Category: Culture

  • Generic AI cannot capture higher education’s unwritten rules

    Generic AI cannot capture higher education’s unwritten rules

    Some years ago, I came across Walter Moberley’s The Crisis in the University. In the years after the Second World War, universities faced a perfect storm: financial strain, shifting student demographics, and a society wrestling with lost values. Every generation has its reckoning. Universities don’t just mirror the societies they serve – they help define what those societies might become.

    Today’s crisis looks very different. It isn’t about reconstruction or mass expansion. It’s about knowledge itself – how it is mediated and shaped in a world of artificial intelligence. The question is whether universities can hold on to their cultural distinctiveness once LLM-enabled workflows start to drive their daily operations.

    The unwritten rules

    Let’s be clear: universities are complicated beasts. Policies, frameworks and benchmarks provide a skeleton. But the flesh and blood of higher education live elsewhere – in the unwritten rules of culture.

    Anyone who has sat through a validation panel, squinted at the spreadsheets for a TEF submission, or tried to navigate an approval workflow knows what I mean. Institutions don’t just run on paperwork; they run on tacit understandings, corridor conversations and half-spoken agreements.

    These practices rarely make it into a handbook – nor should they – but they shape everything from governance to the student experience. And here’s the rub: large language models, however clever, can’t see what isn’t codified. Which means they can’t capture the very rules that make one university distinctive from another.

    The limits of generic AI

    AI is already embedded in the sector. We see it in student support chatbots, plagiarism detection, learning platforms, and back-office systems. But these tools are built on vast, generic datasets. They flatten nuance, reproduce bias and assume a one-size-fits-all worldview.

    Drop them straight into higher education and the risk is obvious: universities start to look interchangeable. An algorithm might churn out a compliant REF impact statement. But it won’t explain why Institution A counts one case study as transformative while Institution B insists on another, or why quality assurance at one university winds its way through a labyrinth of committees while at another it barely leaves the Dean’s desk. This isn’t just a technical glitch. It’s a governance risk. Allow external platforms to hard-code the rules of engagement and higher education loses more than efficiency – it loses identity, and with it agency.

    The temptation to automate is real. Universities are drowning in compliance. Office for Students returns, REF, KEF and TEF submissions, equality reporting, Freedom of Information requests, the Race Equality Charter, endless templates – the bureaucracy multiplies every year.

    Staff are exhausted. Worse, these demands eat into time meant for teaching, research and supporting students. Ministers talk about “cutting red tape,” but in practice the load only increases. Automation looks like salvation. Drafting policies, preparing reports, filling forms – AI can do all this faster and more cheaply.

    But higher education isn’t just about efficiency. It’s also about identity and purpose. If efficiency is pursued at the expense of culture, universities risk hollowing out the very things that make them distinctive.

    Institutional memory matters

    Universities are among the UK’s most enduring civic institutions, each with a long memory shaped by place. A faculty’s interpretation of QAA benchmarks, the way a board debates grade boundaries, the precedents that guide how policies are applied – all of this is institutional knowledge.

    Very little of it is codified. Sit in a Senate meeting or a Council away-day and you quickly see how much depends on inherited understanding. When senior staff leave or processes shift, that memory can vanish – which is why universities so often feel like they are reinventing the wheel.

    Here, human-assistive AI could play a role. Not by replacing people, but by capturing and transmitting tacit practices alongside the formal rulebook. Done well, that kind of LLM could preserve memory without erasing culture.

    So, what does “different” look like? The Turing Institute recently urged the academy to think about AI in relation to the humanities, not just engineering. My own experiments – from the Bernie Grant Archive LLM to a Business Case LLM and a Curriculum Innovation LLM – point in the same direction.

    The principles are clear. Systems should be co-designed with staff, reflecting how people actually work rather than imposing abstract process maps. They must be assistive, not directive – capable of producing drafts and suggestions but always requiring human oversight.

    They need to embed cultural nuance: keeping tone, tradition and tacit practice alive alongside compliance. That way outputs reflect the character of the institution, reinforcing its USP rather than erasing it. They should preserve institutional knowledge by drawing on archives and precedents to create a living record of decision-making. And they must build in error prevention, using human feedback loops to catch hallucinations and conceptual drift.

    Done this way, AI lightens the bureaucratic load without stripping out the culture and identity that make universities what they are.

    The sector’s inflection point

    So back to the existential question. It’s not whether to adopt AI – that ship has already sailed. The real issue is whether universities will let generic platforms reshape them in their image, or whether the sector can design tools that reflect its own values.

    And the timing matters. We’re heading into a decade of constrained funding, student number caps, and rising ministerial scrutiny. Decisions about AI won’t just be about efficiency – they will go to the heart of what kind of universities survive and thrive in this environment.

    If institutions want to preserve their distinctiveness, they cannot outsource AI wholesale. They must build and shape models that reflect their own ways of working – and collaborate across the sector to do so. Otherwise, the invisible knowledge that makes one university different from another will be drained away by automation.

    That means getting specific. Is AI in higher education infrastructure, pedagogy, or governance? How do we balance efficiency with the preservation of tacit knowledge? Who owns institutional memory once it’s embedded in AI – the supplier, or the university? Caveat emptor matters here. And what happens if we automate quality assurance without accounting for cultural nuance?

    These aren’t questions that can be answered in a single policy cycle. But they can’t be ducked either. The design choices being made now will shape not just efficiency, but the very fabric of universities for decades to come.

