Shortly after I adopted my first dog, I bought a robot vacuum. My formerly shiny hardwood floors were coated in a thin layer of fur. So, I decided to invest in some new technology to make my life a bit easier. 

Before I left for work each morning, I programmed the vacuum to do its job, cleaning up the dog hair in the nooks and crannies of my home. In the evening, I relished returning to a space that looked untouched by the presence of a pet. 

I quit using the robot vacuum because of the dog, too. One morning, I left for work, unaware that my dog – due to illness or spite, I’m still unsure – had pooped in a dark corner of the living room. When I walked through the door that evening, the smell of feces permeated my home, excrement smeared in the kitchen and on the rugs and, yes, in each crevice of my robot vacuum. 

I threw the robot vacuum away, of course.  And it took me hours to clean up the mess caused by the robot’s technological oversight, too. By outsourcing to a blind machine, I was the one held to account. 

For all the efficiency that robots bring to our lives, they lack a critical skill: the ability to read the room. And this skill set – situational awareness – is what distinguishes the artificial from the human. The ability to read carefully and critically is what peer and professional tutors offer students that ChatGPT, Grammarly, or any other writing-assistance software does not. 

When a student comes to the Writing Center asking for help with grammar, concision, or thesis development, a wise tutor considers this request but first surveils the lay of the land. She reads the student’s piece and peers into proverbial dark corners, searching not just for shit that could be stepped in, but also jewels hidden or haphazardly scattered on the ground. She helps the writer highlight areas that shine so that those glimmers might not accidentally be swept away. 

This specifically human ability to see beyond formula, to describe both pitfalls and potential, is what makes the human tutor impervious to the advancement of artificial technology. 

When I train my tutors to work with student writers, I am aware of our competition. Like any student, I, too, have used technology to make my life easier and more manageable. But I have also seen how that same assistance can muck up my goals. 

The temptation for a student to open up ChatGPT and prompt it to “make my essay more concise,” rather than booking an appointment with a tutor for a session at the Writing Center, is strong. But when tutors lean into what humans are uniquely capable of – creativity rather than formula – they become irreplaceable and resilient. 

About the author: Anna Rollins is the Writing Center director at Marshall University. Her scholarly writing has appeared in WLN, Praxis, Composition Forum, and Academic Advising Today. Her creative writing has appeared in the New York Times, Slate, Salon, and Electric Literature, among other outlets. She lives in Huntington, West Virginia with her husband, three children, and dogs.