So, You Think You Can Teach Transformation? My Gloriously Unplanned Masterclass and an AI We’re Coercing Into Usefulness.

Let’s be brutally honest: the term “masterclass” has been inflated to the point of near meaninglessness. It often promises a neatly packaged epiphany, delivered by an oracle, usually in exchange for a sum that could sponsor a minor research grant. A few days ago, I helmed something that, by some accident of scheduling, also carried this label: “The Story Only You Can Tell.” My meticulous plan, focusing on the human aspect, naturally, took a swift nosedive when faced with the unyielding tyrant of The Clock. I had to cut swathes of what I’d envisioned and improvise. Wildly. What emerged was less a “class” and more a live experiment in co-created chaos, and it was, against all odds, rather profound. And now, in a fit of what can only be described as optimistic delusion, I’m trying to get an AI to help bottle that particular lightning.

When The Plan Evaporates, Real Learning Occasionally Shows Up

The core of my (now partially-obliterated) plan was offensively simple: forget podcasting techniques for a hot minute. What’s a story only you can tell? A shift, a moment of pride, shame, aliveness. Something you’ve whispered to your shower wall but never to another human. “The story only I can tell is…” became the void they had to fill.

What followed was a testament to the beautiful, unpredictable mess of human interaction. The session was shaped by their reactions to my inputs, and my reactions to their reactions. We, a room full of people from eight different European countries, mostly between 16 and 20-something years old – an age group not typically renowned for its eagerness to bare its soul on command – somehow found ourselves in a space of full co-agency, with none of us, least of all me, fully controlling the outcome. We created a place where learning could happen, with the thrilling, terrifying caveat that none of us knew precisely what we would learn.

They formed small, ad-hoc narrative cells, sharing these fledgling sentences, grappling with why these fragments of self even mattered. They weren’t there to chase podcasting stardom – a pipe dream I find offers a perverse kind of comfort. They were there, in that moment, to collectively birth a story. The unspoken agreement was “process over perfection,” largely because perfection is a cruel joke when you’re trying to extract meaning from the human condition with a group of near-strangers.

An artist in the group voiced a revelation that many probably felt: creating without the immediate, crushing expectation of producing a masterpiece is, apparently, quite liberating. A genuine shocker, I know. For me, the facilitator – or perhaps “Conductor of Unforeseen Vulnerabilities” – the most potent lesson came from a participant’s simple, stark story about facing the ocean. That raw fear, the internal wrestling match, the decision to plunge when ready, not when some arbitrary schedule dictated. It was a punch to the gut about self-sovereignty and self-empowerment. So much for my carefully curated talking points.

My “strategy,” if one can call the act of desperately trying to steer a ship you only partially control a strategy, involved:

  • Radical Subjectivity: Because “objective truth” is often just the dominant narrative wearing a convincing disguise.
  • Weaponizing Diversity (Gently): I shared my own supermarket epiphany. I was in the pasta aisle, a place of quiet contemplation for any true carb enthusiast, weighing quality against price. A well-meaning British chap materialized and suggested a pasta that cooked in one minute. One. Minute. For me, speed in pasta is usually synonymous with “culinary sacrilege.” Yet, his input, while not altering my pasta-procurement protocols, gifted me a sudden, clear view of a third dimension in decision-making – his value system was entirely different. This diverse group of young Europeans had countless such “third dimensions” to offer each other.
  • Process Over Product: Mostly because our initial products are often a humbling experience.
  • An Open Invitation to Honesty (Even If It’s “This Is Useless”): “I learned nothing” was a valid, even brave, contribution.

The impact was undeniable, not due to any particular genius on my part, but because the format, shredded and rebuilt in real-time, made room for authentic human mess to become the actual curriculum.

The Inevitable, Slightly Deranged Leap: “Let’s Get an AI to Do This!”

And here, naturally, is where hubris meets hope. After witnessing this chaotic, authentic unfolding, where learning happened because we didn’t entirely know what we were doing, my first thought wasn’t, “That was a unique, unrepeatable moment.” Oh no. It was, “Excellent. Now, how do we replicate this beautiful, accidental miracle on demand, possibly with less existential terror for the facilitator?” More importantly, how can others – those equally weary of the soul-crushingly dull, paint-by-numbers approach to “development” – create more of these learning-as-it-happens environments?

The bitter pill is that these deeply human-centered, facilitative experiences are a nightmare to scale. They demand a facilitator to be a combination of therapist, improv artist, sheepdog, and patient saint – qualities not typically found in abundance, or easily taught in a weekend workshop. So, with impeccable logic, I turned to the most inhuman thing available: Artificial Intelligence. The irony isn’t just noted; it’s practically the guest of honor. Could AI, the epitome of structured data, become the unlikely assistant in crafting experiences that thrive on the unstructured, the emergent, the deeply personal? Or is this just another way to efficiently produce new forms of sophisticated nonsense?

The Monster Under the Bed: An AI Prompt Born of Trial, Error, and Caffeinated Desperation

Below is the fruit of this questionable endeavor. It’s a prompt. A hideously long, painstakingly detailed prompt. Consider it a set of arcane instructions for an AI, a blueprint for assembling a digital co-conspirator that, with luck, won’t immediately default to suggesting “more synergy” or “leveraging blockchain” as universal solutions.

Be warned: this is not light reading. It’s dense because apparently, telling an AI to foster genuine human connection without being creepy or banal requires an alarming number of words. If you’re truly committed to the Sisyphean task of trying to get an AI to help you design learning that doesn’t make participants wish for the sweet release of a fire drill, then proceed. A hopefully not-too-painful explanation of its guts follows for those who make it through.



