A Scarecrow Dressed Up: An Educator’s Response to AI-Generated Homework

Is AI-Generated Homework “Cheating”?

Whether we educators like it or not, AI is here to stay. Nearly every website I use or app on my phone offers me the option to use AI, from a simple Canva image to sending a text to AI-generated homework. Students want to know where the line is, what “counts” as cheating? Does help from Grammarly count as cheating? Does that mean my homework is AI-generated?

Here’s a thorny question: as the Redeemed Reader team works on our book,* Microsoft Word continually offers “helpful” editorial suggestions: “Use this phrase for more concise writing” or “avoid that contraction for a more professional tone.” “This sentence could be better with this phrasing for better parallelism.” It’s like having a built-in peer editor. Or is it? Does using this tool mean I’m also guilty of turning in AI-generated homework?

*Yes! We’re in the midst of writing a book about children’s literature, due out from Moody Publishers in September, 2025!

Image by Jacques GAIMARD from Pixabay

AI vs. Individual Voice

When I teach a literature class, my students usually have to keep reader response journals in their own handwriting. I have several reasons for this, but one of them is that I learn each student’s writerly “voice” this way—how that student sounds when he or she writes. When that student turns in a polished paper, it’s easier to tell if it’s the student’s own work. In the good old days, this meant I could more readily spot a plagiarized paragraph. Today, it allows me (sometimes!) to spot AI-generated homework.

Friends, nearly every piece of writing I’ve read that’s been AI-generated has lacked oomph, substance, an opinion. It lacks personal charisma and flair, coming across as a dry, professional paper without any personality. I’ve told my students for decades now: you can’t write until you have something to say. Robots can learn correct grammar. Machines can fix your spelling. But only sentient beings can think and interact independently with the world. I realize that AI is fast stretching those bounds as people claim to build thinking-machines. After all, “machine learning” is a thing.

I tell my students that AI writing often appears much a dressed-up scarecrow: lots of decorations and fancy outer looks; little to no real substance. We don’t know how to fully reckon with this technology. Like most technology, AI tools offer real help in many circumstances even as they cross the line in other areas. I can only encourage my readers (and my students) to practice thinking for themselves, to continually examine their sources, to read critically, and to study God’s Word as the ultimate source of Truth.

Postscript: An AI Experiment

My son and I conducted an interesting experiment. Before I wrote my Cry, the Beloved Country review/reflection, he generated this AI book review. He specified “Christian book review,” but we didn’t want it to pick up any of my actual review. After I published my review, he sent me the text of the one below. My first thought: the AI one is far more professional sounding. After all, my review was more of a quickly generated personal plea for people to consider this gem of a book even as I was putting finishing touches on our summer reading reading program. The AI programs are pulling from the best out there. What do you notice, though, about the substance?

The AI-generated book review of Cry, the Beloved Country:

“Cry, the Beloved Country” is a profoundly moving novel that delves into the complexities of racial injustice, love, and hope in South Africa. Written by Alan Paton and first published in 1948, this work has left an indelible mark on literature and history.

The novel revolves around the lives of two central characters: Reverend Stephen Kumalo, a Zulu pastor, and James Jarvis, a white landowner. Against the backdrop of a country torn apart by apartheid, Paton weaves a tale of searing beauty and compassion.

Here are some key aspects of the book:

1. Lyricism and Beauty: Paton’s writing is fresh, immediate, and full of emotion. His love for the land and people of South Africa shines through, even as he exposes the inhumanity of apartheid. The novel’s lyrical voice draws readers into the heart of the struggle.
2. Character Development: All the characters in the novel are meticulously crafted. Their struggles, fears, and hopes come alive on the pages. Reverend Kumalo’s journey to find his son, Absalom, and James Jarvis’s transformation after a personal tragedy are particularly poignant.
3. Realistic Conflict: The conflicts portrayed in the novel feel authentic. Paton doesn’t shy away from depicting the harsh realities faced by black South Africans under white man’s law. The dichotomies of the real world—such as how a murderer can also be “a child afraid of the dark”—are explored with depth.
4. Themes of Justice and Change: The title itself—“Cry, the Beloved Country”—demands justice. Tradition is crumbling, the land is dying, and hope seems impossible. Yet, amidst the despair, there is a yearning for change, a belief that humanity can rise above its divisions.

In the words of literary critic Lewis Gannett, “In Alan Paton’s Cry, the Beloved Country, the statesman, the poet, and the novelist meet in a unique harmony.” The novel remains a classic work that speaks to the dignity of humanity, love, and endurance.

If you haven’t read it yet, I highly recommend picking up a copy and immersing yourself in this powerful narrative.

My Thoughts on Cry, the Beloved Country and AI

First of all, is it just me that noticed they punctuated the title of the book incorrectly?

Second, this “Christian book review” hardly contains any true biblically-based reflection. It does not help parents and educators know what age to save this book for, what considerations might be included, nor how Christianity (and the great truth of Scripture) is actually portrayed in this novel. The AI-Generated review sounds a lot like the pretentious papers some students turn into me when they are trying to sound educated but really don’t have much to say.

What do you think?