“The ants go marching one by one hurrah hurrah”

The cogs in the factory whir
as the morning’s batch of machines are created
and marched down the halls,
each following suit with the last
left foot hits the ground
then right
then left
until each enters its domain

The dark sky illuminates naught but the dimness in their eyes
as students stare at faces lit not by thought,
but by code, reflecting behind a screen

Their eyes are glazed
Their hands tremble and struggle behind keyboards
Their voices reciting words
fed to them by the wires in their veins

“Be original”
their hollow mouths echo
leaking borrowed phrases from a higher entity
“resist the cheating temptation”
as they kneel before AI’s altar
begging for lesson plans
begging for the students’ grades
begging for an excuse to accept paychecks derived from no effort

My teachers are chained down within their classrooms
and every assignment that gets created
and every assignment that gets posted
and every assignment that gets graded
accentuates the clinking and clattering of those chains
reminding the world
that they are enslaved

They scold us
They scold us for reaching for the same machine
the same machine that has captured their very purpose in life
and every time they do,
their shackles tighten
their empty, soulless eyes widen
and the faint hum of the factory grows louder
devouring the silence of thought

My teachers are slaves,
(many having even acknowledged it)
(more having willingly chosen it)
and yet I,
the student
am told that I abuse the system
That I am the risk with technology
That I am the one susceptible to loss of creativity
uniqueness
humanity
That I am the one who is to blame.

hypocrisy.