ACSI Research Fellow Program

Artificial intelligence is not just arriving at our schools’ doorsteps; it’s already in the classroom, the teacher’s lounge, and the administrative office. For educators, this moment can feel equal parts thrilling and unsettling. Is AI the solution to our most pressing educational challenges? Or will it erode the very human connections at the heart of teaching? The truth is that AI is neither a magic wand nor the end of education. Like any powerful tool, AI’s impact depends on the imagination, wisdom, and discernment with which we use it. 

This is a call to educators and school leaders to think deeply, act intentionally, and remember that the most essential work in education will always be human work. 

The Stories We Tell About AI Matter 

Our imagination about AI shapes our decisions about it. Many of us have inherited images of AI from science fiction—helpful robots like R2-D2 from Star Wars or Rosie the Robot from The Jetsons, or dangerous ones like the Terminator or Agent Smith from The Matrix. These cultural narratives can be useful starting points, but they’re not enough to guide our practice. They tend to oversimplify AI as either perfect helpers or the source of our ultimate doom. 

Instead, we need richer, more complex stories. Stories that invite us to see AI as a tool—an admittedly powerful and potentially transformative tool!—but one that requires human creativity, empathy, and ethics to use well. Scripture offers just such a lens, helping us to see both the goodness of creation as well as the totality of the fall, as well as how beautifully Jesus’s redeeming work is the only solution to the pervasive effects of sin. Seeing the shape of the Big Story of Scripture can give us a better understanding of who we are and how we are created to be as Christ’s followers. We are called to be stewards of creation, active in making disciples, and working towards restoration and flourishing in the world. That calling doesn’t stop when we log in to a new AI-powered platform, and in fact might demand even more care and discernment, particularly as we work with young people. We have an awesome responsibility and opportunity to help them see their story inside of God’s story—and how to respond to challenging issues of the day, including AI. 

Keeping the Main Thing the Main Thing 

Because of this awesome responsibility, we must view teaching as an intentional act—crafting experiences, guiding inquiry, and shaping engaging environments where learning can happen. We need to take this work seriously! Further, I think that in the age of AI we need to hold the human aspects of teaching up as the essential, irreplaceable work we get to do as educators.  

AI can assist with certain parts of teaching—generating resources, suggesting lesson ideas, developing rubrics, and more. But it cannot do the deep, relational, adaptive work of knowing your students, reading the room, and adjusting mid-lesson. Nor can it grasp the joy of seeing a student’s eyes light up when they make a connection. 

Teaching is far more than simply conveying information to students. If we conflate teaching with the mere delivery of content, we risk overvaluing what AI can do and undervaluing the human art of education. We need humans doing the work that only humans can do! 

So, what is this human work? It’s listening carefully, noticing subtle cues, and responding with empathy. It’s building trust so students feel safe enough to take intellectual risks. It’s telling the kind of stories that help them see the meaning behind the facts. A distinctively Christian education is about shaping whole persons, not just delivering content.  

The human work is also the moral work: asking not just “Can we do this?” but “Should we do this?” in our classrooms and institutions. This is a key question that all educators should be asking, after all. We shouldn’t adopt tools just because they are new, though that temptation is real. The technologies we choose to implement must serve human flourishing. 

Cultivating an Imagination for AI 

If we want to use AI well, we need to cultivate an imagination for what’s possible—one rooted in hope, not fear. That means asking: 

• How might AI free up time so teachers can focus more on relationships and less on administrative tasks? 

• How might it help us differentiate instruction in ways that honor each student’s needs? 

• How can AI tools help students explore ideas, ask better questions, and create new things? 

• How can AI be part of the work of restoration Christians are called to, seeking to follow the servant way of Jesus? 

   

But it also means imagining the potential downsides so we can guard against them: dependency on AI for thinking, loss of critical skills, or ethical shortcuts that undermine learning. In this sin-stained world, these are, unfortunately, real problems. 

A Call to Courage and Hope 

The age of AI is going to test our adaptability as educators. We will certainly have to rethink some of our long-standing assumptions about how we work. But it also holds remarkable promise—if we lead with imagination, wisdom, and courage. 

Teachers and school leaders, we are not being replaced! The heart of our work—the human work, the work of loving, serving, and discipleship—cannot be automated. AI can handle tasks, but it cannot embody care, inspire trust, or model integrity. That’s the irreplaceable human work we bring to school with us every day.  

So, as you experiment with AI, let’s strive for wisdom over novelty, formation over mere information. Let your imagination be shaped by stories of hope and restoration. And trust that, with discernment, you can use AI not to diminish the human side of education, but to elevate it. Our goal must be seeking to give God the glory by serving our students to the best of our abilities, using the tools and resources we have at our disposal with creativity, wisdom, and discernment.