The Essays Didn't Get Better. They Got a New Owner.

Originally written in Traditional Chinese: 作文沒有變好，是作文的主人換了

In September, China Youth Daily reported on a new cheating tool: AI glasses.

You can rent a pair for RMB 20 to 70 a day. In an experiment at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, a student wearing them finished a final exam in 30 minutes and scored 92.5, beating 95% of test takers.

Cheating now costs about as much as lunch.

It reminded me of the writing award at our school.

The year ChatGPT arrived, our award entries suddenly read like the work of a whole class of brilliant writers.

Every essay was polished. Every structure was textbook.

So we made a decision: the whole class would write again, in the classroom, on the spot.

Thirty-five students.

After the rewrite, two could still write at that level.

I don't want to tell this as a story about catching cheaters.

Those thirty-three students were not bad kids. They did what adults do every day: they outsourced the thinking.

The essays didn't get better.

They got a new owner.

Then there's another number.

In August, CommonWealth Parenting published Taiwan's first AI literacy survey of parents, teachers and students.

  • 79.1% of teachers said students "only want the answer and don't value the process."
  • Only 13.5% of students said that about themselves.

Teachers can see it. Students can't.

The most dangerous part of outsourcing isn't the outsourcing. It's not knowing you're doing it.

In 2011, Betsy Sparrow and colleagues reported in Science that when people expect to be able to look information up later, they are less likely to remember the information itself and more likely to remember where to find it.

That was the search-engine era, when tools only found things for us.

Today's AI finds, writes, thinks and even draws conclusions for us.

We think we're saving time. What we're actually handing over is the practice.

An essay can be handed to AI. Practice can't.

After that year, we moved all writing at our school into the classroom.

Not because we don't trust students, but to protect one thing: the time a student spends alone with a blank page, getting stuck and working through it.

That time is uncomfortable. It's also where the brain grows.

What we're blocking isn't AI. It's the shortcut that lets a student skip being stuck.

At home, you don't need an exam room. You need a different question.

Instead of "Are you done?", ask: "What did you learn today? Explain it to me."

Then pretend you don't understand.

Whatever they can't explain clearly is what they haven't really learned yet. To make you understand, they'll think it through again.

It's the simplest at-home version of the Feynman technique.

There's an AI version too: ask the AI to play a curious ten-year-old who follows every explanation with "Why? Can you give me an example?"

The same AI that can write for you can also make you explain.

I still think about those thirty-five essays.

I never needed my students to be great writers.

I only hope that every sentence they write is one they actually thought of themselves.

Even if it isn't as polished.

When was the last time your child explained to you what they learned that day?

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References