Author: haymest (Page 1 of 12)

Building New Learning (Part 5 of 5): Back to Basics

For newcomers then the purpose is not to learn from talk as a substitute for legitimate peripheral participation; it is to learn to talk as a key to legitimate peripheral participation. – Jean Lavé and Etienne Wenger, 1992

Having to express an idea clarifies for learners what they do not fully understand, especially if their interlocutor is prepared to argue and question. – Diana Laurillard, 2002

Learning is a conversation. Large language models are dialogue machines. We can dialogue with them about the design of our classes. Our students must dialogue with them as part of their learning. Our “AI-challenges” are rhetorical challenges, not technological ones.

Whether or not a technology is useful doesn’t come down to how good the teacher is at using technology. It turns on whether the teacher was able to use it to stimulate human dialogue with and among their students.

Good technologies facilitate conversation. Bad ones retard it.

Not All Technologies Facilitate Conversation

Modern education has always been technologically-based. Essays, blackboards, blue books, and classrooms themselves are all technologies. We just don’t recognize them as such because they seem “normal” to us.

Over the last 30-40 years, education has been buffeted by waves of technology, from the CD-ROM to Web 3.0. Many of those degraded conversation because they ignored pedagogy in favor of dreams of efficiency. Artificial Intelligence seems like another in the same litany of complex technologies that further isolate student conversations.

AI’s negative uses have been to try to automate the existing assembly-line methods of instruction, like automated grading or assignment creation. These seem like, at best, another attempt to make learning more efficient at the expense of authentic conversations. At worst, it’s an excuse to replace teachers.

AI is Different Because it Surfaces Tasks

AI is different because it does one thing better than any other computing technology: it lowers, and even eliminates, technical barriers to tasks. No longer do you need to know how to use Illustrator to create graphics. You don’t have to know how to code to create applications.

AI reverses teaching’s recent relationship with technologies. The task can drive the technology, not the other way around.

As you can see from the earlier blogs in this series, I have used AI to reinvent and deepen the quality of my courses. I have used it to synthesize the best of the pedagogical literature and to think deeply about the impact of my assignments on student learning.

I don’t have to be a programmer or a master of complex software systems to achieve these goals. I just have to be a good thinker and questioner.

This lesson should be extended to our students. We must teach our students to be good thinkers and questioners, not coders for them to remain competitive in the job market.

This means stripping learning down to its studs. AI is a humanities problem, not a technical one.

The humanities teach us to be better pedagogues. That makes us better prepared to teach humanity to our students.

We can either teach conformity or creativity. AIs reduce everything to a norm. If your class is normative, it can be defeated by an AI. If your class encourages human flourishing, it cannot.

The same goes for your class design. If you reduce your class to mechanical functions, you can be replaced. If you make it more human, then it will be evergreen. Learning is forever. Education is not.

My new/old approach to pedagogy was designed in conversation with texts on learning, not technology. It is not based on organizational logic. It is based on surfacing their humanity. If we surface the human, we will teach them how to surface themselves in a world where authenticity and humanity matter more, not less.

Strategy 1: Focus on Processes for Thinking

Our first goal in human learning is to develop processes for thinking. Disorganized, or sloppy, thinking undermines so many projects and products. AI is an efficient “thinker” but in the end, it requires humans to design for humans. Effective design is impossible if humans lack the scaffolding of structured thinking.

Modern education is based on evaluating products. Bowen and Watson, however, note that we need to teach dialogue(Plato would approve) as a mechanism for getting what we need out of our technological systems. This is not a technical exercise; it is a rhetorical one.

  • The Old Way: “Write a 5-page essay on Hamlet.” (AI gets an A).
  • The AI-Proof Way: “Have a conversation with ChatGPT about Hamlet. Argue that Hamlet was actually the villain. Submit the transcript of your debate and a 1-page reflection on where the AI beat you.”

We need to stop grading the essay (which is now a commodity). We should be assessing the student’s ability to steerand critique an intelligence.

Strategy 2: Use AI to Focus on Learning, not Education

We must teach our students to leverage AI tools. Banning them is counter-productive. Instead, we must use AI to teach higher level thinking skills. Bowen and Watson argue for the idea of treating AI as a “Naive intern.”

Ask the language model to generate content. It’s good at that. The student’s job is to evaluate that content. Have them generate an AI answer to your assignment. Then, their job is to vet whether that response meets all of the requirements.

Effective critiques require a deep understanding of the subject. The AI can provide a superficial (or seemingly deep) response. Even if it is substantially correct, it is still subject to confirmation and bias checks.

This shifts the cognitive load from Task Execution (writing words) to Task Stewardship (verifying truth). You don’t need to understand the code behind the bot (or even model weighting) to be able to do this. You just have to ask good questions.

Strategy 3: Reintroduce the Human Premium

Even before AI, I struggled to get my students to connect meaning with what they were doing. They operated as the cogs in the educational machine that they were. Anything that humanized that was, at best, at distraction.

However, humanity is the thing that separates us from the machines. Agentic AIs like the recent Einstein agent, exploit this mechanistic structure of education. If the class is a checking-the-box exercise, an agent can take it for them.

In the workforce, as Emad Mostaque pointed out in a recent interview, if your job is to be a machine, you will be replaced. Most office jobs are mechanical and require relatively little creativity on a day-to-day basis. Humans are expensive, especially when you can “replace” them with a bot that costs a couple hundred dollars a year.

It is our humanity that will save us from this fate. Therefore, we need to stress human connection as central to our pedagogy. In my classes, the Gold level reintroduces the “human premium.” To get to this level (equivalent to a “B”), they must relate human issues directly to the more abstract debates that dominate our political discourse.

Machines cannot replicate their lived experience, much less the combined lived experience of a group of students. This is why the insights of Lavé and Wenger’s Situated Learning and Diana Laurillard’s “Conversational Spaces” are so powerful and even more relevant in an AI-driven world.

This World is More Human

One of the things I’ve experienced as a teacher is that, by offloading so much of the logistical load of running a class, I have that much more time to focus on the human element of teaching. The conversations I’m having with my students are deeper and more meaningful than ever.

These are the things that matter in teaching. I have only given up the things that frustrate me: the assessment gaps, the lesson planning, the assignment programming, etc.

Instead, I’m digging back into pedagogical roots stretching back to Socrates. I have created a “cheat sheet” to get you started on that journey. Also, use the OER Pedagogical library I’ve assembled in NotebookLM. Even better, make your own.

AI makes so much more possible. We can reinvent the world through dialogue, not code. We just need to dig the score sheet out of our dusty pedagogical cupboards.

Our job is to be conductors of learning. I can’t wait to hear what beautiful music our students will create with their new AI-powered instruments. We just have to teach them how to make their own music.

Building New Learning (Part 4 of 5): Navigating Conflicting Currents

The pupil is thereby “schooled” to confuse teaching with learning, grade advancement with education, a diploma with competence, and fluency with the ability to say something new. His imagination is “schooled” to accept service in place of value. – Ivan Illich

ACT 1: The Local Friction

The student looked at me incredulously.

“Why can’t I do the next module?” “

“Because you haven’t mastered the last module,” was my reply.

“But I completed it.”

“Yes, you did some work but you did not demonstrate the minimum mastery necessary to continue.”

This is a common conversation with my students these days. They are used to just sliding by and are really struggling with the idea that learning is a process. How are you supposed to evaluate process when no one seems to recognize it exists?

There are two systemic challenges to assessing process over product in our current educational systems. One comes from below from the students and the other comes from above from administrators and the policymakers that are pressuring them to demonstrate “accountability” in exchange for the public funds that make public higher education possible. Both sides are squarely focused on product.

ACT 2: The Systemic Vise

My students are used to checking in and out of courses and dropping in to do the minimum necessary work to create marginal products to “demonstrate” their learning. This is a suicidal strategy in a world where AI does a lot more than getting by.

Students treat each assignment as a product. If you miss one, then you simply make up for it on the next one. One thing they really struggle with in my class is understanding that getting “0’s” on Gold and Platinum assignments is part of the process.

I have some leeway (unlike many K12 teachers) in messing with their realities, because of a natural deference to professors. However, the “best” students, who are best at playing the school game, are most likely to complain about me “messing with their GPA.” Few understand what I am trying to do.

