Co-Creating with the Machine: What AI Reflects Back

A reflection on the 2025 Connecticut College AI & Liberal Arts Symposium, exploring how AI is reshaping liberal arts education through cross-disciplinary learning, human connection, and a shared sense of awakening.

Introduction

Across three autumn days at the AI and the Liberal Arts Symposium at Connecticut College, the conversations felt less like a conference and more like a collective act of awakening.

First, a huge thank-you to our colleagues and friends at Connecticut College for hosting such a fantastic event. This was, without question, the best professional development experience I’ve had since the pandemic.

I only found out about it a few weeks ago, so I wasn’t able to submit a proposal this time—but I highly recommend the symposium to anyone interested in the intersections of AI and the liberal arts. It’ll return next year, and you can bet I’ll be responding to the call for proposals to share the exciting work we’re doing at Skidmore that contributes to this dynamic and evolving space.

I arrived early and after registering, participated on a group tour of Connecticut College’s amazing arboretum. It’s open to the public and I highly recommend a visit.

College Center at Crozier-Williams

Welcome packet

Vista with weeping conifers

Reflection in the Pond

 

AI isn’t just a new tool for the liberal arts — it’s a mirror.

Everywhere, that mirror reflected something back: our assumptions about knowledge, our fatigue with disciplinary boundaries, our uneasy faith in human judgment. Some framed AI as a pedagogical partner, others as a provocation. But beneath every debate ran a shared undercurrent — that the liberal arts must not retreat from AI, but reinterpret themselves through it.

Beyond Silos: Following the Phenomenon

One recurring theme was the generative convergence of disciplines, where boundaries became bridges. Panelists from across fields described how AI resists neat categorization: it writes like a humanist, reasons like a scientist, and fails like an artist.

A digital humanities panel explored how generative tools can help students see structure in story or bias in data. An environmental studies group used AI-generated imagery to visualize climate change as cultural narrative rather than scientific abstraction. A philosophy instructor co-taught a course with a data scientist, letting students interrogate both logic and ethics in the same breath.

These moments revealed a shift — not from one discipline to another, but beyond discipline entirely — into what several speakers called transdisciplinary learning: inquiry that follows the phenomenon, not the field.

It’s an approach that feels truer to the liberal arts than ever — dynamic, synthetic, and driven by wonder rather than walls.

The Liberal Arts Awakening

Across sessions, a pattern emerged — one that keynote speaker Lance Eaton gave a name to in his address, The Sleep of the Liberal Arts Produces AI. His metaphor caught fire throughout the symposium. In panels and workshops afterward, people kept returning to it: the idea that AI didn’t replace us — it revealed where we’d already fallen asleep.

“AI didn’t replace us — it revealed where we’d already fallen asleep.”

That sleep took many forms.

Dismissal — the academy’s habit of treating new media and emerging technologies as distractions rather than dialogues.
Fetishization — the way we mistake performance of intellect for presence of curiosity.
Externalization — the quiet outsourcing of our public mission to private systems and paywalled knowledge.

Panelists didn’t treat these as abstract critiques; they tied them to practice. A librarian showed how paywalled scholarship feeds commercial AI systems — what she called academic fracking. A literature professor confessed that she once told students to avoid ChatGPT, only to later use it with them to analyze power structures in Victorian novels. A group of students described AI as their learning partner, not a shortcut — proof that the boundaries between tool and teacher are already blurring.

“AI didn’t wake the liberal arts — it found them stirring.”

 

The Human Element: Productive Struggle, Rediscovery, and Redesign

What made the symposium electric wasn’t the technology — it was the humanity pulsing through every discussion. Faculty spoke less about how to control AI and more about how to stay human beside it.

One recurring idea was productive struggle — not as an obstacle to learning, but as its catalyst. AI tools created just enough uncertainty to be generative. Students found themselves asking new kinds of questions: What should I be doing less of? What does originality look like now? How do I make the best use of time with a professor, when the “expert” is increasingly a facilitator of knowledge, not its gatekeeper?

