Not long ago, I responded to a LinkedIn post discussing Bill Gates’s bold prediction that teachers and doctors, as we know them, will be replaced by AI within the next decade.
As an educator and someone deeply invested in the human learning experience, I felt an immediate need to respond. I acknowledged that AI might one day be capable of “reading the room”. It may be capable of detecting confusion in a student’s face or excitement in their voice. But perhaps a more critical question is even if AI can read the room, will it care?
Empathy, encouragement and the spark of trust are not algorithmic outputs. These human qualities lie at the heart of effective teaching and meaningful learning. Teachers do more than transmit information; they nurture motivation, foster resilience and help students find purpose. And these roles matter more than ever, precisely because of the rise of AI.
After my comment, someone replied, asking why we then need educated people at all. Why bother with learning if there are no jobs or roles for humans? A fair but dangerous question. Behind it lies a narrow and instrumental view of education that its only function is to prepare people for employment. But education has always been about more than jobs. It is about helping human beings understand the world critically, engage with others meaningfully and navigate the moral, social and emotional complexities of life. These are not tasks we can outsource.
The arrival of generative AI has reignited old debates with new urgency. What is left for learners to do if machines can write essays, solve equations, produce art and even tutor students? The danger here is not that AI will make learning obsolete but that we will convince ourselves it has.
Knowledge-building is the fundamental building block to critical thinking. You cannot just rely on AI. You need to remember and understand to evaluate and create. These capacities are built through domain-specific knowledge. You cannot think critically about history without knowing history. You cannot solve ethical dilemmas in medicine without understanding medical practice. Critical thinking does not float above knowledge because it is embedded within it.
Simon Roberts, in his book The Power of Not Thinking: How Our Bodies Learn and Why We Should Trust Them, makes a compelling case for the intuitive, embodied and social dimensions of human judgment. He argues that much of our understanding and decision-making stems not from conscious, rational thought but from our bodies through intuition, experience and learnt practice. The most potent thinking we do often bypasses formal logic altogether. It happens in conversation, in community, and in the messy, uncertain terrain of real life.
This kind of thinking is rooted in what he terms “embodied intelligence”, and it cannot be replicated by even the most advanced AI. In fact, the more we rely on machines to think for us, the more urgent it becomes to cultivate the distinctly human capacities they lack.
In a world of AI-generated content, what becomes more valuable is not just knowledge but discernment. The ability to evaluate, critique and ethically respond to information. This is why knowledge-building is not a luxury in the AI era but a necessity. Without it, we are left vulnerable to manipulation, misinformation and a loss of agency.
Educators are more than knowledge providers. They are mentors, provocateurs and companions in curiosity. They help students wrestle with ambiguity, ask better questions and grow in confidence. AI might become a powerful tool, but it cannot replace the human relationships underpinning learning.
The rise of AI should not diminish the role of education; it should expand it. If AI can take over routine tasks, we should seize the opportunity to redirect education towards what makes us most human: creativity, empathy, moral reasoning, collaboration and community-building.
We now face a choice. We can treat AI as a shortcut, a way to bypass the struggle of learning. Or we can treat it as a partner that frees us to explore the higher dimensions of our humanity. That choice depends on whether we still believe in the value of human learning.
The future belongs to those who can work alongside intelligent machines without surrendering their own intelligence. It belongs to those who can engage in knowledge creation and recognise the importance of building upon existing knowledge, not just consuming it. It belongs to communities that can use technology to strengthen, rather than replace, human connection.
In this moment of rapid technological transformation, we need to reclaim the deeper purposes of education. We need to resist the temptation to delegate our thinking. Because in the end, what makes us human is not what we know, but how we learn, and how we use that learning to care for one another, and to build a world worth living in.