On the other side of the coin, my college is laser focused on “student success.” This is a result of a legislative mandate for colleges to prove their worth to receive funding.

This mandate is complicated because no one seems to know what “student success” actually means. The simple answer is to fall back on credentialing and completion. Of course, no one wants to hear that the easiest way to achieve this metric is to make all the courses easy.

My course exists between these two systems. So far, I haven’t gotten a lot of pushback from the administration, but I can see that happening if my failure and drop rates spike due to students playing the old game and running up against the realities I am trying to teach.

These are systemic problems that any course that takes AI seriously has to face. Large language models challenge the logic of product-based education. Just bolting them onto outdated pedagogical practices on students who conflate school with learning will not work.

However, the vast majority of “AI-transition” policy focuses on doing just that because of the realities of being caught between the two poles of administrative/legislative priorities and student expectations. Donella Meadows, the noted systems thinker, writes, “Policy resistance comes from the bounded rationalities of the actors in a system, each with his or her (or “its” in the case of an institution) own goals.” (Thinking In Systems, p. 113)

Systemic resistance is real. Meadows goes on to say that, “[R]esistance to change arises when goals of subsystems are different from and inconsistent with each other… In a policy-resistant system with actors pulling in different directions, everyone has to put great effort into keeping the system where no one wants it to be.” (Thinking in Systems, p. 113)

In other words, no one has to love the system for it to persist. More importantly, these groups pulling in different directions actually strengthens the system’s resistance to change, because the one thing all actors can agree on is the maintenance of the system.

The students want the system of product-based credentialing to persist because they’ve staked their livelihood on it. Colleges are likewise invested in it.

Then there is the problem of valuing the process itself. If both system actors see the value in producing a product exclusively, learning becomes an “event” of production. If the course focuses on the process, the rhythm of the class must be different.

My students often have personal crises over the course of the semester. Their student existence is often precarious with family and work pressures interfering with their studies.

Within the constraints of the industrial semester system, it’s difficult to modulate the speed of the course for them. That 16-, 12-, 8-, 5-week clock is always ticking, and I can’t really change that.

Some students can play catch-up in my system, but most can’t because there isn’t enough space for them to learn the lessons they need to learn in order to proceed. After a certain point, they can no longer get to the end of the course before the semester clock runs out.

This is not the fault of the course structure. It’s the fault of the outdated industrial clock ticking.

Lately, my institution has focused on the laudable cause of “student care” to ameliorate this problem. My course risks looking “uncaring” by insisting that education requires an investment of time. Process takes time.

Is it really caring to send them out into the world without an understanding of how the learning process works? How are they going to learn the process of lifelong learning that will be essential in a shifting technological and economic world?

It is easy to see how these systems produce inferior products that will have difficulty adjusting to the processes of an AI-driven world, where product is plentiful and processes such as verification, curation, the human premium, and taste will be decisive for their chances of “life success.”

ACT 3: Surfing the Currents

My approach to this wicked problem is to have the students produce a tangible work product as a demonstration of their learning. However, I focus on and assess the importance of process in my pedagogy.

It is this discordance of pace that is central to the friction that I must surf. I’ve seen this before as my courses have been process-based for a long time. The big difference is that the weight of my assessment has continued to focus on the products of my students’ work. This has shifted with the latest course redesign.

To cite just one example, my blogs were so easily gamed by AI that they lost their functional value in the process. Students viewed them as product, not as part of the process of refining their storytelling skills before transitioning them to the visual medium of the web. They’re not part of the course anymore.

The sequence of process-building from one module to the next is central to the pacing of the class after the redesign. Even moving through the modules is a building process. This is essential pedagogical practice going back to Vygotsky’s Zone of Proximal Development.

I have already seen two students suffer crises that have knocked them off their pace. One was able to catch up. The other was not.

The only alternative to plowing on is to revert to the old, compromised system. I’ve seen colleagues do this and their life is filled with a losing battle against AI-generated product.

I worry about the systems of education being able to adapt to the frequency and amplitude of the waves striking it. Learning is still in those systems but it risks being washed away along with the vulnerable products.

Can my course survive? Only time will tell.

Building New Learning (Part 3 of 5): Teaching Augmented Humanity

“We refer to a way of life in an integrated domain where hunches, cut-and-try, intangibles, and the human ‘feel for a situation’ usefully coexist with powerful concepts, streamlined technology and notation, sophisticated methods, and high-powered electronic aids.” – Douglas Engelbart, 1962

I have been obsessed with helping humans construct better worlds, for ourselves and society in general, through the strategic use of technology throughout my career. This idea was at the core of Discovering Digital Humanity. It is also the core of my teaching philosophy.

Learning, as we have set it up, is hard and often unrewarding in any meaningful way to students. Like the bow made it easier to hunt and the fire made it possible for us to cook, computing technology should make it easier for us to think.

I have found this approach to be at odds with the way most others see technology. There are basically two camps here. One is the mechanics, those who see technology as an end to itself. This group forms the core of what we might call the IT community these days.

Then there is the camp that views technology largely with a level of fear. This is because the group that understands the technology has a vested interest in keeping its mysteries to itself. As a result, we divorce technology from humanity.

I have never liked this division. I have always straddled the divide and my approach to teaching is no different. However, until recently, much of the technology required a certain mindset (associated with the mechanics) to really harness. Most of my students felt harnessed to technology, and not in a good way.

AI changes that. It doesn’t require a technical bent to interact with. It doesn’t even require a desire to do that. It also threatens systems built with the older technological mindsets at their core.

Why read the old, often difficult to access, technology of the book, when you can just interrogate it? Why write using that same technology, when everyone’s expectations seem so unreachable? This is what keeps my students from engaging meaningfully with their own brains and learning.

This struggle has always formed the core of my pedagogical practice. Many of my students feel imprisoned by systems of all types: economic, educational, and technological.

All these things come together when we tell them they “need to get an education to get a job” and they “need to master this technology to get a job.” Unsurprisingly, this creates resistance.

No one talks about education as a liberating process anymore. It’s just fitting you for a new set of chains. This is at odds with what I’ve always thought about both education and technology.

In practice, this means teaching the students that they have real, not just performative, power. AI helps me humanize both technology and the learning process by lowering barriers to information and process.

Most students are not used to having an on-call assistant to use in their learning, This is my first set of lessons in the class: how to use AI tools and what their limits are. As José Antonio Bowen and C. Edward Watson describe it:

AI is a new eager assistant capable of finding information, creating visualizations, writing drafts, offering feedback, and analyzing data. It will alter your workflow and allow you to do other things. (Teaching with AI, p. 84)

Students are not used to having this kind of on-call help and it doesn’t help that many of their teachers call this kind of assistance “cheating.” However, this is the future that they are facing. We must teach them how to make AI their partner, not their replacement.

Bowen and Watson also point out that AI can simulate situations and allow students to interact with them. This “red team” approach challenges certainty and forces students to test their thinking.

In my class, I use the AI to simulate opposition to the students’ ideas for solving their challenges. This can take the form of a politician or interest group arguing for alternative solutions.

I still challenge them live in class but often those lessons don’t stick. However, being able to do this asynchronously, they must respond in writing to get Gold points for that section. This is a good lesson in intellectual humility taught without shaming them.

This is where the medaling system in my class comes into play. Most students (and professionals) use AI to construct things. They’re writing papers with it (or letting the chatbot write for them) or creating images.

AI can do a pretty credible job of mimicking mediocre writing and graphic creation. However, most “creation” these days is mediocre product, from cheap graphics to emails and memos (and college essays).

This is not augmentation. It is replacement.

When most professors and professionals complain to me about AI, it’s usually because of the problems (“hallucinations”) these kinds of AI use produce. I tell them, “You’re doing it wrong.”

Many students are used to operating this way because this is all that school has ever demanded from them. Convincing them that this is a pathway to disaster is tall order.

That’s where the Gold assignments come into the picture. These assignments bring the human back in by forcing the students to connect what they’re working on for their challenges back to their own lives.