    The zeitgeist of responsibility

    Every wave of technology promises efficiency. Few pay attention to culture. Unless the sector intervenes, large language models will be no different.

    This is, in short, a moment of responsibility. Universities can co-design AI that reflects their values, reduces bureaucracy and preserves identity. Or they can sit back and watch as generic platforms erode the lifeblood of the sector, automating away the subtle rules that make higher education what it is.

    In 1989, at the start of my BBC career, I stood on the Berlin Wall and watched the world change before my eyes. Today, higher education faces a moment of similar magnitude. The choice is stark: be shapers and leaders, or followers and losers.

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  • The art of communicating across borders

    The art of communicating across borders

    As communications manager, I quickly learned that translation is never just about swapping words. It’s about tone, style, even design. A press release that sounded professional in Paris could feel cold in Rome. A social media graphic that looked fresh in Madrid felt too flashy in Berlin.

    The solution was to build a common identity and then let each country adapt it. Slower, yes. But the result felt more authentic, and audiences responded.

    These challenges are not unique to communication teams; they are central to journalism itself. The biggest stories today — migration, climate change, political unrest — rarely stop at national frontiers. To cover them well, reporters must collaborate across borders.

    Translation beyond words

    That type of collaboration is messy. Sources are harder to coordinate. Legal and cultural differences can complicate investigations. And readers, or listeners, may have very different expectations depending on their nationality or where they live.

    But when it works, it is powerful. Our podcasts carried voices across Europe, letting audiences in one country hear accents, pauses and perspectives from another. It turned abstract debates into human stories.

    Working across cultures also reminded me that projects are not just tasks — they are people. Some partners preferred long memos, others quick calls. Some valued hierarchy, others wanted open debate. I learned to leave space for informal chat, to ask how colleagues were doing before diving into deadlines.

    Those small gestures built trust, and trust kept the project moving.

    For young journalists and students, the lesson is simple: cross-border work can feel messy, but it’s worth it. Don’t be discouraged by misunderstandings; they often lead to clearer understanding. Pay attention not only to language, but to culture. And above all, listen.

    My two years with WePod taught me that communication is less about perfect phrasing and more about building bridges. In the end, that is what journalism itself is meant to do: connect people across borders, cultures and languages.

     

    Questions to consider:

    1. What does the author mean by translating is more than swapping out words?

    2. How can people from different countries and cultures find a common identity?

    3. How would you communicate with someone who speaks a different language?

     

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  • 3 steps to build belonging in the classroom

    3 steps to build belonging in the classroom

    Key points:

    The first few weeks of school are more than a fresh start–they’re a powerful opportunity to lay the foundation for the relationships, habits, and learning that will define the rest of the year. During this time, students begin to decide whether they feel safe, valued, and connected in your classroom.

    The stakes are high. According to the 2023 Youth Risk Behavior Survey, only 55 percent of students reported feeling connected to their school. That gap matters: Research consistently shows that a lack of belonging can harm grades, attendance, and classroom behavior. Conversely, a strong sense of belonging not only boosts academic self-efficacy but also supports physical and mental well-being.

    In my work helping hundreds of districts and schools implement character development and future-ready skills programs, I’ve seen how intentionally fostering belonging from day one sets students–and educators–up for success. Patterns from schools that do this well have emerged, and these practices are worth replicating.

    Here are three proven steps to build belonging right from the start.

    1. Break the ice with purpose

    Icebreakers might sound like old news, but the reality is that they work. Research shows these activities can significantly increase engagement and participation while fostering a greater sense of community. Students often describe improved classroom atmosphere, more willingness to speak up, and deeper peer connections after just a few sessions.

    Some educators may worry that playful activities detract from a serious academic tone. In practice, they do the opposite. By helping students break down communication barriers, icebreakers pave the way for risk-taking, collaboration, and honest reflection–skills essential for deep learning.

    Consider starting with activities that combine movement, play, and social awareness:

    • Quick-think challenges: Build energy and self-awareness by rewarding quick and accurate responses.
    • Collaborative missions: Engage students working toward a shared goal that demands communication and teamwork.
    • Listen + act games: Help students develop adaptability through lighthearted games that involve following changing instructions in real time.

    These activities are more than “fun warm-ups.” They set a tone that learning here will be active, cooperative, and inclusive.

    2. Strengthen executive functioning for individual and collective success

    When we talk about belonging, executive functioning skills–like planning, prioritizing, and self-monitoring–may not be the first thing we think of. Yet they’re deeply connected. Students who can organize their work, set goals, and regulate their emotions are better prepared to contribute positively to the class community.

    Research backs this up. In a study of sixth graders, explicit instruction in executive functioning improved academics, social competence, and self-regulation. For educators, building these skills benefits both the individual and the group.

    Here are a few ways to embed executive functioning into the early weeks:

    • Task prioritization exercise: Help students identify and rank their tasks, building awareness of time and focus.
    • Strengths + goals mapping: Guide students to recognize their strengths and set values-aligned goals, fostering agency.
    • Mindful check-ins: Support holistic well-being by teaching students to name their emotions and practice stress-relief strategies.

    One especially powerful approach is co-creating class norms. When students help define what a supportive, productive classroom looks like, they feel ownership over the space. They’re more invested in maintaining it, more likely to hold each other accountable, and better able to self-regulate toward the group’s shared vision.

