ChatGPT has been a total game-changer in academia. In 23 years of tutoring, it has been BY FAR the most significant challenge we have had to navigate. The only other moment that compares, since the actual creation of the internet and the arrival of e-mail, was realising that I could tutor online rather than spending half my life on tube trains (fun though that is) travelling to people's houses to tutor in person.
It came without warning, silently, in May-June 2023. Or at least that's when I knew something was up. Overnight, students' writing pieces suddenly, dramatically, became works of poetic artistry.
They were able to paint vivid images in the reader's mind, transforming words into a sensory experience that evoked emotions and made stories come alive. By carefully selecting adjectives and imagery, they were able to craft a rich tapestry of details that immersed readers in the nuances of the moment, enabling them to feel as if they were part of the scene.
See what I did there?
Without any warning, I had been inundated by these accursed rich tapestries, more often than not against a backdrop of a patchwork quilt of verdant fields and glimmering waterfalls.
I realised, coincidentally on the morning that my son was born, that – in more ways than one – life had changed forever. At least I had a month's paternity leave to mull over this declaration of war by the dreadful onslaught of rich tapestries.
So ... what should we do? How should tutors tackle this problem? Ban ChatGPT? Insist that we return to the Dark Ages? Embrace it like we embraced calculators, as just another tool to make our lives easier?
I initially started setting a lot of snarky essays about the pros and cons of using AI as a writing tool. We had a lot of class discussions along the same lines. We talked about preparing for exams where there is no internet, let alone ChatGPT. We talked about taking pride in creating something ourselves, in being an artist, in developing and honing our critical thinking skills.
We also discussed the fact that, whether or not we use ChatGPT ourselves, it has massively raised the bar on what schools and examiners now expect from creative writing. A generic and polished piece is no longer good enough.
So, if you want to use it to save time and churn out a couple of set pieces, the essential point is not to outsource the entire creative process to AI, but to genuinely harness it as a tool. For example, if you've been asked to "paint a dynamic picture of a changing landscape from a train window", don't just plug that title into ChatGPT and copy and paste the results into a Googledoc then get back to your gaming after two minutes.
Instead, elevate it above the generic, by adding in (1) an extraordinary incident witnessed as part of the scene, (2) something surreal or mystical, (3) a personal signature or feature that makes it truly yours. Because ChatGPT will never think of those things by itself.
With one student, we included (1) a glimpse of boy being charged by a bull in a field before the scene dissolved as the train sped on its way, (2) a guffawing evil face in the clouds that you would never (?) see in real life, and (3) a sunny, sepia-tinged Lana del Rey in an open-topped classic car à la Video Games, since this student was obsessed with Lana del Rey...
Then, IF you use ChatGPT to draft those set pieces as well as the other more generic elements – the rooftops with wisps of chimney smoke curling into the late afternoon sky and catching the last rays of the setting sun – then okay. Because at least you're creating and owning your own creation.
So I guess that's the answer. Use it sometimes, but use it carefully and wisely. But whatever you do, don't outsource the process to AI, and allow your brain, your critical thinking skills, your creativity, your exam grades and your future to waste away. And it's interesting how many students are now on board with this approach, a year on from Year Zero.