Gold assignments force the students to move beyond what the AI will ever be able to do. Sure, the AI can mimic a human but it’s never going to be one. I explain to them that if all they ever do is Silver level work (the construction part), they are replaceable by AI. Some of them get it. A lot of them don’t. I worry about those who don’t.

Gold points recenter the human into the equation. Their humanity may have become lost in the systems of education or buried under technological monstrosities. AI lets me tease it back out again.

In 1962, Douglas Engelbart wrote a proposal to “Augment Human Intellect.” Note that he didn’t say “replace.” That is because Engelbart saw computers as the ultimate tool to make humans better.

His struggles centered on making them accessible in an era of punchcards and flashing diodes that only a very few knew how to interact with it. His technological vision bore fruit in the 1980s with the mass adoption of computing systems that grew out of his work in the 1960s, but he never thought his work was done.

That is because he realized that to take full advantage of this augmentation, humans needed to change the systems that held them back. AI has made technological assistance more accessible than before. I don’t have to code to interact with it. I can just talk to it.

My course is explicitly designed to help students transcend the systems that hold them back. I don’t know what the AI future holds but I do know that it will be corrosive to those systems.

Those who are stuck in them will be dragged down with them. Those who can augment themselves and other humans will thrive. I want my students to thrive.

Building New Learning (Part 2 of 5): Beyond the Mimicry Trap

“It’s the questions we can’t answer that teach us the most. They teach us how to think. If you give a man an answer, all he gains is a little fact. But give him a question and he’ll look for his own answers.” – Patrick Rothfuss

The Currency of Compliance

If questions teach us how to think, our current grading system does the opposite: it pays students to stop wondering. Wondering is at a premium in a world where AI does so much of the thinking for us.

Grades are the greatest frustration I suffer as a teacher. They kill wonder. They reduce learning to an endless conveyor belt of frustration and stress for the students.

In Learn at Your Own Risk, I call this frustration “transactional teaching.” You give me work and I give you a token grade. You can take these tokens to your certification bank.

This would make sense if grades reflected the process of learning. Standard grading often falls into the mimicry trap. We mistake a student’s ability to mirror our own voice or the textbook’s structure for actual mastery. In a world where LLMs are the ultimate mimics, mirroring is no longer a high-value skill.

The good students mimic well and are rewarded with gold coins. Those who see this as fool’s gold do the minimum necessary to get by. Those who don’t play by the rules are sent home and forced to repeat the dance.

The key term here is good/bad/indifferent “students.” What they are performing is their capacity to play the role of student, not their real talents. After all, why bother unless it makes your life easier?

This is not learning. This is performance.

Performance vs. Process

Learning is a process, not an event. Deep learning requires process. If you don’t follow it, the actual value the student carries away from the experience is almost zero. The students know this.

By the time they get to me, they’ve been trained for 12 or more years in this game. It has robbed them of the joy of learning and replaced it with the anxiety of pleasing the teacher. I don’t want to be catered to. My joy comes from their growth.

Designing for Flow and Mastery 

When I redesigned my course, the two top criteria I gave my AI partner was that I wanted to make sure the course combined Flow and Formative Assessment (and gamification and constructionism). Grading interrupts Flow because students obsess about the (for some impossibly steep) mountain and miss the point of the climb entirely.

Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi’s Flow approach requires the balancing of challenge and boredom. Tests aren’t challenging, they’re boring. They’re just part of the endless box-checking that education has become.

“As soon as a student gets a grade, the learning stops.” – Dylan Wiliam

Formative assessment requires students to respond to feedback and practice tasks accordingly. As Dylan Wiliam writes, “As soon as a student gets a grade, the learning stops.” Feedback is usually ignored or, at best, used to complain about the assessment already taken. It’s only the next assessment that matters now.

Getting past this “peak and valley” rhythm of the class has always been the chief challenge of my learning design process. Therefore, this was a central focus of my course redesign effort.

I built this through a “leveling up” model based loosely on Scott Nicholson’s article on gamifying his class. In this model, the better learners level up to the harder assignments while those who are struggling more can at least get to the passable assignments.

My course uses a modification of the medaling system developed by Scott Nicholson. In my version, there are four medals: Bronze, Silver, Gold, and Platinum.

The Medal System

 

Silver is the New Floor

The Bronze level is the foundational level. It just means you know how to find the information you need to proceed. The Silver level is the AI-level. What I mean by that is that Silver involves constructing products, it could theoretically be replicated by an AI tool.

The point structure in the class is set up so that if you just do Bronze and Silver, you will get a D in the class. I make it clear to them that this level of work is likely to be replaced by machines in an AI world. This is where most classes end their learning process (and why I’m so fearful about the consequences of that for our students).

Emad Mostaque argues that the value of “cognitive work” rapidly approaches zero in an AI-driven world. AI is good at producing products, but you must make it produce products that reflect your value to set yourself apart from assembly-line thinking. Silver level work operates at this level. This is no longer good enough.

Gold requires a level of personalization. What does this work mean to me, specifically? How does it help me move my goals forward? The AI has no empathy so it can’t do this authentically.

Finally, Platinum is about teaching others. Those of us who teach, know that the best way to learn something is to teach it. This is the A-level of the class.

All these assignments except for Platinum are all-or-not yet. What that means is that, within a certain boundary of time, the students can redo assignments to achieve that plateau. Silver is the minimum necessary to proceed to the higher levels but also the minimum necessary to proceed to the next course section.

I have noticed that a lot of students stalled at Silver in the first module. More, but not all, got to Gold in the second, and only a select few got to Platinum. You cannot get points for higher medals until you’ve done the lower ones.

This is still somewhat a work in progress, but the preliminary (small sample-size alert) results are encouraging. I think it will need to be tweaked a little bit in future iterations in terms of the mechanics of advancing through the levels (Canvas is not my friend here).

I’m also still learning how to teach this way. My feedback is critical to making the system work. After that, I also need to get my students to read the feedback.

This system does at least two things. First, it reinforces the idea of failure leading to iteration, not quitting. This is a radical departure from what they are used to but very much reinforces the modulating nature of Flow as well as the feedback loop required for formative assessment.

Second, once they get used to it, the students see this as an “easy A” (it’s not) because it looks like I’ve made their incentive mountain easy to climb. Gamification requires levels to be difficult but not too difficult, while at the same time keeping you engaged with the game.

From “Spinach” to Significance

This last part is the most difficult to achieve. My students don’t want to play this game in the first place.

Engaging them in something related to the course is like trying to get them excited about a spinach-eating contest. The system has taught them that learning is often unpleasant, especially if it’s a course you must take (mine is required of all students).

This is where connecting their learning to something they care about really matters. By researching a social issue that impacts them directly (and I make them reflect on that early on), they learn that learning and politics are struggles that must be engaged with for there to be any growth toward viable outcomes.

The design process can also be viewed as a game. The core of design is failure and iteration. These are the same mechanics that underlie any successful game. This also forms the basis of my Constructionist activity.

While my system may not be perfect, it’s clearly heading in the right direction. Flow, Formative Assessment, Gamification, and Constructionism teach essential skills necessary to work in tandem with the machines to create better versions of ourselves and our communities. This is how we use AI to become more human, not less. Next time, we will talk about teaching the students to use AI as a partner in the class.

Building New Learning (Part 1 of 5): Why I Blew Up My Class

My choices of what to attempt and what not to attempt were determined to an embarrassingly great extent by considerations of clerical feasibility, not intellectual capability.— JCR Licklider, “Man-Computer Symbiosis,” – 1960

I have known for a while that education needed to change. I could sense it as far back as the 2000’s as I was starting my career in education and technology. Education was badly out of sync with the information flows of the rest of the world, and the students knew it. Now, however, with the tools I and my students can build using AI, there is no excuse not to change if you value learning over certification.

I didn’t redesign my class because of AI. I redesigned it because content mastery is no longer the organizing principle of education. Learning the skill of process is. Along the way, I discovered that I could do things with my classes that I had always wanted to do: fold in the best ideas from deep thinkers about learning and learning strategies.

Web 2.0 was the first real warning sign that technology would undermine the way education worked, but most people ignored it. Of course, you could go all the way back to the 70s and see the glimmerings of this in the works of Ivan Illichand Ted Nelson, both of whom could speculate on the trajectory of technology but realized we weren’t there yet.

