Individualized learning has its place. But decades of educational research also demonstrate that learning is essentially a social endeavor. Classrooms that privilege personalized AI chatbots overlook that fact.

Generative AI is quickly coming to classrooms. If decades ago educators worldwide promoted the benefits of “One Laptop per Child”, today we may be approaching the model “one chatbot per child.” What does educational research tell us about what this model could mean for children’s learning and well-being?

During much of the 20th century, learning was understood as mainly as a matter of individual cognition. A misconception, if compared to today’s comprehension of what learning involves. Scientists now understand that apparently individual processes – such as building new knowledge – are actually social interactions with the world around us. In classrooms, this suggests that opportunities for daily personal interaction can strongly support brain health and academic learning.

Therefore, it is important to understand generative AI’s real-life impact on students.

For example: How does it feel to learn from a chatbot, day after day? How will long-term use of AI affect children’s mental health? How does AI use affect children’s relationships with each other and with their teachers? What kinds of relationships might children form with the chatbots themselves? More broadly, we could also ask: What do we, as a society, actually want children to learn?

Good teaching and learning blends social and individual processes. I see the beneficial application of any new technology in the classroom – AI or otherwise – as a way to build upon the social fabric of human learning. My concern about personalized AI tutors is how they might displace already infrequent opportunities for social interaction, further isolating children in classrooms.

The archetype of the classic witch is a cornerstone of global folklore and fiction, often depicted as a formidable and sinister antagonist. These figures are deeply embedded in collective storytelling, usually characterized by their malevolent intentions towards protagonists, especially innocent children or virtuous heroes. Their narrative role is fundamentally to embody the forces of darkness, chaos, or forbidden knowledge, creating a clear moral contrast and a formidable obstacle for the main characters to overcome. From European fairy tales to modern pop culture, the classic witch serves as a powerful symbol of fear and the supernatural.

Physically, the traditional witch is frequently described as an old, haggard woman with exaggeratedly ugly features, which visually symbolizes her inner corruption and alienation from societal norms. Common traits include a long, hooked nose, warts, disheveled gray hair, and crooked fingers. She is typically clothed in dark, ragged robes and a pointed, wide-brimmed hat, an image popularized and solidified by Western media. This distinct and fearsome appearance is designed to evoke immediate unease and signal her dangerous nature to the audience.

The classic witch's power is intrinsically linked to specific magical tools and practices. The bubbling cauldron is her quintessential instrument, used for brewing potent potions, casting spells, and concocting mysterious elixirs. Her magic often involves ancient books of spells, enchanted mirrors that show more than mere reflections, and the command over supernatural familiars like black cats, crows, or toads. These elements are not just props; they are extensions of her will and the sources of her power, which she uses to curse, transform, or deceive those who cross her path.

This archetype finds vivid expression in some of the most famous villains of literature and film. The Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz menaces Dorothy with hercommand over flying monkeys and her thirst for revenge. The Evil Queen from Snow White, obsessed with being the "fairest of them all," uses a poisoned apple in her deadly scheme. Similarly, Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty is a figure of pure vengeance, cursing an infant princess to a sleep-like death. Beyond Anglo-American tales, other cultures have their own versions, such as Brazil's Cuca, a child-eating alligator-witch from SÌtio do Picapau Amarelo.

However, the portrayal of the witch is not monolithic and has evolved to include more nuanced or comedic figures. In the Mexican sitcom El Chavo del Ocho, DoÒa Clotilde, nicknamed "La Bruja del 71," is a neighborhood eccentric whose witch persona is more a source of gossip and lighthearted fear than genuine evil. Furthermore, modern narratives like the film Hocus Pocus present the Sanderson sisters as a blend of the classic tropes—complete with spell books and a thirst for youth—but with a comedic and less terrifying demeanor, showcasing the adaptability and enduring fascination with this iconic character type.