My Sons Hate AI — and as an AI Consultant, I Love That

My sons tell me all the time that they hate AI.

And honestly? As an AI consultant, I love that.

Not because I want them to fear technology. Not because I want them to reject innovation. And definitely not because I believe AI is all bad. I love it because when they say they “hate AI,” what they are really showing me is that they see it.

They recognize it. They understand that AI is not some faraway futuristic thing adults are talking about in conference rooms, policy meetings, or tech panels. It is already showing up in their classrooms, their apps, their music tools, their games, their search results, their creative spaces, their school assignments, and even in the scam calls targeting their grandmother.

And they are paying attention.

As a parent, I am not trying to raise children who blindly embrace every new technology just because it is available. I am also not trying to raise children who are so afraid of technology that they refuse to learn it. I am trying to raise children who can think. Children who can question. Children who can recognize when something is useful, when something is harmful, when something feels unfair, and when something needs a human being to step in and say, “Wait a minute. This does not feel right.”

So yes, my sons hate AI sometimes. And I am proud of that.

Because what they really hate is not the technology itself. They hate the cheating. They hate the shortcuts that replace real learning. They hate the way creative work can be copied, scraped, manipulated, or used without permission. They hate the scams, the deepfakes, and the fact that people can use powerful tools to trick, target, or harm others. They also hate the feeling that even when they do their own work, someone might question whether they really wrote it.

That is not ignorance. That is literacy.

One of my sons has watched students bring their personal laptops into school instead of using the school-issued devices, with ChatGPT clearly open, doing the work for them. He sees it. He knows the difference between using AI to support learning and using AI to avoid learning, and that frustrates him. Not because he is against help, and not because he thinks students should never use tools, but because he understands that when AI does the thinking for you, you are not building the skill. You are just turning in the output.

At the same time, he now worries every time he writes something himself that a teacher may still think it was written by AI. Let that sink in for a minute. A student can sit down, think deeply, write honestly, do the work, and still feel the need to run his own writing through AI detectors just to see if it might get flagged.

That is a problem.

Now we have students not only trying to learn in an AI world, but also trying to prove their own voice is still theirs. That is the kind of emotional weight we do not talk about enough.

Then there is my younger son, who is deeply creative. He loves art, stories, design, characters, and building whole worlds out of his imagination. His concern with AI is different. He wants to know which tools respect artists. He asks whether AI image tools were trained on scraped or stolen art. He worries about artists’ rights. He wants to understand which tools were built more ethically and which ones may have used creative work without consent.

Again, that is not fear. That is discernment.

That is a child learning to ask, “Who made this? Who owns this? Who was harmed in the process? Was consent involved? Is this fair?” Those are the exact questions many adults are still not asking.

And then there is their grandmother.

My mom is in her eighties, and like so many older adults, she is constantly targeted by scam calls, suspicious documents, fake notices, and confusing messages designed to create fear or urgency. Our family has had to become part investigator, part technology support, and part fraud detection team.

Sometimes we use AI to help us review wording, identify red flags, summarize confusing documents, or think through whether something appears legitimate. Of course, we still verify through official sources, but AI has become one of the tools we use to help spot patterns and slow things down before someone reacts out of fear.

My sons see that too. They see that AI can be part of the problem when it makes scams more convincing. But they also see that AI can be part of the protection when we use it carefully, thoughtfully, and with human judgment.

That is the complicated truth. AI is not one thing. It is not all good. It is not all bad. It is powerful. And power requires literacy.

That is why I keep coming back to this: AI literacy is not optional anymore. For families, AI literacy is becoming a safety skill. For students, it is becoming a learning skill. For workers, it is becoming a career skill. For nonprofit leaders, it is becoming a responsibility. And for parents, it is becoming part of how we help our children navigate a world where technology is moving faster than most families can keep up with.

Here is what I love most about where my sons are right now: they do not want AI to lead them. They want to decide how and when it belongs in their lives.

That is the goal.

Not blind use. Not total rejection. Intentional use.

My older son does not want AI writing his assignments for him. He does not want it replacing his thinking. He does not want to be accused of using it when he worked hard to create something on his own. But he will use AI as a research and planning support.

When we attended a college planning workshop, some services were charging thousands of dollars for college planning support. For many families, including ours, that kind of cost is just not realistic. So we started using AI differently. We used it to help research scholarship opportunities, explore career paths, understand competitive programs, identify where his transcript and portfolio could be stronger, and think through what opportunities might align with his interests and long-term goals.

And we have already seen the benefit. He has gained acceptance into highly competitive science programs. He is learning how to better position his strengths. He is thinking more strategically about his future.

AI did not do the work for him. It helped us understand the landscape. That is a very different use case.

My younger son also uses AI, but in his own way. He uses it to support learning, explore graphic design, practice skills, and get help with reading growth and math practice. He does not want AI to replace his imagination. He wants it to help him learn how to bring his imagination to life.

That distinction matters.

My older son, as a musician, also interacts with AI in ways he may not always call AI. Music apps use AI. Gaming apps use AI. Recommendation systems use AI. Search tools use AI. Creative platforms use AI. This is another reason I am glad they say they hate AI, because it gives us a doorway into deeper conversations.

Where do you see it? What bothers you about it? When does it feel useful? When does it feel unfair? What would responsible use look like? What should people know before they use this tool?

Those are the conversations I want more families to have. Not lectures. Not panic. Not blind excitement. Real conversations.

The truth is, our children are already forming opinions about AI. They are watching how their peers use it. They are seeing how adults react to it. They are experiencing the benefits and the harms at the same time. If we do not help them build language around what they are seeing, they may only be left with frustration.

And frustration alone is not enough.

We need to help them turn that frustration into literacy, ethics, self-advocacy, safety habits, creative confidence, and the ability to say, “This tool can help me here, but it does not belong there.”

That is what responsible AI use looks like in a family. It is not about having all the answers. I certainly do not have all the answers. It is about staying engaged enough to keep asking better questions.

As a mom, I want my children to know how to protect themselves and others. As someone who has spent decades working in mission-driven spaces, I want families and communities to understand how these tools can be used both to help and to harm. As an AI consultant, I want people to stop thinking AI literacy is only for technical experts.

It is not.

AI literacy is for the student trying to protect their own voice. It is for the artist trying to understand consent and creative rights. It is for the grandmother being targeted by scams. It is for the parent trying to make informed decisions. It is for the nonprofit leader trying to protect the community they serve. It is for the worker trying to adapt without losing their sense of value.

It is for all of us.

So yes, my sons hate AI. And I love that.

Because what I hear underneath those words is awareness. I hear concern. I hear critical thinking. I hear young people trying to make sense of a world that changed quickly and is still changing. I hear them saying, “This is powerful, and I do not want it used carelessly.”

That gives me hope.

The goal was never to raise children who use AI for everything. The goal is to raise children who understand enough to make wise choices. Children who can use powerful tools without giving up their own thinking. Children who can recognize harm before it reaches someone vulnerable. Children who can respect creativity, protect truth, question shortcuts, and still benefit from tools that can support learning, access, and opportunity.

That is what AI literacy looks like in real life. It is messy. It is complicated. It is full of tension. And it is necessary. If your child says they hate AI, do not shut the conversation down. Ask them why. You may find they understand more than you think. And that may be exactly where the real learning begins.

Let’s keep learning together,

Teri