Beyond the Millennium Falcon: Rethinking Education’s Purpose in the Age of AI


In his manifesto for education, Stop Stealing Dreams, first published in 2012, Seth Godin highlighted the findings of Dr. Derek Cabrera. Noting the growing inability of his undergraduate students to think critically or creatively, Cabrera cited the evolution of LEGO as a disturbing metaphor for the impact schools are having on many learners. Godin articulates the issue as follows: 

“The secret to LEGO’s success was the switch from all-purpose LEGO sets, with blocks of different sizes and colors, to predefined kits, models that must be assembled precisely one way, or they’re wrong. Why would these sell so many more copies? Because they match what parents expect and what kids have been trained to do. There’s a right answer! … Instructions were followed and results were attained. LEGO isn’t the problem, but it is a symptom of something seriously amiss. We’re entering a revolution of ideas while producing a generation that wants instructions instead.”

This metaphor came to mind recently when listening to educator and author, Yong Zhao, speak about the implications of AI for learners, for schools, for the workplace and for humanity itself. In an age when artificial intelligence promises to tailor every aspect of learning, Zhao warns against mistaking personalization for standardization by algorithm. True personalization, he argues, should not be the process of bringing every student to the same destination by slightly different routes, but rather the art of cultivating individuality — the recognition that each learner’s curiosity, pace, and potential may lead them somewhere entirely original. There is a danger that AI, in its efficiency, may deepen conformity by optimizing learning for outcomes that are already predefined. Education’s higher calling is not to produce uniform competence, but to nurture diverse excellence.

Zhao’s contention is that AI, rather than replacing human capability, should compel us to reconsider what makes us distinctively human. Machines may now write essays, compose melodies, or solve equations faster than any student, yet they cannot dream, care, or make meaning of their own output. The true work of education, therefore, must move beyond the transmission of knowledge to the cultivation of judgement, empathy, imagination, and moral discernment — those dimensions of mind and spirit that no algorithm can replicate.

Used thoughtfully, AI can help transform learning in profoundly positive ways — not by replacing human insight, but by amplifying it. When learners treat AI as a collaborator rather than a driver, it can free time for curiosity, reflection, and creativity. Properly guided, these technologies can help young people explore their passions, extend their capabilities, and use their emerging talents to create genuine value in their lives and communities. The challenge, however, lies in ensuring that this partnership remains conscious and discerning. Students must learn to engage AI critically — to question its assumptions, judge its reliability, and see it as one voice among many in their search for understanding.

That challenge begins with reclaiming what Cabrera called thinking. Not procedural thinking, not step-by-step compliance, but the deeper capacity to connect ideas, see systems, detect bias, imagine alternatives, and create new possibilities. Essentially, in the face of uncertainty and exponentially evolving technologies, our innate humanity has never been more important and serves as a reminder that the ultimate goal of education is not to make humans more like machines, but to make them more fully human. In this context, A.J. Juliani suggests a set of core human skills that need to be developed in an AI-infused world.

There are, of course, standards of excellence that depend on the ability to follow directions and demonstrate that essential knowledge and skills have been securely learned. But there is—and must be—so much more to a modern education in today’s uncertain world. By all means, for those who need it, let’s ensure they can assemble a Millennium Falcon and follow every instruction along the way. Yet we must not mistake that for the goal of learning itself. Our deeper task is to preserve and cultivate the more human space in education—the creative, empathetic, and ethical realm—where learners can experiment freely, imagine boldly, and use “blocks of different sizes and colors” to build not just replicas, but new ideas, new solutions, and new ways of living, learning, and flourishing in a more humane world.

Image Credit: ChatGPT.