This article is adapted from Ted's podcast episode 339: Genius, AI, and Challenging 4kr’s: A Conversation with Neuroscientist Jared Horvath (Reflection)
Have you ever watched a child completely absorbed in building something incredible? That moment—that beautiful zone of concentration and creativity—that's what we're fighting to preserve in our increasingly tech-dominated educational landscape.
I was reminded of this recently when my nephew, completely engrossed in drawing an elaborate spaceship design, didn't even notice when I entered the room. No screens, no prompts, just his imagination flowing through his pencil. It struck me how rare these moments have become in our hyperconnected world.
Let's dive into this fascinating tension between technology and genuine learning, and how we might just find the sweet spot that nurtures tomorrow's geniuses.
The question has tantalized us for centuries: Are geniuses born, or are they made? According to neuroscientist Dr. Jared Horvath, the answer might surprise you. Genius isn't written in our genetic code—it's cultivated through behaviors, environments, and opportunities that spark and sustain creativity and mastery.
Think about Sir Isaac Newton for a moment. Before he revolutionized physics, he was just a curious mind with an exceptional capacity for deep work. His genius emerged from relentless curiosity and mastery of his field. He didn't just know his subject—he transformed it, creating frameworks that centuries of scholars couldn't ignore.
This is the essence of genius: not just excelling within established boundaries, but redrawing those boundaries entirely.
I'll admit something to you: I love my smartphone. I love instant access to information. I love that my children can explore virtual museums from our living room. Technology has unlocked incredible possibilities for learning and connection.
But here's where things get tricky—where we find ourselves walking a tightrope.
When I observe students in classrooms today, I see both opportunity and challenge. Digital textbooks, interactive simulations, AI-powered learning platforms—they're all promising tools. But they're tools that require thoughtful implementation.
Have you noticed how easily we outsource our thinking nowadays? Need to remember something? Google it. Need to calculate something? There's an app for that. Need to write something? AI can draft it for you.
The convenience is undeniable, but what happens to our internal knowledge repository when we constantly externalize our cognitive processes? It's like having the world's most impressive gym membership but never actually working out your mental muscles.
Last month, I attended a conference where educators hotly debated AI's role in the classroom. One passionate teacher described using AI to provide personalized feedback to her 30 students—something she physically couldn't manage alone. Another worried that students were using AI to bypass the productive struggle that builds neural pathways.
Both perspectives hold some truth.
AI can be an incredible productivity tool, especially for overworked educators. It can provide instant feedback, customize learning experiences, and handle routine tasks, freeing teachers to focus on what truly matters: meaningful human connection and guidance.
But Dr. Horvath raises a crucial point that resonated with me: AI is inherently performative, not developmental. When students use AI to generate essays or solve problems, they're skipping the cognitive heavy lifting that builds their brains' capacity for creative thinking.
It's like having someone else do your push-ups for you—you might get the assignment done, but you haven't built any strength in the process.
(Read our guidance on how to create a school AI policy that protects students and staff.)
Let me share something fascinating about how our brains work. Every time we learn something new—really learn it, not just temporarily hold it in working memory—we're creating and strengthening neural connections. This neurological filing system becomes our internal library, the foundation from which all creative thinking emerges.
True creativity doesn't come from nowhere—it springs from connections between seemingly unrelated pieces of information we've internalized. When Einstein developed his theories, he was drawing on mathematics, physics, and philosophy that he had deeply processed and stored.
This is why the trend toward digital dependence concerns me. When students rely heavily on external tools rather than building their internal knowledge base, they may be limiting their creative potential.
Think about it this way: Would you rather have a few books you've read thoroughly and can access instantly from memory, or unlimited books you've skimmed but have to look up every time you need information? There's power in what we truly know, not just what we can access.
So, how do we navigate this complex landscape? The answer isn't rejecting technology—it's integrating it thoughtfully.
In my daughter's classroom, I've seen this balance in action. Students use digital tools to research topics broadly, then gather for passionate debates and hands-on projects that require them to process and apply what they've learned. Technology amplifies their learning without replacing the essential cognitive work.
This integration might look like:
The goal isn't to vilify technology but to be intentional about when and how we use it. As one wise educator told me, "Technology should be a bicycle for the mind, not a crutch."
Here's something counterintuitive I've observed in both business and education: the most creative environments often have the clearest structures.
Our brains crave security and predictability. When we operate within clear parameters—when we know what to expect and what's expected of us—we can focus our mental energy on exploration and innovation rather than managing uncertainty.
Think about jazz improvisation. The most breathtaking solos happen within the structure of chord progressions. The structure doesn't limit creativity—it enables it.
In education, this translates to environments with:
When students know their environment is stable and supportive, they feel safe taking intellectual risks. They're more willing to explore new ideas, make mistakes, and push beyond their comfort zones—all essential components of developing genius.
As parents, educators, and leaders, we have an incredible opportunity to shape environments that foster genuine genius. The children in our care today will solve problems we can't yet imagine, using tools that haven't been invented.
So my challenge to you is this: How can you create spaces—at home, in classrooms, in workplaces—that balance technological advantage with deep learning?
Consider asking yourself:
Remember, true genius isn't just about access to information—it's about transformation. It's about taking what we know and creating something new. It's about depth, not just breadth.
In our fast-paced digital world, the most revolutionary act might be slowing down enough to truly learn, to deeply understand, to genuinely create. That's where genius has always lived, and that's where we'll find it tomorrow.
Let's make sure we're creating spaces where it can flourish.
What's one small change you could make today to better balance technology and deep learning in your environment? I'd love to hear your thoughts!