Why the Best Teachers Can't Be Replaced by AI: Lessons from a Potter's Wheel
- Micah Voraritskul
- Feb 5
- 2 min read
VerifiedHuman. Elevating human creativity in an AI world. www.iamverifiedhuman.com

Whenever I read about another AI breakthrough in education — automated grading, personalized learning paths, chatbot tutors available 24/7 — I think about a potter's wheel on a balcony in Manila.
In the spring of 1990, I was a mopey sixteen-year-old recovering from unrequited love. Seeking solace, I found myself on the art room balcony of my favorite teacher, Dave French, at Faith Academy in the Philippines. If Landon Donavan and John Lennon had a child, he’d look like Mr. French — small round glasses and everything.
The balcony is perched high above Manila, offering a sweeping view of the sprawling metropolis. An old manual potter's wheel—the kind where you kick a heavy steel flywheel—lived there. Mr. French encouraged my old-world optimism when I asked to try it.
For months, I struggled to get the sand-clay-to-water ratio right, to center my material, and to throw anything taller than a mug with walls thinner than a prison's. My guitar-playing fingernails got in the way, so I chewed them off. The wheel spun beneath my feet, its heavy flywheel groaning against the humid Manila air. Cars honked far below, but up here, it was just the sound of wet clay, spinning steel, and occasional words of encouragement from Mr. French.
I don't recall succeeding in pottery, but my broken heart got better in the trying.
Mr. French, an extraordinary visual artist and musician, filled the art room with music from a tired silver boombox and was always open for a chat. His willingness to listen and talk captivated us more than his artistic vibe. He respected us, and we sensed he saw something special in each of us.
This experience captures the essence of education — the connection between our humanness, our ability to learn and grow, and our expression in the world.
It's an analog connection: a heartbroken boy making mediocre pottery, conversing with an art teacher, and learning what it means to be a person.
Today's educational AI can analyze learning patterns, adapt to student progress, and
provide instant feedback 24/7. But it can't sit with a melancholy teenager on a balcony above Manila, encouraging them as they struggle with clay and with life. It can't intuit when to make a joke and when to let the wheel spin in comfortable silence. As technology reshapes education, we must remember what happens in those unquantifiable moments between teacher and student — when the real learning isn't about the subject matter. It’s about what it means to be human. The connection between teacher and student, as a sacred space where learning and healing happen, still matters.
And it always will.