Faculty, too, found themselves in unfamiliar territory. Long-held routines were challenged by tools that could draft, translate, or simulate. The struggle wasn’t about obsolescence — it was about reorientation. What habits of mind are worth keeping? What does rigor mean when the machine can “write” an answer?

And in that discomfort, something vital reemerged: the shared space of learning. Office hours became less about solving and more about sense-making. Less about correctness and more about discernment. Students didn’t need someone to check their work — they needed someone to help them recognize what kind of thinking it was.

In that spirit, the liberal arts reasserted their enduring role — not as defenders of tradition, but as designers of discernment. When algorithms simulate knowledge, discernment becomes the highest art form.

AI may have accelerated this shift, but the liberal arts were always headed there. What emerged across the symposium was a deeper understanding: that growth comes from tension, that rediscovery often begins with unlearning, and that the future of learning may look less like mastery and more like a shared choreography of questioning.

Epilogue: Sora and the Mirror

After the symposium, that metaphor of the mirror stayed with me — especially as I experimented with Sora, a tool from OpenAI that turns words into video. I had received early access just before the conference began. By the time it ended, I had shared all six of my invite codes with colleagues who were curious, eager, and already dreaming up experimental test cases. Invite codes are a fascinating way for software companies to roll things out.

Watching that rollout unfold felt strangely familiar — like history rhyming. Back in 2002, when I was a webmaster in the College of Agricultural Sciences at Penn State, a computer science grad student forwarded me a link to something called Google Beta. “You should check this out,” he said. I did. I joined. And unknowingly, I stepped into something that would transform how the world searches and knows.

Before parting ways, a few of us made videos — short visual essays. You only get 10 or 15 seconds to try out your prompts. A philosopher in conversation with a clone of herself. A student’s dream rendered into shifting light and architecture. A reimagined classroom set in the year 2130. Each piece asked, in its own way: If AI can imagine with us, who decides the shape of the story?

Ultimately, Sora has that same quality — a shimmer of arrival. Something just beginning to shape the future of creation, while reflecting back the questions we haven’t stopped asking.

The technology isn’t just extending imagination. It’s echoing it. It’s reflecting it. And in that echo, it’s asking us what kind of storytellers we want to be.

Conclusion: The Liberal Arts, Awake

By the final plenary, the tone had shifted from anxiety to resolve. The liberal arts weren’t under threat — they were awakening.

The symposium closed not with consensus, but with a shared rhythm: a refusal to let automation define what it means to learn.

Across those three days, AI became less an existential threat and more an existential invitation — not to escape technology, but to wake beside it.

Curious. Critical. And still — profoundly human.

 


Meta Description:
A reflection on the 2025 Connecticut College AI & Liberal Arts Symposium and early experiments with Sora — exploring how AI challenges, reshapes, and ultimately mirrors the soul of liberal arts learning.

Reflections on the 2/14/24 AI Pedagogy Workshop and Project: metaLAB (at) Harvard

Today at the last minute, I was able to hop on a webinar over the noon hour with folks over at the Harvard metaLAB hosted by Sarah Newman. Maha Bali, who co-led the, “Learn With AI: 10 Ways to Try AI in Your Classroom Right Now,” webinar, helped facilitate and MC the event. I wasn’t familiar with the metaLAB, which describes itself as, “an idea foundry, knowledge-design lab, and production studio experimenting in the networked arts and humanities.” One of my student assistants majoring in Computer Science got to sit in on part of it during his shift so I’ll look forward to catching up with him when he’s back next time.

The purpose of the meeting was two-fold: a) introduce the AI Pedagogy Project website and the story about its development; b) provide breakout rooms for folks from all over the world to network and discuss some questions. Some screenshots will follow in this post.

