The fading labor of learning
I was down to the last few websites in a heap of student projects when something made me stop. The assignment was this: Go outside, take pictures of signage, identify the typefaces, and create a website using HyperText Markup Language (HTML) and Cascading Style Sheets (CSS) with a short reflection of their process. Two outputs looked identical. One student declared using AI, while the other hadn’t. The layouts, the headings, subheadings, and even the code matched.
In that moment, I realized that using GenAI might have helped them, but it also took something from them. It bypassed understanding. What concerns me is not only whether students are using it, but whether they still know where their own thinking begins.
Photos, videos, text, and even music can now be generated using artificial intelligence. I was alarmed when deepfakes were rampant in 2019, but admittedly, I am even more frightened now. When people don’t know who or what to trust, when doubt becomes our first instinct, that’s when we should be scared, right?
Like in most, if not all, fields, AI is something I encounter frequently in my practice. It’s ironic that I now long for the days when we tried to decode people’s emails to know their true intentions, because now, I can’t seem to find the human in them. Perhaps it was better to get lost in translation than to never attempt bearing one’s soul at all, as the human becomes buried underneath correct grammar and hyphens. At the end of the day, generative artificial intelligence can never produce empathy.
Staying human in AI-shaped classrooms
I am an artist and educator. Creating a safe space where students can thrive has always been at the core of my teaching philosophy. At present, GenAI is everywhere in our classrooms. Some teachers stand on opposite ends of the spectrum, deciding whether to allow the use of AI or forbid it entirely. One thing my colleagues and I have noticed is that with the proliferation of AI, students seem to be learning less and less. The necessary labor of learning, of doing, which ultimately supports their being, is quickly fading away. One can simply go to a website that uses large language models (LLMs) to draft an essay, or make a website or application, all within a matter of seconds. The laborious process is now gone, and it affects experiential learning.
In our university, we have a unique setup. We have asynchronous lessons, which entail both advantages and disadvantages. I mostly teach production courses in our Multimedia Studies program and a graduate course on scientific and technical information writing. Over time, I have seen students use GenAI for brainstorming, writing, and generating code. There are some obvious AI-generated outputs, while others need a closer look. What makes things difficult is that there are no reliable AI checkers, which leaves us teachers with the burden of checking for possible AI-generated outputs. Academic integrity is now an open question, but the challenge does not lie only in detecting whether a student used GenAI, but in understanding how they used it and whether it helped or replaced their own thinking.
In online, asynchronous classes with hundreds of students in a single section, the additional burden of checking for AI-generated outputs is taking a toll on us. Some might say that you’ll know people who use AI based on knowing them personally. But what if you don’t? What if you don’t see them in person and every communication (or lack thereof) happens online?
After we submit grades, my colleagues and I have debriefing sessions that often end in disappointment. Despite revised rubrics and reminders, we are still facing AI-generated outputs. The steps we have taken so far, whenever we see glimpses of AI lingering in our classrooms, are not a sustainable way to teach or assess. And when we spend time questioning whether a submission is "authentic," we're no longer teaching the subject; we're policing the tool.
GenAI as a shortcut
We need to rethink what we mean when we ask, “Who did this?” GenAI is now embedded in everyday tools. We can see it in our search bars, social networking sites, and in many other places. It is pervasive. It has seeped into our everyday lives. Teachers should now assume that students will use it, and that assumption should shape how we design our courses. If a student used GenAI, we should ask what GenAI took from them, as it became a shortcut in the learning process. The responsibility now falls on educators to design learning experiences where GenAI can support—but never replace—the core intellectual labor.
Is education solely about efficiency?
LLMs are moving at a speed that we cannot simply keep up with. We often speak of AI as a tool for efficiency, but education has never been solely about efficiency. What happens to education when effort itself becomes optional? Perhaps the best way to move forward is to teach students how to remain human alongside it. The presence or absence of AI will not define the classrooms we have, but rather our ability to stay curious about the world and to connect with humans in a world that’s being increasingly shaped by artificial intelligence. The burden on educators is real.
