AI in Education Isn't Fixing the Problem. It's Hiding It
A few years ago, I started noticing something different in my students’ essays and other writing assignments—no matter how short. The vocabulary was suddenly more sophisticated. The sentence structure was cleaner. The arguments were more organized. To an uninformed educator or parent sure that their child would never cheat, it looked like progress.
It wasn’t.
At least 40% of the essays I was receiving had been generated, fully or partially, by AI. And that was before you counted the essays lifted directly from sites like Brainly. The LMS I was working in automatically flagged submissions with an AI checker, and while that gave me something to point to officially, those tools are deeply unreliable. Running their work through other AI checkers often yielded different, though equally sure it was AI, results on what was AI generated. These checkers also produce false positives, miss obvious AI writing, and ultimately give you very little to work with.
The clearest evidence I had was what students accidentally left behind—phrases that didn't sound like a teenager, words no one would use in conversation, arguments that were technically correct but emotionally hollow.
Most Students Who Use AI Aren't Cheating . They're Hiding
Here's what the headlines about AI in education almost always get wrong: most struggling students aren't using AI because they're lazy or dishonest. They're using it because they're embarrassed.
When I sit down with a student I suspect has used AI, I don't come in with an accusation. I start somewhere safe. I offer something positive about them, something good from their paper. For example, “You always have Then I ease into their paper. At some point, I'll point to a complex word in their essay and say, "Hey, what does this mean? I don't use it often either." When they can't answer, I'll tell them the definition, and then gently note that they used it several times in their paper.
I'm not catching them. I'm opening a door.
Almost every time, the conversation turns into a confession, not about cheating, but about fear. Fear of failing. Fear of their parents finding out. Fear that their real English writing isn't good enough. These students don't want to fail. They want to survive. And AI gave them what looked like a lifeline.
What it actually gave them was a way to hide.
When a Struggling Student Can Hide, Nobody Helps Them
When a student uses AI to mask a writing gap, that gap doesn't disappear. It waits. It grows. And in most cases, no one sees it because the essay looks fine.
This is where the conversation about AI in education goes wrong. We spend a lot of time debating whether AI is "cheating." We should be asking a different question: what happens to the struggling students whose real needs never get identified?
Teachers are overworked. Many are doing their best with too many students, too little time, and too much administrative pressure to go deep on every paper. Identifying a struggling writer takes time. Having the careful, emotionally intelligent conversation that actually helps a student, that takes even more time. And relying on imperfect AI detection tools just adds another layer of uncertainty to an already complicated situation and can even break the trust built into the student-teacher relationship.
So, students slip through. Their English writing gaps go unaddressed. They move from grade to grade with a skill deficit no one has officially named. And somewhere down the line—in college, in a job, or an interview—that gap shows up.
What an English Tutor Does That AI Simply Can't
I want to be clear: I use AI. I've even built an AI-powered writing tool for my own students. I'm not here to tell you that technology is the enemy.
But there is no algorithm that can do what happens in that conversation with a struggling student. There's no chatbot that knows when to make a joke to break the tension, when to stay quiet and let the silence do the work, or when to modify an assignment on the spot because the student sitting in front of you needs something different right now.
That moment when a student finally says, "I just didn't think my writing was good enough," that's not just a data point. That's a turning point. And it only happens because a human was paying attention.
The work of an English tutor, especially with students I work with (neurodivergent students, multilingual learners, and students with persistent writing gaps), is deeply relational and meant to fill the void created by school districts’ shortcomings. You're not just teaching grammar and essay structure. You're rebuilding a student's confidence in their own voice and helping them build the skills they need to build successful working and personal relationships.
So Where Does This Leave Students and Families?
AI isn't going anywhere. The question isn't whether our students will use it, they already are, often better than the adults around them. The question is whether we give them the skills, the confidence, and the guidance to use it in ways that actually help them grow.
That starts with making sure we haven't already lost them to the cracks.
If you're a parent who suspects your child's English writing doesn't quite sound like them, trust that instinct. It might not be laziness. They might be struggling and in need of help.
If you believe your student could benefit from my help, I offer free consultations and won’t offer you services you don’t need.