In many ways this was still true in the noughties. Building stuff, especially complex stuff, was still difficult even for those of us who had been using technology for decades. It was a lot to expect faculty to create with this technology, much less students.

It took until the early 2010s before I was comfortable asking students to create multimedia with technology. Web authoring tools had matured enough to where students (most of them at least) to where the primary struggle was with the material, not the technology.

I teach two classes everyone must take, American and Texas Government. Most of my students view my class as an impediment to stuff they “really need.” Under these circumstances, it is easy for them to slip into a compliance mindset rather than a transformational one.

Motivation has always been at the top of my list of challenges. I have tried all kinds of tricks to see if I could make the traditional method of teaching and learning work. This model had me “leading” the class to knowledge. However, I was constantly frustrated when it came to naught. Sure, there were incremental improvements, but they weren’t transformational.

In 2018, I decided to reinvent my class structure and instituted a design model. Instead of essays and tests, the students built a public website about a challenge that is important to them. This was the first time I think I really implemented a constructionist strategy in my classes.

This meant that I needed to push the content into a secondary status and focus on their learning skills. After 18 years of trying to get my students to master complex theories of government, which they immediately forgot, this was a welcome shift in focus.

I discovered that this direction was not a panacea, however (I wrote about this in Learn at Your Own Risk). Students have been so well-trained in transactional teaching (I give you a grade in exchange for work) that the course became an exercise in frustration for both the students and myself as they struggled to know “what I wanted” when what I wanted is for them to stretch themselves creatively.

However, this structure, since it wasn’t obsessed with content (content was a source, not a pretext), adapted well to remote teaching. While my colleagues were obsessing over cheating, I had no tests to protect. Everything in my class was open book, just like the real world.

When AI came onto the scene, this also served to cushion the model. However, even though I thought and wrote extensively about the impact of AI on education, it was always a bolt-on.

Last semester, I had to do a quick setup for my classes and leaned into AI to help me with language and consistency. It helped but I could tell the model had some vulnerabilities. I introduced my students to AI and how to use it responsibly, but I could tell some of the blogs were written by ChatGPT. This told me the assignments were becoming meaningless.

I had more time for reinventing my courses this semester and decided to do another 2018-level reinvention. I recognized that this was possible in a much shorter time because of the AI tools I had been exploring. It was also long overdue.

In that redesign, I tried to shift the identity of the student from passive “consumer” to “designer.” This was a big shift for them, but it was also an artificial one. I understood it, but they didn’t. They were still playing a game that I was the master of and that they had little investment in.

I knew that AI demanded that they invest in the experience. If not, there was no incentive for them to do anything other than check boxes.

I have studied pedagogy for years looking for solutions to my challenges with students but also because I was looking for opportunities to integrate technology into the process. However, operationalizing good ideas is not the same as recognizing them.

Over the years, I had thought about the ideas of Papert, Harel, Csikszentmihalyi, Lavé, Wenger, Laurillard, and Wiliambut struggled to find systematic applications for my class. They were always, at best, bolt-ons and therefore had a diminished effect on the learning experience.

Last year, I constructed a Notebook LM library with my collection of pedagogical readings. I used it to construct just-in-time active learning for my Fall classes. I would come up with an idea, operationalize it in Gemini, and then check its pedagogical efficacy against my pedagogical library in Notebook LM. I’ve recently made an OER version of this library.

Therefore, it made sense to do a root-and-branch reconstruction of the class using these resources. However, there was a further step. In my AI-developer guise, I was doing a lot of deep exploration of how AI will impact how we live and work in the future. Discovering Digital Humanity also dovetailed nicely into this approach.

Carlo Iacono’s substack on AI and learning, which I highly recommend, talks about, among other things, that “direction” matters more than speed. In Discovering Digital Humanity, I talk about how we need to let technology enable us to create. We must learn to direct it to produce what’s in our heads.

AI only makes this easier. Therefore, instead of banning technology, we must teach our students how to become architects of the future.

Instead, we are training our students to be clarinet players when what we should be training them for is to be conductors. The AI becomes the orchestra. Getting it to sing is the real challenge.

AI will not let us digest this intelligence inversion for long. We don’t have another 20 years to figure out how teach in this environment. Education must shift from artifact production to teaching cognitive architecture now.

The factory is gone. It’s time for everyone to learn to be a builder. That’s exactly what my redesigned course does. However, it goes much further than my old design-based formula because it focuses assessment on process, not product. Learning should not be what you build, it should be about how you get there. Architects design. They let others build.

There is No Why in AI

“It is in Apple’s DNA that technology alone is not enough—it’s technology married with liberal arts, married with the humanities, that yields us the results that make our heart sing.” – Steve Jobs

Humans are dreamers. Whether we are dreaming of a better life for ourselves or our children or of Middle Earth, creativity is at the center of our existence. According to Leonard Shlain, “Every child is born with a desire to re-create the world in his or her own terms. This powerful motivation for producing art has always been a means of imposing order on the disjointed pieces of the child’s emerging worldview” (Art & Physics pp. 141-142).

Lately, the news has been filled with stories about Humanities departments shutting down at universities across the country. This week at Davos Palantir CEO Alex Karp proclaimed that AI will “decimate” humanities jobs.

I couldn’t disagree more.

Morality, ethics, and the logic of “why” will be the premium human skills required to operate in an AI-driven world. Without dreams there is no “why.” Technologists like Doug Engelbart, Alan Kay, Steve Wozniak, and even Steve Jobs were dreamers first. The reason their innovations “worked” is because they baked their dreams into everything they built.

Chatbots don’t dream of electric sheep. We do. Our dreams come from within or they may come from the dreams of others. The Humanities are the stuff of dreams. Philosophers dream of a better us. Historians dream of other times. Writers just dream.

Science is also filled with dreamers. Every great scientific invention was driven by a dream of something different. Most truly successful scientific visionaries also had a “soft” side. Einstein was a talented musician. Richard Feynman was also a musician. Music is math.

So why this fascination with killing off the humanities? Our obsession with STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Math) over the last 30-40 years failed to grasp the need for this other side of our brain to be engaged in the development of innovation.

This is a legacy of industrial thinking and late-stage capitalism. Everything must have a purpose and turn a monetary profit or a return-on-investment (ROI). The thinking was that if you focused on the “hard” science, humans would be better at navigating and thriving in a technological world. ROI dominates everything, including the learning process.

Instead, we ended up with a lot of frustrated people because their studies lacked any purpose other than profit. We gradually stripped meaning from learning. We lost our compass in the pursuit of an elusive goal. And when society (and education) didn’t deliver that profit, it bred resentment.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard students say, I can’t do math (or science or technology) because it’s too hard. I’ve had two students drop my class this semester because they were intimidated by the prospect of having to build a website. Their mantra was, “I’m not good at technology.”

They gave me very cogent ROI arguments why taking my course, which forces them to explore a different way of learning, was a risk to them. Making an argument that this technology could operationalize their dreams had little resonance with them.

This version of STEM education separates humans from their dreams. Money is not a dream. It may be a mechanism in today’s world to purchase the facsimiles of dreams but the pursuit of it doesn’t really change the world.

Now, we are faced with a situation where AI can do so many of the STEM activities that form the centerpieces of study in those areas. It’s not the artists who should be threatened by AI, it’s the engineers.

I can code with AI. I can create technical documents and drawings with AI. I can reinvent my classes with AI. I can do all these things because my education is grounded in the humanities and I have the tools to systematically dream what I’m trying to accomplish.

A curious thing happened to my courses as I worked with AI (a curated library in Notebook LM) to develop my AI-infused curriculum: The design systematically stripped ROI (the product) from my assessment strategy in favor of communication, collaboration, and inspiration (the process). Instead of assessing papers, I am assessing how they created meaningful artifacts. I am teaching the process of turning dreams into reality.

The power to actualize dreams is what education should provide and what AI forces it to provide if it wants to keep humans relevant in the job market. As Emad Mostaque said in a recent interview, “if you are part of the machine, your job is gone.”

We can automate the building of today’s world, but only the humanities gives us the power to dream of tomorrow’s world. If we learn only to exist in today’s world, tomorrow’s world will never come and all of the dystopian visions of job replacement will come to pass.

