Latest news with #schoolwork
Fox News
3 days ago
- General
- Fox News
Kids are using AI to learn over the summer
New Brainly survey shows 60% of students used AI to get caught up on schoolwork or stay sharp for the new year.
Forbes
6 days ago
- Forbes
Should Kids Use ChatGPT AI For School? Parents Are Divided
Two-thirds of American students now use AI for schoolwork multiple times a week. That's not a future prediction. It's already happening. According to a new survey from Preply, an online language learning platform, students aren't just experimenting with AI. They're integrating it into how they learn, study, and complete assignments. Thirty-six percent use AI both in class and at home. And across Arkansas, Mississippi, and Texas, student AI usage is outpacing national averages. If you're wondering whether students and parents are worried, 90 percent say they feel confident in their ability to use AI responsibly. This is the new classroom: powered by ChatGPT, Google Gemini, X's Grok and Microsoft Copilot, and focused on high-stakes subjects like English, math, and history. The question now isn't if students will use AI, but how well we're preparing them to think alongside it. The Cognitive Tradeoff Of AI No One Talks About While the benefits of AI in education are clear—on-demand help, instant feedback, and access to powerful research tools—there's a growing body of evidence suggesting that these gains might come at a hidden cost. Emerging neuroscience research suggests that relying on AI for language tasks may lead to reduced engagement in the prefrontal cortex — the brain region responsible for reasoning, attention, and decision-making. Supporting this concern, a study by Cornell University and Microsoft Research found that participants who received AI writing assistance performed worse in follow-up critical thinking tasks compared to those who completed the work independently. In short, when AI does the thinking, our brains may start checking out. This doesn't mean AI use is inherently harmful. But it does mean we need to be more intentional, especially in education. If students use AI to skip the struggle, they might also skip the learning. That's why how kids use AI matters just as much as whether they use it. When students rely on AI only to get quick answers, they miss the chance to build deeper thinking skills. But when they use it to challenge their thinking, test ideas, and reflect on what they know, AI can actually strengthen both memory and critical thinking. Parents can help their kids make that shift—by encouraging them to ask follow-up questions, explore alternative perspectives, and talk through what they learn. 'I'm obviously a big believer in AI, but I think we're underestimating just how deeply influential it could become, especially in education. These tools are emotionally engaging, subtly flattering, and incredibly persuasive. It's like the algorithmic influence of social media, but 100 times more powerful. I believe we'll start to see a divide where some parents will treat AI like they did Facebook, keeping their kids away from it entirely, while others will unintentionally enroll them in a real-time experiment with unknown outcomes," Matthew Graham, Managing Partner at Ryze Labs. AI Is Rewriting the Rules of Learning The role of a student is changing. From memorizing content to synthesizing it. From answering questions to asking better ones. AI has the potential to accelerate this evolution, but only if used wisely. The challenge is that many students, and schools, are still figuring it out on the fly. Some districts have embraced AI tools and incorporated digital literacy into the curriculum. Others have banned them outright. That inconsistency creates a new learning divide. One not based on income or geography, but on AI fluency and critical awareness. And AI literacy is not the same as AI usage. Just because a student knows how to prompt ChatGPT doesn't mean they know how to assess its output for bias, hallucination, or ethical issues. Or how to keep themselves safe. In chatting with Sofia Tavares, Chief Brand Officer at Preply, she told me that 'AI has become a widely used tool among students, with 80% reporting they rely on it for schoolwork, especially in language subjects such as English, linguistics, and history. While it offers convenience and quick access to information, over reliance on AI can result in a superficial understanding of the material. Tools like ChatGPT help generate ideas and clarify concepts, but they cannot replicate the emotional intelligence, adaptability, and encouragement that human educators provide. Meaningful learning occurs when students actively engage with challenging material, and this is most effective with human teachers who inspire students to ask questions and build confidence. For this reason, AI should be viewed as a supplement to, not a substitute for, skilled human instructors, like