A Global Children's Program, Rebuilt Around Its Parents
Prajna is a Vedic education program for children ages 5 and up, run by the Jeeyar Educational Trust at volunteer-led centers across the US, UK, India, Australia and beyond. I redesigned the site end to end, from information architecture through to a shipped front-end build.
UX Research, Information Architecture, Visual Design, Front-End Build
4 Weeks · 2026
React, HTML/CSS/JS, Leaflet, Claude (AI pair programming), Vercel
The full redesign runs in the browser. Try the center finder, the syllabus, or the registration flow.
Prajna teaches Vedic culture, values, and public speaking to children through weekend classes run entirely by volunteers. Families find it by word of mouth, then land on a website that was built to hold the program's paperwork rather than to welcome them.
A parent could not answer three basic questions from the site: what is this, is there one near me, and how do I sign my child up. Everything was flattened onto one long page and buried in a menu built around the organization's internal structure.
I ran comprehension checks and card sorting with parents, teachers, and people new to the program, rebuilt the navigation around what visitors were actually trying to do, and designed and built the whole site as a working React prototype.
A live, accepted redesign covering seventeen pages, including a searchable center finder, a browsable syllabus, a student showcase, and three protected forms. It was delivered as a pre-compiled build the organization's developers can drop straight in.
The original site was not broken. It was organized for the people who ran the program, not for the people arriving at it for the first time.
Almost everything lived on the homepage. The opening paragraph defined Prajna in a single 60-word sentence. Below it, the same content was repeated three times side by side, once each for parents, teachers, and coordinators, with the "what can you do" and "registration process" lists for all three roles shown to every visitor at once. The Syllabus menu opened into fourteen items grouped by internal track names. Locate, the page that answers "is there one near me," was a link most parents never noticed.
Before, the top of the original homepage
Before, the whole page. Nearly the entire site lived here
After, the whole page. Each section does one job
I ran an informal study with three groups: parents, teachers who run classes, and people with no connection to the program at all. The outsider group mattered most, because they mirror a parent following a link from a community chat with no context.
I showed people the existing site and asked them to tell me, in their own words, what Prajna is and who it is for. Participants outside the community consistently could not. They picked up "children" and "Vedic," but could not describe what actually happens in a class, what a child does week to week, or what the program leads to. The information was all present. It was written in the organization's vocabulary rather than a parent's.
I then had participants sort the site's pages under the navigation labels, and asked which pages could be merged or dropped entirely. Three patterns came out of it:
After, the program described in a parent's vocabulary
The questions people actually asked, answered directly
The navigation was rebuilt to match how people sorted, not how the program is administered.
Syllabus, one page with tabs instead of a fourteen-item menu
Centers, search by ZIP, by location, or straight off the map
The decision-maker here is a parent, often a first-generation immigrant parent, frequently reading on a phone, sometimes more comfortable in a language other than English. Every major choice came back to that person.
Two areas needed more than a visual pass, because they are where a hesitant parent either commits or leaves.
Registration opens with a walkthrough video, then a tabbed log in and create account panel with an "after registering" checklist beside it, so a parent knows what happens next before they type anything. All three forms on the site are protected with a silent CAPTCHA, a hidden honeypot field, a submission timing check, and an email confirmation round trip, which matters for an organization run by volunteers with no one on duty to clear out spam.
Centers are the moment of truth. A parent searches by ZIP code, uses their device location, taps a popular metro, or explores the world map directly. Each pin opens a center profile with its address, contact, and a register link. If nothing is nearby, the page offers the one useful alternative instead of a dead end: request a Prajna center in your community.
Register, with a walkthrough before the form
I tested the finished site with parents and with teachers who run classes, giving them tasks rather than a tour.
Teachers reviewed the site separately and gave input on how the syllabus and center content read to someone who teaches from it. I checked the accessibility work in the same sessions, including whether the language option was findable by a parent who needed it.
I designed this in code rather than in a static design file. It started as a single-page low-fidelity sketch and grew into a full React prototype covering seventeen pages, which meant every design decision was tested in a real browser, at real breakpoints, with real content.
For handoff, I compiled the prototype into plain HTML, CSS, and JavaScript with no build step, no bundler, and no JSX, so the organization's developers can drop it into their existing stack without adopting new tooling. It ships with documentation covering the component structure, the design token layer, the hardcoded data arrays that need to be wired to their database, and every stub that needs a backend.
The code was written with an AI collaborator. The research, information architecture, content strategy, visual design, and every product decision are mine. Directing a build to a shipped, documented, handoff-ready result is a skill I lean into deliberately.