Every semester, I pose a question to my students: Why are you here? Would you prioritize deep learning, even if it meant a lower grade, or chase the highest grade, even at the cost of true understanding? They almost always claim learning matters most. But I’m growing skeptical that they actually mean it.
Those words feel rehearsed, tailored to what they think I want to hear. What we call “laziness” in younger generations might not be laziness at all, but a rejection of a college system that feels increasingly out of touch. I could grumble like an old man shooing kids off his lawn, but stepping into their shoes, I see a world obsessed with credentials over curiosity. Why wouldn’t they feel this way? Even with top-tier degrees, internships, and jobs, many fear they’ll never own a home, clear their student debt, or outrun artificial intelligence (AI) in their careers. No wonder they seem to coast, ticking boxes and parroting ideals while their actions tell a different story.
This disconnect between what students say and what they do is not new, but AI has amplified it to crisis levels. AI tools like ChatGPT make it effortless to generate essays or solve problems, bypassing the cognitive effort that once defined the learning process. Educators are scrambling—some ban AI outright, others integrate it with strict guidelines—but the real issue runs deeper. These tools exacerbate a pre-existing malaise: a profound disillusionment with the promises of higher education.
Labeling this as mere laziness misses the point. What if the surge in AI use is a symptom of a deeper hopelessness, a collective vote of no confidence in the traditional college model? For decades, higher education promised enlightenment and upward mobility. Today, it often feels like an expensive hurdle in a game rigged against the young. A Pew Research Center survey shows that only 22 percent of Americans believe college is worth the cost if it requires loans, citing better job prospects as the primary benefit, yet even that is increasingly questioned. This marks a sharp decline from prior years, reflecting growing skepticism. Students enter university burdened by societal expectations: get the degree, land the job, achieve stability. But the curriculum, rooted in lectures and rote assessments, feels disconnected from a world where information is instantly accessible via smartphones and AI.
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Society’s shift toward “checking boxes” over genuine enlightenment exacerbates this. Enlightenment once meant critical thinking, ethical reasoning, and personal growth —hallmarks of a liberal arts education, as described in John Henry Newman’s The Idea of a University. Now, the focus is on credentials. Employers demand degrees as filters, not proofs of competence, turning college into a transactional experience. This box-checking mentality starts early: high schoolers pad their resumes with contrived “passion projects,” such as founding nonprofits or coding apps, for admissions bragging rights, not genuine curiosity. As one analysis notes, this frenzy has killed intellectual wonder, leaving students with little time for reading or reflection. By college, it’s ingrained. Why wrestle with a challenging concept when AI can produce a passing paper? The system rewards outcomes, not processes.
Economic realities fuel this hopelessness. Student debt in the United States totals $1.814 trillion as of August 2025, with the average borrower owing about $39,075. For many, this debt lingers for decades, delaying life milestones like marriage or parenthood. A Federal Reserve report notes that the median education debt among those with outstanding loans hovers between $20,000 and $24,999; however, for undergraduates, it compounds with tuition that continues to rise. As long as college costs money—and it does, with annual expenses often exceeding $63,000 at private institutions—its value is judged by return on investment. Yet, wages for entry-level jobs haven’t kept pace with inflation. To match the purchasing power their grandparents enjoyed from minimum-wage jobs—enough to buy a home—today’s young workers would need to earn roughly $66 an hour.
Home ownership, once a cornerstone of the American Dream, feels increasingly out of reach. Millennials’ home ownership rate stands at 48 percent in 2025, lagging behind previous generations at similar ages. For Gen Z, the rate is even lower, with only about 27 percent of those aged nineteen to twenty-seven owning homes, often in affordable but limited markets. High interest rates, soaring property prices, and stagnant wages create a perfect storm. A Fortune analysis reveals that more seniors are buying homes than millennials and Gen Z combined, upending the housing market. Young people see their parents’ generation achieve stability through home equity, but for them, it’s a distant fantasy amid economic uncertainty.
Looming largest is AI’s threat to future careers. While AI promises efficiency, it disproportionately affects young workers. By 2030, 92 million jobs are projected to be displaced, with higher rates among younger and mid-career professionals in tech and creative fields. Entry-level jobs, those stepping stones for recent graduates, are vanishing as automation handles routine tasks. A Wall Street Journal report notes that recent graduates made up just seven percent of new hires in 2024, down from 11 percent in 2022, partly due to AI shrinking teams. 52 percent of U.S. workers worry about AI’s future effects, fearing fewer job opportunities overall. For students, this breeds cynicism: why invest in learning when algorithms might render your skills obsolete?
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This hopelessness manifests in classrooms as disengagement. Students parrot ideals about learning because that’s the “right” answer, but actions speak louder. They use AI not just to cheat, but to cope with a system that feels irrelevant. As one opinion piece argues, the solution isn’t reverting to handwritten essays, but rather addressing systemic flaws, such as underfunding.
Colleges themselves bear much blame for this crisis. For decades, they’ve marketed themselves as tickets to employment, not arenas for wrestling with Aristotle or Newman. This bait-and-switch has turned universities into degree mills, prioritizing revenue over intellectual pursuit. At institutions like the University of Chicago, administrators have raised tuition while cutting corners on teaching, luring students with promises of lucrative careers only to deliver underemployment and subpar education. Liberal arts programs, which should aim to cultivate virtuous citizens and lifelong learners, are being slashed in favor of “marketable” credentials—credentials whose value is now questioned as twenty-two states eliminate degree requirements for public jobs and employers explore alternative evaluations. AI only exacerbates a problem colleges baked in long ago.
To foster civil engagement, universities must evolve. Integrate AI ethically, emphasizing critical analysis and ethical reasoning over memorization. Reform curricula to prioritize the liberal arts’ true aim: refining the mind and cultivating virtuous citizens, leaving job skills for later training. Policymakers should tackle debt through forgiveness or subsidies, making education a public good again. And society must rediscover enlightenment’s value, beyond economic metrics.
In my classes, I’ll keep asking that question. But now, I’ll follow up: What would make learning feel worthwhile? Their answers might guide us toward a higher education that inspires, not just certifies. Until then, the grade chase continues.
Image by Zubair on Adobe Stock; Asset ID#: 1638717468
