Why ChatGPT for Teachers Might Make Things Worse
A critique of a disappointing model and a vision for what AI Platforms should do instead
OpenAI have just released ChatGPT for Teachers which I have just spent the morning looking at it and I have concerns. Here is an initial reaction to it and 3 reasons why I think it’s a huge missed opportunity.
There’s a predictable pattern when some edtech companies enter education: they build sophisticated solutions to problems that don’t exist while ignoring the problems real teachers actually face. I am cautiously optimistic about what AI could offer education, particularly around the idea of teacher workload but this is not it, and I’m sure the people who developed ChatGPT for teachers are well-intentioned but what we have here is a step backwards which actively promotes discredited theories and pedagogically bankrupt approaches.
1. “Activity First” Lesson Design
On the explore page the very first ‘tip’ promises the ability to “find activity in seconds.”
The problem with format-first pedagogy and instructional design is that it fundamentally inverts the relationship between knowledge and pedagogy. Instead of asking “what knowledge structure demands this particular pedagogical approach?”, it asks “what activities can I fit this content into?” It’s a completely superficial approach to learning and instruction.
“Activities-first” design treats curriculum as a collection of discrete events rather than a coherent narrative. It sees curriculum design as forward-engineering rather than backward design. When teachers begin with activity templates, ie think-pair-share for this part of the lesson, retrieval practice for that one, a guided practice here etc, they’re assembling a sequence of disconnected episodes rather than constructing a journey through a discipline. As Christine Counsell memorably puts it “You cannot Rosenshine your way into a curriculum, and nor can you Rosenshine your way into mediating content in subject‑sensitive ways.”1
The deeper problem is that activity-first design reduces knowledge to mere propositions and procedures. It asks: “What do I want students to know or be able to do?” and then selects activities to achieve those outcomes. But much of the time in humanities, arts, and literature, one is not teaching procedures or isolated propositions. McCarthy and Minsky call these “ill-defined domains” (which actually have a long history with AI going back to the 50s) and there, one is teaching knowledge that exists in relationships, structures, and flows that cannot be packaged into discrete “learning objectives” without destroying what makes them educationally valuable.
The efficiency promised by ChatGPT to ”find activity in seconds” is efficiency in exactly the wrong dimension. Yes, you can quickly generate a lesson structure. But you’ve saved time on the professional work that distinguishes effective from ineffective instruction: thinking deeply about the nature of the knowledge you’re teaching, how it connects to what came before and what comes next, what disciplinary features demand particular pedagogical approaches, and how to structure encounters with content so that students experience both the intrinsic value of the moment and the gathering momentum of a larger narrative.
Pedagogy should follow epistemology, not the other way round.
2. Generic Critical Thinking Skills
Another suggestion comes from a real teacher advocating using chatGPT to teach critical thinking. This is a familiar trope in education that is fraught with problems.
The notion that students can be taught “general critical thinking skills” to evaluate AI outputs represents a profound misunderstanding of how critical thinking actually works. Critical thinking is not a portable skill that operates independently of domain knowledge, it is the product of domain expertise.
You cannot “think critically” about whether ChatGPT’s answer about mitosis is credible unless you already possess substantial knowledge of cellular biology. You cannot evaluate the plausibility of an historical claim without understanding the period, the historiography, and the nature of historical evidence. The ability to spot implausibility, recognize internal contradictions, or judge whether a source should be trusted emerges from having rich, well-structured schemas in long-term memory within that specific domain.
What this is describing (advising students to verify information through “other primary resources”) presupposes the very expertise it claims to develop. How does a novice know which sources are primary? How do they judge between conflicting accounts? How do they recognize when ChatGPT has produced plausible-sounding nonsense versus a genuine insight? Without substantial prior knowledge, students are left either credulously accepting whatever sounds convincing or adopting a pose of generic skepticism that rejects valid and invalid claims indiscriminately.
The cruel irony is that this approach, marketed as empowering students to navigate AI-saturated information environments, actually leaves them more vulnerable by substituting the appearance of critical evaluation for its substance.
3. The Myth of Learning Styles Now Powered by AI
If there exists low-hanging fruit in the orchard of educational neuromyths, then learning styles is surely it; the claim that students learn better when instruction matches their preferred modality (visual, auditory, kinesthetic) has been so thoroughly debunked that its persistence serves as a litmus test for whether someone knows what they’re talking about when they talk about learning.