The AI may help provide the diagnosis but the doctor and nurses will still provide the care. AIs may develop solutions to long-standing problems of climate change, poverty, and preserving individual choice, but it will be humans who decide which course is the most humane one.

These are not things you get from STEM courses. Sure, they may have grafted moral or ethical requirements to their syllabi but those come from the humanities. And if those things are afterthoughts, we really will have an AI-driven, but human inspired, dystopia.

This also misses the point of STEM. Without inspiration, without purpose, without dreams, science and math become a mundane technical exercise.

My son is studying to be an engineer. He has passion for building and designing things but his courses seem divorced from that reality because they reduce dreaming to a formulaic activity.

AI is good at logistics. I love how it clears all of the low-hanging clerical things from my plate. However, while it can help me brainstorm, that spark of inspiration must come from me.

The humanities teach us to dream. Without dreams there would be no AI. AI doesn’t replace that. It never can, just like a car doesn’t quench our thirst for finding new places. AI has no “why.” We do.

The Looking Glass Writer: AI and the End of the “Perfect” Idea

“Give a man a book, and you entertain him for a night. Teach a man to write, and you give him crippling self-doubt for life.” — Andy Weir, 2015

I recently completed a research paper for publication. It was the first time I’d written that kind of paper since I started using AI in my writing process. I assembled all of the books and papers I was going to use into a NotebookLM and got to work. It was a surprisingly painful experience but one that may have resulted in a deeper argument overall (only time will tell).

However, is there something deeper going on here with my thinking? I have long treated AI as a wonderful boon in making me time by removing a lot of mundane tasks from my plate. From creating materials for my classes on the fly to dealing with everyday correspondence, I could vastly shorten the amount of time I used to devote to such tasks.

What I didn’t realize was just how much AI would change my perspective on writing and where my ideas fit into the universe of ideas out there. I was writing a paper on the shift between a textual and post-textual society, but it turned out that I was experiencing some aspects of the shift while I was writing the paper itself.

As I describe in Discovering Digital Humanity, I learned to write digitally. What that means is that I never had to use a typewriter for serious writing. I never had to be systemic in my prep work. I got what I wanted to say onto digital paper. Then I worked backwards to edit it and source it. If I found gaps or contradictions, I corrected them as part of the editing process.

I learned to avoid outlining where I’m going (unless I’m writing something bigger, like a book) so that I don’t straightjacket my thought pathways. I just let my ideas flow and take me where they will, knowing I can clean it up in “post.”

For me, research is getting my brain where it needs to be to start and, as I described, filling in the blanks and correcting my thoughts as I go along. The most frustrating part of this process is working backwards through sources and finding new ones as I realize that I need to explore a particular aspect of my paper as I go along.

I thought AI would speed up this part of the task and it did. However, it was very good at opening new doors for me. That was a trap. Like Alice, I kept going through the looking glass because something interesting beckoned from the other side.

Instead of spending hours flipping through papers looking for highlights or flipping through books looking for notes, I would just search for them in my AI brain. Instead of spending agonizing hours struggling with the question of “what’s this paper really about?” I could use my AI brain to help me sort through the possibilities at speed.

That second process worked, at least in part. I gave NotebookLM the general premise about what I was going to write about, including data on the publication I was writing for. I also gave it my own writing over the last few years and then asked it to review my sources to give me a list of suggestions of how to frame the paper.

For instance, in the paper I theorized that ideas were bound into linear text and that visualization coupled with AI tools could provide new ways of looking at them. As part of my research, I came across the idea of “deep mapping” to contextualize information using GIS (Geographic Information System) tools.

How and why deep mapping is so effective would have bolstered my entire argument, but it would have added considerable length to the paper. That didn’t stop me from wasting a lot of time considering how I could add it. Meanwhile, the clock was ticking to finish the project.

I did not realize how much the “discipline” of my writing was being limited by my analog ability to explore sources to find complementary ideas. As we have all done, I always find things after a paper has been published that alters what I “would have” said, had I to do it over. This is a natural part of the learning process.

Using the AI, however, opened those “would have” doors before I finished writing. I found myself repeatedly exploring new ideas and adapting what I was writing on the fly. Then, I had to go back and fix the overall narrative to make it make sense. This had the paradoxical effect of lengthening the writing process.

AI has massively sped up this task but, at the same time, has opened new avenues of exploration. Authors know that what you leave out of your work is at least as important as what you put into it. I set out to write a 2000-word piece for publication. The last version topped out at almost two times as many.

As a writer, I frequently like to quote the Andy Weir quote with which I started this blog (note that I didn’t think of doing that until I wrote those words). We are constantly asking ourselves the question of whether anything we write is any good. The purpose of writing is to put yourself out there to everyone else to be judged. Otherwise, you might as well just journal your thoughts to yourself.

But most of us have a lousy sense of whether anything we write is good or not. Even successful authors like Weir constantly question whether they are creating things up to their own quality standards.

What I am trying to say here, is that I don’t know whether this process has yielded work that is better than what I wrote pre-AI. It has shifted the pain, not eliminated it. I like to argue that AI frees us from the mundane so that we can focus on higher level tasks that we never had time for before.

One thing this process has done is to give me a lot more to think about, both from the perspective of the writing process itself as well as the process I was writing about. Ironically, this topic morphed into a discussion of systems theory and the human process of adapting to new forms of sharing our ideas. I was therefore writing about what I was doing and doing what I was writing about. Talk about a rabbit hole…

Writing this paper has taught me that, even as a partner, AI reshapes how we think. Digital writing shaped how I thought about structuring my ideas. AI will do the same thing if I let it (and I need to). Ironically, it’s my experience as a writer that will make this transition harder.

AI opens doors for us to explore topics in a deeper human way. However, it also preys on our natural curiosity to explore. As writers and thinkers, we must adapt to this new reality. We can’t hide from it.

We all must learn to accept the incompleteness of our ideas. We can no longer entertain ourselves with the notion that our thinking will change the world and settle for just making it better before handing it off to the next thinkers in the chain. In this way, we can take pride in our role in building the human knowledge project without succumbing to the hubris of the “perfect” idea.

We Need the Enlightenment Now, More Than Ever

A popular Government, without popular information, or the means of acquiring it, is but a prologue to a farce or a tragedy; or, perhaps, both. Knowledge will forever govern ignorance; and a people who mean to be their own governors must arm themselves with the power which knowledge gives..- James Madison, 1820

There are certain points in human history where we have discovered a lot only to discover there’s a lot more to discover. Thinkers sensed that massive change was coming but did not understand the shape it would take.

One of these periods was the late 18th century. Science was on a much firmer foundation after Newtonian physics had taken over. Hints of the Industrial Revolution were out there but no one knew how it would reshape their worlds over the next century.

It was into this interregnum that philosophers like Immanuel Kant and the Marquis de Condorcet stepped in. They sought to establish principles for both society and science going forward.

We are at one of those moments again. We have unlocked the power of computing and are poised on the edge of the age of AI. But our cultures and systems are still stuck in an industrial mindset.

Humanity has had far less time to adapt to this shift than the thinkers of the late 18th Century. Their shift took over a century and even then things were spinning out of control for them. Condorcet did some of his most important work while on the run from the French Revolution.

Their insights still ring today even though many were lost in the Industrial Revolution and its counter revolutions throughout the last century. Since World War II we have increasingly questioned these constructed realities. This has only accelerated over the last 30 years. Kant and Condorcet also existed in a world where humanity increasingly questioned familiar forms of legitimacy and truth.

The painful process of establishing and holding the legitimacy of the people over their governments would convulse human history for two centuries. Reason never fully triumphed over superstition. The organization of capitalist economies established new hierarchies of power under the guise of democratic access to wealth.

The information revolution gradually undermined the weak foundations established in the latter half of the 20th Century by making Reason hard to discern through informational noise, leading to a resurgence of superstitious thought.

Now, we are confronted with a new set of challenges, driven by that very democratization of information coupled with new tools, like AI Large Language Models, to sift through and distort them.

Kant and Condorcet summarized the development of Enlightenment thinking and these can be boiled down into three distinct principles, all of which should resonate with us today.

