The Kids Can't Write
I see the withdrawal symptoms every day. A generation that can't string two sentences together without their digital dealer.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
'''Confession time: I’m starting to see them. The ones who can't write. I don’t mean "bad" writing. I mean no writing. Just a blank stare at a blank page, followed by a twitchy glance at their phone. The addicts. Our first hAIroin-native generation.
Ask a student to compose a simple paragraph—a summary of an article, an opinion on a film, anything—and you see it. The panic. The desperate need for a prompt. They can’t find the words because they’ve stopped looking for them. Why would you, when your dealer is on call 24/7?
Your Brain on Copilot
The brain’s writing muscle has atrophied. It has been replaced by a dependency, a mindless reflex to open a chat window. Copilot is the pusher, the first hit was free, and now an entire cohort of students is hooked. They need that cheap dopamine rush of instant, perfectly-formed sentences. Who needs to struggle (and, you know, learn) when you can get your fix in three seconds?
We've effectively created a generation of intellectual junkies. They look the part, and they can turn in the homework, but the thoughts aren’t theirs. They’re just relaying the product from their supplier.
It's a simple process, if you are someone clever and energy saver like me… (0. Have a thought — this step is now optional). 1. Open your AI dealer’s chat window. 2. Feed it a vague request ("write a paragraph about this"). 3. Copy-paste the result. 4. Feel that brief, hollow sense of accomplishment.
Are those people wrong? I suppose you have an AI account?! This isn