An AI Story: What the AI Can't Do

 Since generative AI hit the scene, I've gone through several phases: 

1. It's too overwhelming to think about and what the hell is the point of teaching anything anymore? This phase is known to me as my teaching crisis. Over my 30-some-year career, these have periodically plagued me. I've managed to get out of each of these usually by waiting it out or reprogramming how I think of the thing that got me into it. 

2. Maybe I can use this? This phase is where I am really tentative. My brain takes time to process by doing a lot of reading and studying. I might attend webinars or learn from my colleagues.

3. I think I'm all in. In this final phase, I really start to embrace the thing that started the crisis.

Something happened in my life between phases 2 and 3 when it comes to generative AI. I was eagerly reading about AI news daily, playing with various tools regularly, using it as an assistant, and starting to enter the embracing phase and even planning an upcoming AI-themed composition course.

Then my mom had open heart surgery, and I left to take care of her for a month over the winter break. Where before I had been using Perplexity to learn more about her condition, I was now calling the triage nurses to ask questions about her immediate care, and I called them a lot. I was answering the door to her physical therapist, Lori, or the nurse in charge of her case, Brenda who was there when we had to call 911. For four weeks, I did not think about AI.

 ChatGPT didn't help me at all, and it didn't help any of the people helping me who had to rely on their excellent training to troubleshoot in the moment. It couldn't give me a reassuring look or meet me just outside the door to have a private chat. It couldn't take the car to the garage to get it checked out and ready to make it through winter. It didn't take me out for a beer like my brother did. I didn't expect it to do any of those things. I also didn't miss it for a month. 

 

Remember This

 I have always been a lover of words, and as I've grown older, I find myself relying more and more on them as reminders of things I've forgotten. 

Photo by Kiarash Mansouri

I lean on words.

I let words encourage me.

Words inspire me.

Words can take me back to a place or time worth remembering.

Words remind me of things my mind and body too easily forget. 

And so my office space has become a place where words surround me. 

There are hand-scrawled messages--names of two students I don't want to forget, the CTLE values, names of mentees, and my section of the honors program alphabet for reviewing their work. 

There are short sayings, inspirational messages I've acquired over the last couple of years given to me or collected by me. They are mostly taped near me, so I can see them daily. 

"Setting goals is the first step toward making the invisible visible." Tony Robbins

"...it's never too late to be whoever you want to be." Eric Roth

"If it's both terrifying and amazing then you should definitely pursue it." Erada

There are small cards on the wall and around my desk that contain messages meant for me on a particular day, and I keep these around me:

"I choose to let go of fear."

"I know that focusing my attention on things I cannot control distracts me from my journey." 

"My ability to conquer my challenges is limitless." 

There is a December calendar image and saying--a cat with bells around its neck. The quote reads, "Jingle all the way, nobody likes a half-assed jingler." And this will stay up even though it's no longer December because.

Finally, there is a small poster, and it was the first put up in my office. It says, "Let that shit go," and it is in my direct line of vision. That is my most important reminder of all.