Staying Human in the Age of Infinite Minds

Walter McKenzie
1 day ago
3 min read

Satya Nadella, Chairman and CEO of Microsoft, used a phrase recently that stayed with me longer than I expected.

He spoke about a future where our work is not simply to manage systems or organisations, but to learn how to manage infinite minds. Minds extended by AI. Minds with access, speed, and reach far beyond what we had at the same age.

Hearing this, I took it as a quiet challenge to us as adults—especially those of us in schools.

Working in international education, I see this every day. Our students are already navigating multiple languages, identities, value systems, and expectations. They cross borders physically and cognitively, often before they’ve fully figured out who they are.

AI doesn’t introduce complexity into their lives—it amplifies what was already there. And that amplification has made me pause, not to ask what more we should teach, but what more we need to be.

I keep coming back to the idea that infinite minds don’t actually need tighter management. They need steadiness. They need adults who are grounded enough not to rush to control, correct, or compete with the technology. Adults who can sit comfortably in uncertainty, who don’t confuse authority with having all the answers, and who trust that learning can be shared rather than supervised.

Trust feels foundational here—not just trust in students, but trust in ourselves to let go of being the central source of knowledge.

Curiosity feels just as important. Not the kind we design into lessons, but the kind we live out loud. The willingness to wonder with students rather than ahead of them. To ask better questions instead of faster ones. In a world where answers are instant, curiosity becomes an act of care. It slows things down. It reminds students that thinking is not about efficiency, but meaning.

I’ve also been reflecting on critical thinking—not as a skill students demonstrate, but as a stance we model. With AI, the challenge is no longer access to information, but discernment.

What do we trust?

What do we question?

When do we pause?

Students learn this less from rubrics and more from watching how we respond when we’re unsure, when we disagree respectfully, when we choose not to rush to conclusions.

There’s a subtle wellbeing dimension here too—because constant acceleration, even intellectual, can be exhausting.

And then there’s creativity. AI can generate endlessly, but it cannot decide what matters. That decision still sits with humans. In schools, creativity now feels less about performance and more about agency—about giving students space to shape ideas that reflect who they are, what they care about, and the communities they belong to.

What I’m noticing is that this moment isn’t asking educators to become more impressive or more technologically fluent. It’s asking us to become more human.

To shift quietly from managing learning to stewarding it. From directing students to walking alongside them. From certainty to discernment. That feels especially true in international schools, where students are already learning how to navigate complexity, difference, and change.

Right now, I don’t have a conclusion to this wondering—just a question I’m learning to live with.

If our students’ minds are becoming infinite, perhaps the work is not to contain them, but to strengthen the inner parts of ourselves that help us hold them well.

And maybe that work begins not with new tools or frameworks, but with how we show up—calm, curious, and willing to wonder alongside them.

Lianne Dominguez is the Deputy Head of Senior School and the Whole School Safeguarding Lead at Haileybury Astana in Kazakhstan, and a Course Facilitator for the Principals' Training Center (PTC). With over a decade of leadership experience, she is a strong proponent of the power of relationships, modeling and advocating for human-centered leadership practices. This piece was originally published February 6, 2026 and is cross-posted here with permission. You can email Lianne here.