Designing with Ethics

 You arrive at the meetup feeling different this time.

The last time you were here, you were trying to figure out the difference between being a freelancer and a contractor. A recent job had listed you as a contractor, and you weren’t sure what that meant for your work. You left with clarity and a confident response sent off in email.

Tonight, you’re not here with questions. You’re here to see friends, connect, and talk about the projects you’ve been working on. The last few jobs made you think differently — not just about task flows or wireframes, but about outcomes, behavior, and what really matters for users. You’ve been noticing patterns, small things that improve performance, and results that come from paying attention beyond the surface level.

During a break, a friend pulls you aside.

“I might have something for you,” she says.

She explains that an EdTech after-school program is expanding, adding programs and enrollment flows, and they need someone to review the system and make sure parents can sign up smoothly and confidently. It’s not a visual redesign. It’s about how the system works for families, how information is collected, and how parents experience the flow.

“It’s not my wheelhouse,” she adds. “But it sounds exactly like what you’ve been exploring lately.”

You agree to connect. They set a meeting for next week, and in the meantime, you’re given access to the website so you can familiarize yourself before diving in.

Monday morning, you open the site and start clicking through the forms. At first, everything looks straightforward. Parents can select classes, add programs, and move through the screens. But the deeper you go, the more things catch your attention.

Some checkboxes are already selected — some greyed out. You pause. Does grey mean it’s inactive, or that it’s already agreed to? Parents could overlook it, or assume it’s optional when it isn’t.

Scrolling further, messages say “Limited spots — enroll now!” At first, it seems fine, but you notice a pattern. The program uses that language on almost every class, regardless of actual availability. It’s become automatic — a habit — not tied to real numbers. Parents could feel pressured to rush decisions, even when spots are plentiful.

Then you find several parent emails flagged in the inbox. One complains about receiving repeated emails for programs she never signed up for, triggered by default selections. Another writes that she tried to enroll her child in a class with friends, but the site said it was full. She chose a second-choice class instead — only to later find out there was space in the original class. Her child was disappointed, and so was she.

As you continue, you notice fields collecting critical safety and contact information. Some are pre-selected or greyed out, and the flow isn’t entirely clear. This isn’t just inconvenient — misunderstandings here could create real problems for families.

By the time you meet with the senior designer, your notebook is full. You lay out what you’ve found.

“These pre-selected checkboxes, redundant fields, and misleading availability messages — parents are already sending complaints,” you say. “And some of the safety-sensitive information could be compromised if the flow isn’t clear. We need to fix this before adding more programs or fields.”

The senior designer leans back. “I understand, and you’re right these are concerns. Some of this comes down to budget and timelines — we’ve never had the resources to redesign the flow completely. And honestly, I think there’s been a gap in understanding the impact on parents. It wasn’t laziness; it was constraints and a focus on getting programs launched.”

You pause. “I get that, but the complaints show real consequences. Parents are frustrated, children are missing out on the classes they want, and trust is being eroded. We need to adjust the flow and defaults before adding more programs or fields.”

They consider it. “Okay. Let’s prioritize the areas with the highest risk and parent impact first.”

You go through each area carefully: make critical fields explicit and clear, remove redundant or pre-checked defaults, adjust automatic selections, and correct misleading availability messages. You also document scenarios from the parent emails to highlight the risks and justify the changes.

By the end of the meeting, you have a clear plan. The ethical concerns are no longer abstract — they’re addressed, prioritized, and integrated into the workflow. You leave knowing the system is safer, clearer, and more trustworthy for parents and children alike.

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