So Is Using AI Worth It? A Student Replies, "It Depends"

Last month we published a post from our colleague Rachel Davies, who teaches 11th and 12th grade English, titled Like Love: Navigating the Messiness of AI in the English Classroom. We asked Rachel to share her innovative methods of discussing AI with her students in an open, safe way that empowers them not only to be honest about using AI in their writing process, but also to make decisions about how and when AI may, or may not, support their own critical thinking and voice. Of course, we immediately wanted to hear from students in her classes who are navigating the "messiness" of AI and writing with her. Chloe Smith is a senior in Rachel's AP Literature class.

As a student in Ms. Davies’ AP Literature class, I never really know what to expect when walking into her classroom. (Or running, in my case, as I have a penchant for barely making it on time.) So, when she introduced the topic of AI, I wasn’t too surprised, but I was mostly—or rather, all-consumingly—annoyed.

My first thought was that someone must’ve been dumb enough to use it, and worse, get caught using it, and now we all had to weather the storm of shame. However, it was not a lecture, but a discussion, during which Ms. Davies asked for our opinions on AI. Much to my delight, of course, because I love having opinions. Hearing what other students had to say interested me, though. I was asking more questions than answering them. Even after we wrapped it up that day, aspects of the conversation still bothered me, still left me itchy, as Ms. Davies would say. I was pleasantly surprised once again when I got to read her post “Like Love: Navigating the Messiness of AI in the English Classroom” because it meant that the discussion wasn’t over yet. Reading the article was like reaching for a perfectly chilled, bedside glass of ice water at 3am. Soothing, satisfying, and thank God it was there. I was most drawn to the section of Ms. Davies’ article exploring the question, as I like to think of it, why AI? And, maybe more importantly, why not? In the words of Ms. Davies: 

Mostly I want to believe that when we reach for tools like AI, it is because we think that they will help with the job we need to do. The job most of us need to do is live in a world with too much information. The toothpaste is out of the tube on that one, and the loud angry crowd of voices is now how we live, and it seems idiotic (in the sense of the Greek noun ἰδιώτης idiōtēs 'a private person, an isolated individual’) to pretend otherwise. But I also believe that how we navigate information and communication and thinking are relationship issues – ethical issues – and as I contended earlier, the mess needs to exist somewhere, and we need time practicing dealing with the mess and with each other. Hastily formed answers and relationships feel like they are either concealing or delaying mess, and I think that both rob us of practice considering our values (and other possible values), prioritizing our relationships, and being patient with those who are dear to us (including ourselves).

I love this sentiment: that using AI is a give and take. The job gets done, but what do you lose? I found myself reflecting on that relationship, the push and pull. And, as previously stated, I always have way more than solely my two cents to give.

Sometimes I like AI. (Don’t hurt me, Ms. Davies.) In my classes like AP Chemistry and Biology, I would be lost without it. A single screenshot of a homework problem and I no longer need to wrestle with it for 20 minutes. ChatGPT tells me my options for solving, step by step. I can ask questions, beg for an explanation suited for a 3-year-old, demand other solutions, etc. AI never loses patience because of my multitude of questions, always answers right away at 2 am, and never looks down on me for needing to be reminded of the difference between ionic and covalent bonds for the 23rd time in an hour. And, when we go through the homework in class, I have enough of a baseline to ask my teachers deeper, more valuable questions. Both my time and theirs is used more productively. 

Chloe's "messy" mind map cannot be outsourced

Conversely, sometimes I hate AI. (Yay!) Junior year, we were encouraged to use AI in AP United States History to fill in the blanks. It was our friend, not something to be feared. When writing a paper, we could brazenly open ChatGPT in the middle of the classroom, facing the window to the hallway—I know, gasp—and ask it for Truman’s foreign policy. Then ask it to connect that to imperialism. And write a thesis. And a conclusion. And, all of a sudden, you’re not actually writing a paper anymore. You’re just typing what the AI told you into a Word Doc with your heading on it.

The same goes for AI in the English classroom. I’ve never used AI to write a paper or even outline one because, truthfully, I do it so much better. As braggy and narcissistic as that sounds, I’m not kidding. There’s no point in me just typing what I’m told because AI won’t use “and” or “but” to start a sentence for flow the way I do. It won’t cut out an adjective because it’s too fluffy. It can’t blend a quote or write puns. It certainly wouldn’t let me start these last three sentences with the same word. In my experience, AI is only capable of following the rules, of crossing its t’s and dotting its i’s. When you’re learning to write in elementary school, yes—independent and dependent clauses and the like are important. But the mess of blindly measuring em dashes with only my heart is something AI cannot recreate. It can only produce work that is clean. Precise. Dare I say boring?

Chloe asking a friend for help instead of ChatGPT

I think using AI is like when astronauts go to space. (Stay with me here.) It’s the height of their career, a massive success, and they’re literally on top of the world. But there’s no such thing as a free lunch. As soon as they come back down, astronauts place things in the air expecting them to float, only for them to come crashing down. Their muscles atrophy from disuse. They’re more susceptible to radiation, leading to increased risks of cancer. It’s a tradeoff—the careful balancing act of the give and take. You get an A on a paper, maybe even an A in the class, but lose the ability to make a mind-map of your ideas or workshop a thesis or (my personal favorite as mentioned by Ms. Davies) thoroughly explore the “wandering muddy version” with a friend.

After reflection, I think I have these conflicting feelings on AI because, at its core, it is a way of escaping our insecurities. Personally, I am a perfectionist. For me, sometimes that looks like needing ChatGPT to solve a math problem so that I don’t frustrate a teacher by asking a question they’ve explained before that I just still cannot seem to grasp. But there are, of course, two sides to every coin. Even when I feel very supported by a teacher, I want them to see me as smart, as perfect, not someone who fights for her life against fractions and rearranging equations. So, sometimes escaping that insecurity looks like asking AI for the little things and saving class time for the more interesting stuff. A question about a hypothetical situation, or bringing up something I read in our textbook that we haven’t covered yet. It’s a win-win: I remain the ideal student, and their time is used productively. I believe that is why in the English or Social Studies classroom, I can hate AI because I don’t need it to mask my insecurities—simply because I’m lucky enough to not have any doubt in my abilities. In a perfect world, overachieving students like me wouldn’t be so desperate to be, well, perfect. But because we live in the real world, AI has become a crutch for our basest fears that I and many other people have gotten very used to leaning on. And we aren’t ready to part with it.

So, is using AI worth it at all? I’m still stuck at an “it depends.” For STEM, maybe. (So long as you can shake the environmental impacts from your conscience.) For the humanities, no thank you. For us budding young adults navigating the very messy real world for the first time that desperately need practice with discomfort, and conflict, and facing our insecurities head on? Probably not.

Chloe Smith is headed to Louisiana State University next year and majoring in Animal Science.