The International Business Machines Corporation (IBM) defines generative AI as a form of artificial intelligence that can “create original content such as text, images, video, audio, or software code in response to a user’s prompt or request.” Unlike traditional AI — which analyzes existing data to identify patterns and make predictions, generative AI is proactive, meaning that it has the ability to create something entirely new from its learned training data. Collecting massive pools of information from public internet data, generative AI relies on deep learning models that process content from social media, websites, and books to produce unique responses resembling human-made work. Though it had already been making massive advancements back in the 2010s, generative AI became widely popular in 2022 and has transformed the way that humans live ever since.
As a college student, I watch people use AI every single day. If I sit in the back of a lecture hall, at least ten black screens illuminating “What can I help you with?” stare back at me. If I try to find a seat in the library, tables are bound to be full of people casually laughing with their friends as they send pictures of their entire online exam to Google Gemini. Even on my walk to class, I pass by people asking ChatGPT to summarize their homework (probably five minutes before their discussion starts). It’s become the immediate answer to any problem. You have a calculus question that’s too hard? “Just use AI!” Need to write an essay on Chaucer in a pinch? “Just use AI!” Economics professor didn’t want to send out a study sheet? “Just use AI!” Students rely on generative AI like it’s the air that they breathe. Like it’s their brain.
The Impact Of Generative AI On Your Brain: The Numbers
One in four students use AI every single day. A HEPI and Kortext study done on full-time undergraduate students in the United Kingdom found that the percentage of student’s using generative AI jumped from 53% in 2024 to 88% in 2025. With an increase as grand as 35% in a single year, it goes without saying that generative AI’s “rise to fame” quickly made it ubiquitous in student life, whether it be used to solve one math question or summarize an entire novel. In response to this massive surge of popularity, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) Media Lab ran a study analyzing the impact of generative AI usage on brain activity. Dividing 54 subjects into three groups and asking them to write SAT-style essays utilizing ChatGPT, the Google search engine, or nothing respectively, researchers found that people using generative AI-chat bots had the lowest brain engagement, exhibiting “weaker alpha and theta brain waves, which likely [reflect] a bypassing of deep memory processes.” Subjects who used ChatGPT not only created “soulless” essays that lacked originality — often featuring the same expressions and ideas as others — but also remembered little of their own essays, leaving them unable to re-write their original work.
Although, something far more alarming (to me at least) that was concluded from this MIT study was that “over the course of several months, ChatGPT users got lazier with each subsequent essay, often resorting to copy-and-paste by the end of the study.” And as students, I’ve noticed that when we refer to the dangers of generative AI, we seem to always talk in future tense: murmurs of “Well, I’m majoring in biology, so my job won’t be taken by AI” or “It doesn’t matter if I cheat, this class doesn’t matter for my major” dance within the walls of our classrooms, consume our conversations with friends, and fill the air of our residence halls. An attempt at justification, it seems that these common phrases have allowed us to sweep the true dangers of generative AI under the rug, keeping us from realizing an even greater horror: that AI is not just a threat to our future jobs, but it’s a threat to our brains today. Our critical thinking is at stake more now than ever. Our creativity is on the line. Our integrity as students. Our authenticity as people. Our livelihood as humans.
Humanity: what it means to be human
The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines humanity as “the quality or state of being human.” But what does it really mean to “be human?” This age-old question was posed by The Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History, resulting in a plethora of responses. Some said that to be human was to be intelligent, innovative, and adaptive — to be able to imagine, create, and collaborate with one another. Others said that it was the ability to understand and love one another — to be empathetic, kind, and respectful. Perhaps most profound, though, was when someone said that to be human was “to live a life in search for answers.” That it was to make mistakes and learn from them. To succeed and to fail. That it was to learn.
Whether we choose to acknowledge it or not, generative AI is a threat to almost every one of those descriptors that was used to describe what it means to be human. With AI, we are given constant access to instantaneous solutions in the face of every problem. Information is now at our fingertips. Answers to our questions have become immediate. Where has the struggle gone? How are we to make mistakes and learn from them when something else is solving them? How are we to live a life in search for answers when they are already right in front of us? How are we to remain innovative and adaptive in a world where being efficient has become more important than being authentic? How are we to fail when we know that success is already an option?
In Joseph Fasano’s “For a Student Who Used AI to Write a Paper,” he wrote, “But what are you trying to be free of? The living? The miraculous task of it? Love is for the ones who love the work.” Being a college student is stressful. There will always be readings we stay up until midnight analyzing, projects we leave until the last minute, and midterms we didn’t study hard enough for. There will always be hours taken by note taking, days dedicated to exam preparation, and months preparing for class presentations. And it’s tiring, yes, but isn’t it rewarding? Isn’t there joy in comprehension? Isn’t it miraculous to learn? To think for ourselves?
real vs. Right: What’s more important?
It would be a lie if I said I’ve never used generative AI in my life. If I said I’ve never once taken a quick picture of my math homework on Google Gemini so I could make it to dinner with my friends. If I said I’ve never once used ChatGPT on a macroeconomics graph I deemed “too hard to understand” within thirty seconds of looking at it. The knowledge of the universe is in our hands now, and it’s absolutely tempting to abuse that (even I admit that!). In the moment, it feels harmless. It feels efficient. It feels exciting. With its endless responses curated from massive pools of information across the internet, generative AI has opened our eyes to the possibility of perfection, leaving us with the ultimate moral conflict: is it more important to be real, or to be right?
As a perfectionist, I understand the want to be right all of the time. Like I even said, I’ve unfortunately used Al in the past. I’ve been too scared of getting a question wrong, too scared of saying the wrong thing, too scared that my intelligence wasn’t enough. But after reading multiple research studies and witnessing its significant impact on my fellow students, family, and friends, I think it’s vital that we take a step back and start to see what generative Al is really doing to our livelihood. That we stare back at that black “How can I help you?” screen and question if the generated Hamlet summary is really worth missing the joy of reading. That we question if our access to automatic calculus answers is really worth losing our ability to solve problems on our own. If our efficiency is more important than our integrity.
Danielle Coffyn wrote in her poem “I Don’t Want a ChatGPT Proposal,” “Give me your mid sentence umms and crossed out words on cheesy greeting cards… Please, give me the gift of your trying.” In the upcoming and current age of Al, we as humans must continue to give the gift of our trying. We must continue to make mistakes. We must continue to search for answers. Must continue to learn — no chatbots included. That we stop running from the work. That we stop taking shortcuts. We stop trying to optimize our every move. Stop rushing our lives away. And above all else, when we are inevitably faced with the choice of being real or right, we must remember what it means to be human, and choose to be real every time.