This year’s Welcome back meeting following the summer break was different. It included a detailed presentation on Generation A.I. Looking around the auditorium, it seemed many other teachers were anxious too. This was our first and only official orientation for this new generation of students.
“These children are the first generation to be raised by robots. You’ll notice their language and intellect is much more advanced than you would expect to find at this grade level. We will highlight other differences you will notice when working with these children.” Mr. Maddox, the principal, drew our attention back to the display with images of classrooms. Smiling children from a wide range of cultural backgrounds were busy playing with stem and robotic toys.
I hesitated with raising my hand. Mr. Maddox didn't ask if there were questions, but I really wanted to know more about the children I would be teaching. Rockport Elementary was one of the first in the country to begin to develop an advanced curriculum to meet the needs of the A.I generation. My sweaty hand shot up in the auditorium, ignored until I started waving it to get Mr. Maddox’s attention.
“Yes, you have a question?” Mr. Maddox looked at me from his podium.
“Yes, I’m sorry to interrupt. My name is Xochitl Ocasio, and I will be one of the preschool teachers for classroom 3B. My question is, will there be robots in the classroom? The children seem to be comfortable with them and it may ease their transition into a traditional classroom setting.”
“Great question, did everyone hear it?” Mr. Maddox looked around the auditorium and acknowledged the nodding heads. “Yes, we will have one robot that will rotate between the classrooms. Remember that these children have been raised by robots since birth. They have had their parents in the home as well, but the majority of their time was spent with a robot while their parents worked. It makes sense to have one. Any other questions?”
A few hands shot up, and I felt relieved that I wasn’t the only one wanting more information.
“Yes, in the back.” Mr. Maddox pointed to the man a few rows behind me.
“Principal Maddox, these children also have a genetic advantage in that they were selected through rigorous IVF gene editing and perfecting, correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct. All the children were conceived with gene editing. They have been tested, and all exceed intelligence requirements for pre-K.”
I took a deep breath and could feel others in the room taking it all in too. This was a lot. It meant elementary education was about to undergo a revolution. We were at the forefront. What we do this year with this batch of children would be under intense scrutiny and the expectations suddenly felt like a tightening belt about my neck. I wanted to ask more questions but held onto them. Maddox continued his presentation and then excused us to visit our classrooms so that we had some time to organize them. We would have two more professional development sessions and then a curriculum meeting. None of us know what to really expect until day one. Exceed intelligence requirements, which could mean anything really. Maybe this batch of kids won’t pick their nose and eat it, or maybe they will be experts in quantum physics. It was anyone’s guess.
“Xochitl, hi.” Kelsey came over and gave me a quick hug. We’d gone to Villanova together and it was great to see a familiar face.
“Kelsey, my God. it’s been too long.” Her long brown hair looked the same. She was less sorority girl and more professional.
“Look at us,” she smiled and tugged at my face framing curls. “Wow, you’re taking on the aliens, huh.”
I laughed. These poor kids had already taken on a nickname. “Yeah, it’s gonna be something for sure.”
“You know, I’ve seen more kids at the park with their robot caretakers. It’s so weird, creepy. Like a rhesus monkey experiment. A robot carrying and caring for kids, it’s unnatural.”
“I’m curious if they’ve formed like normal attachments, ya know? Like how were they disciplined? I know the robots are equipped with infinite data on child raising, development, theory, psychology, research.” We walked together down the hall towards the early elementary wing of the school.
“Yeah, like do they actually apply it all? Like can they stop a temper tantrum or do they just let the kid run amok?”
“Maybe they're too smart for tantrums?” I interrupted Kelsey because we were on the same thought process. “I feel stupid setting up a room for pre-K and they come in like, what the hell is this?”
Kelsey laughed. “Imagine you have blocks set up and they come in and like build a rocket ship and you're left speechless. Like what do you do the rest of the week with them?”
I laughed along while my insides felt like they were dropping slowly into my feet. I suddenly felt like an imposter. What in the world was I going to do with these kids this year? A year is a long time to feel like you're floundering. I hugged myself when we reached my classroom. Trying to give myself some extra reassurance because it wouldn’t come from my supervisor or administration. They just wanted results. Kelsey told me she was teaching 5th grade, no aliens.
The large classroom had a little bathroom in the corner of the room with two small toilets and sinks. It was easier to have them here so the kids would have quick access while still mastering potty training. At least once a day, if not more, someone would pee their pants. Most of the time, the kids bunch up to play in the sinks. Like water was a new invention they had to master. At least that’s what normal pre-K kids like to do.
I decided to set up the classroom like I had it last year. The big circle rug with the alphabet and bright colors. Little tables for groups of four to work on the iPads with plenty of space for coloring. My large baskets were full of different toys. I placed them where I usually had them, above the small cubby boxes where the kids would put their lunch boxes in. The craft bins, the fish tank, the bulletin board with all their names and pictures prominently displayed were how I usually had it. Many parents have said they love my bulletin boards. I take time to make it creative and theme related. The classroom was coming together and a sense of comfort ran through me. I know how to do this. Teaching pre-K is my passion.
