This page walks through a custom institutional build for K-12 Special Needs Academy — an invented day school of three hundred students, every one of them with dyslexia or a related language-based learning difference. We made the school up so we could show you the product in the sharpest case there is: a building where the accommodation is not the exception but the entire roll.
Sign in with your Academy account. Your reading settings are already waiting on this machine.
@k12sna.org onlyThe tenant re-skins the sign-in and the whole app from the school's own mark and colours — amber, here, because the Academy's is. Not a screenshot of a live customer; we do not have one yet.
Everything named on this page is fictional. The school, its staff, its students, its timetable and every number in every table were invented for this walkthrough, because we have no institutional customers yet and will not dress a mock-up as a case study. What is not fictional: every screen, setting, profile field and boundary shown here exists in the product today, and you can test the reader itself, free, on the public site.
K-12 Special Needs Academy is a specialist day school. Every student arrived with an assessment already in hand — dyslexia for most, dysgraphia and language processing differences alongside for many — and every student has an individual learning plan that says, among other things, how text should be presented to them. The school's problem was never knowing what each reader needs. It was making that knowledge survive contact with a building full of shared devices.
Each specialist kept settings in a spreadsheet: font, size, colour, pace, per student. Every session in the computer lab began with five minutes of re-configuring software on whichever machine the cart happened to hand out — performed in front of the class, by the student least able to afford the attention.
The spreadsheet became profiles in the Academy's tenant. A specialist sets a student's profile once, against the assessment; the student signs in anywhere in the building — or at home — and the reader is already the one they were assessed on. The five minutes went away, all three hundred times a day.
Staff still cannot see what any child reads. Reporting carries sessions, minutes, pace and comprehension scores — the things a learning plan is reviewed on — and the titles are held only so each student's own library follows them. The boundary is the same one described on the institutional page, enforced on the server.
One tenant at one address, sign-in restricted to the school's domain, a roster that mirrors its class groups, and the same reader that is free on the public site — wearing the school's own name and amber, so that a tool students are told to use looks like something the school made rather than something it licensed.
The Academy owns almost every screen its students touch — a Chromebook cart per corridor, desktops in the library, a bank of machines in the intervention room. None of them belong to any particular child, which is exactly the situation the consumer app's local-only storage cannot serve and the tenant exists for. A student signs in and the machine stops being generic.
The web app at k12sna.readerinc.com re-skins itself from the tenant: the SNA mark, the amber, the school's name in the title bar. The Android build for home use carries the same identity compiled in. Children do not distinguish between "official" and "some website" — the branding is what tells them, and their parents, which this is.
No child signs up for anything. The office creates accounts against the school's own domain, the way it already does for email — and an account stops working when a student leaves. Sign-in from outside the roster is not a setting that can be left open; the tenant refuses it.
Five groups mirror the timetable — Emerging Readers K-2, Lower 3-5, Middle 6-8, Upper 9-12, and an Exam Access list that overlays the top years. Group profiles hang off the groups; individual profiles, set from each child's assessment, override them wherever the specialist says so. A student in two groups gets the more permissive of the two.
The help route inside the app points at the Academy's learning-support team, not at us. A nine-year-old who gets stuck should reach the adult down the corridor who knows her plan — not a software company. Behind the scenes, that team reaches us; the children never need to.
The Academy sets a light group profile per band — a starting point matched to where decoding typically is at that age — and then the specialists override it per child from the assessment, which is the version that actually matters. Every field below maps to a control that exists in the app today, and every student keeps every control: a profile a child cannot change is not an accommodation, it is a restraint.
Five-to-seven-year-olds at the Academy are pre-decoders or early decoders. The group default leads with the picture and the voice, and lets the word follow — reading with the stream rather than being tested by it. Sessions are short and always with an adult.
The icon primes the meaning before the letters arrive — for a reader who cannot yet decode, the second channel is briefly the only channel, and that is the point.
By the middle years most Academy students decode, slowly and at cost. The default holds one word at a fixed point — no line to track, no crowding — with the voice available but no longer leading, and pace low enough that nothing about the stream is a race.
OpenDyslexic is the band default because enough students ask for it by name; the honest note in the app says the evidence for special typefaces is mixed, and the specialists switch plenty of profiles to Atkinson Hyperlegible instead.
