Resist and Persist

---

First it was the television. Then it was the smartphones. Now it is the artificial intelligence. 

On this mountain, I have none of it.

My boots slip on the rock, and my ankle threatens to roll into itself. The backpack weighs heavily on my shoulders. My body aches and I am grateful to the canopy which relieves some heat from the piercing sunlight.

 _____________________ 

As a child, I dreamt and thought. 

When I was a child, I had a head start. My parents were too poor for cable television, and too busy to realise my eyesight couldn’t focus well on the screen. I turned myself to books, words, pages upon pages of sentences and phrases. I thought about the wonderful adventures of Alice, dreamed of worlds which presented themselves atop the Magic Faraway Tree, and imaged that if I wished, with all my little might, perhaps the plastic chair I sat on would grant my wishes and fly away. I talked to the daddy longlegs in my room, and wondered: if she was Charlotte, what might she spin in the corner?

As a child, I dreamt and thought. 

 _____________________ 

When I grew older, I lost myself.

When I grew older, I began to struggle. Once I got my first touchscreen phone, first school laptop. It was instant. The entire world at your fingertips, flashing colours and foreign words. Electricity was given a life, and I was a conductor pole. It sucked me in, drawing me away from my reality. The books I had so loved, expressions of my friends, instructions of my teachers. None of it seemed to have any significance, when there was a screen to always feed me dopamine, to always distract me. I was numb.

When I grew older, I lost myself.

 _____________________ 

Now I’m an adult. 

Now I’m an adult, and I’ve realised the dangers of screen addiction. But now I’m an adult, I have a job. My job demands me to be there, present for at least forty hours a week. My job is difficult, and it’s tiring. It leaves me exhausted. I want to rest. I want to take it easy. I want to use AI, I want to scroll. But I am a teacher, and I already see these things eating away at my students. A technological world replacing the physical world. Manufactured emotions replacing real ones. Approved thoughts replacing original ones.

I see the phones during breaktimes. I see the earbuds during study. I see the smiles as they open their screens.

I see their blank stares when I teach. I see how they read a sentence three times before understanding it. I see the struggles of my students beyond what has ever been considered normal. 

And the other teachers do it. They use the AI for content, they use the AI to teach. It would be so easy. A slop and sludge of pointless content for a pointless class. The students barely listen, anyway. 

But, I’m reminded of the backpack on my shoulders. I’m reminded of my responsibility to teach the next generation. I’m reminded of my pride as a teacher, my pride in my work, my pride in myself. It weighs heavily on me, but is a weight I’ve chosen to carry. 

And my boots are sturdy, even if my ankles are not. I’ve done all the preparation, I’ve studied all the content. Each step is hard, each step is threatening. But someone has to guide the way. Someone has to create the path. Someone has cling so desperately to their humanity that perhaps, everyone else will realise the importance of it.

My body aches, but each time my words reach my students, each time one of them smiles with understanding. Each time they realise the potential of their own thought, the importance of their own ability. Each time they choose themselves, instead of choosing AI. Each time they turn away from their screens, and speak to each other. Each time this happens, another leaf grows. The forest thickens, shielding me from the glaring sun. 

My body aches, but my mind is sharp. The trail never ends, but I am Sisyphus. 

And Sisyphus is tired. But he must persevere.

I am tired, but I am better than AI. I am tired, but I am Sisyphus. I am tired, but I am determined. 

I am tired, but I will persevere.