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Dan Cohen's always-thoughtful Humane Ingenuity recently tackled "The Unresolved Tension Between AI and Learning," providing an accessible entry point for those wrestling with how or when or even why to introduce these tools into their instruction models. Learning, Cohen explains, requires slow and often difficult work, an accretion of skills or knowledge over time that builds a foundation upon which new learning can take place. Citing some scholarship along the way, he suggests the key question for educators is "Are we using AI to enhance learning, or to replace some learning steps that turn out to be essential?"


I respect Cohen's wariness here; in fact, I share it. But I think we -- especially those of us who primarily teach or support introductory general education courses -- ought to be very careful of what we deem evidence of student learning. I work with a lot of composition instructors, and for those who are personally resistant to AI but feel an obligation to engage the tools their students are already using or will likely use soon, the suggestion I'm hearing is: They can use GenAI on the front end to brainstorm ideas or develop an essay plan, but they cannot use it to write their paper.

At first glance, that makes sense. It is a writing course, after all. But I continue to nudge, to suggest, to even perhaps write overly-earnest internet essays on the subject: The ideas are the learning that matters.


Certainly, there are students who need to hone their academic writing skills because the work they hope to pursue (which may or may not be a traditional "job," in my opinion) will demand they be able to write -- the actual creation of the sentences and paragraphs and pages that amount to written work. But for most students enrolled in Composition courses, the class is a General Education requirement, a thing we've decided all college educated people need and a thing they need to get out of the way to allow them to advance to the work they actually want to do.


This is important. I attended a presentation this week on the still-substantial gap between the earning potential of a student who graduates from one of our programs and a student who does not. Our data show that a huge number of our graduates are able to earn a living wage within 5 years of completing their program. That's not wealth, of course, but it's significantly better than the data on those who start but do not complete a program here. For this reason (among others), we talk a lot about Student Success. We can see the difference it makes just for students to graduate. It can mean so much.


The faculty I work with are so dedicated -- both to their disciplines and to their students. Community colleges seem to attract those who value education in both the abstract (student learning) and the practical (student success). They resist any efforts to "dumb-down" their courses and make every effort to help students achieve. It is a beautiful and admirable combination.


In a previous essay, I argued that when it comes to evading the pressures around AI, focusing on student voice is critical. While some might read that as support for allowing AI on the front end and prohibiting it on the back, I am doubling-down:

Writing is thinking, and without practice, students will struggle to identify, articulate, and trust their own ideas -- they won't recognize their own voice. We will still have emails and reports and slide presentations, but students won't see themselves in what they create.

If we outsource the thinking to AI, the papers may see some improvement, but the students will not be fully present in them. What if, instead, we flip that equation?


What if we work with them on developing ideas, having opinions, creating structures, formulating arguments, and then ask AI to write the paper? What would we lose? Anecdotal evidence is everywhere for the overall improvement instructors are seeing in student written work, undoubtedly the result of using such tools. These results, then, are not unlike what researchers found (cited in the Cohen piece) in a study looking at AI use in the lab of professional researchers. The study showed that researchers performed their work faster and often better using the AI tool (though with markedly less satisfaction in their work), but there was a significant gap between early professionals and those who had been in the field some time. Cohen connects the dots:

The combination of the AI autocompletion of scientific processes and lab automation holds the potential to greatly shorten the distance between a scientific hypothesis and experimental confirmation. In this wonderful world of accelerated science, however, the middle steps formerly tackled by early stage scientists — tomorrow’s future conjurers of breakthroughs — are erased.

In the same way, early stage students (those in their first few years of college) should not erase those middle steps of reading, thinking, generating and organizing ideas. Those are the skills we need them to have.


So, back to the seed of this essay, found in the title. What's more important: Student Success or Student Learning? I, like Cohen, believe deeply in the value of learning. I agree with his assertion that "Process over time leads to expertise." But I find myself questioning which processes our students need more time with, which skills or habits I most hope they will continue developing once they leave our campus. For me, thinking is the process we cannot skip.


I think I'd rather one of our graduates have well-examined and exciting ideas than for them to be able to write a grammatically and mechanically-correct 5-page paper. I think I'd rather they graduate trusting their voice than not graduate because they weren't allowed to use AI to write an essay. If in 15 years, we all feel silly for having questioned the use of AI writing tools, I'd rather have young professionals who can think than those with no ideas but an ability to write. I think.


This conclusion isn't one, not really. The ideas I'm playing with here are not proclamations; they are merely ruminations, something I will continue to chew on. Thoughts? Ideas? I welcome them.




