The Dilemma of Teaching English in the Age of AI
I have taught English for a long time. And lately, I find myself stuck in a dilemma I never expected.
I no longer know how I am supposed to teach English.
Writing is important. Reading and summarizing texts is important. Being able to express one’s thoughts clearly in writing is important. I agree with all of that.
And yet, one question refuses to leave my mind: Is this still true in the age of AI?
Summarizing is something AI already does better than most humans. Organizing ideas, structuring paragraphs, and producing polished writing – AI can do these things faster and more accurately than any student in my classroom.
So what, exactly, is my role as an English teacher now? If AI can generate clean writing, correct grammar, and logical structure, what am I actually teaching when I teach writing?
That question led me back to a phrase I have heard countless times from students.
“I don’t Know.”
When “I don’t know” Is Not What It Seems
When I used to hear it, I accepted it too easily. I assumed it meant the student had not understood the text, had not thought deeply enough, or simply lacked language ability.
But after years of watching students more closely-especially those who struggled with speaking or writing-I began to realize that “I don’t know” often means something very different.
Students Who Are Strong in Math
Many of the students who say ” I don’t know” are, in fact, very strong in mathematics. They solve problems quickly, arrive at correct answers efficiently, and experience clear satisfaction when they confirm that their answer is right.
These students are comfortable is a world where answers exist.
Mathematics is a domain of certainty. Even if the process differs, the result converges toward one correct solution. Right and wrong are clearly defined.
For these students, confidence is built through correctness
The Difference Between the World of Answers and the World of Language
Language, however, is not that kind of world.
In language, there is no single correct answer. These are only perspectives, interpretations, and positions shaped by experience.
An idea may feel convincing to one person and unconvincing to another. A statement may feel unfinished, uncertain, or emotionally complex-and still be valid.
For students who are accustomed to correctness, this openness can feel deeply uncomfortable.
Unconsciously, they expect language to behave like math. They assume there must be a “right way” to answer.
So when they are asked for their opinion, a different internal dialogue begins. (This can be 3 reasons.)
* Is this the right answer?
* What if this is wrong?
* What if I explain it badly?
At that moment, silence feels safer. And so they say, “I don’t know.”
Why I Do Not Ask “What Do You Think?” First
This is why I stopped asking students, “What do you think?” at the very beginning.
That question is not difficult for students who speak easily. But for students whose thinking runs deeper than their ability to verbalize it, the question is overwhelming.
Instead, I start somewhere else.
I begin with the concept.
Concept Before Opinion:How Thinking Actually Begins
This is why I stopped asking students, “What do you think?”at the very beginning. That question is not difficult for students who speak easily. But for students whose thinking runs deeper than their ability to verbalize it, the questions is overwhelming.
Instead, I start with the concept.
“Where have you seen this idea before? Was it in a book, a movie, the news, or something that happened at school? Have you ever experienced a situation like this yourself?”
Students often struggle to access abstract opinions, but they can access experiences. From there, I ask about emotions.
“How did that situation make you feel? Did it feel uncomfortable, unfair, or confusing? Why do you think that feeling came up?”
At this stage, students are not yet stating an opinion-but they are already thinking.
When “I don’t know” Still Appears
If a student still says, ” I don’t know,” I do not stop.
I offer an example.
I describe a situation clearly and ask the student to restate it in their own words. I ask whether the example makes sense, where it feels unclear, or which part feels difficult to judge.
Only then do I ask questions like these (Solution):
* What part feels the most unclear to you?
* If you had to choose just one concern, what would it be?
* Which part feels difficult to label as completely right or wrong?
These questions do not demand answers. They invite exploration. They ask students to locate where their thinking is hesitating.
The Real Meaning Behind “I don’t Know”
When students are guided this way, their “I don’t know” begins to change.
It is no longer a sign of emptiness. It becomes signal that thought is present but now yet organized.
What they are really saying is:
* I don’t know where to begin.
* I am afraid of saying this the wrong way.
* My thoughts aren’t finished yet.
This is not a lack of thinking. It is a pause before expression.
When Writing Finally Becomes Possible
This is when writing becomes possible.
Once students see the structure of their own thinking-once someone helps them organize what is already there-the writing flows surprisingly quickly.
The problem was never the absence of ideas. The problem was the belief that language requires correctness before expression.
Rethinking the Role of the English Teacher
This realization changed the way I see my role as a teacher.
In the age of AI, teaching English is no longer about producing perfect sentences. It is about helping students tolerate uncertainty long enough for their thoughts to surface.
AI can summarize. AI can polish. AI can structure.
But AI cannot sit beside a child whose thoughts are unfinished and say, “You don’t need the right answer yet.”
That moment still belongs to humans.
Why I still Teach English
So I continue to teach English.
Not by teaching answers, but by helping students discover the shape of their thinking.
And more often than not, it begins with the same phrase:
“I don’t know.”
Now, I hear it not as a failure-but as the starting point of thought.