    3. Go beyond the first week to build deeper connections

    Icebreakers are a great start, but true belonging comes from sustained, meaningful connection. It’s tempting to think that once names are learned and routines are set, the work is done–but the deeper benefits come from keeping this focus alive alongside academics.

    The payoff is significant. School connectedness has been shown to reduce violence, protect against risky behaviors, and support long-term health and success. In other words, connection is not a “nice to have”–it’s a protective factor with lasting impact.

    Here are some deeper connection strategies:

    • Shared values agreement: Similar to creating class norms, identify the behaviors that promote safety, kindness, and understanding.
    • Story swap: Have students share an experience or interest with a partner, then introduce each other to the class.
    • Promote empathy in action: Teach students to articulate needs, seek clarification, and advocate for themselves and others.

    These activities help students see one another as whole people, capable of compassion and understanding across differences. That human connection creates an environment where everyone can learn more effectively.

    Take it campus-wide

    These strategies aren’t limited to students. Adults on campus benefit from them, too. Professional development can start with icebreakers adapted for adults. Department or PLC meetings can incorporate goal-setting and reflective check-ins. Activities that build empathy and connection among staff help create a healthy, supportive adult culture that models the belonging we want students to experience.

    When teachers feel connected and supported, they are more able to foster the same in their classrooms. That ripple effect–staff to students, students to peers–creates a stronger, more resilient school community.

    Belonging isn’t a single event; it’s a practice. Start the year with purpose, keep connection alive alongside academic goals, and watch how it transforms your classroom and your campus culture. In doing so, you’ll give students more than a positive school year. You’ll give them tools and relationships they can carry for life.

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  • How consistent communication transformed our school culture

    How consistent communication transformed our school culture

    Key points:

    When I became principal of Grant Elementary a decade ago, I stepped into a school community that needed to come together. Family involvement was low, staff morale was uneven, and trust between school and home had to be rebuilt from the ground up.

    Early on, I realized the path forward couldn’t start and end in the classroom. We needed to look outward to families. Our goal wasn’t just to inform them. We needed to engage them consistently, with care and transparency.

    That meant changing how we communicated.

    A shift toward authentic partnership

    We made a schoolwide commitment to open up communication. That included using a digital platform to help our team connect with families more frequently, clearly, and consistently.

    With our platform, we could share classroom moments, highlight student growth, reinforce positive behavior, and build relationships, not just exchange information. Importantly, it also supported two-way communication, which was key to creating real partnership.

    The impact was visible right away. Families felt more connected. Teachers felt more supported. And students were proud to share their progress in ways that resonated beyond school walls.

    That foundation has become central to how we approach culture-building today.

    5 ways better communication deepened engagement

    A decade later, we’ve learned a lot about what it takes to build a strong school-home connection. Here are five strategies we’ve used to increase trust and engagement with our families:

    1. Strengthen student-teacher relationships
    Real communication depends on a two-way dialogue, not one-way blasts. It’s about building relationships. During the pandemic, for example, students submitted photos of artwork, short reflections, or voice notes through the platform we use. Even in isolation, they could stay connected to teachers and classmates and feel seen. That continuity gave them a sense of belonging when they needed it most.

    2. Reinforce positive behavior in real time
    Our school uses a digital point system tied to schoolwide expectations. Students can earn points and use them at our “Dojo Store,” a reward system named by our students themselves. From spirit week participation to classroom challenges, this approach helps students stay motivated while reinforcing a culture of positivity and pride.

    3. Build trust through direct, personal updates
    Many of our families speak different home languages or come from diverse cultural backgrounds, so building trust is something we focus on every day. One of the most impactful ways we’ve done that is by using ClassDojo, which is both direct and secure, while feeling personal–not formal or distant. When families receive messages in a language they understand, and know they’re coming straight from our school team, it helps them feel connected, informed, and valued.

    4. Share classroom stories, not just grades
    One of the most powerful changes we made was giving families a window into classroom life. Teachers regularly post photos, lesson highlights, and messages recognizing growth, not just achievement. Kids go home excited to show what was shared. And even those parents who can’t attend in-person events still feel part of the learning experience.

    5. Keep communication simple and accessible
    Ease of use matters. Even staff members hesitant about technology embraced our system once they saw how it strengthened connections. It became part of our school’s rhythm, like a digital bulletin board, messaging app, and family newsletter all in one. And because everything lives in one place, families aren’t scrambling to find information.

    What we gained

    This shift didn’t require an overhaul. We didn’t start from scratch or invest in a complex system. We just chose one easy-to-use platform families already loved, committed to using it consistently, and focused on relationships first.

    Today, that platform is still part of our daily practice. But the tool was never the end goal–we were trying to build connections.

    What we’ve gained is a more unified school community. We’ve seen more proactive family involvement, stronger student ownership, and a deeper sense of belonging across our campus.

    Families are informed. Teachers are supported. Students are celebrated.

    Looking ahead

    As we continue to evolve, we’ve learned that consistent, authentic communication isn’t a “nice to have.” It’s a foundational part of any school culture built on trust.

    If you’re leading a school or district and looking to increase family engagement, my biggest advice is this: Pick an accessible platform families are already familiar with and enjoy using. Use it consistently. And let families in–not just when it’s required, but when it matters.

    That’s where trust begins.

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  • Want to be a drummer? Grab a bucket.

    Want to be a drummer? Grab a bucket.