Built mostly by Harvard students to deliver non-technical materials to explain many things about generative AI, the AI Pedagogy Project is a curated collection of crowdsourced assignments which I highly recommend taking a look at. You can even upload your own!  Sarah did a great job explaining the inclusive values at the heart of the project which, paraphrasing her, aims to break down the sometimes inherent gatekeeping that technical experts have about AI. Sarah and her team want to make AI as accessible and transparent as possible and mitigate the alarmist narrative in the media.

In the breakout room to which I was randomly assigned, I met a librarian from USC and a professor from the University of Winnipeg. We were given these prompts:

It was only 7 minutes but I think we got through this pretty quickly because there were only 3 of us. There were 202 people on the call.

There was a poll from which I’ll share some screenshot highlights. (Pro-tip: Click on the images to make them bigger so you don’t have to squint especially if you are reading this on your mobile device!)

Regarding the AI Pedagogy Project website,

What is a metaphor for AI you would use?

They read some of these out loud as they trickled in. They got progressively wittier (at least those Sarah and Maha read out loud musing). After Sarah read, “Frankenstein” out loud, I simply couldn’t resist and typed in my answer, “Nice Narcissus.” OMG, Sarah read that one out loud as well and I sure was glad it was anonymous! < digital blush >

Here are a few good ones. These crowdsourced polls are awesome! Nice to know I am not ALONE to ponder and make sense of this stuff!

I enjoyed the networking and learning about the AI Pedagogy Project and website. What a cool open educational resource!

 

Why we shouldn’t fear MOOCs

We are at a significant crossroads in higher education, in the liberal arts especially. A staggering economy for graduates combined with public outcry about high tuition and student loans is all bringing the value of a liberal arts education into question: a perfect storm. What’s most disturbing is a lingering doubtful perception about the return on investment made manifest by many media sources, occasionally influencing elected officials to poke fun at the arts and humanities. While many lament the advent of MOOCs, online learning has been around for nearly two decades. It’s yesterday’s news. But as Michael Roth, president of Wesleyan, has elegantly written, the liberal arts DO matter now more than ever. So the current promulgation and growing abundance of freely available content is a powerful incentive and opportunity to re-visit and re-invigorate traditional entry-level curricula in new fruitful directions. History 101 can shed the first 4 weeks of materials, mostly review content that’s easily flipped, and develop new, higher quality activities in class.

Beyond the hype, at the core of MOOCs, especially connectivist MOOCs, is a genuine community sharing of open resources, an extension of the historical mission of 20th century public libraries with print publications, to connect citizens with electronic access to assets of knowledge.  The real value of open online learning is that it has solved the access issue for knowledge-thirsty netizens around the world. There’s a subtle efficiency at play here. What’s to come? Motivated self-directed learners will find ways to imbibe introductory level course materials that will push faculty to redesign richer learning goals in first year seminars. These future students will be there, and we want to attract them. It’s an exciting time for Ed Ttech folks, especially those of us just getting started in earnest with blended learning efforts, to revisit why we used technology in the first place, namely to assist and augment sound instructional design. Open online courses will not destabilize the foundation of higher education. It’s natural to be fearful at first, and it’s even healthy. The natural instinct of self-preservation brings out the best in everyone. But as we let go of this panic, there is much to reflect and build on. As George Siemens points out in a recent interview:

MOOCs are not replacement models. They don’t replace the existing university systems. They augment it and help those universities become more relevant in the digital space. We’ve known in online and distance learning for 20 years or more that students who are at risk, you can’t just give them access. There have to be support systems in place that help those students to succeed.

Not to fear, the ominous specter of online learning, free or otherwise, will not impact the tremendous value of personalized, meaningful relationships between faculty expert guides and students in our classrooms. The abundance of open materials reveals that content is no longer king; relationships and networked connections between faculty and students matter much, much more. As Harold Jarche shared on Twitter:

Relationships cannot be automated; drones and droids won’t even come close. What’s certain, some schools are going to close; but as history will show, institutions that collaborate around the sharing of knowledge and resources with an eye toward the distribution of course redesign efforts have much to gain.