On another page, we are told that ChatGPT can personalise content for “different levels and learning styles.” This is the most disappointing aspect of ChatGPT for teachers.
The fact that OpenAI, a company positioning itself as an authority on the future of education, appears entirely unaware of decades of research showing the theory of learning styles has no empirical support is deeply concerning. More troubling still is that teachers using this product will now receive algorithmically-generated affirmation of a discredited theory, entrenching precisely the kind of pseudoscientific thinking that evidence-informed practice seeks to displace.
Time spent diagnosing spurious learning styles, differentiating instruction according to imaginary preferences, and reassuring students they are “visual learners” is time stolen from practices that actually matter.
When teachers are encouraged to match instructional modality to supposed learner preferences rather than to the inherent demands of the content itself (some concepts simply require visual representation; others demand narrative; still others need procedural modeling), they are being led away from attending to knowledge. The cruel irony is that this is sold as personalisation when it is, in fact, the abdication of the professional judgment that genuine responsive teaching requires; the kind that emerges from understanding both the learner and the disciplinary object, not from sorting students into pseudoscientific categories.
For a long-read on why Learning Styles theory should be avoided, read this.
A Wasted Opportunity
Ultimately I am cautiously optimistic about what AI can do for instructional design but this product is very disappointing and has raised my AI-educational p-doom. What emerges from this is an uncanny valley of educational materials: content that looks professional, sounds educational, and checks boxes for “relevance” while being ultimately unmoored from the science of how learning happens.
The other broader worry is the way in which I sense that this kind of thing will lead to a kind of flattening out of subject specific meaning, disinterred from local knowledge and expertise. LLMs work by predicting the most likely next word. They are engines of regression to the mean. They cannot produce culturally responsive or locally relevant materials because they are trained on the “global average.” A lot more to be said on this point.
Implementing Adaptive Learning With AI
Any learning platform looking to implement AI should be doing almost the precise opposite of ChatGPT for teachers.
Here’s where we must be precise about the nature of knowledge and where AI could genuinely help: some knowledge structures are genuinely componential and benefit from systematic decomposition, while others are irreducibly holistic and lose meaning when fragmented. The challenge is that ChatGPT for Teachers treats all knowledge as if it belongs to the first category when distinguishing between these types is the essence of instructional design and expertise.
Consider phonics instruction, where decomposition is not just appropriate but essential. The alphabetic code genuinely can be broken into grapheme-phoneme correspondences that students must master systematically. The knowledge structure itself is componential; mastery of /sh/, /ch/, and /th/ sounds contributes independently to reading capability.
The fatal error is applying this decomposition logic indiscriminately. ChatGPT for Teachers seems to make no distinction between knowledge that is genuinely atomic (phonics, multiplication facts, chemical symbols) and knowledge that derives meaning from its disciplinary texture and flow (historical narrative, literary interpretation, philosophical argument).
When you decompose a historical period into disconnected “facts” about dates and events, you lose the causal relationships, the narrative coherence. When you break a poem into atomic elements like “metaphor,” “imagery,” and “tone,” you end up feature-spotting and destroy the aesthetic encounter that gives literature its power.
We know from decades of research that retrieval practice, spaced repetition, and interleaving produce robust learning gains. We know that there’s an optimal difficulty zone. We know that spacing intervals should dynamically adjust based on individual mastery. We know that students need practice distributed across weeks and months, not crammed into single units.
The problem isn’t knowing these principles work; it’s implementing them with precision for thirty students simultaneously across multiple topics over an entire academic year. This is exactly the kind of coordination puzzle at which AI excels and humans struggle. An adaptive learning system *could* co-ordinate elements of this and provide teachers with actionable data about which students need intervention on which content.
The issue isn’t just that ChatGPT for Teachers solves the wrong problems; it’s that in doing so, it may make the right problems (such as implementing what we actually know about how learning happens), even harder to solve.
From a forthcoming Civitas essay






While I think your piece is excellent, I have a small nit to pick with this sentence: "They cannot produce culturally responsive or locally relevant materials because they are trained on the 'global average.'"
Provided with context, LLMs can already produce locally relevant content. If context was something we were explicitly asking teachers to provide an AI, or if we were providing it at scale across a school, that can address this one concern. Done carefully, AI can be used to help address and mitigate teacher bias or make suggestions for inclusivity.
