The Mentor’s Classroom
AI is forcing a fundamental rethink of our universities’ purpose and function. Britt Olson argues for a new pedagogy—a portfolio-based approach. Her suggested approach reframes the learning process as a self-directed inquiry, rather than a curriculum-driven accumulation…and reframes the role of the teacher as a guide and mentor, rather than an instructor-judge.
For the reader’s reference, Britt aims to earn her license to argue in the supplementary piece linked here.
In the aftermath of COVID-19, higher education had shifted into digital spaces in more ways than many professors felt comfortable with. Analog reading assignments suddenly needed to be scanned and uploaded to a digital discussion board. In-person writing opportunities like essays, exams, and even note-taking all took place online. An entire generation of writers and readers needed to adjust to a completely new style of learning while keeping up with curriculum expectations..
Now, just five years later, web platforms like OpenAI’s ChatGPT, Google’s Gemini, and Anthropic’s Claude are causing more sweeping changes.
As a result of AI’s influence on higher education, I’m beginning to notice new trends: students are reading and writing more frequently but with less depth, many students also seem less willing to engage with long-form reading, research, and writing. During class discussions, students express a range of perspectives regarding AI, covering the spectrum from excitement to fear.
One thing remains the same: my students are curious. Many of them are longing to understand more about artificial intelligence, and feel an uncomfortable pressure to “keep up” with peers who have enthusiastically embraced AI in their learning. They want to stay current without sacrificing their learning opportunities. Many students feel overwhelmed by the volume of information they are receiving and the speed at which education is changing.
In many ways technical literacy skills seem to be overtaking classical and performing arts, literature, and other forms of traditional cultural literacy in both popularity and, some might argue, necessity.
As the popularity of “short-form” content rises, another dimension of literacy is fading: the imaginative and connective capacities cultivated by sustained deep-reading and writing.
Long-form, analog engagement develops our ability to construct mental imagery, inhabit unfamiliar perspectives, and sustain attention over time. Deep reading asks us to build entire imaginative worlds internally. That slow and immersive cognitive work is closely tied to empathy, patience, and critical thinking. If our definition of literacy increasingly prioritizes technical navigation over imaginative engagement, what mental and emotional capacities might we be losing?
One possible remedy is to centralize portfolio work, with the overarching goal to offer frequent and impactful opportunities for reflective practice–a cornerstone in meta-cognitive skill development.
In a 2004 article from Columbia University’s Teacher’s College, applied linguistics instructor Taejoon Park writes,
“[o]ne advantage cited frequently in the portfolio literature is the notion of student authority or ownership enabled by the opportunity students have to review their writing and decide which pieces they will present to the teachers and what they would like teachers to see in that writing”
A hypothetical example of teaching an extended portfolio in an upper high-school or college course might look something like this:
A student named Jordan in a capstone course is studying sustainability. In particular, Jordan is interested in food sustainability. He might first pitch a topic proposal to his professor and portfolio advisor, Prof. Olson, exploring the necessity of food-sustainability, as well as several scholars and research initiatives he hopes to explore.
For two to three months, Jordan then engages in subject learning; this is the longest part of his portfolio assignment, comprising most of his exploration of the subject. It involves a continuous process of learning, reflecting, and discussing with his professor/mentor.
He starts by reading a 10-year old paper by Evan Fraser on the fragility of our modern food systems. This sparks a fascination with system design and a feeling of concern about the vulnerability of systems that previously felt so robust.
He writes a brief paper reflecting on what he learned from this paper, not only the knowledge he gained, but how it impacted him emotionally.
During a mentorship meeting, Prof. Olson encourages him to deepen his exploration of this theme. Noticing his growing fascination with system design, she recommends "Empires of Food," a sweeping history of how complex food systems grow in parallel with civilizations.
Over the next few weeks, this exploration evolves. Jordan reads books on the topic of food systems, exploring their history, how America's food system evolved in particular, along with indigenous American food systems.