Seniors face reading lists and timed papers. The default trades some support for throughput — comprehension checks always on, because a pace only counts if the check passed — and the Exam Access overlay pins the settings a student's formal arrangements name, so practice happens under the same conditions.
Nothing here pushes speed for its own sake. Plenty of Upper students run below the K-2 ceiling on hard texts, and the slider lets them — the ceiling stops the tool racing, not the reader slowing.
These three profiles are the shape, not the prescription. Nobody at this company should be telling a school what to put in a child's profile, and this fictional school's values were chosen to show the range of the controls — not to model good practice. A real school's bands would come out of its own specialists' assessments, and no two of its students would end up identical.
Maya is invented, like everything else here. Her profile — set by her specialist from last spring's assessment: 130 words a minute with a ceiling of 180, Atkinson Hyperlegible at size 76, light stage, motion off, neural voice reader-led, icon above word — is what actually moves through this day. She never sees it, configures it, or thinks about it. That is the entire product.
Twenty minutes of structured fluency work on the room's shared desktop. Her specialist queued this week's passage; Maya signs in and it is at the top of her library, in her settings, at her pace. The session's minutes, pace and check score land in the tenant — the passage's title stays hers.
The Chromebook cart hands her a different machine than yesterday — it does not matter. The class reads a chapter about river systems; the words she has never seen before, tributary, sediment, arrive with their pictures, because the resolver's coverage is precisely for the rare words that strand a struggling reader.
Voluntary, and the librarian's only rule is that nobody asks anybody what they are reading. Maya reads what a ten-year-old reads. The reporting her teachers see on Friday will show twenty-two minutes at lunch on Tuesday, and nothing else about it — which is why she keeps coming.
Her mother's Android phone, the Academy's own app on it. The homework chapter is already in Maya's library because the classroom import synced. Her mother watches the icon-above-word stream go by at 130 and, for the first time, watches her daughter finish a chapter without either of them dreading it.
We wrote Maya's good day; a real school would also have the other kind. Some readers find the stream worse than the page. Some find it better for a term and then outgrow it. The product measures which is happening — pace with a comprehension score attached, per session, exportable — instead of asking anyone to take a marketing page's word for it, including this one.
A mock of the staff view, populated with the fictional roster. Click through the three tabs — this is the whole staff surface, deliberately: a roster, a profile editor, and outcomes. There is no fourth tab where the reading lists live, because that view does not exist to be given a tab.
Demo data, invented for this page. The console itself ships with the tenant.
A specialist reviewing Maya's plan in June needs to know whether she read, how much, at what pace, and whether comprehension held as the pace moved. That is exactly what reporting carries — per student and per group, exportable for the annual review — and it is all it carries. For a school full of minors the boundary is not a feature, it is the condition of the whole thing being acceptable.
| Group | Students | Sessions | Minutes | Median pace | Checks passed | Titles |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Emerging readers K-2 | 58 | 214 | 1,690 | 84 wpm | —checks off below grade 3 | |
| Lower school 3-5 | 76 | 301 | 4,120 | 128 wpm | 81% | |
| Middle school 6-8 | 84 | 352 | 5,480 | 147 wpm | 78% | |
| Upper school 9-12 | 94 | 420 | 7,150 | 176 wpm | 83% | |
| Exam access overlay | 31 | 141 | 2,380 | 168 wpm | 86% |
Accounts are created by the school, under the school's agreement — no child agrees to terms, no child is marketed to, and there is no advertising, analytics or model training anywhere in the tenant. Deletion is a request away and exports belong to the school. We hold what the sync requires and nothing else.
The titles column in the table above is rendered the way it is rendered in the product: refused. It is not a permission an administrator forgot to grant. There is no server endpoint that would fill it for a staff account, which is a stronger promise than a checkbox and the only kind we think a school should accept.
A per-student export: sessions over the year, minutes, the pace curve, and the comprehension scores that make the pace mean something. Set against September's baseline, it is the difference between "we think the provision helped" and a number the annual review can stand on.
A pilot is one cohort and one term, free, with your name on the build and a number at the end you did not have to take our word for. Or start smaller than that: the reader every screen on this page wraps is on the public site, free, no account — put one of your own students' texts through it this afternoon.