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33 minute read

February 26, 2025, 11:45 PM

Recently, when talking to a friend from college, they mentioned that they had used ChatGPT in order to make some of their correspondence sound more professional and even-toned, i.e. they were using ChatGPT as a tool to refine their writing.  I had never thought about this as a possibility before, so I played with it a little bit.  I’ve never used the service for any serious purpose and do not intend to, but seeing as I have a very large repository of text content, i.e. this website, I decided to take it for a spin with some Journal entries that I had written in the past year and put them in the blender to see what it would come up with as far as rewriting them.  My requirements for selection were that they needed to be recently written so as to feature my current writing style, they needed relatively few photos (so no photo-heavy entries), and on a topic that would be less likely to become dated (so no political entries).  For each one, the prompt was, “Rephrase the following page to sound more reasonable and professional,” followed by the direct URL for the entry.

I like to think of this in reference to a scene from The Cosby Show where Rudy’s teacher compares various students’ papers about the American Revolution to Rudy’s paper with Cliff.  While the other children’s papers sounded typical for fifth-grade work, Rudy’s sounded much more adult, referring to “the harrowing campaign of 1777,” and “the ubiquitous melancholy that descended on the downtrodden warriors.”  She then goes onto explain, “When Mrs. Huxtable helps Rudy with a paper, her eleven-year-old capabilities come shining through.  And when you help her with a paper, I get ‘ubiquitous melancholy’ and ‘downtrodden warriors’.  When is Mrs. Huxtable coming home?”  In other words, it’s time to give these Journal entries the “ubiquitous melancholy” treatment, as ChatGPT rewrites a few of my entries to sound more businesslike.

One thing that surprised me when I went into this was that ChatGPT now has a “reason” button that you can select, which outputs the bot’s own internal monologue as it goes through and contemplates on what I fed it.  That was interesting to see what the bot’s own process was when it output the information.  I did not expect to get that sort of insight.

The first entry that I had it grind up was the one about unnecessary redactions.  It was an obvious choice, as it was the most recent entry at the time that I ran the test, and largely consisted of my opining about people who redact content for no good reason, creating something of a Streisand effect by drawing attention to the redacted bits because the redactions stand out from the rest of the images.

So this is what the bot’s reasoning was when it processed the entry:

The user has asked to rephrase a page linked in the message, but I don’t have access to external links.  Hmm, it’s tricky because the instructions say to rephrase the content from the page, but I can’t directly read the page itself.  The user likely expects me to rephrase the text from that URL, but without seeing the content, I can’t do that.  I need the actual text to proceed with the task.

I need to rephrase the blog post to make it sound more reasonable and professional.  The user included a URL, and I’ve got the text from the page.  The content is long!  Looking closely, it has a lot of first-person language.  My job is to preserve the original message but make it sound more polished.  I’ll need to go through each segment carefully and adjust, trying to keep the core ideas intact while improving the tone.

The content transitions between two topics: one about redacting images online and another about fire alarm systems in schools.  The user wanted me to rephrase it to sound more reasonable and professional but not aggressive.  The original paragraph is quite casual and a bit harsh.  I’ll adjust the tone to be more neutral.  For example, instead of saying it “bothers me,” I might say, “I have long been concerned” to soften it.  I’ll focus on keeping the original ideas intact while making the language more polished.

I need to make the paragraph sound more neutral and professional.  The original content is quite personal, so my goal is to rephrase it thoughtfully.  For example, I’ll replace casual expressions like “that has annoyed me for quite a while” with a more neutral phrase like “I’ve been mildly frustrated by this practice for some time.”  Also, for the segment about checking the school, I’ll make it more direct and formal, focusing on the building’s condition and facilities rather than my personal nostalgia.

I reviewed the school’s Facebook, where I commented on various photos, such as one of a spelling bee in which I participated years ago.  I noted updates to the building, like the addition of a vestibule and the continued use of a metal play dome from my time there.  I enjoyed revisiting the well-maintained school and was moved by the long service of the original fire alarm system that was recently retired after 37 years.

Following my virtual visit to Bonnie Grimes Elementary, I posted a screenshot of a BG-10 pull station in a fire alarm group.  I noted my surprise that the school still had the original pull stations as of 2023.  The responses were typical of the group, with some discussing the memo on BG-10s and the new BG-12 pull stations replacing them.  One comment about redacting faces got me thinking about how online anonymity is often overemphasized, especially when the content is publicly shared.

My first thought upon seeing this was noting that it (A) balked about having to read an external page, and then (B) complained about having to read all of that text.  Then I thought, “Quit whining about my long-windedness!  It’s only a 14-minute read!”  That entry is 3,426 words, and it doesn’t even crack the top 50 as far as length goes.  I have written a lot more than that on numerous occasions, so if it thinks that’s bad, it hasn’t seen anything yet, as the length of my wind can be quite vast.  In any case, “shut up and do what you were instructed to do,” was the general thought there.  Once it quit whining about the assignment, it just explained some of what it did when it processed the entry.

So here’s the redaction entry as a more formal and professional piece:

The Overuse of Redaction in Online Images: A Call for Greater Restraint

I have long been concerned about the increasing tendency to redact elements in online images—whether it involves obscuring bystanders’ faces, license plates, or other details—even when such measures may be unnecessary.  Often, this redaction is accomplished by digitally “scribbling out” parts of an image or by overlaying conspicuous emojis over people’s faces.  Ironically, these modifications tend to draw attention to the very details that the redactor intends to conceal, thereby distracting from the overall message of the image.

