The Four C’s of AI: A Framework for Engaging with the Inevitable
Artificial Intelligence is not on the horizon. It is here—woven into the tools we use, the content we consume, and increasingly, the expectations our students bring into the classroom. And yet, across many institutions, the response has been characterized more by hesitation than engagement—an uneasy mix of skepticism, resistance, and uncertainty.
I understand that hesitation. As educators—particularly those of us trained in critical, humanistic, and creative disciplines—we are taught to question, contextualize, and safeguard meaning. But ignoring the role AI already plays in shaping cognition, communication, and creativity does not protect the integrity of education. It undermines our ability to lead it forward.
In my own teaching practice—anchored in art and design but shaped by interdisciplinary dialogue—I’ve been searching for a way to help students and colleagues alike make sense of this moment. That search led me to a simple but robust framework I call The Four C’s of AI:
Curiosity, Critical Thinking, Curation, and—emerging from the first three—Creativity.
These aren’t technical skills. They are human capacities—ways of thinking and being that AI cannot replicate. They reflect the kind of human intelligence we need to cultivate now more than ever.
Curiosity is the entry point
It invites us to explore AI not with fear or fatigue, but with a sense of possibility. When I introduce generative tools in the studio classroom, I don’t do so as a shortcut to a final product—but as a provocation. What might happen if you let an AI reinterpret your portfolio? What if it surprises you? What if it unsettles you? Curiosity reframes AI as a partner in discovery. It’s how we move from passive adoption to active inquiry.
Critical Thinking is the anchor
The proliferation of AI-generated content—text, imagery, sound, data—demands a deeper kind of literacy. We must help students interrogate what they see, hear, and use. What assumptions are embedded in this model? Whose voices are amplified or erased? What kind of knowledge is being automated? These are not abstract questions. They are pedagogical imperatives. And in the arts, they are especially urgent: we deal in aesthetics, symbols, representation. If we don’t ask these questions, we surrender the conversation to others.
Curation is the craft
In an age of infinite outputs, discernment becomes the most valuable skill. AI can generate dozens of variations in seconds. But the ability to select, refine, and elevate—that’s human. That’s design. In my classroom, I encourage students to treat AI not as a replacement for their creativity, but as raw material. What do you keep? What do you discard? What do you transform? Curation is where ethics, judgment, and personal voice converge.
Creativity is the culmination
But not the kind of creativity we’ve always valorized—the lone genius or the polished final product. In this context, creativity is relational. It’s the ability to navigate a world of algorithmic abundance and still make something meaningful. It’s what emerges when we engage with AI tools not just efficiently, but reflectively. The process may look different—less hands-on, more collaborative—but the essence remains: creativity is how we make sense of the world—and how we shape it.
In the creative industries, and in the classroom, the ground is shifting. The cost of production is collapsing. Generative tools have democratized access to visual, written, and sonic media. The ability to generate content is no longer rare. This does not mean creativity is dead. It means its value has moved.
When students ask me if AI will replace designers or artists, I remind them: it’s not about what tools we use, but how we use them—and why. The real moat now isn’t technical skill. It’s taste, perspective, judgment, and humanity. These are not things AI can replicate. But they are things we must intentionally teach.
The Four C’s—Curiosity, Critical Thinking, Curation, and Creativity—aren’t a curriculum. They’re a compass. They help us navigate uncertainty with intention. They offer students a way to engage with this evolving world not as passive consumers or overwhelmed skeptics, but as designers of their own futures.
I offer this framework not as a prescription, but as an invitation—to start the conversation, to lean into the discomfort, and to lead this shift with clarity and purpose. If we don’t, we risk losing the very thing we most want to protect: our relevance as educators and the transformative power of learning.
