The situation
Somewhere in your systems there's a workflow the platform's own interface won't let anyone finish. A teacher who needs three SIS-generated sections merged into one class so she can actually teach it — and the LMS has no button for that. A report the state wants that your SIS doesn't produce on its own. A manual course nobody remembers setting up, that someone re-enrolls forty students into by hand every August. None of it shows up in a procurement conversation. All of it shows up in somebody's actual week.
A superintendent in Ohio put a number on it for his own district: about 110 different systems that don't talk to each other at all. He's not unusual. Somebody on your staff has quietly become the seam holding the ones you own together — good at it, the only one who knows how, asked again and again to make systems that were never built to talk to each other work anyway. Most of the time they pull it off. Sometimes the honest answer is that it can't be done — and nobody upstream is willing to accept that. I'm who they call when that happens.
Here's what I actually do about it: I make what you already own work together. That's not a new system to evaluate, license, deploy, and maintain.
I work inside your systems — your credentials, your infrastructure, your repository. Your data stays in your environment; there's no copy of it on my end to lose. I'll sign your DPA and meet your insurance requirements.
Someone built exactly that for a district I worked with for eighteen years — a self-service tool sitting in front of two LMS instances, built so staff could do the two things the LMS itself wouldn't let them do: set up and enroll people into the courses that don't come from the SIS, and merge or split SIS-generated sections so a teacher could actually teach what she'd been assigned. He built it about a decade ago. Then he left. I inherited it — messy, undocumented, exactly the kind of thing nobody wants to be responsible for — and spent the last three years keeping it running. It's still running today.
The part a third party checked
Years before BitSalt existed, I wrote the Wake County side of North Carolina's electronic transcript exchange — real-time delivery where the state's own path took one to three days, and correct request ordering where the state's path had a bug. The Postsecondary Electronic Standards Council named the system that came out of it the winner of its 2009 national Best Practices competition. The award went to the College Foundation of North Carolina's submission, not to me — but PESC's own comparison of the two paths is worth more than the award: a neutral party checking the difference between what Wake County ran and what the state ran, and finding Wake County's faster, and correctly ordered.