by Dana Wineland O’Rourke, contributing writer
I’m old enough to remember being in awe of switching out my slide rule for a calculator, so keeping up with smart devices and technology is both intimidating and surprising.
While I’ve been aware of Artificial Intelligence and some of its marvels, I recently learned that AI ventured into creativity, assisting in writing that can produce human-like texts on any subject. That topic came up after listening to a wonderful graduation speech where some in attendance debated if it was written by the student, or by AI.
It made me think about the time something I wrote came into question.
When I was a teenager, I did my best writing in bed. The notebook hidden under my mattress waited for me and my thoughts like a patient friend.
I wrote when my heart had something to say and only a few pages were shared with those who knew me best.
That notebook is long gone, but the memories of what filled it live on.
After surviving a boring novel and several torturous weeks of Greek Mythology in ninth grade English class, the writing assignment we were given was a welcome task.
I grabbed my notebook, plopped into bed, and wrote and scribbled until I thought I had A plus work. After that, I copied every word on composition paper and turned the assignment in with a smile.
When your last name begins with W, you get used to waiting. We were silent reading and beckoned individually to the teacher’s desk. I could see letter grades and comments written in red as others received their papers. My turn came just before the bell rang. I was anxious to see my paper. It had no markings.
“I can’t grade this,” the teacher said in a voice I found unfamiliar. “It’s plagiarism.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” I whispered. I didn’t know what plagiarism was, but I was convinced by her tone it wasn’t good.
“You did not write this,” she sternly replied.
I looked her in the eyes, “Yes, I did.” I insisted softly, but loudly enough to be heard. She placed my paper in her desk drawer.
I walked away empty-handed and broken-hearted.
Fortunately, the other students were out the door before I gathered my things and wondered what would happen next. Would I be called to the principal’s office? Would I get an F? The remainder of the morning was a blur, and I said nothing about it to my friends.
My first afternoon subject was an elective, Creative Writing. Halfway through class we were given an assignment and the teacher called me up front while everyone was busy working.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You don’t seem like yourself.” Her concern brought comfort, and I privately explained what happened in English class.
Before the day was over, she did something for which I remain grateful. My Creative Writing teacher told me she asked her colleague to see the paper that I turned in for English. After reading it, she assured the teacher that it was my writing style.
The English teacher, however, never mentioned anything about the paper; never returned it, never graded it, and never apologized. I continued to make As in her class with hard work, but with no acknowledgement.
While I can recall and recite some of my writings, I cannot tell you what that English composition was about because I don’t remember, and I don’t know why.
I do know that she destroyed something in me that day.
Writing is how I express myself and she made me second guess the words that flow naturally from my pen. Imagine grabbing the brush while an artist is painting or stopping an athlete who’s about to cross the finish line.
Writers have often been scrutinized, and with Generative Artificial Intelligence becoming more popular, their talent will be questioned with greater reason.
In our instant gratification culture, it’s easy to see why some people turn to AI for writing assistance rather than struggle to find the right words.
A writer is defined by a unique blend of qualities that enables them to effectively communicate ideas and connect with others. Hopefully savvy educators and readers will find the ability to recognize authentic writing. More importantly, poets, authors, playwrights, novelists, and journalists must continue to use their gift of words to teach, entertain, and inspire in a digital age.
If there’s something out there that makes life easier and better, you can count on me to jump on board for anything from Hamburger Helper to Spanx.
If I give you a cake that’s too pretty to eat, it came from a bakery. If I give you a poem or tell you a story, it came from my heart.
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About the author: Freelance writer Dana Wineland O’Rourke retired after wearing the many hats required for her position as a school secretary for 30 years. A lifelong resident of Monongahela, Dana has been married to Tim for 46 years. Their two sons and daughters-in-law made the family an even dozen with six grandchildren. She enjoys spending time with family, traveling, gab & grubs with friends, biking, and fitness classes at the YMCA.