In the current atmosphere of political, economic, and intellectual turmoil, these principles provide a map toward positive outcomes. AI gives all of us far more influence over our systems than ever before. However, this is only possible if we are prepared to seize it before it is imposed on us by the existing hierarchical orders. In other words, just as technology arguably undermined the original Enlightenment, now it can be used to liberate us from the shackles of industrial thinking.

  1. Reason As the Foundation of Legitimacy

Enlightenment is man’s leaving his self-caused immaturity. Immaturity is the incapacity to use one’s intelligence without the guidance of another. Such immaturity is self-caused if it is not caused by lack of intelligence, but by lack of determination and courage to use one’s intelligence without being guided by another. Sapere Aude! Have the courage to use your own intelligence! is therefore the motto of the enlightenment. – Immanuel Kant, On History, trans. Lewis White Beck (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1963), p. 3

AI only presents a threat to those who can’t (or won’t) reason. For those of us that do, it is a tremendous tool for amplifying our reasoning powers. AI does this by cutting through the vast seas of information that blind us to what’s actually happening. If you can’t see, you can’t reason.

Most of the critiques of AI seem to center on our propensity to give up our reason to it. My students, who have poor reasoning skills, lean on it heavily to reason for them. A frequent “critique” of AI centers on a series of cautionary tales (e.g., legal briefs citing nonexistent cases, consulting reports written by AI tools). These kinds of examples are not a sign of AI’s “intelligence” or “danger,” but instead signal our abdication of reason.

Our ability to reason is dulled by centuries of industrial thinking. The vast majority of workers were not expected to reason. Indeed, they were discouraged from it because it had the potential to interfere with the operation of the machines.

The real tragedy came when we started basing our educational processes on production rather than Reason. We have produced generations of dependent thinkers who can, at best, reason their way through the task in front of them but fail to see the larger process it’s a part of. That part has been “educated” out of them, because it was seen as unnecessary (and potentially disruptive).

In my classes I use AI as a reasoning tool. I teach my students how to use AI to generate questions rather than simply providing them with answers. We use the SIFT Method from Mike Caulfield and Sam Wineburg to analyze not only sources from the internet, but also the responses of the AI itself.

This supports their reasoning abilities because it introduces them to a powerful tool to compare and explore open-ended questions. This is something that traditional schooling often deprecates because it’s too hard to assess.

As a teacher, I can focus on teaching them how to navigate the processes of reasoning and navigating the complex information environment they face. I don’t have to spend nearly as much time doing the nuts and bolts. Instead, I can use AI to create reasoning exercises on the fly. I am not dependent on a test bank of questions that demand answers.

In my research I use it to explore knowledge more efficiently. One method is to use Notebook LM as what I call an “idea extraction machine.” I’ve been building customized libraries for everything from coding to assessment to technology.

Using these libraries, I no longer have to depend on fragmentary notes. I can scan, and more importantly, compare entire books at a keystroke. This also lets me evaluate what sources I want to spend extra time with to really get their complex points.

Augmenting our exploration of Reason is a primary facet of Douglas Engelbart’s plea for “augmenting human intellect” or, as Howard Rheingold puts it, they are “tools for thought.” We just need to use them that way. It’s fun to imagine what Kant might have done with a reasoning tool like Notebook LM.

A central challenge of our age is the sheer amount of information we have to confront. If we are constantly just “keeping up” that leaves little time for reasoning.

Tools that help me and my students efficiently find the needles that we need in the haystacks of information we are confronted with are invaluable. They are necessary to open the space for reasoning and to find the legitimate knowledge that is out there instead of depending on interpreters and charlatans to do it for us.

Establishing the legitimacy of our reasoning, as Enlightenment principles demand, never vanished. Instead, it was overwhelmed by our growing ability to produce narrative noise, from the steam press to radio, television, and modern databases. As Marshall McLuhan observed, 20th century technologies dulled rather than amplified our capacity to think – until the computer.

We didn’t lose Reason; we lacked the tools to make it heard above the din. AI has given us those tools. We just need to demand that they be designed to augment Reason, not further blind us to it.

  1. Progress and Perfectibility (Intellectual + Moral Improvement)

Such is the object of the work I have undertaken; the result of which will be to show, from reasoning and from facts, that no bounds have been fixed to the improvement of the human faculties; that the perfectibility of man is absolutely indefinite; that the progress of this perfectibility, henceforth above the control of every power that would impede it, has no other limit than the duration of the globe upon which nature has placed us. The course of this progress may doubtless be more or less rapid, but it can never be retrograde; at least while the earth retains its situation in the system of the universe, and the laws of this system shall neither effect upon the globe a general overthrow, nor introduce such changes as would no longer permit the human race to preserve and exercise therein the same faculties, and find the same resources. – Condorcet, Marie-Jean-Antoine-Nicolas. Outlines of an historical view of the progress of the human mind. Trans. M. Carey, 1795, p. 12.

If Reason grants legitimacy to our thoughts and actions, progress gives them direction. As economic progress stalled for most of us, we lost faith in ourselves because progress was tied to wealth.

However, Condorcet was not talking about economic progress. That was a capitalist invention. The Marquis was talking about our ability to learn and grow as humans, not as consumers.

The Industrial Age conflated progress with economics. However, unlimited economic growth is no longer possible due to climate change. As we stagnate, machines take over many industrial tasks (including office-bound assembly lines). Extremist movements (like those that Condorcet was hiding from in 1794) thrive in this kind of uncertainty. We’ve lost track of what progress means.

Our uncertainty is a product of shifting paradigms. We have spent the last 30 years trying to figure out how the world was going to relate to itself politically and economically and longer than that figuring out how humans should relate to their machines.

The thinkers of the Enlightenment may not have always lived up to their ideals (see Madison and Jefferson, the slave owners), but they did break the mold when it came to clarity of thought. They marked a unique moment in human history where we broke away from superstition.

With misinformation and fake news providing today’s superstition and AI demanding a level of rationality that most find difficult, we are once again at a crossroads.

If we look to AI as some sort of God, then we have succumbed to superstition. If, on the other hand, we look to AI as a partner to our rationality we can reach heights of human progress only dreamt of in science fiction stories.

The power we are “giving” to AI is the central question that drives much of the current debate over its threat. Those that seek to elevate it to godhood are both the naysayers and hucksters of the debate. Those of us that see it as a reasoning tool are a small minority caught in the middle.

A lot of this uncertainty is driven by our inability to gain perspective on the daily deluge of information which pretty much everyone has to confront.

18th century Europe was also confronting a confusing and bewildering change. They were loosening their bonds with religion. Technical revolutions were starting to shift relationships between people and work.

Societies were struggling with how to organize themselves internally and at the end of the century revolutionary France and secession of the American colonies put the alien concept of government’s responsibility to the people firmly on the table leading to decades of warfare.

Enlightenment thinkers, however, realized that the quest for human perfection required collective action. They got this from a century of experience in a society of letters, which focused discussion between thinkers seeking to perfect their own thinking.

We have lost hope that this is possible. Faith in our educational systems is at an all-time low. Part of the problem is that so many of our educational processes have conflated progressive human improvement with economic improvement. AI presents a fundamental threat to that logic.

The imperative here is human improvement, not technical improvement. This is another tenet that the Industrial Revolution reversed. As we became fascinated with our machines, we became part of them.

In the process, we lost sight of what Doug Engelbart wrote should be the primary task of those machines: augmenting human intellect. Instead, we augmented our machines with humans.

We can design AI to follow this trend or undermine it. Digital technologies have lowered the barrier to human improvement, even as we failed to grasp them. This is a central theme of my book, Discovering Digital Humanity.

We must make a conscious choice to break with that trend. This means fundamentally reimagining our systems of learning and work in the face of the new realities that AI confronts us with.

News reports indicate that the loss of entry-level jobs across many industries is real. That is because the purpose of these jobs was to indoctrinate those college graduates into the systems of an organization and its technology. In other words, they were being trained to become part of the machine.

Machines are by definition better at being machines. Humans need to lean into being human.

I have spent my technological career fighting against this trend. Specifically, I have no patience for technologies in education that interfere with the learning process. I’ve created everything from physical spaces to online spaces designed to flex for the needs of the humans using them.

