Efficiency is Leading us Nowhere

During a summer program I attended recently, I noticed that almost everyone in my group used ChatGPT to finish their homework, sometimes without even attempting it themselves. The assignments weren’t even difficult. Some were just short paragraphs or reflections that could’ve taken just ten minutes of flipping through a few pages of notes. Other assignments were just common sense. But no one wanted to try. “I’m too lazy,” or “I could be doing more important things with my life,” or even “I’ll do it next time, it won’t make a difference,” they would say. But they never did it, not even as the last day of camp drew to a finish. It wasn’t about struggling—it was about convenience. People copied and pasted full essays fromAI chatbots, uploading screenshots of every question, not because they genuinely needed help thinking through an idea , but because they didn’t feel like thinking. At first, I found it funny. But over time, I realized how easy it is to let tools like this make our real efforts feel like nothing. The more we choose speed over careful thought, the more we lose our own voices. Countless artists’ works on the internet have been stolen for the purpose of creating something “greater” and “more impressive.” The point of learning becomes the output, not the process. Jessica Grose’s piece put words to a feeling I’ve had for a long time—that efficiency, for all the convenience it has promised, has quietly taken over how we live. Like her, I’ve bought into the idea that the right system, app, or tool will finally make life easier, and ultimately better. But instead of feeling freer or more accomplished, I’ve mostly felt more rushed and far less connected to what I’m doing. One afternoon, though, I did something strange: I went for a walk. “Touched some grass,” as some may say. No destination. No real reason. Just me, the fresh air, and some calming music in my headphones. I hadn’t done that in so long. At first, it felt aimless. Then it felt like a relief. I noticed the way the light changed on the sidewalk, how the flowers were beginning to bloom, and how quiet my mind got when I wasn’t trying to produce anything. It reminded me that peace isn’t something you earn by finishing tasks—it’s something you find when you step away from them. Grose ends her piece by taking the long way home with her daughter, holding her hand, and ignoring the need to rush. I think we all need more of those moments: the ones that are not scheduled, tracked, or uploaded. Moments like these are simply lived.