Lately, I’ve been paying close attention to something subtle but important, how people are reacting to writing that feels, for lack of a better term, AI-generated. There’s a kind of instinctive response that I’m noticing. When someone senses that a piece of text may have been created with help from a tool like ChatGPT, there can be a tendency to dismiss it. It might be labeled as flat, soulless, or less valuable. There’s a perception that it lacks warmth or that it doesn’t carry the full weight of human intent.
On one level, this reaction makes sense. We’re wired to pick up on cues, tone, voice, rhythm, that tell us someone is reaching out to us, and when those cues feel off, we hesitate. But I wonder if that response is also a bit of a distraction. I wonder if the discomfort with the tone is sometimes masking a discomfort with the message itself, or even with the idea that language is evolving. Because when we pause for a moment, we realize that every AI-assisted piece of writing starts with a human. There is always a person at the heart of it—deciding the purpose, shaping the prompt, refining the draft, and determining what ultimately gets shared.
This moment we’re in reminds me a little of the early days of calculators. At first, there was pushback, concern that we were losing something by not doing math “the hard way.” But eventually, we understood that the calculator was not doing the thinking for us. It was just clearing the path so we could focus on the parts that mattered more. I think the same is true here.
So, what does this mean for us as educators and leaders? First, I think we need to hold space for the discomfort. It’s real, and it’s human. Second, we need to lead with clarity around what AI is and isn’t. It’s a tool, not a replacement. And finally, we need to model how thoughtful, values-aligned writing, whether supported by AI or not, still comes down to intention, judgment, and care.
One practical shift we can make is to avoid language that feels overly polished, overly verbose, or overly flattering when we use these tools. The goal isn’t to impress. It’s to connect. So when we use AI, let’s keep editing with our human instincts. Let’s cut what doesn’t sound like us. Let’s add what brings us closer to the reader. And let’s be transparent when it matters, not because we’re hiding something, but because we believe that clarity and trust go hand in hand.
We’re navigating a new frontier here. There’s no need to pretend we have it all figured out. But there is a need to be intentional, reflective, and open to the ways this technology can both stretch and strengthen our voice.
I wrote this with AI assistance, but the prompt that got me here was just as long as the piece itself. Does knowing that help or hinder the point? I would love your comments to explore this idea further.

Great post, Justin — the singular scholarly source on this exact topic remains the incomparable work on postplagiarism by Dr. Sarah Eaton: https://edintegrity.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1007/s40979-023-00144-1