I left for the day, knowing I needed my rest for the morning ahead.
My first student arrived fifteen minutes early with his robot caretaker. He had his hair combed to the side with his button-down shirt neatly tucked in. His little pants looked like they had been ironed. He was clean and looked ready to be at school. Normally, my first arrival would have puffy eyes from crying in the car on their way to school, but he looked unfazed.
“Good morning, you must be Dylan.” I had his picture on the bulletin board. “Hello, I’m Ms. Ocasio.” A big smile spread across my face. He looked up at his robot and then looked me up and down.
“Ms. Xochil Ocasio. You are named after a Toltec princess.” The robotic voice pronounced my name perfectly. The robot looked down at Dylan and kneeled to be at his height. The robot did not have eyes; it had black glass with a wide, green line in the middle. “Dylan, do you remember learning about the Toltec empire?”
Dylan nodded. The robot extended his palm out and a hologram image appeared with a replica of a pyramid from Mexico. Dylan moved closer to the robot and sat on its knee. The robot showed him a few more images and Dylan smiled. “I like the ones from Tenochtitlan better.”
“Of course, I remember. Would you like me to show you some images?” The robot's voice sounded softer, its tone encouraging. After a few images, Dylan stood up and the robot helped him take off his backpack and walked with Dylan to hang it in his cubby. Then they walked over to the small tables, and Dylan quickly found his seat. The robot walked back to where it was standing. I was used to more chaos, especially for the first day of school. This was all so calm and civil. No tears or resistance.
Usually, the temptation of the toys is too much and first arrivals benefit from first dibs. But Dylan seemed uninterested. He just sat there, no ADD or ADHD. No fidgeting or fussing.
“Would you like me to show you around the classroom?” I asked, hoping he was curious.
“No, thank you. I’ve assessed the room already.” His voice didn’t have that baby tone most four-year-olds still have.
“Oh, and what did you observe?” I asked. His robot handed me Dylan’s lunch box, and I directed it to the smaller cubbies across the room. It walked over and placed it in the cubby. For such a large robot, it moved quietly and swiftly. Its body was all white with black hands and feet. Its hands were remarkably human-like with long fingers and prominent joints. It looked like it had a vast range of motion.
“It's moderately equipped for basic functionality.” Dylan looked bored already.
I felt my throat tighten. We were going to sing today and learn about the letter A. Suddenly, my plan felt hollow. I wanted to kick the robot because it made my job significantly harder. I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I was holding while feeling a sense of panic rise in my body.
“Ms. Ocasio, are you well? Your vitals are elevated.” Its green strip for an eye now displayed a heart with a reading of 98 beats per minute and rising.
“Yes, just some first day jitters.” I looked away for a moment trying to center myself. When I looked at the robot again, I saw my heart rate was now 110. Maybe I needed to get my supervisor. I felt cold and clammy, and a chill ran up my spine.
“Would you like me to help you with a breathing exercise? Dylan, we could show Ms. Ocasio how to calm the parasympathetic nervous system.” The robot's hand motioned to Dylan who rose from his chair and came over to me.
His little hand rested on my stomach. “Take a deep breath, Ms. Ocasio, let your diaphragm expand.”
The robot was playing some ocean sounds from a speaker I didn’t even know it had.
“I think I need to sit down.” Dylan's hand took mine, and he led me to an empty seat, encouraging me to keep breathing.
There were nineteen other A.I. kids on the way. What the hell was I going to do?
Dylan's mocha colored skin and warm brown eyes gave me a slight sense of calm. I had to get it together. Everyone is counting on me.
“Good morning, Ms. Xochil Ocasio.” My next robot and child arrived. This robot had a stroller with a smaller toddler strapped in. “Please allow me to introduce you to Sadie and her little sister Caitlyn.”
I stood up a little too quickly and stumbled a bit as I walked over to greet them. The robot had similar eyes as Dylan’s robot but the green line was moving back and forth. I turned and saw Dylan's robot was doing the same thing. They were processing information between them. Were they talking about me in some binary code? I felt paranoid. Were they judging me, my classroom, did they know I felt so inept? It dawned on me that there was so much I didn’t know about these robots and their capabilities.
Sadie’s eyes widened as she took in the classroom. Her hand clutched onto her robot’s hand. It took off her backpack and pointed to her cubby across the room. Sadie quickly removed her lunch box from her book bag and ran over to put it where it needed to go and then sat next to Dylan. The toddler in the stroller sat silently.
“Wow, Sadie, you did a great job organizing your things.” I moved closer to Sadie and Dylan. “Would you guys like to color while we wait for more students to arrive?” I grabbed a Lego container that was repurposed as a crayon bin and some paper.
Both children nodded. I placed a sheet in front of each of them.
By the time all twenty children were in the classroom, and all the robots that dropped them off had left, the principal’s voice came over the loudspeaker to start the day with the pledge of allegiance and welcome message. The jitters had transformed into a weird out-of-body feeling, a dissociated state. I had bitten off all of my fingernails and dialed the main office to ask for some support. Not because the children were misbehaving but because they were all seated quietly in their seats staring at me.