Unidentified woman and her reflection

2024 is coming to a close, and who doesn't love a good reflection? Here, then, is a look back at my year in reading in the form of arbitrary awards with occasional runners-up. Want to learn more about the titles listed here or buy yourself a holiday treat? Shop my Bookshop Best Of 2024 List or go by your local library. Those places are the best.


Best Just-in-Time Advice:


"Let the future be the future" from Oliver Burkeman's Meditations for Mortals: Four Weeks to Embrace Your Limitations and Make Time for What Counts


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Burkeman, whose excellent newsletter The Imperfectionist offers regular inspiration, is a reformed productivity guru whose work aims to help readers see the value in their own finite humanity. For an anxious perfectionist like myself, especially one facing another round of big decisions, I felt seen by this blunt reminder:

We're hopelessly trapped in the present, confined to this temporal locality, unable even to stand on tiptoes and peer over the fence into the future, to check that everything's all right there.

What could be seen as a disappointment or frustration becomes a balm to the worry and anxiety -- you cannot peer over that fence, so why would you even try?


Runner-Up:


"Don't talk about the moon" from Miranda July's All Fours.


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Sure, everyone's talking about the sex, but as important as that is, Miranda July's book is about so much more than that particular awakening. The lines I copied out were all about the reality of being a perimenopausal person finding her truths, like this one:

But surely a woman was more complex than a puppet boy and she might become herself not once-and-for-all but cyclically: waxing, waning, sometimes disappearing altogether.

But the reminder to exit the world you create inside your head and ask others about their experience -- well, that advice applies to all, regardless of age or gender.


Best Reading While Driving Experience:


My audiobook game was top-notch this year, so here goes a three-way tie of books that were amazing in their own right AND wildly good on audio --


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Ann Patchett is a magician, creating characters that are simply and completely true, but Meryl Streep's narration of Tom Lake elevates this beautiful book to even greater heights.


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I resisted this one for so long, but it turned out to be one of my favorites of the year. Actor and narrator Charlie Thurston brings unbelievable tenderness and truth to Demon's character, making an already fantastic book even stronger.


Cover image of drawing of child bursting into flames

When I looked up the narrator for Kevin Wilson's Nothing to See Here, I was delighted to find Marin Ireland also voiced my favorite audiobook of last year (Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr). The blunt tone and hard edges of Lillian's voice rang familiar in my Tennessee ears, which added to my already considerable delight at this wholly unexpected, wholly delicious book.


Runner-Up:


Cover image with title in rainbow font over portion of The Wave painting

I don't recall the narration being anything remarkable, but it was definitely good, and the book -- oh, wow, the book. Crying while driving not recommended, but despite that very real possibility, I heartily encourage you to read Gabrielle Zevin's Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow.


Most Surprising:


Sometimes a book so far exceeds your expectations that the shock of how good it is hits with a near-physical force.


Cover image with purple background showing blond white woman lying facedown on bright pink couch with computer on floor beside her

If you had told me my favorite book of the year (yeah, I said it) would be about an affair, an unwanted pregnancy, and an OnlyFans account, I would have suspected you didn't know me at all. But Rufi Thorpe's Margo's Got Money Troubles is all that and so much more. You can read my full review over at Shelf Awareness.


Runner-Up:


I have never been accused of being a cozy murder girlie, but dang, if Richard Osman isn't trying to convert me. This book surprised me in every way -- from plot (who did do all those murders?) to setting (an upscale retirement village in England), The Thursday Murder Club offered me what I never knew I needed.


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side note: I also listened to this one, and it was terrific on audio. Highly recommend.


Best Reminder of the Power of Visual Art:



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Levine Querido makes beautiful books, even when they are not graphic novels. Agnes Lee's debut is a lovely physical artifact, but it is the relationship between idea and image that makes this book so good. The way it uses relatively simple art to move readers into consideration of loss and love and obligation and growth is extraordinary. It made me cry.


Runner-Up:


Someone please remind future me, when I get stuck in a muddling spiral of anxiety or despair: Lynda Barry will fix me right up. Her Syllabus: Notes from an Accidental Professor was a reread for me, and it was just as inspiring (more even?) than the first time around. One of my most valued texts as a teacher.


