The Origin Story

I won highest academic achievement in elementary school. I was the kid who cared about grades obsessively — find whoever's at the top, lock in, work until I beat them. They called me a nerd. I took it as a compliment — I thought they were just saying I was smart.

But the green checkmarks didn't mean anything outside of that building. School was just a game. I was good at playing it, but it was still just a game. I wanted to get where I wanted to be faster — MIT, engineering, start a company. So I applied for IB. Got in. Be careful what you wish for.

IB was a lie. It promised to get you ahead. It didn't. It was a scam dressed up as ambition, and everyone around me knew it — but they stayed because it felt safer, even though it meant selling their soul. Meanwhile I was teaching myself to code, building apps, doing things that actually mattered. My history teacher asked me one question: “If you had to give up everything you're working on to focus on IB for the next two years, would you be okay with that?” The answer was no. Not even close. So I dropped IB, switched schools, and in a year and a half I ran for student council president and built 7 apps with thousands of users.

The Scantron for Essays

Back in 10th grade I noticed that my teacher had to grade 60 essays in one day. ChatGPT had barely come out. I thought — we could build a scantron for essays. So I built GradeAssist.

I emailed 78 teachers at my school. Gave them all free access. Not one replied.

I went to the school board. They commended my work. Then told me to submit a public tender. I was 16.

I came back months later with an updated product — plagiarism detection, AI writing detection, smart annotations, a Chrome extension. Same answer. Copy-pasted.

I skipped school to go to an edtech conference in Toronto. Met the founder of Nelson. Sat in rooms with superintendents. Got a warm intro to IT leadership at my own board through the CTO of TDSB. Dead end. Bill 194. “I cannot stress enough that without a Privacy Impact Assessment, School Boards in Ontario will not be able to engage.”

Teachers said no. Board administration said no. IT leadership said no. Three doors. Same room. Same polite email.

Be A Changemaker

I applied for my school's Changemaker Award. By then I'd given away Kew for free — they used it for the Halloween dance, for the morning music on announcements, they even wanted me to build custom ticketing software for school events, all for free. I ran for student council president. I had 600+ teachers using my product across the U.S. and Canada. I'd done more for the school community in one year than most students had done in three. The award money would've helped me fund development and growth. I didn't get it — it was a DEI award with entirely separate categories that gave 2-3x higher chances for Black and Muslim students.

Another rejection. Another setback. I would walk every day past the big sign by the school atrium that said “BE A CHANGEMAKER.” The money and eyeballs from the award would've helped me bring the tech to more teachers. But that's when I realized — that's what they wanted you to think. They don't actually care about change. They're too lazy for change. They actively impede change. Whenever a student actually cared enough to make a change, they would do their best to stop it.

Get a Customer or Give Up

That summer I posted videos cold calling private schools until I got a paying customer. Get a customer or give up and apply to university. I got customers. Musa joined. We launched the Chrome extension — the thing YRDSB refused to even look at. Revenue climbed past $3K ARR. Bootstrapped. Every dollar in went right back out.

I started skipping school. For the kid who won highest academic achievement, this felt terrible. But I was learning more in the company than I ever did in class. Dreading every moment sitting there. I told my teacher I was dropping her course. She was pissed: “What? You're dropping MY class in January? They won't let you.”

I skipped a final to fly to an edtech conference in Orlando. $3K from GradeAssist sales. No booth. Musa and I walked the floor with a laptop. Demoed to 300 teachers. Handed out cards.

I came back and wrote the actual final exam — an essay about how the education system teaches compliance instead of exploration, how students show up because they fear punishment, not because they love learning, and how we're teaching the future workforce to do the bare minimum rather than exploring frontiers never seen before by human civilization.

My teacher's note on the rubric: “I wish you had written a piece with adequate course connections instead of something regarding cynical ideas about education.”

I got a 70% on the essay. My grade somehow dropped from 83% to 69%. The one program I'd applied to — York University's Shopify Dev Degree, with fully paid tuition plus intern salary required a 70%. Missed it by one percent. Because she didn't like what I had to say about the system she worked for.

No university. No backup plan. Normal path closed.

YC Said Yes

We applied to Y Combinator. Rejected. Applied again. Rejected. Again. Rejected. Again. Rejected. Five times. After each one we emailed Jared with updates. Every milestone. Every feature. Every new revenue number. New application videos. We didn't wait for the next cycle. We proved ourselves in real time until the evidence was undeniable.

GradeAssist became VibeGrade. 12,000 papers graded. 500+ school days saved. Teachers paying out of pocket.

YC said yes.

Forbes: “High School Dropout Launches VibeGrade To Help Teachers Grade Faster.”

The board that told me to submit a public tender — reading about me in Forbes. The 78 teachers who never replied — watching the tool they ignored save thousands of hours. The teacher who gave me a 69% — watching her former student get national press for building the exact thing she tried to fail him for writing about.

Kicked Out

One semester left. All my courses were online. Co-op supervisor signed off. I could've finished high school from anywhere on earth. I told my school I was going to San Francisco for YC. I thought they'd be proud. I thought they'd write me a recommendation letter for my O1 visa.

Instead they demitted me with one semester left. Kicked out. Because I'd be “leaving the country” — even though every course was online and nothing would change.

I told them because I trusted them. They punished me for the one thing they should've celebrated.

78 teachers — ignored. Board — procurement guidelines. CTO of TDSB warm intro — Bill 194. Free software for the school — lost the Changemaker Award. Cold called all summer. Skipped finals for a conference. Grade tanked for criticizing education. Missed university by 1%. Dropped all courses. YC five times. Rejected four. Got in. Forbes. Told my school. Kicked out.

Every step. No. Not because I was failing. Because I was succeeding in a way it couldn't process.

Why Units Exists

I didn't fail that exam. The system failed us. A system that expects us to pretend we care about every subject and abide within the constraints they establish. That preaches the praise of changemakers and actively impedes it.

We're done with smoke and mirrors. Done with the theatrics.

For a long time I said traditional education will either be forced to change, or find itself obsolete — replaced by modern alternatives that have adapted to the times and provide real value.

I was wrong. It's been too long.

We're here to do that.

— Daniel Martinez, founder