It was 3:00 a.m. when my teenage son burst into my room, his face illuminated by the blue light of his laptop screen.
“Mom,” he declared with the certainty and glee that only sleep-deprived high schoolers can muster, “English teachers like you are toast.” I blinked, trying to process both the late-night intrusion and this sudden declaration of my professional obsolescence.
“ChatGPT is here!” he continued as if those four syllables explained everything. “ChatGP...what?” I mumbled, witnessing the future arrive in my bedroom in the middle of the night.
That pre-dawn conversation in November 2022 would prove prophetic. Now, as co-chair of Artificial Intelligence Task Force at Stone Ridge School of the Sacred Heart (MD), I find myself swimming in a sea of artificial intelligence developments, each promising to revolutionize education as we know it. My inbox overflows with AI-focused newsletters, my Substack subscriptions have multiplied like digital rabbits, and my browser history resembles a forecast written in code and venture capital terms.
Like Pavlov’s dogs, I find myself perking up at every new AI announcement. Another frontier model! A fresh batch of browser plugins! An AI essay grader that promises to eliminate all-nighters!
Perhaps it’s time to draw inspiration from B.F. Skinner rather than Pavlov. Skinner, a meticulous behaviorist, showed how rats could learn to navigate complex mazes by making careful, intentional choices. His research revealed that voluntary choices, rather than conditioned reflexes, led to better outcomes.
Similarly, we must be intentional and avoid rushing to implement every new technological development that comes our way. We must always prioritize the timeless values of education—from cognitive thinking to curiosity—over the digital noise.
Prioritizing the Core Values of Education
As a division head, I have witnessed AI reshaping childhood in ways that would have seemed unbelievable just a few months ago. My son’s late-night ChatGPT revelation now feels almost quaint compared to what’s landing in my inbox these days: AI therapists promising to decode teenage emotions, virtual reality math coaches turning calculus into a gameshow, and classroom management systems claiming to predict tomorrow’s classroom disruptions based on today’s playground noise levels. It’s enough to make any educator’s head spin. More concerning, it could lead us to hastily reach for our budgets and start signing purchase orders.
My colleagues, and all educators affiliated with the Order of the Sacred Heart, are called to “integrate innovation and collaboration, critical thinking and problem-solving, the exploration of emerging technologies and critical evaluation of information.” Notice how technology is a supporting actor, not the star, in that statement. This doesn’t mean we should ignore AI’s transformative potential. Anyone who’s been paying attention knows we’re standing on the precipice of changes that would make Philip K. Dick drop his typewriter. However, as I sort through the daily barrage of AI educational products, each claiming to be the key to “future-proofing our students,” I keep returning to a fundamental question: What will truly prepare our young people for a world of constant change?
The answers aren’t found in the latest AI technology, no matter how advanced it may be. Instead, it lives in the timeless competencies that have always defined meaningful education: critical thinking to navigate the digital noise, cognitive flexibility to adapt to new challenges, and collaboration that fosters human connection rather than replacing it. We need students to maintain their curiosity in a world filled with instant answers, to exercise their agency when algorithms suggest the easier path, and to demonstrate resilience when technology reaches its limits.
Moving at a Slow and Intentional Pace
When the next shiny new AI edtech product slides into my inbox, I’m choosing a more intentional approach. Like Skinner’s rats, I’m learning to navigate the maze with purpose rather than impulse. When the next “revolutionary” platform appears, instead of rushing to imagine its transformative potential, I’ll pause to reflect on the enduring truths that transcend every software update and system upgrade. After all, the human condition doesn’t come with a patch release.
I ground myself by walking through my school’s hallways and witnessing the irreplaceable human moments: observing a teacher finding just the right metaphor to unlock a mathematical concept; witnessing two seventh graders navigating a project disagreement, building those essential muscles of empathy; or noticing a student’s face lighting up when poetry finally clicks—not because an algorithm explained it—but because she wrestled with the words on her own.
As our AI Task Force continues to evaluate tools that could genuinely enhance teaching and learning, we’re moving at the measured pace of educators, not the breathless rush of early adopters. After all, we’re not preparing students for an AI sprint; we’re preparing them for a human marathon.
The other night, I passed by my son’s room (yes, the same herald of English teachers’ doom). He was working on another essay, but this time, instead of consulting ChatGPT, he was debating interpretations with a classmate over video chat, their laughter echoing down the hall. That kind of messy, wonderful, deeply human learning is something no AI can replicate.
I am investing in the future of education where technology serves as a tool rather than a dominant force. In this vision, innovation is measured by student engagement instead of algorithms—and students learn not just to adapt to change but to shape it. It might not trend on Twitter, but like all the best educational practices, it’s built to last.