Leadership is tested not in moments of stability but in moments of disruption. In times of uncertainty, the trusted leader becomes more visible. In the third edition of the Leadership in Education and Training series, I reflect on how trusted leadership (Galford & Drapeau, 2002) sustains resilience amid profound uncertainty and transformation, and how empathy, adaptability, and clear communication enable organizations to navigate disruption without losing their sense of purpose, drawing on my experience as the director of a university research center.

In earlier reflections, I explored leadership as an inward journey of trust and self-awareness and as a form of orchestration that aligns vision, learning, and people. This edition builds on those foundations by examining what happens when certainty dissolves, routines collapse, and leaders are called to guide others through terrain no one fully understands. 

When I first stepped into the role of director of a university research center seven years ago, I knew that leadership would demand vision, decisiveness, and strategic thinking. What I did not fully grasp at the time was that leadership, at its deepest level, is a mirror. It reveals more about who we are than about what we do. The first few weeks in my new role were filled with budgets, meetings, and expectations. Yet amid the urgency, I sensed that the most important task was not organizational but relational. Instead of starting with structure, I started with people.

A few weeks ago, I attended a performance of the Columbus Symphony Orchestra. It was one of those Sunday afternoons when sound, silence, and light converged into something unforgettable. Though my knowledge of music is limited, I found myself captivated by the figure of the conductor — the maestro — whose movements held the power to unify dozens of musicians into a single, breathing organism of sound.

This month, I had the privilege of visiting Brazil, where I participated in a conference in Curitiba and presented at the University of São Paulo. Both engagements allowed me to share my research on Artificial Intelligence (AI) in education and teacher education. Yet the greatest lessons came not from what I presented, but from what I heard and witnessed.

Recently, I spent time in Fátima, Portugal, a place I return to year after year, not out of routine, but out of quiet necessity. Known around the world for its Catholic significance, Fátima has become, for me, something far more universal: a sanctuary of stillness, clarity, and presence. It’s a space that transcends denominations, inviting anyone, regardless of faith or background, to pause, reflect, and reconnect with something deeper.

Imagine the dawn of the 20th century, when the world stood on the brink of a technological revolution: the invention of the automobile. Roads were being paved, cars were rolling off assembly lines, and society was entering a bold new era. But with this groundbreaking innovation came a host of new challenges. People had to learn how to cross streets safely, interpret traffic signs, and most importantly, operate these new machines responsibly. It was a time of immense transformation that demanded a new kind of education focused on safety, efficiency, and human advancement. History, it seems, is repeating itself with the rise of generative artificial intelligence (AI).

During a recent trip to Tokyo, Japan, I was struck not only by the impressive technological infrastructure and the seamless public services but also by how everything, from the toilets to the subway system, seemed designed with profound respect for the human experience. These systems were not merely efficient; they were imbued with empathy. It led me to reflect on how far we’ve come and perhaps how far we’ve strayed from the user-first mindset that originally guided much of technological innovation. As artificial intelligence (AI) begins to permeate every corner of our lives, particularly in education, the question becomes increasingly pressing: Are we losing sight of the human?

This blog focuses on the program for February 6, 2025, which included a keynote address by Michael Jordan; a plenary session featuring Eric Xing, Emmanuel Candès, Asuman Özdağlar, and Joëlle Barral that explored the theme “AI at an Inflection Point;” a symposium covering topics from the mathematics of machine learning to the road to trustworthy AI; and a final plenary featuring Bernhard Schölkopf and Yann LeCun, followed by a fireside chat with Michael Jordan, Yann LeCun, Bernhard Schölkopf, and Stéphane Mallat.

In our hyper-connected world, smartphones have become more than just tools; they are extensions of ourselves, our constant companions. But what happens when this attachment crosses a line? When does the thought of being without our devices trigger genuine distress? This is the reality of nomophobia, or “no mobile phone phobia,” a modern-day phenomenon that is increasingly impacting young adults, particularly college students. The term is used to describe the fear and anxiety resulting from being detached from smartphone connectivity.