For a long time, I resisted planning my social media too far ahead. As a Visual Arts teacher, creativity and responsiveness matter to me, and the idea of locking myself into rigid content schedules felt counterintuitive. At the same time, I knew that if I wanted to show up consistently, without burnout, I needed a system that supported my teaching, research, and wellbeing.
In late 2025, I decided to experiment with using AI as a planning partner, not a content generator. What emerged was not a list of viral hooks or trendy templates, but a deeply reflective, sustainable framework that aligned with my values as an educator and researcher.
This post documents how I used AI to plan my 2026 social media presence, not to outsource thinking, but to structure it.
Starting with intention, not output
Before opening any AI tool, I clarified what I didn’t want:
- I didn’t want to become a “teacher influencer.”
- I didn’t want to perform productivity or burnout.
- I didn’t want to overshare personal or institutional details.
- I didn’t want social media to become another invisible workload.
Instead, I identified three clear goals:
- Consistency without intensity — one post per week, maximum.
- Professional safety — remembering that students and families follow my account.
- Alignment — between my classroom practice, research journey, and public voice.
These goals shaped every decision that followed.
Using AI to think with, not for me
I approached AI the same way I approach curriculum planning: as a thinking scaffold.
Rather than asking for captions or content ideas straight away, I asked reflective questions:
- What does my Instagram account actually do?
- What belongs on social media versus my blog?
- How can I document my practice without turning it into performance?
- How can this work support my research, not compete with it?
AI helped me articulate distinctions I already sensed but hadn’t named yet, particularly the difference between front-stage professional practice (Instagram) and back-stage reflective thinking (my blog).
Building a sustainable rhythm
With those boundaries in place, I used AI to help me map a realistic rhythm:
- Instagram: one reel per week
- Blog: one post per month
Not more. Not “when I feel inspired.” Just enough to be present without pressure.
AI helped me see patterns across a year rather than reacting week-to-week. We grouped content into broad monthly themes, identity, practice, sustainability, reflection, rather than individual posts. This made the work feel coherent instead of scattered.
Crucially, the plan was designed so that skipping a week wouldn’t break it.
Aligning with real calendars (not ideal ones)
One of the most valuable uses of AI in this process was aligning my plan with reality.
As a teacher and higher degree research student, my year is shaped by multiple institutional calendars. Using AI, I mapped my posting rhythm against:
- Queensland school terms
- student-free days
- assessment and reporting periods
- university teaching trimesters
- exam blocks and academic breaks
This immediately changed the tone of the plan.
High-energy or “tip-heavy” content was removed from peak assessment periods. Reflective or lighter posts were intentionally placed during busy weeks. Research-focused content was scheduled during thinking windows, not crisis points.
The result was a plan that respects labour, rather than ignoring it.
Separating planning from reflection
Another important decision was how I would use the plan once it existed.
Instead of keeping everything digital, I designed the plan to be printed and physically embedded into my teaching journal. Each month has:
- one printed planning page (fixed, untouched)
- one blank facing page for handwritten reflection
This allows me to see, quite literally, the gap between intention and lived experience.
AI supported this by helping me design a template that was minimal, readable, and journal-friendly, rather than decorative or performative.
Designing with Canva, not chasing aesthetics
Once the structure existed, I used Canva to make the planner visually calm and printable. AI didn’t design the aesthetic for me, it helped me decide what not to include.
The focus remained on:
- white space
- legibility at A5 size
- restrained use of colour
- consistency across months
The design supports handwriting rather than competing with it. The reflection happens with pen and paper, not on screen.
What AI did not do
This part matters.
AI did not:
- write my captions
- decide my opinions
- generate blog posts for me to publish unedited
- replace reflection or judgement
Instead, it helped me:
- organise complexity
- see patterns across time
- reduce cognitive load
- plan ethically and intentionally
The thinking is still mine. The accountability is still mine.
Why this matters (especially in education)
There is a lot of anxiety around AI in education, particularly around authenticity, authorship, and labour. I share this process not to promote AI as a solution, but to show what responsible, reflective use can look like.
Used thoughtfully, AI can support educators to:
- plan sustainably
- protect boundaries
- document practice without burnout
- and create systems that serve learning, not visibility
For me, this planning process became part of my research practice, not separate from it.
A final reflection
Planning my 2026 social media with AI didn’t make me more productive. It made me more intentional.
I’m no longer asking each week, “What should I post?”
I’m asking, “Does this still align with who I am as a teacher and researcher?”
That shift alone made the process worthwhile.
If you’re an educator curious about using AI in a way that supports, rather than overwhelms, your practice, start with your values. The tools come second.
Cultivating Creativity: Best Practices for the Art Classroom 
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