someone, somewhere, is trying to waste our time. It is far more likely that over-assignment is happening out of an abundance of caution by someone whose plate is just as full as ours. What’s more, this issue isn’t limited to instructional staff. Secretaries, bus drivers, custodians, paraprofessionals, coaches and even administrators, going all the way up to the superintendent, are subject to these training requirements, and may be just as overburdened with them.
With so many different roles completing so many different video modules, and with no clear, centralized means for confirming what is truly required, it’s no wonder the system has become bloated. It’s a textbook example of something that may have started with the best of intentions but has since outgrown its original purpose.
This isn’t a harmless inconvenience
At a time when districts across New Jersey and the nation are grappling with growing staffing shortages, the burden of excessive, redundant training is more than just a nuisance. It’s part of a larger, systemic issue: the steady accumulation of responsibilities placed on educators and support staff without regard for what must be removed to make room.
Most of us entered this field—particularly on the instructional side—knowing it would demand more than a typical 9-to-5 commitment. But as more and more noninstructional tasks have been added to our job responsibilities—data uploads, climate surveys, meeting log sheets, benchmarking, evaluation documentation, and yes, an ever-expanding list of mandated trainings—many educators have reached a breaking point. These additions may seem small in isolation, but they compound quickly, often encroaching on the limited time there is to plan meaningful lessons, build relationships with students and collaborate with colleagues.
This is one of the rare issues in public education where everyone from cafeteria aides to building principals stands to benefit from a simple fix.
Test Citation
And the way these trainings are delegated doesn’t help. While one district may offer dedicated time during in-service days to complete required modules, another expects completion—without compensation—during prep periods, after school or even on weekends. In some schools, trainings are due prior to student arrival in September, effectively requiring 10-month staff to work unpaid over the summer.
We’re told repeatedly that teacher time is valuable. That student learning should be prioritized. That staff wellness matters. But when we’re asked to click through up to 14 hours of repetitive training, most of which isn’t even required, all while juggling the real work of caring for young people, the message gets lost.
A win-win for everyone
As I’ve alluded to, this isn’t just a teacher problem. It’s a schoolwide problem. And that means any effort to clarify, streamline or reduce redundant training is a victory for teachers, support staff, administration and the departments tasked with assigning the trainings in the first place.
Fortunately, it’s also a fixable problem. We don’t need to overhaul the system. We don’t need politicians to develop and pass new legislation. We just need to review what we have—and now we can easily access tools to quickly help us do exactly that.
LLMs such as Gemini, ChatGPT and Claude are not just tools for differentiating lesson plans or drafting quiz questions. They’re also incredibly effective for conducting quick, accurate audits. By feeding them your district’s current training list and asking them to cross-reference it with NJDOE guidance and federal regulations, you can rapidly identify what is actually mandated and where the workload might be lessened.
This process doesn’t require new platforms, budgets or committees. Just curiosity, a little initiative and a willingness to question the assumption that more is safe.
For school staff who are feeling overwhelmed, advocating for this kind of audit doesn’t have to be confrontational. You’re not arguing against safety or legal assurance. You’re advocating for clarity and balance. For sanity. For reason.
And for those in charge of assigning the trainings—HR departments, compliance officers, even superintendents—this is a golden opportunity to lead with shared purpose. Because the truth is, you are likely being over-assigned, too. This is one of the rare issues in public education where everyone from cafeteria aides to building principals stands to benefit from a simple fix.
If we can use AI to audit mandated trainings, maybe we can use it to reevaluate other burdens that have accumulated on the plates of school staff over time. Maybe this is the first step toward using AI not just to save time, but to restore it. And maybe, just maybe, it will help us give educators what they’ve been asking for all along: space to breathe, room to grow and time to do the job they came here to do.
A simple framework for smarter training assignments
Not all required trainings are created equal. To help clarify what really needs to be done (and why), it helps to sort each item on a training list into one of three categories:
- Mandated: These are trainings required by federal or state law or by NJDOE policy. Examples for teaching staff include suicide prevention every five years, HIB (harassment, intimidation and bullying) annually, and bloodborne pathogens annually. They are nonnegotiable, as they must be completed according to the law.
- Compliance-related: These are not legally mandated but may be encouraged by legal counsel to reduce district liability, recommended by training platform vendors, and/or assigned by school leadership based on district policy or past practice. Examples for teaching staff include cybersecurity, Title IX and gang awareness. Trainings like these deserve a second look, as some may be necessary based on role or risk, but not all staff may need to complete them every year.
- Common practice: These are often assigned for general awareness or internal expectations, but have no legal requirement attached. They might support positive school culture or operational consistency. Examples for teaching staff include mental wellness, equity and inclusion and social media guidelines. Districts should consider offering these trainings as optional professional development, rotating them across years, or infusing them into in-service days and faculty meetings.
Why does this matter? Using the above categorization framework, districts can take advantage of AI tools like Gemini, ChatGPT or Claude to quickly audit their training lists and revise assignments accordingly, saving everyone time while still meeting compliance standards. It’s a small shift with a big impact: greater clarity, less burnout and a stronger focus on what’s really important.
References
New Jersey Department of Education
“Professional Development Requirements by Topic”
Occupational Safety and Health Administration
“Bloodborne Pathogens Standard, 29 CFR 1910.1030”
U.S. Department of Education
“Laws and Policy”
U.S. Department of Labor
“Wage and Hour Division”