    The tent donated by the Mani Tese association swayed every 10 minutes. In May 2012, aftershocks from the Emilia earthquakes in Northern Italy shook the ground. But inside that precarious structure, dozens of people played music together as if nothing could stop them. 

    Oil buckets transformed into drums, pots hung from metal nets, plastic bins resonated like timpani. What might have seemed like an improvised concert was actually the birth of something revolutionary.

    “That was truly an unforgettable moment for all of us,” said Federico Alberghini, the head and founder of Banda Rulli Frulli. “We realized we had something huge in our hands, a project with such vision and energy that telling it now still moves me.”

    Founded in 2010, Banda Rulli Frulli is an inclusive and accessible music project that brings together young people of all abilities to build instruments from recycled materials and create music as a collective. Born as an educational experiment, it has grown into a community movement combining creativity, craftsmanship and social inclusion.

    In that tent, among young people who had lost their homes and families uprooted from their lives, an experiment was being born that today counts 2,400 participants in 12 bands spread across Italy, with the first international expansion planned for New York in autumn 2025.

    Hearing the beat of a different drum

    The story of Rulli Frulli begins long before the earthquake. Alberghini was just 11 years old when, accompanying his father to a vintage car show in the Modena area in the early 1990s, he noticed a door with the inscription, “Quale percussione?” or, “Which percussion?” Beyond that threshold awaited Luciano Bosi, a collector of percussion instruments and pioneer of construction workshops using recycled materials.

    “He was sitting on the floor,” Alberghini said. “He performed a solo for me with two sticks using four volumes of the [telephone book], without even greeting me first. When I saw all this I told myself that this was what I wanted to do when I grew up.”

    Bosi is now part of the Rulli Frulli staff and has donated his entire instrument collection to the project. His philosophy is simple: any object, even the most mundane, can be a musical instrument. In the 1970s he had been the first to bring workshops for building instruments from recycled materials to Italian schools.

    That encounter planted a seed that germinated years later. Alberghini, after pursuing a career as a drummer in various bands, became a music teacher at the Fondazione Scuola di Musica Carlo e Guglielmo Andreoli. It was then that he began experimenting in his grandmother’s garage with a small group of young people from the area. 

    “In 2009 I had to climb over the fence of the Finale Emilia dump because I couldn’t find anyone to give me a bucket to play,” Alberghini said. “Today we receive containers of buckets and bins to supply the more than 2,400 girls and boys who are part of the Rulli Frulli bands scattered across Italy.” 

    Among these bands is the one from Finale Emilia municipality. Rulli Frulli now has dozens of concerts to its name and has released six albums in collaboration with some of the biggest names from the Italian independent music scene.

    A generative method of inclusion

    What makes the Rulli Frulli project unique is not only the use of recycled materials, but its natural approach to inclusion for people with disabilities. “Any potential disabilities are never ‘announced,’” Alberghini said. 

    The result has attracted the attention of the Catholic University of Milan, which in 2022 conducted and published a scientific study on the so-called “generative method” of the band. The research revealed, among other things, how the group’s sound environment — dozens of people playing self-built percussion instruments at very high volume — can have unexpected therapeutic effects.

    A child with autism who cries at the noise of a vacuum at home can, in the context of the band, find comfort in equally loud, deafening sounds that might otherwise be overwhelming — sounds that become less disturbing when created in a group.

    “When you watch the Banda Rulli Frulli on stage today, you see 80 people engaged in a performance so solid, so impactful that it doesn’t even cross your mind to look for disability,” Alberghini said. “You don’t notice it because you’re overwhelmed by the impact of those who are playing.”

    From tent to national spotlight

    The turning point came in 2016, when the band was selected to participate in a May Day Concert in Rome. The scene that presented itself to the event’s historic sound engineer has become legendary: from a double-decker bus that arrived in Piazza San Giovanni, dozens of people poured out, all dressed in blue-and-white striped shirts, and invaded every space in the backstage area.

    “The sound engineer arrives, looks at me, consults a folder and says: ‘So, you are guitar, bass and drums, right?’” Alberghini said, reconstructing those moments. “‘No,’ I replied, ‘we are those over there,’ pointing to the sea of people in striped uniforms.”

    After that concert social media exploded, the band became known throughout Italy and received an invitation to appear on the prime-time national television program of pop star Mika. “When I watched the episode again, I saw 60 people moving as if there were 10: perfect, organized, like true professionals,” Alberghini said.

    Since 2018 the project has spread throughout Italy according to a structured three-year process: in the first year the educators from Finale Emilia go to the headquarters of the band that is being formed once a week; in the second year they go every two weeks; in the third once a month. From the fourth year, the new band is autonomous, but remains connected to the network through a collaboration contract that establishes common practices, including ethical policies on sponsorships.

    “We receive requests from individuals, from associations, from local institutions, from cooperatives,” Alberghini said. Among the most significant projects is “Marinai,” [Sailors] a band composed of 25 boys from the Ivory Coast seeking asylum in Reggio Emilia. “I remember the first rehearsal with them: we went there, we unloaded buckets, sticks, bins, etc. I turned around for a moment and, without me doing anything, a beautiful samba started.”

    From ruins to rebirth

    In May 2022, Italian President Sergio Mattarella inaugurated the Stazione Rulli Frulli, a multifunctional hub created from the former bus station of Finale Emilia. The renovation cost more than €1 million. Today the structure houses a rehearsal room, a radio station, a completely soundproofed construction laboratory, the Astronave Lab (a social carpentry workshop for young people with disabilities) and a restaurant open every day.

