Gatherr isn't another dashboard for reporting. An analogy we love to use is that it is a sort of playground. And the Gatherr playground has an arrangement no dashboard has: the child stands in the middle of it.
Three layers, read from the centre out:
One rule binds the layers: each one only removes work from the one below it. The gravel replaced surveys. The Lens replaced spreadsheet archaeology. The builder replaces the Canva treadmill. The cloud sits outside the drawing on purpose — a dashed line, optional, spend-bounded. Everything a school needs runs inside the room.
We didn't set out to draw this from a textbook. We built it layer by layer, workload by workload, and only after did someone recognise the shape: developmental psychologists have long drawn a child's world exactly this way (Bronfenbrenner, 1979) — the child at the centre, ringed by the people and systems that shape them. Most school software inverts that arrangement without meaning to: the system in the middle, the child as a row in it. We arrived at Gatherr the same way any village would, by putting the child in the middle and building outward from there.