Writing to Think

I’m trying to think of a word. Is it existential? Maybe it’s epistemic. I feel like it starts with an “e.” To sort things out, I can ctrl+click on this word in Word and see what synonyms Microsoft suggests. I could go to Google. I could even do it old school and pull out a thesaurus. What I’m trying to illustrate here is that writers have used a variety of tools for nearly two hundred years* to assist them in getting thoughts from their heads onto the page. Is generative AI any different? That’s what I’m going to spend the next six hundred words trying to figure out. 

DALL-E's effort to illustrate this blog...

The underlying** problem is that we don’t know how AI impacts thought, especially in developing brains. One theory is that AI can get rid of the drudgery of menial tasks. If I don’t have to worry about dangling modifiers, subject/verb agreement, and double negatives, I can spend my time on more meaningful pursuits. AI could accelerate learning by allowing us to delve into deeper questions.

Another possibility is that AI will lead us to a certain, bland “average.” AI has taken the sum of our digital culture and condensed it into the likeliest outputs. For example, “How do we stop gun violence in the United States?” ChatGPT says, “Stopping gun violence in the United States requires a multifaceted approach that includes implementing comprehensive gun safety laws, addressing root causes like poverty and mental health, improving community support systems, and fostering a culture of responsible gun ownership.” Let’s be honest, I didn’t need to ask ChatGPT to come up with that answer. It’s pretty obvious. But it’s also so non-specific that it’s basically useless. We know these things, and they haven’t worked yet.  We need to figure out why, specifically, they haven’t worked and come up with actionable steps to address them. And this intellectual dead end takes us to the most dire possible impact AI could have on thought. 

If students leapfrog over fundamental lessons, they may fail to develop the critical thinking skills necessary to tackle the world’s biggest problems. Let’s go back to that double negative. When someone’s speaking to us, we can usually tell what they’re trying to say, even if it’s not literally true. I won’t try to confuse you with none of that grammar unclarity. (You know what I mean, right?) But as problems and conversations get more complex, double negatives and dangling modifiers can create serious issues. Worse, if students have been relying on AI to solve their issues up to the point where they get to those more complex problems, they may not have the skills to solve them on their own. 

The truth is, at this point, we just don’t know how AI affects developing brains. Some of the emerging research should certainly make us pause. This study looking at human creativity found that AI’s impact is—to steal a favorite LLM word—“multifaceted.” To sort out exactly what aspects of learning AI accelerates and what parts it damages will require extensive research, attention, and time. To implement these findings will require even more research, attention, and time. But I feel like this is a good place to pivot back to something I wrote in my first paragraph.  “That’s what I’m going to spend the next six hundred words trying to figure out.” 

[Out of curiosity, I copied the preceding paragraphs into ChatGPT and asked it to write a conclusion. Here’s what it came up with.] “In the end, the question of whether generative AI is fundamentally different from the tools writers have always used boils down to its impact on thought and learning. Like a thesaurus or spell-check, it can help us articulate ideas more efficiently, but unlike those tools, it operates on a scale and complexity that could reshape how we think altogether. Whether it accelerates creativity or dulls it into predictable averages, AI challenges us to reevaluate how we approach learning, problem-solving, and even the pursuit of originality. The stakes couldn’t be higher: in an era of unprecedented technological advancement, ensuring that AI enhances rather than erodes critical thinking will determine whether it becomes a powerful ally or a crutch that undermines us in the long run.”

While ChatGPT’s conclusion is true(ish), it’s not where I planned to take this essay because it’s missing a key consideration. Many people think of writing as a way to record and transmit information. That’s true. And AI is actually decent at doing that. But writing is much more than that. Writing is a form of expression. Writing allows us to connect with each other intimately (love notes) or impersonally (jury summons). Writing is performative. (Seriously Hallmark, who is the “Best Dad Ever”?) But that performance serves a social function. (Aren’t those cards more meaningful with a handwritten note?) Writing signals who’s part of our group and who isn’t. And writing can help us find common ground with people who aren’t part of our group. Most relevant to this essay, writing is a way to sort out our thoughts. That’s what I’m doing here. That’s one of the reasons I started blogging. As various writers, including Joan Didion said, “I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking.” The more that students outsource their writing to a machine, the less time they will spend thinking about their words. We don’t yet know the consequences of this outsourcing, but we do know that writing can address many of the deeply human issues facing us today: a lack of critical thought, empathy, meaning, and human connection. Maybe we should spend some more time grappling with our words before we outsource too much of this process to the machines. 

