From Sage on the Stage to Guide on the Side to Ghost in the Machine: The Ethics of the Disappearance of Instructors in Education

I am a person of deep faith, and I like to consider the ethical and philosophical implications of the things I encounter, especially in education. This week in class, we discussed research ethics and IRB protocols, which got me thinking more about the ethical side of teaching and learning. As technology becomes more embedded in education, an important ethical question emerges: What happens when learning becomes more efficient but less relational? Digital tools have expanded access, made self-paced learning more feasible, and streamlined instruction, but they have also fundamentally changed how students and teachers interact. If education no longer relies on human relationships, does it lose something essential? Or does the ability to learn independently—without direct mentorship—suggest that relational learning is not as critical as we assume?

I homeschooled in high school, and my education was completely self-directed. I learned by reading, setting my own goals, and taking responsibility for my studies. Without any teacher interaction, I was still able to learn deeply and grow intellectually. That experience showed me that education does not always require direct instruction—there is immense value in learning independently. Technology has now made this kind of self-driven learning possible for more students, offering online courses, AI tutors, digital libraries, and open-access materials that allow students to engage with content on their own terms. If students can learn effectively on their own, it raises an ethical question: Is human connection in education as essential as we have always believed?

At the same time, I recognize that even though i was able to learn completely independently in high school, it wasn’t until college that I truly learned to think critically and engage collaboratively with others. That makes me wonder: Does technology create the illusion of complete independence when, in reality, learning is always shaped by human interaction—whether visible or not? While digital platforms make knowledge more accessible, they don’t always replicate the intellectual depth and personal growth that come from meaningful discussion and mentorship.

Another ethical question emerges when we look at how technology is reshaping the role of instructors. Traditionally, teachers were not just content providers—they were mentors, guides, and intellectual partners in a student’s learning. But with the rise of automated grading, AI tutors, and pre-recorded lectures, students can engage with material without meaningful interaction with an instructor. This makes education more efficient, but it also raises concerns about what happens to the teacher’s role when students don’t need them in the same way.

As an online instructor, I primarily teach from pre-designed courses. If students are engaging more with technology than with a person, does my role shift from mentor to facilitator? Ghost in the Machine? And if so, is that a loss, or is it simply an evolution in education? Instructors have always been responsible for more than just delivering information—they foster discussion, provide meaningful feedback, and push students to think critically. But if technology takes over those tasks, what is left of the instructor’s ethical responsibility to guide students? Does reducing teacher-student interaction strip education of its depth, or does it simply make learning more accessible and flexible?

There is a valid argument that automation frees instructors from tedious administrative tasks, allowing them to focus more on students who need direct engagement. Not every student benefits from one-on-one mentorship, and some thrive in self-paced, technology-driven environments. However, even with these benefits, we still have to ask: If education moves too far in the direction of automation, does it risk becoming purely transactional? And if so, does that shift the fundamental purpose of education?

There’s no doubt that technology is making education more accessible and flexible. For example, I am pursuing a Ph.D. in a program that would not be available to me locally, benefiting directly from the efficiencies of distributed learning. But as education becomes more streamlined, it’s worth asking what that efficiency costs. If learning becomes more about content consumption than intellectual engagement, does it still hold the same transformative power? Can technological learning still hold deep interaction?

This question is even more relevant with the increasing emphasis on RSI—regular and substantive interaction—in online education. I have taught online for almost ten years, and recently, there has been a strong push to ensure online education remains interactive and academically rigorous. Federal regulations define RSI as instructor-initiated, meaningful engagement that goes beyond passive content delivery. While I understand the reasoning behind these policies—ensuring students don’t just watch videos or complete automated assessments without deeper interaction—it also makes me question why such regulations are necessary. If we have to mandate real interaction, does that mean online education is naturally drifting toward a more transactional model? And if efficiency and automation are the natural byproducts of technological advancement, how do we ensure we’re not just checking a box for compliance but actually fostering genuine intellectual engagement?

Technology is pushing education in new directions, and with that comes opportunity. But we also have to reconsider what we believe education should be. My experience as an independent learner taught me that students don’t always need structured, relationship-based education to succeed—but I also know that learning is rarely just about consuming and assimilating content. The increasing efficiency of education raises big questions about the role of instructors, the necessity of human interaction, and whether learning should be purely transactional. Maybe technology is helping us rethink outdated assumptions, or maybe it’s leading us toward a version of education that looks very different from what we’ve always known. Either way, these are questions we can’t ignore, because how we answer them will shape not just how we teach, but what we believe learning should be.