AI increases that flexibility considerably. As a teacher, I can pivot on the fly to meet the needs of any given class whereas before that was very difficult to do logistically.

I never seemed to have enough time to create and test classroom activities to meet the specific needs of a particular group of students. With AI assistance, I am now able to do this much faster and that brings with it a humanizing benefit because I can be that much more responsive to the human needs and variability of my classes.

My focus in teaching has always been to make my students better humans, not better machines. I stress using AI tools to overcome many of the barriers to their success. Research and writing that are often intimidating barriers to my students. Struggling with the mechanics of writing keeps them from engaging in deeper reasoning. Rote repetition is for machines, not humans.

My goal has always been to make the next generation capable thinkers because the world is increasingly unkind to those who can’t reason. AI doesn’t reason, but it can help us to reason.

This is the moral imperative that Condorcet lays before us with this principle. I may not transform them with my classes alone but I can light a fire of questioning that will take them down their own paths to reasoning. Not all of them will make it but more of them will than would be the case without my intervention. Reasoning tools like AI make this imperative task easier.

  1. Universal Moral/Legal Norms (Equality Before Reason / Rule of Law)

For if the law is such that a whole people could not possibly agree to it (for examples, if it stated that a certain class of subjects must be privileged as a hereditary ruling class), it is unjust. – Immanuel Kant, Zum ewigen Frieden (Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Sketch, 1795), in Kant: Political Writings, ed. Hans Reiss (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), p. 79.

In the Enlightenment mind, progress was impossible without a level of equality before the law. At first, this centered on political equality, as professed in the US Declaration of Independence or the bloody leveling of the early years of the French Revolution. The real threat to this principle, however, was economic inequality brought on by capitalism and the Industrial Revolution.

The seismic shifts of the 18th century led to two disconnected responses. At the popular and political level societies (eventually) demanded order from chaos. But at the scientific and technical level change was driven by rational inquiry, which tolerated uncertainty.

Sometimes these two intersected such as in the United States Constitution but more often they were at odds such as during the French Revolution. The Industrial Revolution cemented this tension between capitalism and democracy by elevating “inequality” as the “price of progress.” “Progress” is therefore driven by the extrinsic motivator of wealth, not the intrinsic motivator of personal and societal growth.

What both the Americans and the French realized fairly quickly was that actually making democratic institutions work was far different from envisioning their rational functionality. America descended into partisan bickering within a decade of the ratification of the Constitution. Within 75 years this partisan bickering would descend into civil war. In France, the chaos opened the door for a strong man who plunged Europe into war for the next 20 years.

Reading the United States Constitution and Madison, Hamilton, and Jay’s defense of it demonstrates what Enlightenment thinkers thought was possible in the political sphere. Their dissection of human foibles and systems was unprecedented. They built on a century of philosophical thought that gave them the ability to envision a world originally conceived of by philosophers like John Locke, Rousseau, and the Baron de Montesquieu.

Thinkers like Madison, however, had to apply them to an unequal society. They did this through deep inquiry and critical thinking. Some things appear deceptively simple like factions. The implications are this, however, are complex, as Madison explores in Federalist 10.

These leaders were facing uncharted territory. No one had ever done this before but they felt an urgency to make it work. If George Washington had been more like Napoleon, we could have very easily degenerated into a French outcome.

The mechanics of economics were largely a mystery and technologies were already starting to reshape the world in Britain. That is why the Constitution is such a flexible document that is still with us today even with all of its flaws.

We face a similar pivot today. The turn of the 21st century saw a brief flourishing of widespread democracy underpinned by capitalist economics. Both were rooted in Enlightenment concepts but mutated by the intervening Industrial Age into pale shadows of their ideals.

The ideals expressed in the US Declaration of Independence, and the Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizenare difficult, if not impossible, ideals in a society that is economically unequal. We can profess that no man is above the law but time and again men have put themselves over it because they had access to resources that others did not.

This is not a plea for communism. Its historical tenet was to bring everybody down to an average. This is no longer necessary. We have the technological capacity to bring everyone up without significantly pulling our societies down.

I have always looked at digital technology as a democratizing force. As it has grown more powerful people have access to information and resources previously unimaginable. There is a supercomputer on my belt, and I am talking into it right now.

Before AI this technology was relatively inaccessible. You had to have certain skills (like coding or the mastery of complex programs) in order to create even with digital technology.

As I described in a series of blogs earlier this year, we are entering into a world where the limits on your creativity are just that, your creativity. Technology is increasingly not the bottleneck. Patterns of thought are.

This is why patterns of thought are what I teach students of all ages. Teachers are limited by this as much as their students, if not more. Private industry is struggling to manage this transition not because it threatens their profits, but because it upsets the systems they’re used to in achieving their profits.

The key to equality before the law is human improvement. Madison put it succinctly when he wrote in 1820 that, “Knowledge will forever govern ignorance: And a people who mean to be their own Governors, must arm themselves with the power which knowledge gives.”

You cannot be equal before the law in a hierarchical society. We have transformed from a hierarchy based on kinship to one based on wealth. Knowledge hierarchies have existed uneasily beside these, but now technology gives my students, most of whom have never had the benefit of a first class education, a fighting chance to climb that hierarchy in order to achieve the level of Reason and equality demanded of us by Kant.

Conclusions

These principles are intertwined with one another. You cannot have equality before the law if you do not prioritize the improvement of the human condition. You cannot improve the human condition without fostering Reason. In an age where many people were still struggling to meet the basic needs of human survival, these goals seemed distant.

However, creativity and knowledge exist in tension with capitalist hierarchy. Capitalism is dependent on inequality. Profit motive demands that some achieve success while others pay for that success. The argument, of course, is that the rising tide will lift all boats. This has been largely true but stagnated over the last 50 years.

Today, there are real questions about whether capitalism can survive the end of scarcity and the emergence of tools like AI that will replace traditional workers. Democracy is under threat across the globe as chaos replaces uncertainty.

But we can learn from the ideals of the Enlightenment thinkers. The execution of democracy is what is flawed. Its underlying Enlightenment principles remain, and even the most authoritarian dictators are forced to give it lip service.

The thing we have lost and need to rediscover is a process of deep, rational inquiry. This permeates through all of the Federalist Papers and from the discussions of the convention itself. This was their truly radical idea. The areas where the Constitution failed (like in dealing with slavery) was when the delegates gave up on rationality in favor of pragmatism.

AI can be a powerful tool for fostering rationality but we have to know when to discard pragmatism to achieve our potential with it. If we use it to replicate the broken processes of the near past, we are asking for failure (or worse).

We should be looking to AI to give us better questions to ask of ourselves, not rely on it for answers. We can use these questions to achieve human progress and redesign our systems to adapt them to the realities of our chaotic world.

By widening the circle of Reason, AI can augment human progress and help us survive our present chaos or it can stifle human progress by bolstering repressive institutions that serve themselves, not the humans they were designed for. This is our choice. The Enlightenment was never a moment; it was a pattern of thought. We need to follow it now more than ever.

Democratizing Critical Thinking with AI Tools

“It is an epistemological mystery why traditional education has so often emphasized extensiveness and coverage over intensiveness and depth.” – Jerome S. Bruner

As I continue to integrate AI into my teaching practice, I’m discovering that it can help me create experiences for students that go far beyond the usual ask and tell. We do those things because they are easy. However, they don’t really “educate” students in the skills they will need to have to thrive in a world dominated by AI-driven tools.

It’s one thing to talk about critical thinking, but it’s another to create activities to force students into critical thinking modes. These activities cannot be divorced from the flow of the class. Up until now, I’ve struggled to find or build activities that are in the right place and at the right moment for my students to engage with them critically.

AI helps me with this in two transformative ways. First, I can pick up on what things my students are struggling to figure out and immediately create an exercise with AI tools. Secondly, I can use these tools to create activities that are far more interactive than your usual pen and paper or whiteboard exercise.

As I argue in Learn at Your Own Risk, we don’t learn on a schedule. Systemically, classes are bounded by time and space availability. Within those constraints, good teachers know that they must flex to maximize learning.