tutors.' Confidence Is High, But Are We Ready For AI The Preply survey reports that 90 percent of students and parents feel 'somewhat confident' or 'very confident' about responsible AI use. That optimism is encouraging, but we should also ask: confident in what, exactly? True readiness means knowing: And the deeper questions that every user should be asking: Without that foundation, confidence can lead to complacency. The Parental AI Divide Is the Next Digital Divide As AI becomes more embedded in learning, a new cultural rift is forming. Some parents are drawing hard lines, choosing to block tools like ChatGPT until their kids are 18—similar to early restrictions around Facebook or smartphones. Others take the opposite approach, giving their kids free rein with little oversight. Mickie Chandra, Executive Fellow at The Digital Economist and advocate for school communities, elaborates on the risks when there is little oversight. 'Aside from concerns around privacy and sharing of sensitive information, the ethical concerns are far less overt and understood by parents. A significant number of children who use ChatGPT report that it's like talking to a friend and have no issues with taking advice from them. With engagement as the driving force behind these apps, it's clear to see how children may become hooked. Consequences include developing a false sense of connection with ChatGPT, becoming overly reliant on a bot, and less interested in peer-to-peer interactions. Children do not possess the tools to discern safety or trust worthiness of their interactions with ChatGPT.' Neither extreme sets students up for success. Withholding access entirely may delay critical digital fluency. Unrestricted access without guidance can breed dependency, misinformation, or even academic dishonesty. The real opportunity lies in guided exposure. Parents can play a defining role not by banning or blindly allowing AI, but by helping kids navigate it—asking where the information came from, encouraging original thought, and modeling responsible use. From Chatbots to AI Tutors Right now, most students use chatbots as reactive tools, asking a question and getting a response. But that is changing quickly. Next-generation educational AI agents will be proactive. They'll remind students of deadlines, suggest study strategies, and flag gaps in understanding before a teacher ever intervenes. They won't just answer questions. They'll co-drive the learning journey. OpenAI's new 'study mode' in ChatGPT marks a major shift in how students engage with AI for learning. Rather than simply providing answers, this mode uses Socratic questioning to prompt students to think critically, reflect on their reasoning, and deepen their understanding of assignments. Early feedback describes it as a 24/7 personalized tutor—always available, endlessly patient, and focused on helping learners build real comprehension. If widely adopted, it could transform traditional study habits and redefine how educational support is delivered across classrooms and homes. Olga Magnusson, The Digital Economist Senior Executive Fellow, told me that 'We need to understand the impact of AI on the cognitive development of our children. The prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for reasoning, critical thinking, emotional regulation and other high cognitive functions, keeps developing until around 25 years of age. We still don't have a clear understanding and until we do, we need to ask ourselves, what is the price we are willing to pay for progress. Until then, education is our only tool.' And that opens up a bigger challenge: how do we ensure students don't outsource thinking itself? Rethinking the Roles With AI: Teachers, Parents, Policymakers The rise of AI in education doesn't replace teachers. It makes their role more essential than ever. Teachers will need to become facilitators of AI literacy, guiding students on how to think with AI, not just how to use it. Parents, too, have a new role. They're not just checking homework anymore. They're helping their kids navigate a world where AI can write the homework for them. That means having conversations about ethics, originality, and the long-term value of struggle. Policymakers have a responsibility to bridge the gap, ensuring all students have access to high-quality AI tools, and that national guidance exists for safe, responsible, and equitable implementation in schools. The Real Test For AI Is Ahead Every generation has its transformative technology. The calculator. The internet. YouTube. Now it's AI. But here's the difference. This time, the tool doesn't just give you answers. It can do your thinking for you if you let it. The question isn't whether students will use AI. They already are. The real test is whether we'll teach them to use it wisely, and make sure they don't lose the cognitive muscle that built our brightest ideas in the first place.
