be comfortable being wrong

it's what the ai doesn't want!

I truly hate being wrong— it plagues every sense of my being. I’m sure many of you can relate! There’s nothing fun in being wrong about something. In my Bay Area high school, being wrong becomes life or death.

But suddenly, a tool arises, easily accessible with a WiFi connection and the web browser of your choice! Yes, ChatGPT has been my classmates’ saving grace— typing every question possible into their precious AI. It’s becoming disturbing, at least to me, this personal assistant they’ve begun to refer to by nickname: “just ask Chat”! Others, who’ve purchased the premium version, have even given it their own personal name— the girl next to me in statistics calls it after some member of her family.

I will quickly cover my general distaste for generative AI, if it hasn’t already become apparent through the last paragraph. But is this not incredibly dystopian? Genuinely, I cannot think of anything more terrifyingly so— something that has the ability to think for you in almost every regard. My classmates have become almost academically synonymous with these chatbots. I watch disheartened as they type questions into ChatGPT, waving their hand around just to parrot the bot when called upon.

During AP Lit a few days ago, my teacher projected a list of “anticipation statements” for the novel we’re beginning next week, which are just statements about morality and society. Is it desirable to always be in control of your emotions? Is it important to have an honorable reputation? We were asked to form opinions, then have an open class discussion about each. I watch as my peers slyly crack open their laptops and quickly access ChatGPT, begging it to tell them what to say. I watch them say word-for-word what the AI has so generously written out for them. And I sigh.

School has always discouraged wrong answers— it generally exists as the greatest flaw of our education system (in my humble opinion). We memorize to the test, regurgitate the information when necessary, and immediately forget everything when we’re able. Our lives are built around these grades— of course, we want to keep them as high as possible! I have also fallen into this cycle of rote memorization, considering every task some necessity to my end goal of university, but not considering the importance of the knowledge itself. I see the bright, shining straight A’s on my transcripts; here, that’s all that matters.

This is a flaw within the schooling itself, yet it has nurtured a breeding ground for extreme AI usage. No longer is there a need to think for yourself in any regard— imprecise searches on Google and copying from classmates have become a thing of the past. Now, you can search for exact questions for the exact answers you need. So why would you do anything yourself, when you know AI can do it better and faster? It seems like a no-brainer.

Yet within this influx of AI usage, somehow, I have found peace in being wrong. I had never taken much pride in wrong answers— I thought they made me inherently unintelligent. But now, I have learned to cherish them; perhaps my numbers are wrong or my opinion isn’t well-expressed in class, yet they are solely my own. There’s never been a clearer example of “learning from your mistakes” for me thus far in my life— truly, it’s a phrase I’ve never quite believed in until now. My mistakes are my own, not some chatbot. This is something we, high schoolers and others alike, must seek, now more than ever.