The AI Promise Of Revolutionizing Education: A Primer

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In 1995, science fiction writer Neal Stephenson published The Diamond Age: Or, A Young Lady’s Illustrated Primer.

At the center of the book was something that educators and technologists still obsess over nearly 30 years later: The Primer.

The Primer wasn’t a Kindle. It wasn’t an iPad. It wasn’t even Duolingo with a cuter mascot. It was a living, breathing, adaptive tutor that could tell stories, shift based on a learner’s needs, and guide a child not just in academics, but in life.

Today, the idea feels less like science fiction and more like a roadmap for every edtech startup pitch deck. So let’s talk about why that might be very good, or very bad, for learners.

In The Diamond Age, The Primer is built for one little girl named Nell. It looks like a book, but it’s actually a super-powered teaching machine.

The goal wasn’t to help the girl ace standardized tests, although one could argue that would have been easy with The Primer’s help. The goal was to help raise her to be adaptive, independent, and capable of critical thought.

However, there is one big piece many EdTech folks miss. In the book, The Primer only worked well for Nell (the main character) because she had mentors and a supportive environment. Other kids had the same technology, but without human guidance, they didn’t thrive in the same way.

That’s the part many people forget when they talk about building a “real-life Primer.”

If you squint a little, you can see The Primer in almost every major edtech development over the past decade.

You can feel the impact. I was in a classroom recently where a student told me, “Mr. J, I asked ChatGPT to write me a story about fractions but make it about Fortnite.” And the thing is, it did. The kid laughed, learned, and then promptly asked if this meant “math class was canceled forever.”

That’s the Primer in action, in miniature.

Done right, a real-world Primer could deliver on some of the biggest frustrations in education.

Personalization at scale. A teacher with 30 kids in front of them can only differentiate so much. A Primer could tailor every lesson to every learner. It would also know the “learning gaps” and help students answer questions at their appropriate ZPD.

Equity of access. Imagine a child in rural Montana or in a crowded school in Mumbai having the same adaptive, high-quality tutor as a family paying thousands of dollars in Palo Alto.

Joyful, story-driven learning. We know students learn better through narrative. If a Primer can embed math inside an adventure story or science inside a mystery, you may not hear “Why do I need to know this?” quite as often.

Agency and autonomy. A real Primer wouldn’t just feed kids content. It would let them explore, ask questions, and build their own path.

In a high school history class I just observed, a student asked an AI bot to “explain the American Revolution like it’s a TikTok drama.” The result was part ridiculous, part brilliant, and the class discussion that followed was one of the liveliest of the semester.

That’s the obvious upside. Kids taking ownership of the learning because the story format feels like theirs.

But before we all sign up our kids, a few warnings.

Isolation disguised as personalization. If every child is off in their own adaptive bubble, where’s the shared learning? Where’s the debate, the collaboration, the messy group project with glue sticks and arguments about font choices?

Who controls the code? The Primer teaches values, not just facts. Who decides what’s in the “story engine”? AI is only as unbiased as its data, and spoiler alert, its data isn’t bias-free.

The replacement trap. Tech is shiny. Policymakers love shiny. But if the goal is to cut teachers out of the loop, we’re building a dystopia, not a utopia. A child doesn’t just need learning gaps filled by adaptive tech (although that is needed and nice to have). They need someone to laugh with them, challenge them, and remind them to put their phone down now-and-then.

Learning as consumption. If the Primer does all the work, kids become consumers of knowledge rather than creators. Real learning happens when kids wrestle with ideas, make mistakes, and build things that sometimes (okay, often) fail.

A middle schooler once told me, “ChatGPT helped me get the right answer, but my teacher said I still had to show my work. Why does it matter when I got it right?” Which led to a great discussion: is the point of math just to get the answer, or to understand the process? The Primer can give you answers, but teachers help you wrestle with meaning.

In the novel, Nell thrived with the Primer because she had both the tech and human guides. Other kids who had the device without community didn’t fare so well.

The message is clear. Technology is an amplifier, not a substitute. The Primer wasn’t magical because of its code. It was magical because it was paired with mentorship, love, and context.

Which, funny enough, is what every teacher has been saying about every edtech rollout since 2008.

If we’re serious about building a modern Primer, let’s ask better questions.

A teacher I know had her students design their own “mini-Primers” in a project. Each student had to create an adaptive Google Slides “choose your own adventure” lesson on a topic they loved. Some of them were clunky. Some were hilarious. But every student walked away knowing what it feels like to design learning, not just consume it.

That’s the kind of “Primer” we should be chasing.

AI is moving fast. Faster than school systems usually like to move. I know because I’ve been working in them for the last three decades!

We’re closer to the Primer than we’ve ever been. Which means now is the time to ask: whose version of the Primer do we want?

The one optimized for standardized test scores?
The one optimized for revenue?
Or the one optimized for actual human flourishing?

If we don’t shape it, the market will. And the market does not always share our priorities.

Stephenson’s novel wasn’t just a geek’s fantasy about cool gadgets (although those parts were awesome). It was a story about culture and education.

The Primer symbolized a fork in the road: rigid conformity versus adaptive creativity.

If EdTech wants to honor the promise, we need to:

That’s not nearly as exciting as unveiling the “iPrimer” at an Apple event, but it’s what kids actually need.

The Primer is an intoxicating idea. It’s part fairy tale, part instruction manual.

Yes, it could unlock personalized, joyful, equitable learning.

Yes, it could also turn into another screen that keeps kids busy while adults pat themselves on the back.

The difference will come down to design, intent, and whether we remember Nell’s lesson.

Technology matters. So do people.

So let’s dream of the Primer. Let’s even build parts of it. But let’s not forget the human side.

Because at the end of the day, using technology to help kids fill their learning gaps is awesome, but preparing them to be people living with purpose is much better.

PS - You and I both know the truth: most professional development days don’t stick.
Teachers leave with a binder, a few strategies, and by the next week the daily demands push it aside.

That’s why at Next Gen Schools, we’ve moved beyond “one-and-done” PD. Our Learning Academies are year-long (sometimes multi-year) experiences designed to build capacity, not just check a box.

We currently support schools and districts through:

If you’re ready to move past PD that fades by Monday, let’s set up a short chat. Just hit “reply,” and I’ll send over a few times. And you can always learn more on my speaking page or email me at any time!