The Death of a Teacher
The new AI chatbot ChatGTP released upon the world last year has by now churned out millions of texts ranging from short Norwegian poems on existential angst to rows of code for computer games. It has even humorously advised someone to put up bounce castles at polling stations. Unsurprisingly, there is an ever-growing mass of words about its apocalyptic abilities—although some of those are in fact written by the bot itself. Therefore, to dispel doubts about my humanity, I assure you that I’m not a robot and have not been using any artificial intelligence enhancing circuits. Only human editors have contributed to making this text intelligible and not too meandering—but I confess that my computer has, for good or ill, assisted me with continuous advice on English spelling and grammar. Despite this, I am fully responsible for any infelicitous phrasings; you will have to trust me on that.
Death and knowledge
A theme that has persistently tugged at my sleeve, as I have moved through the education system to my current station as a middle-aged professor, is that of death. When I was young and determined to make my mark somehow, mortality was not a pressing issue, but it was there all along trying to tell me something important. Understand me right, it is not primarily my own limited time span I am referring to. It is the death of knowledge, of wisdom, and insight. We tend to create small worlds around us through customs, ornaments, procedures, roles, and expectations. They make up the stable environment within which we live, and in many ways this order is necessary for human life. We are both creators and sustainers of miniature kingdoms that affirm who we are. In our domestic cosmos we deposit bits of knowledge, memories of the past, and ideals. Although they acquire in this way a stability faintly echoing the perfection of eternity, they are like us, fused with mutable matter.
https://europeanconservative.com/articles/essay/the-death-of-a-teacher/
Death and knowledge
A theme that has persistently tugged at my sleeve, as I have moved through the education system to my current station as a middle-aged professor, is that of death. When I was young and determined to make my mark somehow, mortality was not a pressing issue, but it was there all along trying to tell me something important. Understand me right, it is not primarily my own limited time span I am referring to. It is the death of knowledge, of wisdom, and insight. We tend to create small worlds around us through customs, ornaments, procedures, roles, and expectations. They make up the stable environment within which we live, and in many ways this order is necessary for human life. We are both creators and sustainers of miniature kingdoms that affirm who we are. In our domestic cosmos we deposit bits of knowledge, memories of the past, and ideals. Although they acquire in this way a stability faintly echoing the perfection of eternity, they are like us, fused with mutable matter.
https://europeanconservative.com/articles/essay/the-death-of-a-teacher/
Publisert i 2023
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