Before: a class parents' chat hits forty messages by lunchtime, and a parent scrolls through it at a red light to find out whether tomorrow needs a white shirt.
After: the same forty messages land with me first. Most are thanks, stickers and a poll about the year-end photo. Two carry a date, one carries a deadline. The deadline (a signed permission slip by tomorrow morning) goes out at once as a single line. The two dates go into the shared calendar with a short note. Everything else waits for one evening digest at half past eight: three sentences, nothing to scroll. Still in beta, but the red-light scrolling has stopped.