I would rather fail a test than use AI.
To get vulnerable with a real-life example, I recently did mediocre on a history test. Since I didn’t study for the exam as much as I could have, I did not get an ideal grade. But, I’ve made my peace with this: I got the grade I put the work in for.
Of course, I could have turned to other resources to prepare for this test beyond speed reading everything from the start of the semester and taking sad, last-minute notes on it. While I wallowed away in Lauinger Library hopelessly unprepared, some of my classmates likely did turn to other tools—namely generative artificial intelligence (AI).
I hate ChatGPT as much as the next Luddite, but I do recognize its merits when it comes to making tedious work more efficient. Study guides, discussion responses, reading summaries—they come much easier when you just ask “Chat” to do the unexciting tasks for you.
Despite the efficiency of AI, I argue that it is imperative to do this work yourself to preserve your integrity and pursue knowledge. Copying homework that AI copied from others, checking your grammar with its (often inaccurate) software, and asking it hyper-specific questions instead of your expert professor are strategies counterintuitive to the aims of higher education.
In my view, the entire purpose of college is to gain knowledge, experience, and skills that will grow you into your complete and full personhood—or what Jesuits call cura personalis. Whether this is through taking classes that deepen your intellectual passions, adventuring into the world with newfound adult freedom, or getting out of your comfort zone through joining clubs on campus, college is a time when you have incredible opportunities and liberties to wholly explore yourself.
After two years at Georgetown, however, I’ve found many seem to treat college as an achievement to put on their resume rather than an opportunity to grow. While getting a job is important, going to college is a privilege many don’t have—but still some Hoyas speed through homework and check off classes just to finish their degree, instead of thoughtfully engaging with courses that others dream of being in.
Recently, Georgetown Interim President Robert Groves announced the university will offer Google’s AI assistant, Gemini, “to support research, pedagogy, and administrative work.” However, this implementation of AI seems to contradict the university’s stated mission of cura personalis. Integrating an AI platform into our university’s day-to-day will only encourage students’ dependence on a machine to replace the act of learning.
Yes, it is easier to summarize 60 pages of assigned reading with Gemini, but you are better off learning the art of skimming—searching for patterns and quickly finding the necessary, important information. Although skimming is another form of cutting corners, it is a skill that allows you to connect deeper with the text and draw conclusions relevant to your unique thoughts, rather than having a machine regurgitate generic summaries. The introduction of university-sanctioned AI conforms to the culture of treating the degree as a stepping-stone to the workplace.
While some Hoyas may use AI in certain courses to make time for their passions in other subjects or activities, in general, students in America have been engaging less with their class studies. A 2016 study found that students spent an average of 19.3 hours per week in class or on homework, compared to an average of 24 hours per week in 1961. At universities like Georgetown, many students fill their time with extracurricular activities.
Georgetown is a campus with an ultra-intense, hyper-competitive preprofessional club culture. Instead of clubs acting as spaces to grow and meet people with similar interests, they too have been turned into new ways to fluff resumes. An obsession with extracurriculars combined with the goal of passing—instead of engaging with—classes curates a culture that accelerates young learners straight into a faux adulthood, with post-grad becoming the singular focus. AI only exacerbates this culture, allowing students to cut time and overfill their plates.
More than just degree factories, universities should be spaces for learning, growing, and connecting with a community that all contribute to our discovery of our personhood.
Within this community, it is important to be uncomfortable in order to grow. Learning requires accepting that you don’t know things. Instead of exacerbating environmental damage with AI usage, ask your classmates or professors for help, even if it’s intimidating. Connecting further with your professors by attending office hours and bonding with your classmates over a particularly difficult class not only advances your learning, but can also make Georgetown feel more like home. Being comfortable with your ignorance pushes you to put yourself out there, instead of artificially sounding “right” with your chatbot of choice. Take a chance and speak up in class even when you aren’t sure of the right answer, because we learn best when we make mistakes, not when we get things right. Even when you are overworked, growing requires failure. It can be hard to balance clubs with schoolwork, but part of being an adult is learning to take responsibility for your commitments instead of delegating tasks to AI.
Georgetown University was founded on the idea of educating the whole person, not a machine. Our community should remember that mission so we don’t lose sight of the joys that come with being a part of a learning community. College is a privilege that is wasted if completion takes priority over comprehension. I implore you, Georgtown—let’s become comfortable with our own stupidity.
