Why I Do This

I have just spent a week in Cairo. I first went there in 1993, on what turned into a slightly disastrous holiday. Long story. This time, with the opening of the Grand Egyptian Museum, I wanted to go back properly and connect with Egypt, its history and culture, and perhaps heal that 1993 memory.

The museum is beautiful, but daunting. When I arrived, I was told that if I looked at each exhibit for one minute, I would need seven days to see everything. I had a ticket with a two-hour slot.

There were corridors leading to different galleries, signs pointing in several directions. The museum shop looked good. This was why I had come. And then, oddly, my mind started to shut down. Should I get a guide? An audio guide? Should I start with the statues, the royal collections, the everyday objects, or the most crowded area, the Tutankhamun galleries?

For a while, I just walked around rather listlessly, admiring the beauty of the building and the artefacts, but not really knowing how to begin. It was a maze, and I think many students experience university in a similar way.

Not because universities do not care, or because support does not exist, but because large institutions can be hard to navigate when you are new, anxious, embarrassed or unsure what you are even asking for. Students may know support exists, but not know where to start. They may not have the right language for what they are experiencing. They may not know whether their problem is academic, personal, financial, practical or something else entirely. That is where this work begins.

One of the things that has stayed with me most from my work with universities is hearing directly from students. Over the years, students occasionally contacted us after completing one of our courses. Some wanted to comment on the training. Others wanted to ask where they could get help.

That always stayed with me. If they were coming through to us, something in the system had not been clear enough. I did not work at their university, but they seemed to appreciate someone replying. Some told me difficult stories about feeling unsupported, being confused about who was teaching them, cancelled lectures, complaints they did not know how to raise, or problems they did not know how to name.

Quite often, what came through was a sense of confusion. A student might know that help exists somewhere in the university, but not know which door to knock on. They might feel lonely, but not know whether that is a wellbeing issue. They might be worried about their course, but not know whether to speak to a tutor, a student
adviser or someone else entirely. They might have seen something troubling, but not know whether it is serious enough to report.

They may also be embarrassed. They may worry that they are making a fuss. They may think everyone else is coping better than they are. That is not a small issue. If a student cannot find the right route into support, the support may as well be much further away than it really is.

At the same time, universities have told us that students are becoming more isolated and anxious, while student services teams are under increasing pressure. That combination worries me. Students need more help finding the right support, while the people providing that support are often already stretched.

AI is now part of that picture. More students are turning to AI for reassurance and advice. I understand why. It is available at any hour. It allows someone to ask a question they might feel awkward asking another person. Sometimes that may help, but it also carries a risk. AI can create a synthetic relationship with technology that moves students further away from real people, rather than towards them.

I am not interested in AI that traps students in another screen. I am interested in AI that helps them find their way back to real support. That is why Student Compass was developed. The purpose is not to replace student services. It is to help students find them.

Student Compass allows students to ask questions in their own words and be guided towards the right people, services, policies and next steps within their university. A student should not need to know the official name of a department before they can ask for help. They should not need to understand the difference between academic support, wellbeing support, accommodation support, complaints, safeguarding or disclosure processes before they know where to start.

They should be able to say ordinary things, such as:

That is where a tool like Student Compass can help. It is not trying to act as a counsellor, replace professional judgement or provide generic advice from the internet. It helps by making the university’s own support system easier to enter.

AI should not be used as a cheap substitute for care, judgement or human contact. Used well, it can reduce confusion and guide people towards the support that already exists. That is the kind of AI I want to work on.

Most universities already have committed people, serious policies and a wide range of support services. The problem is not always absence. Sometimes it is visibility, confidence and navigation.

Too often, student services can feel like a pocket of the campus that students only discover when something has already gone wrong. Student Compass is designed to help bring that support into the mainstream of university life, so that students and staff know there is a clear first place to go for help, direction and next steps.

Students need a clearer first step. Staff need fewer avoidable enquiries going to the wrong place. Universities need tools that strengthen their human services rather than bypass them.

To the students who wrote to me over the years, I am sorry I could not always help more. Student Compass is, in part, my response.

Student Compass : bringing student support into the mainstream of university life.