How We Shape the Age of AI—And Why It's Up to the Ones Caught in the Middle
How We Shape the Age of AI—And Why It's Up to the Ones Caught in the Middle
I’ve always been a nerd—but I’d like to think, an ethical one. Bedazzled by technology at an early age, I noticed its impact on everyday life. My first experiences with an Apple IIe, handheld PDAs, and clunky game consoles showed me how technology could both enhance our lives and quietly reshape them. Like any young person, I lived wholeheartedly in a world that progressed.
Over the years, I noticed a pattern: every step forward quietly asks us to leave something behind.
I couldn’t just add a PlayStation 2 to my setup without removing the Nintendo 64 that had given me hours of joy. I reviewed video games for almost two decades and saw the rapid progression of technology firsthand at trade shows. But it always came with a cost: the quiet, bittersweet goodbye to what had just become familiar.
Now, with AI advancing faster than we can track, the pattern of gain and loss accelerates.
The Polarization of Progress
And it fuels the divide between early adopters and those accused of clinging to it.
Most of us land in the middle. Yet, when we have a transcendental advancement like generative AI, we become polarized. Every generation thinks their advanced tech will destroy humanity. And it’s always in the vein of, “Sure, the internet didn’t cause the end of the world but this is different.”
What Gets Left Behind
AI will replace things of the past. This is nothing new.
My LaserDisc player got shelved by a DVD player, beaten by Blu-ray. Then came streaming. That will fall too, as AI moves forward—and it will not only impact what’s in our setup but radically affect the people behind it all. Again, no new ground here.
Remember toll booth collectors? They were the gatekeepers of states and counties, adding a human element to an asphalt-dominated road trip. I still remember how they’d smile at my father’s request for directions, point a gloved hand, and say, “You’ll make better time if you cut across 84.”
That moment of connection is already gone—and more like it will disappear. But no one is arguing for their return. The loss happened without our involvement.
AI will do the same. People will mourn the absence of human voices in customer support and fast food lines. And it will spread from there.
Resistance in Familiar Places
Smartphones will evolve too. Just as some mourned the end of flip phones, many of us will clutch these glowing rectangles long after their time has passed. Yes, your iPhone is the next Blackberry. But many will fight the decline.
Funny how the not-so-young find their inner resistance when progress comes for their beloved pieces of technology.
Our gas-powered cars won’t last forever. AI will perfect the electric (or other alternative fuel) transportation future. Even the concept of the personal car will fade.
And before you suddenly find your inner resistance, know the personal car was hated by people when it appeared.
It’s the children starting grade school now—and the ones yet to be born—who will decide what the future looks like. But we’re the ones handing them the tools to shape it.
We’re the Bridge
We sit at the crossroads, able to bridge the gap between today and tomorrow. No, we can’t put the brakes on innovation—history is littered with failed attempts. But we can still put a human stamp on it.
We can curate what’s to come for the ones we claim to care most about: the children.
For now, we are the stewards of technology.
How we use it will dictate how it evolves.
How we let it be used—and how we accept its implementation—can impact generations.
When the Future Feels Too Fast
I say we dive headfirst into technology. Learn it. Question it. Absorb its nuances. That’s how we get to play a role in shaping the future.
I find myself constantly considering how each new advancement touches our lives.
It excites the young, intrigues older adults, and makes those who prefer stasis deeply uneasy.
I think about those who feel left behind—those who want things to stay the same.
That’s age talking, I know. I never used to lament the end of things. But now I often find myself asking why nothing lasts. This even happens with my leisure technology.
How can this current video game console generation be nearing its end when it feels like it hasn’t even started? Truth is, it’s been going on for five years.
Quiet Displacement
I can sometimes dazzle colleagues with my understanding of chatbot training and AI implementation.
To me, it feels like common advancement—just the next logical step.
What I don’t always realize is how my talk of innovation can make others feel like their hard-earned skills are suddenly obsolete. Maybe I am not dazzling them, I'm invoking a sense of loss. They spent years learning to build online course pages, and now I mention how AI can do it all in a few seconds.
I see it as making their lives easier. But for them, it might feel like their skillset means nothing.
We understand how the blacksmith felt when the automobile replaced the horse. We sympathize with the typesetter who lost their trade to desktop publishing.
But it’s the smaller, quieter skills—the ones we didn’t expect to lose—that slip away unnoticed.
And they still matter.
Time shows that the impact of innovation isn’t always clean or fair.
It doesn’t usually benefit the masses.
The Ethical Crossroads
Ethics always come up when new advancements arrive. But the true ethical concerns happen within the individual interactions with technology.
I can have AI grade my students’ papers. No one would know. I would work less—the promise of technology realized. That’s a success case, right?
At the same time, a parent sits at a computer. Their child’s homework needs finishing. Time is short. The kid is disengaged. It’s junior year, the one that really counts. ChatGPT is open. The cursor blinks.
But these are the real ethical crossroads.
What Are We Giving Up?
I learn from reading student writing—about my teaching, about my students, about how they evolve across the semester. Having AI do this opens up my weekend. But it cuts off a point of connection.
And if administrators realize teachers are sipping margaritas while machines grade, they may just let the machines do all the work.
Children learn from doing homework. They learn even more from failure.
That's the type of decision that leads to change without involvement.
Maybe, when parents had to help by hand or encourage their kids to figure it out, the choice was clearer.
Now, the answer takes 30 seconds—and costs almost nothing.
But the child and the parent lose a connection point, too. The mere discussion of the assignment becomes a two-sentence prompt and a polished paper to turn in.
The choice is ours.
Question Everything
So I use AI with a little more caution now. It’s still my go-to reference and assistant, but when it offers to do something I can do myself, I usually refrain.
When crafting course materials, I ask it for frameworks based on my ideas—never the full design.
If I’m one of the custodians of technology, then I have to steer it in my own life.
I’ve often criticized parents glued to their phones while their children play nearby.
Isn’t my use of AI the same? I don’t know. I just hope I can stay aware enough to direct the future of AI—rather than let it direct me. And I call on those not just starting their journey, but squarely in the middle of it, to pause.
I remember a bumper sticker I used to see as a child. It pronounced:
“Question Everything.”
It was a rallying cry from an older generation that echoed through mine. I can’t think of a more appropriate message for today.
The only thing left to decide is this:
What do you think? Can we still put our imprint on the future—or are we just another generation caught in front of the plow of progress, doomed to be run over? Comment and let me know.
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