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Texas | Life > Academics

AI Won’t Save You, Only You Can.

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Luunivaa Shrestha Student Contributor, University of Texas - Austin
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Texas chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.

It’s another day at the University Writing Center here at UT. Freshmen are figuring out how to write their first college essays, and upperclassmen are fighting the word limits on their personal statements. I adjust my name tag before I meet my first consultee of the day. This student is an ESL student. He’s coming in with a writing assignment for his history class and hardly has a clue what to do. The professor’s instructions were unclear. The rubric is vaguely worded. He’s already gotten a C for this kind of assignment before.

“No worries,” I say with a smile. We break down the instructions, make a plan on how to complete the assignment, and discuss how to extract information from class readings. He listens intently, nods happily, and schedules another consultation with me. 

In our next meeting, I read through his completed draft before walking him through Chicago-style citations. It feels like forever until he writes his last footnote. I let out a sigh of relief. The writing was already solid, and nothing stuck out to me, grammar-wise or form-wise. We did it. My work here is done.

His hand slips and reveals another tab. 

A large block of text is written out in his native language at the top left. In response, an AI chatbot has provided the essay we just spent 45 minutes on. 

My heart sinks.

Since the birth of generative AI, more and more students have been sacrificing their own voice for the sake of convenience. Thinking rhetorically — or even thinking at all — is seen less as a good student’s move, and more so a waste of time. Professors remain divided on AI. Some scorn it like an intellectual disgrace. Others hardly care at all. My group projects have given me mind-opening experiences — I once had to explain to someone why we couldn’t ask Chat GPT for specific information that wasn’t available online.

But I don’t blame them. For many, that GPA on their transcript is what buys their future. Many classes, ranging from grade school to college level, couldn’t care less about the effort you’ve put in if your work doesn’t meet a certain standard. Faces blur amidst the vast, overflowing lecture halls; it’s no surprise if you become no more than a number.

So, it makes sense that in an education system that has historically struggled to humanistically assess its students, students struggle to give a human effort. They always have — the allure of cheating is timeless.

But, let me ask you something. Why did you come to college?

To get a job, yes. To pursue an exciting career. To promise a mind as bright as yours, a future that’s just as bright. You are here at the foothills of adulthood, climbing to base camp before you eventually reach that peak — low oxygen, high stakes. All that climbing is no joke, and with every step, you are left wishing a helicopter could just carry you the rest of the way. But helicopters can only fly so high; AI has its limits.

In an education system that holds grades over everything, it’s too tempting to resort to AI. It saves time, it saves money — but it won’t save you. I mean, you already know this. Sometimes, AI doesn’t know what it’s talking about and lies. Sometimes, you ask an AI to summarize a long reading, and end up learning nothing from it. Sometimes, AI just says a bunch of empty words and praises you whenever you correct it. As incredible as its capabilities may be, nothing can outshine the human mind.

After all, generative AI isn’t what creates brilliance; it’s brilliance that created generative AI. When you are wowed by the near-human feedback from Chat GPT, you are really just impressed by a fraction of your own potential as a human being.  

So, amidst this crazy, dystopian point in time, I dare you to believe in the human spirit. I dare you to take risks. I dare you to get your hands messy. I dare you to not just learn, but truly understand. Experience is the best teacher, and we human beings are its greatest students. You didn’t pay thousands of dollars just to prompt some robot. You came here to grow. You came to college to unlock the brightest version of yourself possible. 

So what are you waiting for? You got this! 

Not some AI.

Luunivaa Shrestha is an incoming writer at the Her Campus Texas chapter. As a queer, neurodivergent, non-binary South Asian, they hope to write on their experiences and empower others like them— women and non-binary folks alike. So far, they're interested in writing about style, culture, and wellness.

Beyond Her Campus, Luunivaa is a consultant at the University Writing Center and works for the Mental Health Initiative for South Asians, a student-run non-profit. They're the Professional Coordinator for South Asian Women Empowerment, and the PR/Marketing Officer for the Undergraduate Rhetoric Society. They have teaching experience as a debate coach in both the US and Nepal, and as a piano teacher for younger students. It's their third year as a Rhetoric & Writing major at the University of Texas at Austin, with a minor in Sociology and a thesis in the works.

In their free time, Luunivaa is a singer-songwriter that performs at local open mics. They are a parent to many plants, and have rewatched Howl's Moving Castle more times than they can count. Luunivaa loves lavender as a fragrance, flavor, and color. However, they believe it's the last thing that should be in a syrup— the thick sweetness tends to override its more delicate profile.