I had the luxury and misfortune of experiencing undergrad pre-AI and post-AI – I will plead the fifth on the details, but what I can say is this: the difference between those two eras is shocking. Before AI seeped into every corner of university life, connecting with each other was not optional; it was the heart of being a student. Today, our work is faster, smarter, and more efficient, yet the community that once defined campus life is fading. AI has made learning easier, but at the cost of the shared struggle that brings students together.

According to a 2025 study by Vieriu and Petrea, “95.6% of students use AI in academic activities,” with most relying on it weekly or even daily, making it “an almost indispensable resource in education”. However, while AI “enhances academic performance,” it also fosters “over-reliance” and “diminished critical thinking skills,” as well as lacking “the empathy, creativity, and nuanced understanding of human educators” . AI boosts our grades but erodes the human experiences that give those achievements meaning.

In my first semester in 2018, I vividly remember receiving a B on my first writing assignment. It pained me because I have always taken pride in my writing. So I approached my instructor, asked who got the highest grade, bumped into that girl in the campus supermarket, and politely begged to see her paper. She agreed. I studied her tone, structure, and grammar, wrote my next essay, and still got a B. Eventually, I asked her to proofread my work, and through that iterative process, we built a meaningful academic relationship. That entire process required people – guidance, humility, and conversation. It required me to show up and ask for help, something that would never happen today when ChatGPT can “fix” a paper in seconds.

Then there was my Introduction to Psychology course, a class so dense it felt like a rite of passage. Each exam's study guide had at least fifty questions per chapter. It was not impossible, but it was unwise to attempt it alone. So my classmates formed study groups. We would divide chapters, complete our sections, then meet in the library to teach one another, sometimes for an entire day. When we finished, we would order a feast, sit outside on the stairs, exhausted and laughing, proud not just of what we learned, but of how together we survived the struggle. That is what being an undergraduate used to feel like: collective effort and unexpected friendships. Now, most students solve those fifty questions in under a minute with an AI-generated summary, no group chat needed.

This decline is not limited to coursework; the identity of the university student is under threat. Shared pressure, messy growth, and self-discovery through failure is no longer the norm. People love to label undergraduate stress as “toxic,” but that struggle is part of the transformation. How else are you supposed to figure out who you are if you do not go through the chaotic, overwhelming period everyone experiences at around eighteen? All those years of failing miserably, trying again, and learning from other people shaped me. If I had not stumbled through confusion, I would never have found what I truly wanted to pursue. But that formative chaos is being sterilized. Collaboration and student initiative are not simply modified or elevated by AI, just replicated verbatim. It became painfully obvious when I asked someone a basic question – not even academic, something random – and they responded, “One sec, let me ask ChatGPT.” The humor, the spontaneity, the curiosity sparked from watching someone work in their element, all of that is disappearing. The arguments, the laughter, the weird ideas born at ungodly hours, the friendships that used to form around collective confusion are fading. There have always been students uninterested in campus life, and that will never change. But what about the rest of us: the lost and unsure young people trying to find our place in the world? Without those human moments, what do we have left?

That is not to say AI is inherently evil or devoid of benefits. In fact, I am an avid user; I am not writing this from a mountaintop of purity. I literally had an exam the other day, so I fed my slides into ChatGPT, asked for a summary and practice questions, walked in, aced it, and walked out. Pre-AI me would have failed that attempt miserably, and did, many times. AI undeniably saves time and helps us thrive academically. But convenience comes with a hidden cost: we no longer need each other. Why text a friend when an algorithm can answer faster? Why spend hours together in a study room when a chatbot can summarize the entire textbook before your coffee is ready? When technology replaces collaboration, we lose the very thing that makes a university degree more than a credential. We lose connection, friendship, and belonging.

I still occasionally see clusters of students studying together, and it genuinely warms my heart. Because this is the version of university I fell in love with, the one where we depend on each other. Why do you think I’ve been an undergrad since 2018? AI should supplement these human experiences, not replace them. It should give us more time to be together, not less. I am horrified by what campuses might look like in the next few years . If we are not careful, we will graduate with perfect grades and no memories. It is time we reinvest in the community behind the grades. The question is simple: if we do not have each other, what exactly are we doing here?