    “Every week our spaces are frequented by 700-800 young people and employ 25 people,” Alberghini said. “Our goal is not to do activities only with young people with disabilities, but to mix everything together: the Station must be a beautiful and welcoming place for anyone.”

    The success is tangible: reservations at the restaurant, where young people with disabilities also serve at tables, are so numerous that there is no space for months. “A parent kept telling me to forget about it, because he was afraid that our idea would scare the rest of the community,” Alberghini said. “Well, he was wrong.”

    What was born in a small town in Emilia after an immense catastrophe is transforming into a global model. Rulli Frulli will soon become a foundation, and there are plans for the first band on foreign territory at La Scuola d’Italia Guglielmo Marconi in New York City.

    “The goal is to export the Rulli Frulli model outside Italy as much as possible,” Alberghini said. “Because this is a big and new project, which we want to expand as much as possible in Europe and in the world.”

    The message coming from Finale Emilia is as simple as it is powerful: when a community faces difficulties together, transforming waste into opportunities and differences into wealth, it can build something that goes far beyond the sum of its parts. In an increasingly divided world, the sound of plastic buckets and pots could be exactly the symphony we need.

     

    Questions to consider

    1. How can a collective tragedy transform into an opportunity to create more inclusive and resilient communities?

    2. How does Rulli Frulli’s “natural” approach to inclusion differ from traditional methods of social integration?

    3. What kind of music could you make from things you find in your home?

     

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  • Do we still value original thought?

    Do we still value original thought?

    I have written the piece that you are now reading. But in the world of AI, what exactly does it mean to say that I’ve written it? 

    As someone who has either written or edited millions of words in my life, this question seems very important. 

    There are plenty of AI aids available to help me in my task. In fact, some are insinuating themselves into our everyday work without our explicit consent. For example, Microsoft inserted a ‘Copilot’ into Word, the programme I’m using. But I have disabled it. 

    I could also insert prompts into a service such as ChatGPT and ask it to write the piece itself. Or I could ask the chatbot direct questions and paste in the answers. Everybody who first encounters these services is amazed by what they can do. The ability to synthesise facts, arguments and ideas and express them in a desired style is truly extraordinary. So it’s possible that using chatbots would make my article more readable, or accurate or interesting.

    But in all these cases, I would be using, or perhaps paraphrasing, text that had been generated by a computer. And in my opinion, this would mean that I could no longer say that I had written it. And if that were the case, what would be the point of ‘writing’ the article and putting my name on it?

    Artificial intelligence is a real asset.

    There is no doubt that we benefit from AI, whether it is in faster access to information and services, safer transport, easier navigation, diagnostics and so on. 

    Rather than a revolution, the ever-increasing automation of human tasks seems a natural extension of the expansion of computing power that has been under way since the Second World War. Computers crunch data, find patterns and generate results that simulate those patterns. In general, this saves time and effort and enhances our lives.

    So at what point does the use of AI become worrying? To me, the answer is in the generation of content that purports to be created by specific humans but is in fact not. 

    The world of education is grappling with this issue. AI gathers information, orders and analyses it, and is able to answer questions about it, whether in papers or other ways. In other words, all the tasks that a student is supposed to perform! 

    At the simplest level, students can ask a computer to do the work and submit it as their own. Schools and universities have means to detect this, but there are also ways to avoid detection. 

    The human touch

    From my limited knowledge, text produced with the help of AI can seem sterile, distanced from both the ‘writer’ and the topic. In a word, dehumanised. And this is not surprising, because it is written by a robot. How is a teacher to grade a paper that seems to have been produced in this way?

    There is no point in moralising about this. The technologies cannot be un-invented. In fact, tech companies are investing hundreds of billions of dollars in vast amounts of additional computing power that will make robots ever more present in our lives. 

    So schools and universities will have to adjust. Some of the university websites that I’ve looked at are struggling to produce straightforward, coherent guidance for students. 

    The aim must be, on the one hand, to enable students to use all the available technologies to do their research, whether the goal is to write a first-year paper or a PhD thesis, and on the other hand to use their own brains to absorb and order their research, and to express their own analysis of it. They need to be able to think for themselves. 

    Methods to prove that they can do this might be to have hand-written exams, or to test them in viva voce interviews. Clearly, these would work for many students and many subjects, but not for all. On the assumption that all students are going to use AI for some of their tasks, the onus is on educational establishments to find new ways to make sure that students can absorb information and express their analysis on their own.

    Can bots break a news story?

    If schools and universities can’t do that, there would be no point in going to university at all. Obtaining a degree would have no meaning and people would be emerging from education without having learned how to use their brains.

    Another controversial area is my own former profession, journalism. Computers have subsumed many of the crafts that used to be involved in creating a newspaper. They can make the layouts, customise outputs, match images to content, and so on. 

    But only a human can spot what might be a hot political story, or describe the situation on the ground in Ukraine.  

    Journalists are right to be using AI for many purposes, for example to discover stories by analysing large sets of data. Meanwhile, more menial jobs involving statistics, such as writing up companies’ financial results and reporting on sports events, could be delegated to computers. But these stories might be boring and could miss newsworthy aspects, as well as the context and the atmosphere. Plus, does anybody actually want to read a story written by a robot? 

