Using AI to Improve Writing in 7th Grade: Is it Cheating?

“Is this cheating?” my 7th-grade daughter recently asked me. She was working on an essay for her ELA class on the topic “What we can learn from other generations.” Like many 12-year-olds, she sees herself as the hero of her own story and chose to write about teaching her sister to ride a bike. As the deadline loomed, she felt overwhelmed trying to finalize the essay by the next day.

Before asking this question, she had me proofread her initial draft. I marked spelling and punctuation errors and suggested some minor revisions. Her handwritten draft was complete, but the task of typing it up for Google Classroom felt daunting. I suggested using the voice-typing feature in Google Docs, and she agreed. The relief on her face was palpable once she’d finished the “typing” and moved into editing.

What happened next led to her question about cheating. After editing her voice-to-text draft, she copied it into Grammarly and accepted many of the program's recommendations. You can read both the original and Grammarly-edited versions below.

When she handed me the essay, I was genuinely impressed. “This is really improved,” I commented. That’s when she told me she had used Grammarly and asked, “Is this cheating?”

In the moment, I asked her what she thought. She replied that she didn’t believe it was cheating, so she turned in her essay. I have a more nuanced answer now.

Was this cheating?

Here are the facts: She wrote an original, personal story in response to the assignment prompt. She sought feedback on an initial draft, used voice-typing to digitize her work, and then applied Grammarly’s grammar and style suggestions to revise and submit her final essay. She earned a 3.5/4 on the assignment. Yet, she couldn’t identify the learning goals her teacher had intended for the task.

Writing is complex. It requires practice and involves mastering spelling, punctuation, grammar, word choice, thesis development, evidence selection, citation, and more. I remember struggling through these stages myself—middle school essays, high school term papers, college research projects. My daughters, meanwhile, are navigating these challenges in an era of rapid technological change. Grammarly represents just the tip of the iceberg in the ongoing AI revolution.

Upon reflection, I don’t think my daughter cheated, but I do think she was shortchanged. Grammarly provided a more polished essay, but it didn’t explain why its suggestions made the text clearer. The opening line of her original essay was:

“There's a thing called An Invisible Thread where two people are connected and feel the need to be friends and feel internally connected like me and my sister”

Grammarly revised it to:

"There's a thing known as 'An Invisible Thread,' which suggests that some people feel a deep connection that binds them together, much like the bond I share with my sister.”

The second sentence is objectively better. But how will she learn the nuances of phrasing and word choice if the explanation is missing? With 100 seventh-grade essays to grade, her teacher likely didn’t have the bandwidth to provide this level of individualized feedback.

My daughter is a kind, conscientious student who does what is asked of her. She can often achieve "good enough" results, perhaps without mastering the underlying skills. I wonder: What if there were an AI program designed to prompt students to reflect and revise their own writing rather than simply providing better sentences? What if the tool highlighted strengths, offered questions to spur revision, and provided insights into why certain phrasings are more effective?

I imagine there is someone out there already designing such a program. Even if they succeed and it is widely adopted, how many students will still choose to use a readily available AI program to write something that is "good enough?" What are you experiencing as parents and teachers with the availability of AI in schools? I am especially interested in teacher teams who have come up with guidelines for their students about how and when to use AI. Please reply to this email and let me know so I can bring these questions and examples to future newsletters!

Original Voice-to-Text Essay:

"There's a thing called An Invisible Thread where two people are connected and feel the need to be friends and feel internally connected like me and my sister one of the moments that was very important was when she learned to ride a bike it was a hot summer day in early June we had just got out of school a couple weeks ago she She had been practicing riding her bike for weeks and I had been helping her every step of the way she asked me to give her a push and I got behind her and grabbed onto her seat I counted to three then I started to run and she pedaled harder and harder then I let go of the seat and pushed her she began to wiggle and then she hit the ground she let out a loud scream as everybody turned around and looked I ran over and tried to help her and that's when she said I want to try again so she got back and walked her bike to the top of the street I grabbed her seat and ran as fast as I could I let go and she pedaled as hard as she could and she did it. In the end you always learn from other generations."

Grammarly-Edited Essay:

"There's a thing known as 'An Invisible Thread,' which suggests that some people feel a deep connection that binds them together, much like the bond I share with my sister. One of the most significant moments in our relationship revolved around her learning to ride a bike.

It was a hot summer day in early June, just a couple of weeks after we had wrapped up the school year. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter and joy from the neighborhood kids, all eager to revel in their newfound freedom. My sister had been practicing for weeks, determination etched on her face every time she climbed onto that bike. I remember her excitement and how I felt helping her overcome her fears.

One afternoon, she looked at me with determination in her eyes and asked for a push. I knew this was going to be the day she did it. As I positioned myself behind her, I gently grabbed onto her seat. I counted down: 'One, two, three!' and took off running. She pedaled with all her might. But just as I let go, the bike wobbled, and with a sudden thud, she hit the ground, letting out a loud scream that echoed through the neighborhood. It felt like time stood still as every head turned in our direction.

I ran over, panic settling in. 'Are you okay?' I asked, kneeling beside her. Dust coated her knees, but astonishingly, she looked at me and said, 'I want to try again.' She walked her bike back to the top of the street, and I could see the determination returning to her eyes. I grabbed her seat once more. This time, I ran as fast as I could, holding onto the hope that she could do it. I let go, and she began to pedal fast, her feet working hard as she sailed down the street, no longer wobbling but gliding effortlessly. In the end, we can always learn from different generations. My sister taught me determination, and I taught her patience."