Francisco Morejón is a force of nature in the worlds of education, entrepreneurship, and AI innovation. Currently the Vice-President of Oxbridge AI X and the Oxbridge AI Challenge, he helps run the prestigious annual AI startup pitch competition between the University of Oxford and the University of Cambridge, fostering the next generation of AI entrepreneurs. With a career spanning continents, disciplines, and institutions, Francisco’s journey is as remarkable as it is inspiring.

His academic path reflects a relentless pursuit of knowledge and social justice. Francisco earned his honours bachelor’s degree from University College Maastricht and UC Berkeley, followed by a distinction-awarded master’s degree in philosophy of education from University College London. His academic achievements also include a specialized certificate in higher education from Harvard University and a master’s in social and digital change from the University of Oxford, where his research explored the intersection of knowledge and skills, the climate crisis, and the rise of new digital technologies.

Francisco’s impact extends far beyond academia. He founded the Quito Institute of Liberal Arts and Sciences (QILAS), a pioneering micro-liberal arts college in Ecuador designed to make high-quality education more inclusive and accessible. As Director of the Bocavaldivia Foundation, he spearheaded a large-scale conservation initiative, working to create a 2,000-hectare bio-corridor on Ecuador’s coast.

His passion for leveraging technology to address global challenges deepened during his time as sponsorship lead for the Oxford Artificial Intelligence Society, where he collaborated with global tech leaders to explore AI’s potential and ethical implications. Today, as the CEO and Founder of Fregoan, Francisco helps entrepreneurs and organizations bring their technological visions to life through software development..

What truly sets Francisco apart, beyond his impressive accomplishments, is his unwavering belief in others' potential—a belief I’ve been fortunate to experience firsthand. When I participated in the Oxbridge AI Challenge with my startup, Francisco didn’t just offer his expertise; he was a constant source of support and encouragement. His energy and clarity inspire confidence and push boundaries, creating an environment where innovation and collaboration thrive.

As we sat down at the Oxbridge AI X headquarters in Chelsea, London to talk about his extraordinary journey, it was clear to me that Francisco doesn’t just live his mission—he embodies it. His story, which spans continents, cultures, and some of the world’s most prestigious educational institutions, is one of relentless purpose and a profound belief in the transformative power of education. Over tea, he reflects on the remarkable steps that brought him here, the lessons he’s learned, and his unshakable commitment to making education and technological innovation a force for good.

When I left Ecuador at 14, I was too young to realize the enormity of what I was doing. I wasn’t thinking about life-changing experiences or about becoming a different person—I just thought, ‘This is an exciting opportunity, let's take it’ I lived with three host families, and what struck me most was how deeply I became a part of their lives and the impact of living with three different families had on my understanding of myself and of Danish society. Their kids went to the same school as me, and I wasn’t treated like an outsider. I was immersed in their routines, their ambitions, their cultures. I learned that by taking a leap of faith and trusting my intuition I discovered a new world far beyond my own home and country. It opened my mind and transformed me immensely.

But coming back home after a year—it was like entering an alternate reality. I had changed in profound ways, but things back home didn’t change much at all. My classmates had moved on academically, from physics to calculus, but my change wasn’t about equations or classes. It was deeper. It was a shift in perspective and identity. I started asking bigger questions: ‘Why does the world work this way? Why does opportunity feel so unequal back home in comparison to Denmark?’ That reverse cultural shock made me much more socially oriented. I started noticing things—inequalities, the structures that held people back. It was like waking up for the first time. I started developing a deep sense of purpose.

UCM wasn’t on my radar at all until I by pure coincidence met Heidi, another exchange student who was studying there. She listened to my story and told me, ‘You need to apply to this college. It’s tailor-made for people like you.’ I looked into it and was blown away by its reputation—it was ranked the best bachelor’s program in the Netherlands that year, and their problem-based learning system was unlike anything I’d seen. Her encouragement and support changed my life forever. I applied and, when I got in, I knew this new educational institution was going to prepare me for life and tackle complex challenges.

There are just 600 students, and the classes are capped at 12. It’s all about debate, discussion, and problem solving. You’re constantly being challenged to defend your ideas through rigorous critical and analytical argumentation, not just sitting passively and memorizing facts. I remember thinking, ‘This is education at its peak.’ But it was also incredibly demanding. You couldn’t hide in a lecture hall of hundreds; you were always on, always participating. It was like being sharpened every day.

That environment spoiled us in a way. It made us expect the highest standards—not just from our professors, but from ourselves and each other. It wasn’t just about getting good grades. It was about mastering the art of critical thinking, about realizing the liberatory power of ideas, and self-reflection. It was at UCM that I first fell in love with education, not just as a tool for personal advancement, but as a force for social justice.

When I wrote my essay for Berkeley, I had a dream in mind, which gave me a clear view of the next steps I wanted to take over the next five to ten years. You wouldn’t be able to secure a place without that level of clarity—they’re looking for it.

My essay wasn’t just about telling my story, it was about making a commitment to myself and to the admissions team that getting this opportunity will have an impact in the world. I shared my experiences, including the moment when I met a young boy in Ecuador who wasn’t in school but was traveling on buses selling candy to support his family. That moment stuck with me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was the reason I wanted to study education and justice—to figure out how systems like that are built and how they can be changed. I had to do something about it, I had to take action.

