A slice of buttered toast spread with Vegemite — Australia's iconic, pungent condiment — was passed around a sunlit table at the University of Technology Sydney (UTS). Sitting with my fellow visiting students and our host, Scott Daniel, I hesitated before taking a bite. Laughter quickly followed as we reacted to its sharp, salty taste and shared our first impressions of Australian culture.

As we talked, I began to realize that this was more than a casual icebreaker. It quietly reflected a philosophy that would unfold throughout our visit: one that values openness, equal dialogue, and learning through lived experience.

Over the following days, that realization deepened into a question that lingered in my mind: beyond technical proficiency, what does it mean to educate an engineer?

Rather than offering direct answers, UTS revealed its approach through design, interaction, and everyday practice.

Our first glimpse came during a tour of the university's "vertical campus", a 17-storey building integrated into the heart of Sydney. With open access to public spaces and a seamless connection to the surrounding city, the campus dissolves traditional boundaries between academic life and the wider community. Inside, interdisciplinary labs, round-the-clock study areas, and flexible learning spaces reflect a belief that education should adapt to students — not the other way around.

This philosophy became even more tangible in the classrooms. Instead of traditional lecture halls, many spaces were arranged around round tables, with screens on multiple walls, encouraging discussion and collaboration rather than passive listening.

One particular classroom left a lasting impression. Equipped with four teaching stations, it allowed multiple instructors to lead together, shifting the focus from a single authority to a shared learning process. On one of the podiums sat a small origami crane, its image projected onto every screen in the room. Though simple, it introduced an unexpected sense of warmth and creativity — reminding me that learning environments can be both rigorous and creative.

This human-centered approach was not limited to physical spaces; it was embedded in the curriculum itself. Scott, a senior lecturer in humanitarian engineering and educational innovation, spoke with us not as an authority, but as a collaborator. He introduced the concept of socio-technical integration — a perspective that places human context alongside technical knowledge at the core of engineering practice.

Through his explanation, engineering emerged not merely as problem-solving in isolation, but as a discipline deeply connected to people, culture, and society. Courses at UTS reflect this integration across all stages of study, while internships place students in real-world environments where technical solutions must respond to genuine human needs.

The most memorable moment came during a simple interactive exercise. Scott asked us a series of questions — about teamwork, our future plans, and personal preferences — and invited us to position ourselves in the room according to our choices. What followed was not about right or wrong answers, but about understanding the reasoning behind each perspective.

At one point, when asked to choose between academic research and industry work, one educator stood between the two sides. His response was striking: "You don't have to choose. You can define your own path."

That moment lingered with me. It suggested that education is not about directing everyone toward a predefined outcome, but about creating space for individuals to discover who they want to become.

At the end of our visit, we gathered for a group photo on UTS's iconic double-helix staircase. Inspired by the structure of DNA, its intertwined design offered a fitting metaphor for what we had experienced. Engineering education, like the helix, is strongest when different strands — technical knowledge and human understanding, structure and creativity — are interwoven.

This visit was more than a study tour. It was an invitation to rethink the purpose of education itself.

Looking back, the answer was already there in that first shared taste of Vegemite — not in a lecture or textbook, but in a moment of openness, curiosity, and connection. Perhaps to educate an engineer is not only to teach what we know, but to shape how we experience, understand, and relate to the world.

Written by Liu Chenghao, 19, an undergraduate student majoring in electronic engineering at Tsinghua University, under the supervision of Wang Jinghui.