    Just like universities, serious media organisations are busy evolving AI policies so as to maintain a competitive edge and inform and entertain their target audiences, while ensuring credibility and transparency. This is all the more important when the dissemination of lies and fake images is so easy and prevalent. 

    Can AI replace an Ai Weiwei? 

    The creative arts are also vulnerable to AI-assisted abuse. It’s so easy to steal someone’s music, films, videos, books, indeed all types of creative content. Artists are right to appeal for legal protection. But effective regulation is going to be difficult.  

    There are good reasons, however, for people to regulate themselves. Yes, AI’s potential uses are amazing, even frightening. But it gets its material from trawling every possible type of content that it can via the internet. 

    That content is, by definition, second hand. The result of AI’s trawling of the internet is like a giant bowl of mush. Dip your spoon into it, and it will still be other people’s mush. 

    If you want to do something original, use your own brain to do it. If you don’t use your own intelligence and your own capabilities, they will wither away.

    And so I have done that. This piece may not be brilliant. But I wrote it.

     

    Questions to consider:

    1. If artificial intelligence writes a story or creates a piece of art, can that be considered original?

    2. How can journalists use artificial intelligence to better serve the public?

    3. In what ways to you think artificial intelligence is more helpful or harmful to professions like journalism and the arts?

     

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  • At the library you can take out a book … or dissect a body?

    At the library you can take out a book … or dissect a body?

    When Janet Calderon first visited the X̱wi7x̱wa Library in Vancouver, Canada it was different than anything she had ever seen before. It is the only Indigenous branch of an academic library in all of Canada. Pronounced “whei-wha,” its name is from the language of the Squamish people who have inhabited the region for thousands of years. 

    Calderon is a humanities librarian at Reed College near Portland in the U.S. state of Oregon and earned a master’s degree in Library & Information Studies from the University of British Columbia in Canada, which oversees the X̱wi7x̱wa Library. Experiencing this library was transformational in many ways for Calderon.

    “Everything about how this knowledge is put together reflects a unique perspective,” Calderon said. 

    The X̱wi7x̱wa Library is one of many examples from around the world of the transformation of libraries from collections of books to comprehensive learning centers and hubs for diverse communities. 

    British Columbia, where this library is located, has an Indigenous population of nearly 300,000 people, which is approximately 5.9% of the province’s overall population. The library embeds Indigenous knowledge in everything, from the use of Indigenous terms in its classification system to a building design that represents a pit house of the Interior Salish people.

    Hubs of enlightenment

    Libraries have a rich history of serving as gathering spaces. Early libraries, such as the Library of Alexandria in Egypt and Bayt al-Hikmah (House of Wisdom) in Iraq, were hubs for knowledge and enlightenment that attracted scholars from near and far. 

    Libraries today continue to serve as gathering places for communities by fostering the exchange of information and ideas. Many libraries are modifying their spaces so that they can be meeting places, information centers or culture centers, or serve other purposes for members of a given community. Depending on where you live, how a library chooses to configure its spaces and for what purposes can vary widely.

    Libraries across Kenya, for example, promote environmental sustainability through efforts such as adopting green building standards and by housing atriums within the library, as well as installing green roofs on top of the building itself.

    In Shanghai, China, a city known for strong ties to business and the global economy, public libraries serve different demographics such as the elderly, homeless and students by providing them space and access to information and resources that help them meet specific needs, such as applying for jobs.   

    In Santa Clara, Cuba, the central patio and surrounding spaces of the Marti Provincial Library were renovated. As a result, the Library is now able to host motivational and cultural activities, as well as events that meet specific needs such as workshops on job skills.

    The public library in Umeå, Sweden is housed within the Väven Cultural Center, which enables library visitors to check out books, tour the Women’s History Museum, watch a film in a theater and more, all under the same roof.

    Reassessing how space is used

    At my library at the California State Polytechnic University, Humboldt in California, visitors to the Hall of Simulation can use a flight simulator, digitally dissect an animal or cadaver and simulate wildfires, an annual problem in the state. The library’s spaces also host student-centered workshops, research symposiums and events, including an annual celebration of campus and community authors.

    Transformations at the Cal Poly Humboldt Library have been aided through the development of SpaceUse, software that enables the library to track and analyze how its spaces are utilized by patrons. For many library workers, changing and adapting existing library spaces allows them to reimagine how a library can serve its community.  

    Michell Hackwelder, the interpretation unit head at the Education & Outreach Department for the Abu Dhabi Department of Culture and Tourism in the United Arab Emirates, helped renovate libraries used by international peacekeeping forces in Egypt to create community hubs for the many people who came there for recreational activities and to find a quiet space. 

    Hackwelder has spent over 40 years in the library field and has helped guide many library transformations across the Middle East and North Africa. This includes creating maker spaces and programming areas for afterschool and computer and sciences programs at elementary schools in Saudi Arabia and upgrading the early childhood and technology areas at the Abu Dhabi Children’s Library. 

    Hackwelder said that people in the community get excited about the space transformations and more people from different demographics end up using the library.

    Some people miss the stacks.

    It should be noted that changes to library spaces are not without some controversy. Libraries have limited space to work with, so decisions about what to change can be difficult to navigate. Younger people who grow up in a digital world might not connect to books the way older generations did. However, the removal of books and shelves to make room for new spaces can anger the many book lovers who rely on libraries.

    As communities and societies change, libraries will be expected to do the same. 

