The college essay, once a revered academic exercise, is now facing an existential crisis. It used to be a good tool—a structured way for students to demonstrate their understanding, showcase their critical thinking, and express ideas with clarity . The college essay was not merely about content; it was a skill-building process, teaching students to organize thoughts, develop arguments, and refine language. Yet today, AI has made the traditional essay feel outdated, as it can generate polished, formulaic essays effortlessly. Policing AI use in these assignments is nearly impossible, and the conventional essay’s value is rapidly diminishing.
Not all essays are created equal, however, and the future of
the college essay might depend on the type of skills we emphasize. The expository essay,
designed to see if students understand material or can apply concepts, is on
its last legs. When AI can churn out a satisfactory response in seconds, it is
a clear sign that this form of assessment is no longer viable. The AI does not
just pass these assignments; it excels at them, raising an uncomfortable
question—if a machine can do it, why are we still teaching it? For these kinds
of essays, the challenge is that they often assess recall rather than thinking.
They were already on shaky ground; AI is just the final push.
The essays that may survive, though, are those that demand
novelty, creativity, and genuine problem-solving. AI may help in drafting,
structuring, or even generating ideas, but it does not replace the kind of
original thinking needed to solve real-world problems. It cannot fully simulate
human intuition, lived experience, or deep critical evaluation. AI's writing is wooden, and often devoid of true beauty. Essays that
require students to synthesize information in new ways, explore original ideas, exhibit artistic talent, or reflect deeply on personal experiences still have value. These essays are
not about whether you know a theory; they are about what you can do with it.
This is where the human element—the messy, unpredictable spark of
creativity—remains irreplaceable.
The deeper issue is not AI itself but the way we have been
teaching and valuing writing. For decades, the emphasis has been on
producing “correct” essays—structured, grammatically precise, and obedient to
the format. We have been training students to write well enough to meet
requirements, not to push the boundaries of their creativity. It is like
teaching students to be proficient typists when what we really need are
novelists or inventors. We have confused competency with originality, thinking
that writing formulaic content is a necessary step before producing meaningful
work. This is a misunderstanding of how creativity works; mastery does not come
from repetition of the mundane but from risk-taking and exploration, even if
that means stumbling along the way.
The real future of the essay should start with this recognition. Imagine if instead of book reports or basic expository pieces, students were challenged to write for real audiences—to draft scientific papers for journals, craft poems for literary contests, or propose solutions to pressing social issues. Sure, many students would not reach the publication stage, but the act of aiming higher would teach them infinitely more about the writing process, and more importantly, about thinking itself. This would not just be about mastering the mechanics of writing but developing a mindset of curiosity and originality. AI could still play a role in these processes, helping with the technicalities, leaving the student free to focus on developing and articulating novel ideas.
The problem with the book report or the “explain Theory A” essay is not just that they are boring; it is that they are irrelevant. Nobody in the professional world is paid to summarize books or explain theories in isolation. These are stepping stones that lead nowhere. Excelling at pointless, terrible genre does not prepare to succeed ad an authentic genre. Instead of teaching students to write these antiquated forms, we should ask them to write pieces that demand something more—something they cannot copy-paste or generate easily with a prompt. Authentic, context-rich, and creative assignments are the ones that will endure. If there is no expectation of novelty or problem-solving, the essay format becomes an exercise in futility.
AI’s rise does not have to spell the end of the essay. It
might, in fact, be the nudge needed to reinvent it. We have the chance to move
beyond teaching “correct” writing toward cultivating insightful, original work
that challenges the boundaries of what students can do. AI’s presence forces us
to ask hard questions about what we want students to learn. If writing is no
longer about mechanics or regurgitating content but about generating ideas and
engaging critically, then AI becomes a collaborator, not a competitor. It can help
with the structure, but the essence—the thinking—must come from the student.
In the end, the college essay is not dead; it is just in need of reinvention. The conventional model of essays as rote demonstrations of knowledge is no longer viable. But the essay that challenges students to think, create, and solve problems—those essays will survive. They might even thrive, as the focus shifts from the mechanics of writing to the art of thinking. The key is to evolve our teaching methods and expectations, making room for a new kind of writing that leverages AI without losing the human touch. Raising expectations is the main strategy in dealing with AI in education.