However, the logistics of running a classroom make it very difficult to flex the class on the fly. But that’s exactly what we need in order to create the conversational spaces needed for deep learning. That’s where having access to a tool like AI not only helps me adapt but invites me to experiment, often in unexpected ways.

I’ve just started to scratch the surface of the possibility here. I describe some of these in my series of blogs on the maker world this summer, but AI is like an onion. I keep finding new ways to apply it to my practice.

This week, I was afflicted by the Amazon Web Service (AWS) outage in interesting ways. Several years ago, I created a board game to teach my students the complex process of getting bills through a legislature. However, this exercise was very time-consuming, and I wasn’t happy with the probabilities of success.

I therefore asked ChatGPT and Gemini to analyze the probabilities on the board and make them better align with the actual chances a bill had to get through the US Congress and the Texas legislature. It gave me updated values and I went to alter the board.

However, I created the board in Miro, and it was down due to the AWS outage. I tried to get both ChatGPT and Gemini to replicate the board with the new values on it, but they were illegible.

Crisis inspires. It occurred to me that I didn’t really need a board. I could create a web application to simulate the process. Within about an hour, I had a working website that simulated both the US Congress and Texas legislature. Gemini generated HTML, CSS, and Java code to build the site. I was then able to post it onto CodePen to get it working.

The next day in class, I broke the students up into groups and had them attempt to get bills through. The Texas simulation worked beautifully. Some groups spent the equivalent of 50 years in game time struggling to get their bill through the process.

The US simulation was a little too easy and two of the four groups succeeded in getting their bills passed. One of my tasks for today is to adjust the difficulty level by ramping up partisanship. That will be relatively easy.

This is where we need to go in education. Memorizing content has its place, but it should not be the central focus of our activities in the classroom. Computers will always beat us when it comes to information retrieval. Where they can’t match us is in interpreting and applying that information.

Teaching must reflect that reality. Focusing on information retrieval does a disservice to our students who are going to be forced to compete with AIs optimized for information retrieval.

At the same time, I’ve always argued that technology is fundamentally democratizing. Its diffusion through the personal computer and, more recently, large language model chat bots has opened new opportunities for humans to think. When you put powerful tools into the hands of creative people, you create opportunities for them to grow.

However, I run up against a philosophical challenge. Historically, intellectual elites, whose status often came from their ability to access high-quality education, have dominated creation and discovery. In a world where creation and discovery are minimum qualifications for success, this slice cannot remain at 10%.

We like to think in the United States that we have achieved mass education. We haven’t. We have scaled at the expense of quality and this is the crisis afflicting our institutions today.

I am part of a community of creative and brilliant educators who are constantly pushing the boundaries of what’s possible in the classroom. I also recognize that we are a pretty small group at any institution (maybe 10%). This creates tremendous headwinds for change.

The real question is whether we can lower barriers with technology to overcome those headwinds. Will giving more powerful creation tools release everyone’s natural creativity or will our systems crush it before it has a chance to emerge? Are our students capable of engaging in that advanced thinking after being subject to a system of education that has never valued it?

I continue to be an optimist that AI will open these doors and by making difficult tasks easier, creating opportunities for us to do ever more fulfilling tasks. I saw a brief spark in my class yesterday as they struggled with an activity that forced them to think critically about a problem they needed to solve.

Without AI, the experience would not have been as rich for them. Let’s just hope it’s enough to set them down a path toward thinking for themselves.

The End of Academic Dishonesty

“The pupil is thereby “schooled” to confuse teaching with learning, grade advancement with education, a diploma with competence, and fluency with the ability to say something new. His imagination is “schooled” to accept service in place of value.” – Ivan Illich

When I first started teaching, I thought that the students were cheating me when they cheated on a test or paper. This evolved into thinking the students were cheating themselves out of their own learning when they did that. Since at least the beginning of ChatGPT, I have realized what the students are actually cheating is a meaningless system of education.

This is a battle the system cannot win. It should be forcing teachers and administrators to ask some very deep questions about what the purpose of this educational exercise actually is. Is it to prepare our students for some sort of job or is it to prepare our students to face a world outside of school? While there is a lot of overlap, those are not the same thing.

If our primary purpose is credentialing, then we are marking them as being capable for a job. This shorthand for competence evolved over the last 75 years, where people are ruled out of jobs because they do not have a college education. However, if you ask the employer why they put this requirement in place, they often can’t really give you a good answer.

The system doesn’t communicate clearly to the students what the purpose of their learning is. Therefore, they buy into this mythology as well: that somehow having a piece of paper that says they graduated from an accredited institution prepares them to succeed in the world. If you ask them why this is, they also can’t give you a good answer.

The third group is the educators themselves. They are vested in a system whose purpose is to spit out degrees. Too often “learning” is measured by that benchmark. We are the drunk driver looking for his keys under the streetlight because that’s where the light is.

None of these benchmarks have anything to do with learning. This is the sad truth that sudden access to generative AI has stripped bare, but it has been recognizable for those who were paying attention since at least Web 2.0 came on the scene in the mid-2000s.

Culture is a hard thing to change. We have created a culture that supports the automated production of graduates in higher education. The students know they are widgets and behave accordingly. It’s just an exercise to get a degree. School becomes nothing more than a hazing exercise.

Why should we be surprised if, under these circumstances, the students rebel? A whole industry of products, from anti-plagiarism software to tools that limit internet access, has sprung up to aid the system in its vain attempts to stem that rebellion. However, to paraphrase Princess Leia: the tighter you grip, the more students will slip between your fingers.

Those of us who care about real learning find ourselves trapped between institutions demanding quick “student success” and students who just want to finish as easily as possible. Into this mix comes generative AI, which, if used poorly, makes shortcuts easier while stripping away the experience of learning. The result should not surprise us.

However, those students who learn how to dodge work in college using AI are in for a rude awakening when all they can do it is to try to get out of working in their jobs. If you can dodge work at your job using AI, you can be replaced by AI.

This applies to education as well. The more rote we make it, the more vulnerable it is to being replaced by automated systems. This isn’t learning but it is “efficient” at moving widgets through the process toward their “completion.”

I have written before about the tremendous opportunities that AI presents to us to teach and learn in very different ways. If we use it to augment ourselves and not automate ourselves, it can become a powerful tool for both teacher and student. If, instead, we spend all our energies somehow trying to freeze it out of the system, we are only asking for disappointment, frustration and eventual obsolescence.

Who is actually cheating here? Is it the educational system clinging to outdated methods and mechanisms for achievement? Or is it the student somehow trying to navigate an arcane and unfamiliar world of education in pursuit of some elusive goal? Or is it both?

More so than most technologies, AI provides us with tremendous opportunities to reinvent ourselves and what we are doing iteratively. It opens new ways to apply critical thinking, iteration, and creativity to augment our learning.

However, systems must also change. Assessing students based on how well they do on high-stakes tests or rote papers is a tool of convenience (looking for our keys). Yet, that is still the dominant method of assessment practiced in education.

Instead, all instruction should force the students to solve problems using AI as a partner. Whether that problem is writing or designing a physics or math experiment, forcing students to engage in the material in this manner strengthens their motivation, skills, and their interactions with technology.

I use AI in the classroom to generate just-in-time exercises that reinforce lessons that the students don’t understand fully. I also teach them how to use it to overcome their own creative and writing obstacles by using it to brainstorm assignments and edit them dynamically. This is just the beginning of what is possible.

On the instructional design front, I used it to reinvent my course in days instead of weeks by removing much of the detailed rote work of balancing and sequencing assignments. I have also used it to simplify complex instructions for assignments, which is critical to the practice of formative assessment strategies.

In the real world, your boss doesn’t care if you “cheat” if you get the job done. However, getting that job done will require you to have the skills to augment yourself with AI-driven tools, whether you’re a teacher, a student, or a professional employee.

For those of us trying to untie the Gordian Knot of the intertwingled drivers of systems of education and disempowered students, life can be a very frustrating experience. Gaming those systems is a natural byproduct of this tension.

The good news there is that we can use AI to try to reduce our levels of frustration by easing rote tasks thrown up by the needs of the system. I guess that makes us cheaters too, but I can live with that. If we don’t learn to “cheat” the system ourselves, we’ll cheat our students out of real learning.

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