    Samantha Mendiola is an architect at HGA that focuses on library design. Mendiola has worked on several library redesigns across the United States, from a high school library in Massachusetts to college libraries in Minnesota.  

    Mendiola said that many of the libraries she has worked with are focusing on renovations with existing spaces to better serve changing community demographics and technology needs while also fostering community engagement and accommodating diverse learning styles. 

    “Libraries have always been adaptable and they’re evolving even faster now, post-pandemic, to meet new expectations,” Mendiola said.

     

    Questions to consider:

    1. In what ways are libraries adapting to meet the needs of the people they serve?

    2, What is the primary role of a library?

    3. If you were to create a new library in your town, what would you want it to have?

     

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  • Music as the lifeblood of a nation

    Music as the lifeblood of a nation

    The museum’s collection includes over 300 portraits of musicians — Vivaldi, Mozart, Rossini, Verdi — most of which are searchable online but rarely known to be housed in Bologna. “We are the Facebook of music history,” Tabellini joked. Some visitors come just for a selfie with Vivaldi’s portrait. “But they end up being amazed by everything else too.”

    One way the museum connects past and present is by bringing centuries-old traditions into modern classrooms and rehearsal spaces. Ancient manuscripts, Renaissance songs and Baroque instruments become starting points for young people to experiment, perform and imagine their own musical future.

    To reach new generations, the museum doesn’t just display music. It puts it in the hands of young people.

    “If you bring a 10-year-old into a museum filled with incomprehensible scores and portraits of musicians, you’re basically telling them that music isn’t for them,” Tabellini said.

    Connecting to music by playing it

    The museum invites students to make music before they study it. Its educational programs include workshops in singing, building instruments, experimenting with electronic music and more.

    “Only afterward do they visit the museum, already equipped with experience. That way the visit isn’t punitive but engaging,” Tabellini said. Many of these programs take place directly in schools and involve thousands of children each year.

    “You understand music by doing it. That’s our approach — accessible, inclusive, active. The museum visit should be a destination, not a starting point.”

    Today, the museum includes over 110,000 volumes — manuscripts, scores, treatises and rare documents. Only a fraction is on display, and much of the experience depends on guided interpretation. 

    “You need cultural mediation to really understand what you’re looking at,” Tabellini said.

    But two decades later, the title’s meaning has changed. “The UNESCO title has generally become a sort of brand, a designer label like those of high fashion,” he said. “It should be an incentive to preserve cultural heritage, but it doesn’t impose any real obligation to do so. It’s now a marketing tool, useful for tourism but not always returning value to the local community.”

    Exploring music by creating it

    The museum’s collections also hold stories that humanize even the greatest musicians. One of the most memorable involves a 14-year-old prodigy named Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

    In 1770, Mozart stayed in Bologna to study with Giovanni Battista Martini, a Franciscan friar and music theorist who laid the foundation for the city’s historic music archive. Mozart hoped to join the Accademia Filarmonica, but he had to pass a grueling composition exam.

    “These exams were called clausura, meaning ‘locked room’,” Tabellini said. “Candidates were literally locked in to write their scores. They could last hours, even days.”

    Mozart had spent the summer preparing with Martini, who was also the head of the Accademia. Still, the results were mixed.

    “We hold two of the three versions of Mozart’s exam,” Tabellini said. “The first is Mozart’s autograph — full of mistakes. The second, in Martini’s handwriting, is musically correct but full of corrections. The third, kept at the Accademia, is identical to Martini’s version, but written by Mozart. That version earned him admission.”

    The conclusion? “Mozart copied,” Tabellini said. “It’s one of the most fascinating musical mysteries we preserve. And telling it to visitors brings history to life. If even Mozart needed a helping hand … then there’s hope for all of us.”

    Breathing life into old music

    Connecting the old to today also means finding new ways to let historical documents speak to modern audiences. Through live events and storytelling, the museum ensures that ancient music isn’t just studied — it’s experienced in real time.

    The museum displays some 300 instruments, including one-of-a-kind rarities like the Clavemusicum omnitonum — a 16th-century “perfect keyboard” capable of playing every pitch imaginable. Unfortunately, its keys are too far apart to be playable by human hands.

    Other instruments, however, do come to life in the museum’s many live events: over 100 each year. These include concerts, lectures and series like Wunderkammer and Insolita.

    “In Insolita, we select a document from our collection and pair it with a live concert,” Tabellini said.

    Before the performance, we show the original manuscript and explain its history. It’s a way to give life to what would otherwise remain silent.”

    One audience favorite is “O felici occhi miei” by Arcadelt, a Renaissance madrigal — a form of secular, polyphonic vocal music — with 40 known editions. “We hold 19 of them,” Tabellini said. “When people see the actual pages before hearing the music, they realize that without those sheets, the music itself might never have survived.”

    Visitors sometimes wonder why music doesn’t constantly play in a museum of music. But there’s a reason.

    “If you just pipe background music through the rooms, it becomes ‘muzak’ — like in a supermarket,” Tabellini said.

    Instead, the museum is exploring meaningful ways to integrate sound: virtual manuscripts, interactive instruments and multimedia displays. 

    “We want to integrate music into the experience — but on our own terms,” Tabellini said. “It’s not just about hearing. It’s about understanding why you’re hearing it.”

    The challenge is to make a quiet space sing — not loudly, but purposefully. “We don’t want to entertain. We want to create an experience. Every object we preserve has something to say, and we want its voice to be heard.”

