Hyperreal, But Not Human

by Claire Brady, EdD

A note about today’s blog: I don’t work for ed tech companies—I work with institutions, helping them navigate their options, evaluate tools, and make strategic decisions. I’m not neutral, but I am agnostic: I care less about which vendor you choose and more about whether it truly serves your mission, your students, and your values.

“If students learn from avatars, what do they miss by not experiencing the quirks, warmth, or imperfections of a live human? How do we balance scalability with authenticity?”

I recently I read a fascinating piece by Rhiannon Williams about her visit to Synthesia’s London studio to create a digital avatar of herself. Her description of standing under studio lights, reading a script into a camera, and then receiving back a lifelike AI version of herself a few weeks later was equal parts impressive and unnerving. The avatar looked like her, sounded like her, and gestured with uncanny accuracy—yet, as she put it, there was still something “empty” about it.

Synthesia’s new Express-2 avatars represent a leap forward in realism. Compared to their earlier versions, they move more naturally, capture accents more faithfully, and appear more humanlike than ever. For corporations, this has immediate applications: sleek training videos, polished investor updates, or internal communications that don’t require a live camera crew or repeated filming.

So why should higher education leaders care about avatars that look like corporate spokespersons? Because the future of teaching, advising, and professional development may soon include digital humans who can present, interact, and even converse in real time.

Imagine this: a first-year student struggling with time management could access an AI advisor who looks and sounds like a trusted peer mentor, available at any hour. Or, a biology faculty member could create a customized series of lecture videos where the avatar adapts explanations to different student knowledge levels—introductory for non-majors, advanced for graduate students. The personalization potential is enormous.

But Williams’ unease also matters. As she replayed her avatar, she noted it looked and sounded like her—but it wasn’t her. It had no lived experiences, no emotions, no history. That gap, often described as the “uncanny valley,” raises important questions for higher ed. If students learn from avatars, what do they miss by not experiencing the quirks, warmth, or imperfections of a live human? How do we balance scalability with authenticity?

There are also equity and ethical considerations. Hyperrealistic avatars could make learning more accessible across languages and time zones—but they could also amplify misinformation if cloned without consent. As Williams points out, the line between artificial and real is blurring fast. Our students, many of whom are already forming relationships with AI companions, will be especially vulnerable to mistaking avatars for authentic authority.

For now, companies like Synthesia are focused on the corporate sphere. But they’ve already signaled interest in education, even partnering with Google to embed generative video into their platform. Their stated goal is to create interactive, personalized, entertaining video learning experiences. That sounds like a future tailor-made for online courses, professional development, and even student support services.

The takeaway for higher ed leaders isn’t whether avatars will enter our classrooms—they will. The question is how we’ll guide their use. Will we embrace avatars as tools to extend our reach, free up faculty time, and personalize learning? Or will we allow them to replace too much of the human connection that defines higher education?

Williams’ avatar might deliver a flawless lecture on demand, but it will never laugh with a student after class, pause to check if someone is really okay, or share a personal story that makes a lesson stick. Our challenge as educators will be to use these tools intentionally—maximizing efficiency and access while never losing sight of what only humans can offer.

White bold capitalized text reading “HYPERREAL, BUT NOT HUMAN” centered on a vivid blue background.
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