The Kind Academic

I’ve been hearing voices in my head.

Not in a “get that woman some help” way. More in a LinkedIn way.

Let me explain:

I like social media. LinkedIn, in particular, has been a gift to me. It has given me community, connection, and access to thoughtful people thinking seriously about stuff I care about in education. Many of the people I follow are smart, generous, and genuinely committed to improving teaching and learning. I follow them because I want to learn from them.

But lately, scrolling has started to feel less like learning and more like standing in the middle of a crowded room where everyone is speaking at once. My poor little brain is fit to explode.

The Great AI Debate (and every other debate)

A prime example is the discourse on LinkedIn around GenAI in higher education. Some are emphatic that WE HAVE TO USE IT. IT IS THE FUTURE. POST PLAGIARISM IS HERE. Basically, if we are not integrating AI into our teaching, we are failing our students, ourselves, and the world in general.

Then, almost immediately, we come across another set of voices. ABSOLUTELY NOT. DO NOT ALLOW IT. THIS IS THE EROSION OF THINKING, WRITING, AND LEARNING. AND THE WORLD. DOOM FOREVER.

Now, both these positions are articulated cogently by people I respect, so I find myself swinging between them. I’m convinced, then unconvinced… energised, then overwhelmed. The voices grow louder with each post, each comment thread, each confident declaration.

The challenge is that I don’t just get to observe these debates from a position of vague, neutral interest. I have to make choices about assessment, about curriculum, about what I encourage or prohibit in my classes. These aren’t abstract discussions. They have real consequences for me, my students and my colleagues.

Openness vs overwhelm

So “stop going on LinkedIn”, you may be saying.

The thing is, that seems very out of synch with who I am as an academic. In academia, we’re trained to stay open, to seek out multiple perspectives, to synthesise rather than rush to judgment. Social media seems, on the surface, like an extension of that ethos – so many perspectives, so much thinking happening in public.

But there’s a point where openness tips into overload

I’ve found that when I open my social media for a quick scroll and come across yet another opinion, another epiphany, another declaration, these voices don’t just stay on the screen. They follow me into my planning, my thinking, my sense of whether I’m doing enough. Am I behind? Am I missing something crucial?

At first, the idea of stepping away felt like shirking my professional responsibility. Isn’t staying current part of being a good educator? But maybe there’s a form of kindness in recognising when the noise is drowning out your own thinking.

What I’m finding in the quiet

In the past fortnight, I’ve made a conscious effort to step away from LinkedIn. And honestly? It’s been pretty lovely.

The quiet has given me space as I work on pre-term tasks: designing teaching activities, structuring assessments and developing rubrics. These are all tasks where I’m making active decisions about the issues I read about on LinkedIn – including GenAI – but cutting out the voices is allowing me to find my own

Will I stay off LinkedIn forever? It’s unlikely. I’d miss the community too much. But this strategic break has helped me become more confident about applying my own expertise to the teaching conundrums I face. Sometimes the kindest thing we can do for ourselves – and our students – is to turn down the volume long enough to hear what we actually think.

Right now, the loudest voice in my head is my own. And that’s pretty OK.