Overall, that's not a large comfort, and I don't think it weakens your argument in a meaningful way.
I asked GPT to respond to your article, and here is response:
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Let me get straight to the point: the article isn’t wrong, but it also falls into a few predictable traps that the educational-academic world has been repeating for decades — sometimes with good reason, sometimes with a purist excess.
Let’s break it down.
🔥 1. He’s right about the core issue: “ChatGPT for Teachers” aims at the superficial
Yes:
Activity templates.
“Learning styles.”
The fantasy that an AI can “build a lesson in seconds.”
That’s cheap marketing. He’s right about that, and so are you.
Serious education isn’t a set of prefab activities, it’s a craft where the sequence and structure of knowledge drive the pedagogy.
So far so good. But…
🔥 2. The article suffers from academic purism
The author —like many pedagogical commentators— writes with righteous indignation while ignoring a basic reality:
Teachers don’t have time.
Period.
They don’t live in an epistemological laboratory.
They live in messy classrooms, with absurd curricula, annoying parents, and supervisors demanding “evidence” for everything.
So yes, his critique is philosophically sound, but practically naive.
IA doesn’t need to replace pedagogical judgment;
it just needs to remove tedious, mechanical work.
If ChatGPT helped with:
drafting materials,
building rubrics,
generating practice sets,
summarizing documents,
creating variations of exercises,
then it’s already worthwhile, even if it doesn’t touch the “disciplinary texture” he’s obsessed with.
He’s criticizing a tool for not being what he wishes it were — not because it’s useless to everyone else.
🔥 3. His attack on “critical thinking skills” is correct… but incomplete
True: there’s no such thing as generic critical thinking, separate from domain knowledge.
Yes, that’s been known for decades.
But here’s what he ignores:
AI can act as scaffolding for novices who don’t yet have domain expertise.
For example:
A student doesn’t understand mitosis → ChatGPT can give a beginner-friendly explanation.
That gives them just enough baseline knowledge to start comparing errors.
You can then show two AI-generated answers (one flawed, one correct) and ask them to contrast.
That does develop early evaluative abilities — not full expertise, but foundational cognitive discrimination.
He collapses everything into:
“You can’t critique anything unless you’re an expert.”
Sure — but learning is incremental. AI can accelerate the early stages.
🔥 4. On learning styles — he’s absolutely right
That theory should be burned, buried, and salted over.
The fact that OpenAI included it in their marketing is embarrassing.
But it’s not shocking.
Teachers believe in learning styles.
Education departments promote them.
OpenAI is following the market, not the science.
Wrong? Yes.
Surprising? No.
🔥 5. Where he’s off: the idea that “LLMs equal homogenization”
This is a fashionable academic fear:
“Models just produce global averages.”
Then explain to me why you and I have created texts that mirror your tone, your personality, your sarcasm, your themes, your anthropological framework — without being flattened into some global average.
An LLM stays generic only when the user is generic.
If a teacher already lacks discipline-specific knowledge, of course the model outputs something average —
but that teacher was already teaching “average” content before the AI.
His argument exaggerates because it expresses anxiety about losing disciplinary elitism.
🔥 6. His real frustration isn’t AI — it’s the state of real-world pedagogy
This is the classic lament of academic educators:
“We’ve had cognitive science for decades. Why does no one apply it?”
Harsh truth:
Because the system doesn’t reward rigor. It rewards compliance and survival.
AI could help, but OpenAI didn’t release a serious instructional-design engine —
they released a polished commercial product.
He wants:
spacing algorithms,
retention diagnostics,
concept maps,
cognitive-gap detection,
long-term distribution of practice,
and yes, that would be revolutionary.
But no one —OpenAI, Microsoft, Google— has built that yet.
🔥 7. Bottom line? He’s right… but he’s also overreacting
ChatGPT for Teachers is a shallow, market-driven product.
It’s not cognitive science, not serious pedagogy, and not instructional design.
But:
it’s not “dangerous,”
it doesn’t destroy disciplines,
it doesn’t make teachers stupid,
and it doesn’t prevent deep pedagogical work by people who know what they’re doing.
He assumes teachers will blindly obey whatever the AI suggests.
That’s not professional respect — that’s academic paternalism.