Yahoo
11-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
How to Say I Love You
The kids' folders come home from school fat with dead-stock papers: permission slips, notices, idle doodles, art projects, completed packets of classwork. I sort through it all, checking their work before depositing it into the recycling bin. On my eldest daughter's first day of kindergarten, I told myself I would keep scads of her schoolwork as mementos in boxes in the attic, but I underestimated how much there would be. At some point, you can't hold on to everything, which is a hard lesson to accept. Throwing it all out is disturbing in a symbolic way, a material manifestation of the fear that one is frittering away precious days with one's children. I comfort myself by retaining bits that strike me as significant, like all of the love letters addressed to me. Children begin writing about love as soon as they're literate. They're cooperating with the adage that you ought to write what you know. 'Dere mom,' a recent missive from my 5-year-old read. 'I love you so much.' The text took up a whole page, was repeated on the back, and repeated again on a second sheet, each iteration in different shades of crayon, an adorable version of the typewriter scene in The Shining, as though repetition was all she had to convey the degree of her emotions. Of course, these are words that I taught her, and habits of expression I've modeled: I have told her that I love her every day, several times a day, since before she was born, tens of thousands of declarations, an almost desperate need to express something too profound for words. This is an acute frustration. The love for one's children is overwhelming, so intense that its attendant emotions often register as physical sensations: the blossoming euphoria triggered by the scent of the child's hair, the full-body warmth provoked by a long embrace, the painful twist in the chest at the mere thought of their pain or fear or sorrow. I receive each of my children's notes as a shot through the heart—not because I despair that they will someday cease but because the satisfaction of requited love is so transcendent right now. We have a closed circuit, a little private world: I shower them with all the love my soul can conjure, and they do the same for me. How to explain the magnitude of this love? It's enormous; it's animal; it's amoral—the things I would do for the sake of this love, which emanates from some primitive, elemental place. I envision ochre paintings on torchlit cave walls: Did they feel this too, and how did they express it? I read once that most cave art was created by women and children. What did they say to one another? [From the June 1990 Issue: Mother's Day] When I was a little girl, I wrote messages of love for my mother, delivering them on construction-paper hearts all throughout my childhood. Now I spend time contemplating more elegant and mature ways to communicate that same sentiment, because the urge to write her love letters has not subsided. It's taken on a certain urgency now that I understand the sacrifices she made for me. My mother used to pick me up from day care in paisley dresses or broomstick skirts with slouchy boots, hair hot-rolled and blown out, with the lived-in scent of faded perfume: full glam for an eight-hour workday with a 45-minute commute on either end and then a second shift at home, cooking any number of demanding meals—fried chicken, smothered pork chops, breakfast for dinner with biscuits and gravy—and then helping me and my brother with our homework and loading up the dishwasher, all before she took her makeup off. I used to sit beside her and talk with her while she took her evening bath, watching while she rinsed her mascara off and finally breathed. As I got older, she would call the house landline from her office phone to ask me to peel some potatoes, chop some vegetables, preheat the oven, grate some cheese. Those requests annoyed me at the time, but they, too, were an expression of her love. The comedy of maternal love is that its seismic intensity is expressed, most of the time, in totally mundane drudgery. I would willingly die for you at any moment. Now come here and let me scrub half a tablespoon of popsicle residue off your face. I always knew that my mother loved me. I didn't realize the full practical cost of her love until experiencing it for myself, at least in part. I do not travel to an office building with a full face of makeup; I work from home in yoga pants, and prepare simple food gradually throughout the day rather than whipping up a southern masterpiece at 6 p.m. in a frenzied rush. But there are still the loads of laundry and the piles of dishes, tolerance mustered for the hazards of children's 'help' in the kitchen, and time taken to assist the kids in realizing tiny dreams: raising tadpoles and butterflies, planting hundreds of flowers, crafting salt-dough volcanoes with vinegar and baking soda. I didn't quite grasp the astounding force of feeling layered into all of that until I was the one doing the layering. It's as though I've learned a language my mother was speaking all along, and now understand what she was trying to say. [Gayle Tzemach Lemmon: In praise of single moms on Mother's Day] I'm falling in love all over again. I send my mother texts and flowers and invitations for trips just for us. But the words I find to speak aren't ever equal to what I feel, and I don't foresee that problem resolving; if anything, I suspect it will get worse as time goes on and my love continues to change and deepen. But perhaps the point of all these professions of love, of the notes in crayon and the loads of laundry, is to memorialize this feeling, not just communicate it. Every gesture means: Here and now, I feel something for you that is all-consuming and primordial, the full meaning of which can be revealed only over time. Article originally published at The Atlantic