     

    Questions to consider:

    1. How do labels like “opera” or “love songs” influence — or distort — how we see Italian music today?

    2. In what way is highlighting cultural heritage important to for cities that rely on tourism?

    3. When was the last time you found yourself liking old music? What about it did you like?

     

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  • Empowering school staff with emergency response protocols

    Empowering school staff with emergency response protocols

    Key points:

    Safety response protocols are foundational to creating a culture of safety in schools. District leaders should adopt and implement response protocols that cover all types of emergencies. Schools should have building-level response protocols and protocols for incidents when first responders are needed. These practices are critical to keeping the community safe during emergencies.

    When staff members are empowered to participate in emergency planning and response, their sense of safety is improved. Unfortunately, many staff members do not feel safe at school.

    Thirty percent of K-12 staff think about their physical safety when at work every day, and 74 percent of K-12 staff said they do not feel supported by their employer to handle emergency situations at work.

    Staff disempowerment is a “central problem” when it comes to district emergency planning, said Dr. Gabriella Durán Blakey, superintendent of Albuquerque Public Schools: “What does safety mean for educators to really be able to feel safe in their classroom, to impact student achievement, the well-being of students? And how does that anxiety play with how the students feel in the classroom?”

    School leaders should implement response protocols that empower staff to understand and participate in emergency response using a two-tiered system of emergency response:

    • A building-level emergency planning and response team should develop an Emergency Operations Plan, which includes an emergency response protocol
    • Administrators should adopt protocols to follow when they need first responders to intervene

    For guidance on crafting emergency response protocols and plans, click here.

    Laura Ascione
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  • Is social media turning our hearts to stone?

    Is social media turning our hearts to stone?

    As global digital participation grows, our ability to connect emotionally may be shifting. Social media has connected people across continents, but it also reshapes how we perceive and respond to others’ emotions, especially among youth. 

    Empathy is the ability to understand and share another’s feelings, helping to build connections and support. It’s about stepping into someone else’s shoes, listening and making them feel understood.

    While platforms like Instagram, TikTok and X offer tools for global connection, they may also be changing the way we experience empathy.

    Social media’s strength lies in its speed and reach. Instant sharing allows users to engage with people from different backgrounds, participate in global conversations and discover social causes. But it also comes with downsides. 

    “People aren’t doing research for themselves,” says Marc Scott, the diversity, equity and community coordinator at the Tatnall School, the private high school that I attend in the U.S. state of Delaware. “They see one thing and take it for fact.”

    Communicating in a two-dimensional world

    That kind of surface-level engagement can harm emotional understanding. The lack of facial expressions, body language and tone — key elements of in-person conversation — makes it harder to gauge emotion online. This often leads to misunderstandings, or worse, emotional detachment.

    In a world where users often post only curated highlights, online personas may appear more polished than real life. “Someone can have a large following,” Scott said. “But that’s just one person. They don’t represent the whole group.” 

    Tijen Pyle teaches advanced placement psychology at the Tatnall School. He pointed out how social media can amplify global polarization. 

    “When you’re in a group with similar ideas, you tend to feel stronger about those opinions,” he said. “Social media algorithms cater your content to your interests and you only see what you agree with.” 

    This selective exposure limits empathy by reducing understanding of differing perspectives. The disconnect can reinforce stereotypes and limit meaningful emotional connection.

    Over exposure to media

    Compounding the problem is “compassion fatigue” — when constant exposure to suffering online dulls our emotional response. Videos of crisis after crisis can overwhelm users, turning tragedy into background noise in an endless scroll.

    A widely cited study published in the journal Psychiatric Science in 2013 examined the effects of exposure to media related to the 9/11 attacks and the Iraq War. The study led by Roxanne Cohen Silver, found that vicariously experienced events, such as watching graphic media images, can lead to collective trauma.

    Yet not all emotional connection is lost. Online spaces have also created powerful support systems — from mental health communities to social justice movements. These spaces offer users a chance to share personal stories, uplift one another and build solidarity across borders. “It depends on how you use it,” Scott said.

    Many experts agree that digital empathy must be cultivated intentionally. According to a 2025 Pew Research Center study, nearly half of U.S. teens believe that social media platforms have a mostly negative effect on people their age, a significant increase from 32% in 2022. This growing concern underscores the complex nature of online interactions, where the potential for connection coexists with the risk of unkindness and emotional detachment. ​

    So how do we preserve empathy in a digital world? It starts with awareness. Engaging critically with content, seeking out diverse viewpoints and taking breaks from the algorithm can help. “Social media can expand your perspectives — but it can also trap you in a single mindset,” Scott said. 

    I initially started thinking about this topic when I was having the same conversations with different people and feeling a sense of ignorance. It wasn’t that they didn’t care — it was like they didn’t know how to care. 

    The way they responded to serious topics felt cold or disconnected, almost like they were watching a video instead of talking to a real person. 

    That made me wonder: has social media changed the way we understand and react to emotions?

    Ultimately, social media isn’t inherently good or bad for empathy. It’s a tool. And like any tool, its impact depends on how we use it. If we use it thoughtfully, we can ensure empathy continues to grow, even in a world dominated by screens.

    Questions to consider:

    1. What is empathy and why is it important?

    2. How can too much time spent on social media dull our emotional response?

    2. How do you know if you have spent too much time on social media? 

     

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