Reading Reid Hoffman’s piece about AI and techno-humanism left me more annoyed than inspired, and I think that reaction matters. The author frames technology, and specifically AI, as something that makes us “more human.” As someone who teaches writing every day and also identifies deeply as a writer, that claim feels overly confident and disconnected from how writing and learning actually work on the ground.
I do not reject AI outright. I use it. As a teacher, it can be genuinely helpful for lesson planning, generating accommodations, or thinking through differentiation for students. But none of that works unless I already know my students. I have to understand their needs, their reading levels, their writing habits, their anxieties, and their strengths first. AI does not replace that knowledge. It depends on it. Too often, people rely on AI without having the foundational understanding required to use it well, and then act surprised when the results feel hollow or off-base.
What really frustrates me about the techno-humanist argument is the way it collapses technology and innovation into the same idea. Innovation makes us human. The ability to struggle, to fail, to revise, to try again, to sit in uncertainty, and to learn through trial and error is deeply human. Technology, on the other hand, often removes that struggle or attempts to smooth it over. In writing, that struggle is not a flaw in the process. It is the process.
I saw this play out very clearly in my classroom when my district mandated the use of an AI-generated comic tool for a narrative assignment. The prompt asked students to create a story about a student posting something inappropriate online, how it goes viral, the consequences they face, and the lesson learned about social media. On paper, it sounded like a solid idea. In reality, the AI could not generate most of the content because it flagged the scenarios as inappropriate, even though that was the entire point of the assignment. Students became frustrated almost immediately. Some of them outright refused to use the tool and said they would rather fail the assignment than fight with the AI. Others tried to work around it and lost days to revisions that went nowhere. A few students chose to draw their comics by hand, which I appreciated, but even then, many could not finish within the four-day time frame.
What struck me most was that this tool, which was supposed to make the process easier, created chaos instead. The technology could not do what it was supposedly designed to do, and students were forced to bend their ideas to fit the limitations of the machine. That is not humanizing. That is constraining. And it directly contradicts the claim that technology inherently expands our creative capacity.
I have also noticed that when students rely too heavily on AI for writing, their voice disappears. Their work becomes more “academic” sounding, but less personal, less intentional, and less theirs. As a teacher, I care far more about students learning how to think through an idea than producing something polished on the first try. Sometimes that means putting the devices away, bringing out pen and paper, and reminding students that it is okay to not know what comes next right away.
If anything, AI has made me appreciate humanness more, not because it enhances it, but because it highlights what cannot be replicated. Writing is not just about getting words on the page. It is about intention, decision-making, and meaning. Those things come from lived experience, frustration, curiosity, and care. AI can assist in certain contexts, but it cannot replace the work of becoming a thinker or a writer.
So yes, AI is here, and it is not going anywhere. But I do not believe it makes us more human. What it does is remind us how human we already are, especially when it fails to do what we can only learn through effort, time, and struggle.