Opinion piece by Karima Peerwani, Vice Principal

After much reflection, several cups of Earl Grey tea, and what I believe qualifies as a minor embarrassment, I have decided to come clean.

I use AI.

There. It’s out.

Not to write my articles. Not to complete my thoughts. Not to lead the resistance against our future robot overlords (well, maybe—but they’re watching). I use it for something far less dramatic.

I use AI to proofread my writing.

The confession is surprisingly difficult yet cathartic, because I have mixed feelings about it.

You see, when I finish writing something, I do what any sensible Gen X person does. I send it to friends whose opinions I trust.

Then I wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

At first, I tell myself they’re carefully considering every word.

The truth is more humbling. My friends have jobs, families, responsibilities, hobbies, and an apparently unreasonable commitment to living their own lives.

AI is available immediately and has never once replied, “Sorry, I’ll get to it this weekend.”

The conflict is real.

For me, writing is deeply human—an expression of parts of me that other activities cannot reach. However, another part of me is thrilled that a machine will review 1,500 words in six seconds and calmly point out my tautological errors.

Sometimes it politely identifies passages I thought were clear in intent but were actually just twenty-seven words of fog.

The most embarrassing yet wonderful part is that it’s useful.

Really useful.

In fact, it has become the writing equivalent of checking and rechecking my reflection before leaving the house. Could I survive without it? Honestly, I’m not sure.

I still value and need feedback from actual people. And who doesn’t enjoy a little ego boost from valued friends—being told how great you are, even if it’s a lie?

But human beings are busy.

AI, meanwhile, appears to spend every waking moment waiting for me to ask it a question—to “ask anything.” Ooooh, really?!

So this is my confession.

I still value human judgment.

I still send drafts to trusted friends.

I still hope they’ll eventually read them.

But while they’re out living meaningful lives, raising children, building careers, and contributing to society, I am occasionally on my device asking a robot to proofread my work.

And the truly uncomfortable reveal?

I enjoy it.

I enjoy the instant feedback. The instant gratification.

I enjoy the suggestions—and sometimes I shout, “Whaaaaat? No. No. No. No, I don’t want a comma there!” Or, “That’s terrible. That’s not what I meant.”

Perhaps that’s the deeper confession. Not that I use AI. Let’s face it—we all do. But that I absolutely love having a competent, reliable, no-nonsense, opinionated “friend” who is available 24 hours a day.

So, am I about to put this article through my “secret, not-so-secret friend” for one final proofread?

Well… I think you already know the answer.