*According to Wikipedia, another writer’s tool, when Peter Mark Roget created Roget’s thesaurus, he “wished to help ‘those who are painfully groping their way and struggling with the difficulties of composition … this work processes to hold out a helping hand.'”

**Maybe the word I was looking for started with “u.”

Why Theater Should be a Core Class Requirement

As an undergraduate, my wife studied theater. Her coursework included reading dozens of plays, welding sets together, and procuring fake blood. Today, she is a special education supervisor. For those of you who are skeptical of college, this academic history may read as a perfect case study in the ridiculousness of college education. How does this coursework relate to supervising special education teachers? I’d argue that it’s more relevant than you think, and I have my own case study. 

Yesterday, I attended a webinar hosted by a major academic publisher. (I’ll keep them anonymous because it’s not polite to insult your host.) After introductions, the M.C. handed control over to the opening keynote speaker, who shared her computer screen—a slide deck made on Canva. The only problem was, she couldn’t read the notes she’d written for herself. Hundreds of people* from across the globe were compelled to watch ten minutes of the M.C. and speaker fumble through the technical difficulties of sharing a presentation screen from Canva through Zoom. And this was at a technology webinar… 

Let me get back to my wife. You see, she studied stage management. Not acting but all of the technical details that make a show happen. All of the things that—when they go well—nobody notices. When the show is running, the stage manager is the one running the show. They’re in charge of actors hitting their marks, light cues, and timetables. But it’s far more than that. They’re in charge before the show. They’re in charge of actors’ schedules and where rehearsal will take place; what time lunch will be, who caters it, and making sure your sound designer with a nut allergy doesn’t eat the baklava. And if they do eat the baklava, the stage manager has an epi-pen and knows where the closest hospital is. They know what time the building opens, who to call when the toilets overflow, how much time the lead actress needs for hair and makeup, and how to read a budget. They have dry cleaners, seamstresses, and rental houses on speed dial. They know how many prop guns are on set and who is allowed to hold them. And they know how to run a Zoom meeting.

At countless times in life, my wife and I have complained that the people running large events have no stage management skill. The coffee reception was too short, and the bathrooms were too far away. Or the projector screen was in front of an east-facing window during a morning presentation, forcing the audience to squint directly into the rising sun. Or an obvious technical hurdle—say screensharing from two commonly used presentation applications—was not overcome. These are the kinds of things that a good stage manager will think through and resolve before show time. 

Stage management requires empathy. It makes you think about an experience from your audience’s point of view. It requires critical thought and imagination. “So you want live feedback from your Zoom audience of 5,000 people. How will you get that feedback? Do they know how to provide it? Who’s in charge of the mute button?” It requires foresight and real-world problem solving. When you learn at 8pm on a Friday night that your star Norwegian Blue parakeet has bird flu and can’t take the stage, what’s your backup plan? There’s no obvious answer here, but the intermission ends in fifteen minutes, and you need a solution. And that solution will require some buy-in from your team.

These skills are applicable in any job: empathy, critical thinking, imagination, foresight, problem solving, teamwork, but they’re also very hard to teach. The theater offers a perfect sandbox for learners to develop these skills in a low-stakes but also very tangible way. The show must go on, but if it’s not a very good show, the repercussions usually aren’t dire. And isn’t that the bigger goal of college education? Let’s give you access to the infrastructure and the mentors necessary to help you practice some of those soft skills in a safe environment. 

I feel like this is worth mentioning because everyone is tied into knots—myself included—trying to figure out what to do with AI in the classroom. While it will affect us all, and AI skills may be necessary in many jobs, they won’t replace many of those real-world human skills that are necessary in most jobs. Those are the skills we need to be focusing on in the classroom. And those are the skills that you can only develop through real-world practice. During the technical snafu in our webinar, one person quipped that, “Maybe AI can fix it.” Maybe. But a good stage manager would have fixed it, and a great stage manager would have foreseen and avoided the issue altogether. So while administrators are trying to figure out how to incorporate AI into their core requirements, I’m going to ask them to take a step back and consider incorporating theater into their core requirements. No matter what new technological wonder dazzles us five or ten years down the road, you’re still going to need a stage manager to work through the gremlins. 

*Early on, the M.C. said that the webinar had 5,000 registrants. Later, a guest remarked that he saw 800 people logged on. Maybe those early technical snafus thinned the herd…