As a student at Stanford balancing two vastly different fields—political science and computer science—I have experienced the significant influence of generative AI on my education and assignments. For us, it feels like we’ve been given a powerful life calculator that could change everything, yet it also comes with numerous ethical challenges. Students and faculty are grappling with how to establish fair and reasonable policies that can maintain the integrity of learning while preparing us for a future where generative AI tools will be commonplace. Personally, I find it challenging to strike a balance. However, I believe that students’ attitudes toward generative AI will ultimately matter more than any single policy. Without proactive engagement in this area, we risk entering a crisis of critical thinking. Let’s be honest: when Claude AI can complete my CS111 systems homework in mere seconds, the urge to take shortcuts becomes hard to resist. Nevertheless, through trial and error, I’ve developed a nuanced strategy for using AI that enhances my productivity while preserving my intellectual growth. To start with research, I’ve found Perplexity to be invaluable. Unlike the endless spiral of generic Google searches, it delivers curated and reliable sources, complete with succinct summaries. What once took hours to research now takes mere minutes, all while ensuring that the sources are both trustworthy and verifiable. For exploring scholarly articles, Notebook LM has proven to be revolutionary. It’s not about replacing reading but about enhancing comprehension. After tackling a dense text, I use AI to create study guides that emphasize key points, confirming that I've genuinely grasped the material. When it comes to grammar and punctuation, I see no issue with using AI. I rely on ChatGPT for final edits, catching those annoying capitalization mistakes and refining my writing. These tasks are purely mechanical and don’t affect my core thinking; they are simply about improving presentation. That said, I adhere to one fundamental principle: never ask AI to generate ideas.

Once you do, you risk outsourcing your most precious asset—your unique perspective. I learned this the hard way while stuck on a political science paper about authoritarian regimes; I consulted a generative AI thesis algorithm, only to receive a convoluted sentence that lacked substance. I am convinced that my best writing emerges from grappling with concepts, rather than having them handed to me by an algorithm—though I am open to editing suggestions. I worry for my generation and those that follow; if AI-generated ideas overshadow our original thoughts, we diminish the valuable intellectual journey that leads to conclusions. In this age of AI, the most vital skill for students is discernment. We need to be ruthless in discarding tasks that don’t enhance critical thinking while embracing tools that free our minds for deeper engagement with learning. Faculty, this also means allowing the use of generative AI in the classroom as a learning tool rather than viewing it as an unfair advantage. If a student earns an A with a generative AI essay, that points to a different issue altogether. Perhaps as AI tools meet academic standards, our expectations of students can rise. Different departments are racing to establish AI policies, often faster than the technology itself evolves. My experience suggests that the most effective approach focuses on responsible usage rather than outright bans. AI is here to stay; our task is to exploit it intelligently, whether that involves shifting to oral exams or debugging AI-generated code in class. To my peers: nothing can replace your brain—not even AI. It should serve as a supplement, a tool, and a catalyst for more efficient learning. Use it judiciously and sparingly, and never allow it to supplant your most crucial resource—your own cognitive abilities. The future is reserved for those who can collaborate with AI rather than be replaced by it.