Book Excerpt: The Eight Levers of EdTech Transformation

When you say you are writing a book, the question people will continue asking you for months is, "Have you finished your book?".

The answer is finally, "Yes, I have finished my book". The publication date is scheduled for the end of May, which is technically still spring in my northern neck of the woods, for those keeping score.

As for the topic, "The Eight Levers of Transformation" is a definitive guide to building a bespoke people development strategy. Whether you are investing in new EdTech or AI or want to transition from team member to integral business partner with what you already have, it is a practical book with actionable how-tos based on years of experience in the trenches of Learning and Development. At least, this is what it says on the tin.

To keep the homefires of curiosity stoked, here's a snippet from the conclusion:

The Ethics of AI-Powered Learning

As we embrace the transformative power of AI in learning, we must also grapple with the ethical implications of these technologies. The use of AI in learning raises important questions about privacy, fairness, and the nature of human learning itself.

For instance, as AI systems become more sophisticated in personalizing learning experiences, we need to ensure that this personalization doesn't inadvertently reinforce biases or create echo chambers. We need to strike a balance between leveraging learner data to improve experiences and respecting individual privacy. When it comes to the latter, are employees fully informed about how their learning and performance data is tracked and leveraged? This is a meaty question, and the answer is probably buried as a footnote in a behemoth onboarding document. This makes me very, very, nervous.

As AI takes on more of the "heavy lifting" in areas like content curation and learning path design, we must pause to consider the irreplaceable role of human judgment and creativity in the learning process. How do we ensure that AI becomes a tool to amplify human expertise in L&D, rather than a force that diminishes it?

In Chapter Two, I indulged my love of music by quoting one of my all-time favorite songs: Once In a Lifetime by The Talking Heads. Yes, I am proudly a child of the '80s, and no, that's not a typo. (BTW, If you are unfamiliar with the song, get thee to Spotify ASAP; I recommend the American Utopia version as well). Now, as I approach the conclusion of this book and reflect on the future of our field, I find myself drawn again to David Byrne’s hauntingly existential lyrics:

Two lines of the song's lyrics, quoted in the original, are left out here (someone else's copyright).

I have similar thoughts about what we are building with AI. Will we create systems that rank humans against an endless global taxonomy of skills, constantly measuring and recalibrating their "value" to the workforce? Will employees be spoon-fed personalized job aids ad nauseam, their growth reduced to algorithmic nudges based on clicks, CV uploads, and AI-coached interactions? This vision, a world where curiosity and self-directed learning are replaced by machine-driven optimization, feels less like progress and more like an upskilling dystopia. It terrifies me.

As AI continues to evolve, new applications will emerge. Some will be genuinely transformative, others deeply unsettling. I recently encountered technology designed to analyse behaviors and digital interactions to detect neurodivergent traits in employees. Its creators claimed it was meant to help organizations support their teams better. But let’s be honest: This felt like corporate surveillance on steroids. Bluntly, it gave me the ick.

These are not easy questions, but they are ones we must confront head-on. As L&D professionals, we have a responsibility to lead these conversations and advocate for ethical AI practices that prioritize people over profit or efficiency. The choices we make today will shape not only how we work but how we live and that is both exhilarating and petrifying.

When I imagine my old age, I picture myself in a rocking chair by the ocean, watching the sunset with my husband at my side—a peaceful, meaningful moment grounded in reality. But some days, I worry that same rocking chair might face an AI-generated horizon, a fabricated world designed to keep me content while Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine (an undeniable banger) loops endlessly in the background to pacify me. If that doesn’t make you stop and think about the direction we’re heading…well then, maybe it should.