When I got into Berkeley, I knew I wanted to go deeper. I didn’t just want to learn—I wanted to use what I was learning to create something real. I met incredible professors and mentors who introduced me to new ideas and connected me with others who were thinking about similar challenges.

One of my mentors from the Netherlands—my professor at UCM—had introduced me to my future mentor who went to Sciences Po. He had been involved in projects that were aligned with my vision, and we became good friends. He told me, ‘Finish your degree, get your master’s, and then let’s build this.’ That advice inspiredstuck with me, and when I started looking at master’s programs, UCL was the obvious choice. It had been ranked number one in education for many years, and I knew that kind of credibility would help me make my vision a reality.

QILAS was born out of a simple but powerful idea: to take the best parts of the liberal arts education I had experienced and make it more inclusive. Liberal arts programs, for all their strengths, can be elitist—they’re often accessible only to a small group of people. I wanted to change that.

When I returned to Ecuador after UCL, I started talking to friends who had also gone abroad on scholarships to places like Harvard, MIT, Stanford, and Oxbridge. We realized we had all benefited from this extraordinary privilege, but we also knew that kind of education was out of reach for most people in Ecuador. So, we decided to create a micro-liberal arts college where we could share what we had learned.

The first steps were daunting. Just setting up the legal structure for the NGO took seven months. I was 22 years old, working alongside fellows who were 8-10 years older than me. We had no money, no infrastructure—just a clear vision.

We started with seven students from completely different backgrounds: three were Venezuelan refugees, one was a banking lawyer looking for meaning and deeper purpose, another was a social media manager looking for purpose and had profound philosophical questions, and the rest came from local NGOs. We designed a curriculum that combined the humanities, arts, and both natural and sciences, with the goal of helping them explore who they were and what they wanted to do.

One of my favorite memories which will always remain in my retina, is seeing those students in their first class. We had a small classroom, a chalkboard, and a curriculum designed by friends from Harvard, Central Saint Martins, and Oxford. They were all teaching with such passion—this wasn’t just about transferring knowledge; it was about creating a community where people could grow together.

The pandemic was a turning point for us. Before COVID, we had a physical space in Quito, and everything revolved around that. But when the lockdown hit, we couldn’t use the space anymore. At first, it felt like a huge setback, but then something incredible happened: we moved online, and suddenly we were reaching people from all over Latin America—Argentina, Peru, Colombia, Mexico.

That’s when I realized how powerful technology could be for scaling education. I started imagining what QILAS could look like as a digital platform, one that could reach people far beyond Quito. Around that time, a friend from my first master’s program in Mexico invited me to co-found a company with her. She said, ‘If you come here, I’ll invest in the project.’ So, I moved to Mexico in 2021, and that’s where we began building a platform for education technology.

It wasn’t easy. My co-founder eventually stepped away to focus on other priorities, and I had to figure out how to move forward on my own. But by then, I was committed. I knew this was the future. Technology wasn’t just a tool—it was a way to amplify everything we had built with QILAS.

Oxford was the most challenging academic environment I’ve ever experienced. There were only nine students in my program, which was focused on digital social change, and we were being taught by some of the leading experts in the world. That kind of environment comes with a huge sense of privilege but also an immense responsibility. Imagine sitting in a room with professors who are some of the best in their field, and you realize there are only nine of you in the entire world learning this knowledge from them.

What really set Oxford apart was the expectation. The pressure to perform was like nothing I’d experienced before—not even at Berkeley or UCL. At Berkeley, you’re surrounded by this incredible culture of possibility and drive to ‘change the world.’ UCL had rockstar educators who brought elegance and clarity to how they taught, but at Oxford, it was different. The level of scrutiny, the expectation to deliver, and the pressure to constantly prove yourself academically were unmatched.

My program at Oxford was also very critical of technology. We focused on the risks—platform capitalism, the digital divide, the tremendous biases in machine learning and AI. I remember sitting in class thinking, ‘There are only nine of us learning this. What are we going to do with this privilege?’ And at first, the answers frustrated me because the immediate response from my professors was the academic route, but I didn’t want to just write and publish, I wanted to take action.

I had to look outside the classroom to find what I was missing. That’s when I joined the Oxford Artificial Intelligence Society, which became an incredible outlet for me. Suddenly, I was in rooms with organizations like Microsoft and Google, directly engaging with the ethical questions I had been studying. I was asking them, ‘How are you addressing these issues? What are you doing about the risks?’ That experience of combining critical thought with practical action—that’s what I was craving for.

By the time I completed my thesis, which looked at the intersection of education, technology, and climate change, I felt I had taken everything I’d learned—both inside and outside the classroom—and channeled it into a meaningful purpose. I think that’s what makes Oxford so unique. It challenges you to your core, forces you to rethink everything, and leaves you with a drive to do something with the knowledge you’ve gained.

It’s about constantly revisiting the ‘why.’ Why are we doing this? Who are we helping? Those questions keep me grounded.

I also think the people around me make a huge difference. The team at Oxbridge AI X is incredible—they’re not just talented; they share the same vision for what we want to achieve. It’s not easy balancing the demands of entrepreneurship with the commitment to social and environmental impact, but when you have the right people by your side, it feels possible.