Cover image made to look like classic marble composition book with doodles on it

Best Reminder That Big Business Will Always Screw the Little Guy but One Person Trying to Do the Right Thing Can Always Help:


I requested Jared Sullivan's Valley So Low: One Lawyer's Fight for Justice in the Wake of America's Great Coal Catastrophe for review because it hit so many personal marks for me: Tennessee, Justice, Coal Industry, Community. It was everything I wanted it to be and more. I spent about a week raging about all I didn't know about this terrible event that happened so close to my home. And I've spent months thinking about how easy it would have been for nobody to have cared enough to fight. A brilliantly executed, thoroughly researched work of non-fiction. You can read my full review here.


Cover image showing title in bold white letters over color photograph of Kingston, TN spill site

Best Non-Fiction:


The non-fiction book I loved the most this year was probably Braiding Sweetgrass, a title that needs no further celebration but will undoubtedly receive it. But since I started it in 2023, I will give this year's title to Amy Tan's The Backyard Bird Chronicles, which caught me off guard with how insightful and thoughtful each entry was -- and, honestly, how great her drawings were. Another reminder of how powerful it can be to give something your full, honest attention. Full review at Shelf Awareness.


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Runner-Up:

Adam Moss's doorstop of a collection -- The Work of Art: How Something Comes From Nothing -- had me scribbling down insights for days. Like Tan's beauty, it is one that I stumbled on early because of review work, and I've been recommending it ever since. It's also the winner in the unwieldy category of Most Likely to Buy Physical Copy After Reviewing Digital Copy. Tan's book, appropriately, is that category's runner-up.


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Sleeper Hit of the Year:


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Maybe it's because I traveled to Iceland this year, but more likely because it was a killer book. Sharp and inventive, Your Absence is Darkness made me want to read more of Iceland's beloved novelist Stefánsson. I was pleased to see this one included on Shelf Awareness's "Best of" list.


Runner-Up:

Like the tiger stalking around the titular Bomb Island, this book pounced on me with a ferocity and didn't let go. I love an indie press, particularly love Hub City and their Decentralize Publishing model, and I LOVED this story of Fish and his found family. I disagree with the publicity content that it's funny, but it is brilliant, and I can't wait to read more from author Stephen Hundley. Full review here.


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The "Took You Long Enough" Award:


Y'all. I read my first Ali Smith, and it was everything. A fever-dream of a book, Gliff tries to appear all nonchalant but utterly fails, like a really obvious bad guy trying to whistle his way into a bank or a single-name celebrity trying to pick up milk at the local Walmart. Uncomfortable, but in the good way, this book made me feel like a fool for waiting so long to encounter this writer. It's not out until February, so maybe it shouldn't get a 2024 award, but this is my list and I do make the rules.


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The "Can Do No Wrong" Award:


Cover image featuring redheaded white girl wearing Star of David necklace with shattered phone screen behind

When I read Isaac Blum's debut The Life and Crimes of Hoodie Rosen, I was demolished -- both by the unexpected and powerful story and by the remarkable confidence of this emerging YA writer. No wonder that he was awarded ALA's Morris Award, an ALA committee on which I gleefully served that year. His follow-up novel The Judgement of Yoyo Gold completely sidesteps any worry of the sophomore slump, and offers something equally captivating but thoroughly itself. Blum is a force, and I'm so glad to be reading in the world where he's writing.


Runners-Up:


One living and one long dead, but these are writers I will always read and never be disappointed by. I loved Leif Enger's I Cheerfully Refuse so much that I cheerfully refused to leave it at home with 100 pages remaining, so I carried my library copy with me for three weeks in Iceland rather than make myself wait to finish it. Completely worth it.


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And I finally read the gorgeous Belt Publishing edition of Willa Cather's One of Ours, reminding me of why she will always be one of my favorites. Every moment with a Cather novel is a gift.


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To close, here's one I just finished last week, coming in as the winner in the anxiety -inducing category of

Best Book I Worried I Wouldn't Like as Much as the Others in the Set, but Ended Up Loving Completely


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In difficult times, I return to Gilead, the fictional Iowa setting created by Marilynne Robinson. Over the years, these novels (Gilead, Home, and Jack) have taught me so much -- about my faith, about community, about myself. But for several pages of Lila, I worried. I just wasn't falling into the rhythm of it. It didn't seem to be doing anything for me. How could this be? What would I do if I didn't like it as much as the others? What would I do if I didn't like it at all? But then, just like that, it happened, and every page brought Lila closer to the lofty expectations I held for it until all of that faded away, and I was just steeping in this story of a broken woman and her attempt to believe she is worthy of love.


It was a good year, folks. Even the hard stuff gets better with a good book.


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