I’ve been teaching social studies long enough to remember when the biggest challenge was getting students to put away their phones during class discussions. Now? The phone isn’t just a distraction; it’s their first stop for every answer, every question, every moment of cognitive discomfort.

Here’s the thing that keeps me up at night: I’m not teaching a trivia class. I don’t actually care if my students can recall the exact year the Treaty of Westphalia was signed or recite the Preamble verbatim. What I care about is whether they can analyze a primary source document, construct an argument using evidence, or recognize when a politician is using a logical fallacy. These are skills that require practice, struggle, and (yes) some degree of failure along the way. But AI and instant web searches have created a shortcut that bypasses all of that productive struggle.

The Problem Isn’t the Technology

Let me be clear: I’m not anti-technology. I use AI tools myself. I have students analyze digital archives, create multimedia presentations, and even use AI strategically for certain tasks. The issue isn’t that the technology exists; the issue is that students increasingly reach for it at the exact moment when their brains should be doing the heavy lifting.

Ask a student to compare the economic policies of the New Deal with modern progressive proposals, and what happens? Instead of wrestling with the question, looking at their notes, rereading the source material, and thinking (actually thinking), they paste the question into ChatGPT or pull up a quick Google search. They get an answer. They write it down. They move on. But they haven’t learned anything. They haven’t developed the skill of comparative analysis. They haven’t practiced synthesizing information from multiple sources. They haven’t built the mental stamina required to sit with a complex question long enough to develop their own informed perspective.

The Illusion of Learning

What’s particularly insidious is that this creates an illusion of learning. Students feel like they’re engaging with the material because they found an answer and completed the assignment. They might even be able to regurgitate that answer on a test if it’s the right kind of test. But ask them to apply that knowledge in a new context? To defend their reasoning when challenged? To transfer that skill to a different historical period or contemporary issue? Suddenly, the foundation crumbles because it was never really built in the first place.

I see this most clearly during Socratic seminars or class debates. Students who have relied heavily on AI-generated answers struggle to think on their feet, to engage with counterarguments, or to draw connections between ideas. The skills that make someone an educated, critical thinker (not just someone who can retrieve information) are atrophying. One begins to wonder if we’re creating a generation of students who can find answers but cannot actually think.

The Balancing Act

So where does this leave us as educators? We can’t uninvent the internet or AI. We can’t pretend students won’t have access to these tools in college, careers, or civic life; but we also can’t let skill development become collateral damage in the age of instant information.

I’ve been experimenting with a few approaches. Making the thinking visible: instead of just asking for answers, I require students to show their reasoning process. Annotated research logs, think-aloud protocols, draft work that demonstrates iteration, anything that makes clear this isn’t about the destination but the journey. Reframing assignments: questions that can be answered by AI aren’t worth asking anymore, so I’m shifting toward tasks that require personal analysis, local application, or synthesis of classroom discussions that no external tool could replicate. Teaching with AI, not against it: having explicit conversations about when and how to use these tools productively versus when they become a crutch. Modeling my own use of AI for certain tasks while being transparent about where I still need to think without it. Embracing struggle: being honest with students that the discomfort they feel when they don’t immediately know an answer isn’t a sign they should reach for their phone; it’s a sign their brain is about to grow.

What We’re Really Teaching

At the end of the day, the facts and dates and events of history matter, but they matter as the raw material for developing minds that can think critically, argue persuasively, and engage meaningfully with complexity. Those skills only develop through practice, and practice requires struggle. The students who will thrive in college, in careers, in citizenship aren’t the ones who got really good at prompting AI or finding quick answers online; they’re the ones who built the cognitive muscles to wrestle with difficult questions, sit with ambiguity, and construct their own understanding.

Our job isn’t to guard information anymore (information is everywhere). Our job is to build thinkers. And that’s harder than ever when students have so many tools designed to think for them. I don’t have all the answers to this challenge, but I know we can’t afford to ignore it, and we can’t let the pursuit of skills become secondary to the accumulation of information. Because in a world where information is free and instant, the ability to think critically about it is the most valuable thing we can give our students.

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Opinions expressed are solely my own and do not express the views or opinions of my employer.