Eventually, Jordan's interest turns towards solutions. He develops an interest in regenerative agriculture methods. Prof. Olson connects him with professors in the school's agricultural sciences department. This leads to an opportunity to intern for two weeks at a local commercial farm employing regenerative practices.
During his internship Jordan shadows farmers and assists with tasks like sustainable planting, harvesting, livestock care, compost management, and equipment maintenance. He compiles written field observations and data, participates in farm meetings, reflects on regenerative agriculture practices, and finishes his two-week internship with a short oral presentation showcasing what he learned.
As the end of the academic semester grows near, Jordan’s attention turns to his class’s final portfolio composition process. Jordan sets aside time to review the readings, research, and reflective writing he completed over the course of the semester during independent study, mentorship conferences, his internship, and more. He would then select whichever materials he felt were most relevant to showcasing his learning, and compile those materials in a final, reflective essay.
Using direct quotes and data from outside research, professional experiences from his internship, field notes, suggestions he received from his mentor, reflective journal entries, and other course artifacts, Jordan would use the reflective writing process to communicate how his learning has shaped his approach to food sustainability.
Jordan writes a 3-5 page essay where he weaves his learning experiences together to create a narrative arc of personal and professional growth.
Orna Farrell’s 2020 article “From Portafoglio to Eportfolio: The Evolution of Portfolio in Higher Education,” describes the role of teachers as collaborative mentors throughout the portfolio construction process. Learning becomes more personalized, and professors are able to clearly align students' goals. This collaboration and mentorship also gives students a chance to let their guard down and take writerly risks that they might have otherwise delegated to AI platforms for fear of earning a ‘bad grade’.
This pedagogical ethos of mentorship and investment in students’ personal growth creates a more nurturing and aligned relationship between teacher and student, rather than the judgemental, almost adversarial, dynamic that often creeps into classrooms today. That alignment creates space for confidence in risk taking.
Where pressure for immediately ‘perfect’ writing is removed, and the practice of writing focuses on longitudinal growth, a diverse mix of writing assignments, and a community-focused approach to revision and research, students are given the opportunity to sit with the necessary discomfort of learning. Failing, risk-taking, vulnerability, and time-constraints are all essential parts of comprehensive writing and learning. AI trends in education threaten to flatten or even remove these essential opportunities for reflection, growth, and self-knowledge.
Some might ask: how do semester-long portfolios live up to standards of quality and assessment?
I would argue that standardized forms of assessment like final examinations could already be dated measures of quality and learning. To me, the basis of “success,” or graduation-readiness at this time is:
Do my students feel confident taking risks in their writing and learning?
Do they feel ownership of their thinking and ideas?
Do they know where or who to go to if they get stuck, or need reliable information?
Are they capable of giving and receiving feedback on one another's writing?
Have they started to build their thinking community? When they leave my class, am I sure they have built a community conducive to continued writing practices?
When my role as a professor is more aligned to mentorship than supervision or judgment, students slow down, take more risks, and think and write more independently.
It seems likely that the rise of artificial intelligence in higher education will call for a reimagining of the role of professors as mentors. In this way, I am leaving students with something far more valuable than a final grade. My students are instead learning to value their learning processes over just final products, they are gaining confidence in their ability to navigate challenging ideas, they have built up their writerly stamina, and they have had the opportunity to reflect critically on their progress and growth.
Students who are invested in their learning, learn the most.
I’m predicting a continued increase in pushback from teachers about curriculum pacing and standards, to accommodate slower and deeper learning demands that will arise as a result of literacy trends.
Britt Olson is a poet and a writing instructor at UNC Charlotte. She was the recipient of the 2024 Charlotte Goodlit Poetry Fellowship.
Britt is currently a participant in the Tusk & Quill’s Rotational Program.
All opinions expressed here are solely of the author and do not reflect the views of Tusk & Quill as a publication or the author’s employer.