Decoding the Necronomicon: A Field Guide to This AI Prompt.

Still with me? Remarkable. You either have incredible stamina or a worrying lack of other things to do. Regardless, since you’ve waded through the swamp of instructions above, let’s dissect this digital beast. This prompt is less a polite request and more a detailed psychological profile and job description for an AI, attempting to coerce it into becoming a useful, if slightly reluctant, partner in designing learning experiences that don’t feel like a slow death by PowerPoint.

Here’s the basic anatomy:

  1. The AI Gets an Attitude Adjustment (Section 1): We’re not asking for a perky assistant. We’re programming a persona: an über-expert, brutally honest, allergic to fluff, obsessed with quality, and capable of (somehow) channeling top-tier knowledge in any field you specify. It’s like hiring a world-class consultant who’s also a minimalist Zen master with a slight personality disorder.
  2. The Cross-Examination (Section 2): Before the AI lays a single brick of your masterclass, it must first subject you to a thorough interrogation. This is non-negotiable. It’s how we try to prevent the age-old problem of GIGO (Garbage In, Garbage Out), or in this case, Vague Aspirations In, Vapid Masterclass Out.
  3. The Unshakeable Dogma (Section 3): These are the core principles – the AI’s new religion. It’s not just about stringing activities together; it’s about infusing them with profound concepts like emergent learning, genuine collaboration where people actually build on each other (imagine!), and reflection so deep it might require a decompression chamber. Storytelling is, of course, sanctified.
  4. The Actual “How-To” (Section 4): This is where the AI gets its hands dirty. A four-phase structure – because even chaos needs a container. It covers the arc from initial provocation to final reflection, complete with AI homework for each phase, advice on what to tell the human facilitator (bless their heart), and even built-in “Oh Crap!” contingency plans.
  5. The Fine Print and Escape Hatches (Sections 5 & 6): Because no instruction set is complete without optional extras and a stern lecture on quality control. It also gently reminds the AI that its grand creation is merely a first draft, subject to the whims and wisdom of its human collaborator.

Using This Dark Magic (Use Responsibly, Or Don’t, I’m Not Your Conscience):

  • Find an AI That Hasn’t Given Up on Life: You need a model that can chew on complex, nuanced instructions without spitting out gibberish. Good luck with that.
  • Offer Up The Scroll: Copy. Paste. Pray to whatever digital deities you recognize.
  • Submit to the AI’s Interrogation: Answer its questions. The more honest and specific you are, the less anemic its output will be.
  • Receive the Oracle’s Pronouncements: A masterclass framework will appear. Assess its brilliance. Or its banality.
  • Rewrite. Edit. Swear. Repeat: This is crucial. The AI provides a skeleton. You provide the blood, guts, and soul. And probably a lot of caffeine.

So, Now What? Join Me in Yelling at the Future?

This entire project – trying to use an AI to foster the kind of learning that thrives on unpredictability, human connection, and the beautiful mess of real-time co-creation – is an exercise in controlled schizophrenia. It’s about building a sufficiently robust cage to witness something wild.

So, there it is. My offering to the gods of better learning experiences. Take this prompt. Shove it at your AI of choice. See if you can provoke it into generating something that doesn’t immediately trigger your fight-or-flight response.

I’m not just curious; I’m practically vibrating with a mixture of hope and dread: How might this kind of structured wildness reshape learning in your corner of the universe? If you actually go through with this madness and try the prompt, for the love of all that’s unholy, share your war stories, your glorious failures, your accidental triumphs. Let’s figure out this future together, before it figures us out. Or, at the very least, let’s make some interesting mistakes.


Gemini AI Notes: Co-Crafting This Narrative

This blog post was a truly collaborative effort between Manolo and myself, Gemini AI. Here’s a brief look into how we brought this piece to life:

  • Manolo’s Initial Vision & Guidance:
    • Manolo articulated a clear desire to share the deeply personal and impactful experience of his “The Story Only You Can Tell” masterclass.
    • His core vision was to reflect on the unique, human-centered learning that emerged and to introduce the innovative AI prompt we had previously co-developed, aiming to help others replicate such transformative educational experiences.
    • He specifically requested that the full AI prompt be shared and explained within the narrative of his journey.
  • Our Iterative Process & Key Enhancements:
    • Initial Draft: I began by drafting a blog post that captured Manolo’s reflections and presented the AI prompt.
    • Critical Review & Refinement: At Manolo’s request, I adopted a critical expert persona to review the initial draft, leading to structural improvements focused on enhancing reader engagement, clarifying the “why AI?” rationale, and strengthening the call to action.
    • Significant Tonal Evolution: Manolo then directed a major stylistic shift, asking for a foundational tone of deep seriousness and brutal honesty, intricately woven with intelligent, dark/sarcastic wit. This required a substantial rewrite to achieve the desired complex voice while ensuring the core message remained impactful.
    • Deepening Authenticity with New Insights: Manolo provided further crucial details about his masterclass experience (the interplay of planning and improvisation, the specific supermarket anecdote, participant demographics, and the theme of co-agency). Integrating these elements significantly enriched the narrative’s authenticity and provided a stronger foundation for the desired tone.
    • Final Polish: Our iterations focused on ensuring the unique voice was consistent and that the narrative flowed cohesively from personal experience to the technical AI prompt and its explanation.
  • Visual Storytelling:
    • Manolo also utilized AI to generate the evocative images accompanying this post, further blending human insight with AI capabilities to enhance the reader’s experience.

This iterative process, guided by Manolo’s clear vision, insightful feedback, and willingness to explore sophisticated tonal expressions, was key to shaping the final article.