Higher education is currently navigating one of the most significant transitions in its modern history. Artificial intelligence is rapidly reshaping how knowledge is accessed, produced, assessed, and communicated. Universities are under increasing pressure to respond quickly, integrate new technologies, and prepare students for an uncertain future. In many universities, AI is being discussed primarily as a technological or academic integrity issue, but on the ground, the real

AI shows us what we’ve neglected: closeness, listening, and humanity itself. Let’s stop making AI the scapegoat for what is missing in us. We are not losing ourselves to artificial intelligence, but we are losing ourselves to artificial connection and most people don’t even notice it happening. We scroll, we click, we respond, we 'connect', yet we feel increasingly alone, unseen, and disconnected. This is not a technological crisis. This is a human crisis of connection and le

Watching foreign films, TV shows, and reading books from other cultures is a way to train, expand and broaden our cultural intelligence. Some years ago, I found myself reflecting on the transformative power of foreign narratives. Having spent much of my life traveling, living, and studying in diverse countries, I’ve always been drawn to the rich tapestry of human culture. My career, particularly my work with immigrants, refugees, and expats, has deepened this connection.

Higher education has never been more connected. Students move across borders. Ideas travel instantly. Classrooms bring together learners from different countries, cultures, languages, educational systems, and life experiences. At the same time, universities are navigating rapid technological change, growing complexity, and increasing uncertainty about the future. Yet amidst these transformations, one question remains surprisingly relevant: How do people learn?

Montessori understood that intelligence does not develop in isolation. It unfolds through interaction with an environment: physical, relational, emotional, and psychological. Modern neuropsychology now confirms what Montessori observed intuitively: learning depends on safety, agency, meaning, and embodied engagement. When these conditions are present, the brain integrates knowledge deeply. This insight becomes essential when we speak about AI and education today.

By psychological containment, I mean the human capacity — individually and institutionally — to hold complexity, uncertainty, emotion, ethical responsibility, and power without becoming reactive, fragmented, or psychologically overwhelmed. In the age of AI, this capacity becomes increasingly important within higher education, where students and educators are navigating rapid technological change alongside questions of identity, meaning, authority, and human connection.

Here's some deep thoughts on intercultural teaching and the creative spark within human difference. In my work across cultures and higher education environments, I have noticed something both simple and profound: Every genuine intercultural encounter contains the possibility of expanding how we think. Sometimes this happens in obvious ways:a classroom discussion suddenly shifts because a student interprets a concept through an entirely different cultural lens.

Let’s say it honestly: university lecturers hold a profoundly important role in shaping not only knowledge, but also human development, intellectual confidence, and the quality of how people learn to engage with complexity and difference. Although many academics enter universities primarily as researchers, specialists, and creators of knowledge, teaching still carries a deeply human responsibility. Let's explore this a little deeper.

Years down the track, I came to realise that my time with the Reggio Emilia method taught me that teaching, when lived fully, is not about control but about culture: a living dialogue between people, ideas, creation, and place. In the Reggio Emilia method, a classroom is called an atelier, meaning a “studio of becoming.” That phrase stayed with me long after I left Italy. Ideally, this is how an auditorium should feel in higher education.