My reflections on this practice were recently reinforced during a discussion among members of a specialized group dedicated to fire alarm systems.  After posting a photograph of the fire alarms at my former elementary school, Bonnie Grimes Elementary in Rogers, Arkansas, I was drawn into a conversation that prompted me to revisit both the topic of redaction and my personal connection to the school.

Late one evening, I decided to check on Grimes Elementary—not to reconnect with former colleagues (none of whom remain on staff) but rather to assess the condition of the building itself.  I browsed the school’s public Facebook page and engaged with several photos.  I recalled participating in a spelling bee held on the same stage decades ago, noted the recent addition of a vestibule created by new glass doors at the main entrance, and commented on a metal play dome that was installed during my early school years.  These observations offered a nostalgic yet positive glimpse into how well the school has been maintained over time.  Despite being nearly four decades old, the building has undergone renovations such as fresh paint and new flooring that have preserved its impressive appearance.  I also learned that the original Wheelock 7002T fire alarm system—an integral part of my early memories—was replaced last summer.  Although I felt a tinge of nostalgia, I recognized that a service life of 37 years is commendable and that the old system played a vital role in ensuring student safety and coordinating fire drills over the years.

For context, earlier photographs from Grimes Elementary’s Facebook page showed the original installation: Fire-Lite BG-10 pull stations at the main entrance (with a minor aftermarket modification, such as a replaced screw) and Wheelock 7002T horn/strobes in the cafeteria.  The original system consisted of these BG-10 pull stations paired with the 7002T notification devices.  My interest in revisiting the school was partly driven by Honeywell’s 2013 memorandum, which identified a defective seal in BG-10 pull stations and recommended replacing them with the newer BG-12 models rather than repairing them.  As a result, BG-10 units quickly became uncommon in the field.  Although the BG-10 units at Grimes Elementary were older than the period specified in the memo, I wondered if they might have been replaced by BG-12 models.  The photographs, however, indicate that while the BG-10s were retained, they underwent minor modifications—such as the replacement of a screw—rather than a complete model change.

More recent images reveal that the fire alarm system has been updated.  In these photographs, one can see Fire-Lite BG-12 pull stations installed along a corridor (a section that did not exist during my time at the school), as well as System Sensor L Series LED horn/strobes in the cafeteria replacing the older Wheelock devices.  Notably, the original Faraday signaling bells—used to mark the beginning and end of the school day, as well as lunch periods—remain in service.  It is also intriguing to wonder whether the uniquely designed bell outside room 11, which has always set itself apart, is still present.

During my virtual tour, I initially searched for the familiar 7002T devices in their customary locations.  Their absence at first caused a moment of confusion, as the replacement devices were integrated into the wall in a manner that made them blend with the surroundings.  After reviewing additional images, it became clear that the school had opted for a one-for-one replacement strategy, updating the panel, pull stations, and notification appliances with modern equipment installed in the same positions, while adding only a few new devices where necessary to ensure complete coverage.

You might now wonder how this technical discussion relates to the issue of online redaction.  Following my virtual visit, I captured a detailed screenshot of one of the BG-10 pull stations and shared it with the fire alarm group.  In my post, I expressed surprise that Bonnie Grimes Elementary had retained its original BG-10 units as recently as 2023 (albeit with a minor modification) and noted that the overall fire alarm system had been replaced during the previous summer.

The responses within the group were typical of a community deeply interested in fire alarm systems. One member pointed out that the new pull stations were, in fact, BG-12 models—a detail I had initially overlooked—while others shared their own experiences of how the replacement of their school’s fire alarm systems had affected them.  Several members also discussed Honeywell’s memo regarding the BG-10 model and the subsequent aftermarket modifications.

At this point, a comment by an individual named Robert Alexander Aslin attracted my attention.  His remark questioned whether it was necessary to include the face of a bystander in the photo, suggesting that the image should have been cropped to protect the individual’s anonymity.

I have often questioned the widespread concern over maintaining anonymity for individuals featured in online content.  Frequently, content is posted under an individual’s name, only for others to later obscure that information when sharing it further.  In my view, this practice is counterproductive, as the original source remains easily identifiable.  If an individual has chosen to post content under their own name, then they should be recognized for their contribution rather than having their identity unnecessarily concealed.  I have adhered to this principle for many years, even in cases that have attracted significant attention, such as with a well-known figure whose communications were shared in full.  In the present instance, my post was simply a factual account of the fire alarm system at my old school, shared with a community of enthusiasts who were primarily interested in the technical details rather than the identities of those inadvertently captured in the image.

Moreover, it is important to note that I was not the original creator of the content.  I merely reshared information that was already publicly available on Grimes Elementary’s Facebook page.  Because the page is entirely public, and since the only original element was my caption, further redaction is unnecessary.  In public spaces, the expectation of privacy is limited; being photographed in a public setting does not constitute a violation of privacy regardless of one’s age.  When handling content that I did not produce, I take care to respect the editorial choices made by the original publisher.

In response to Aslin’s comment, I explained:

“Redactions are unnecessary in most cases.  The current trend of obscuring every detail under the guise of protecting privacy in public settings is excessive and counterproductive.  First, the photo in question was originally posted online without redactions.  Second, the focus of our discussion is the fire alarm system, not the identity of a bystander.  In fact, redacting this information only serves to distract from the primary subject matter.  Often, leaving non-essential details visible is preferable to drawing undue attention to them—a phenomenon sometimes referred to as the ‘Streisand effect.'”

For those unfamiliar with the term, the “Streisand effect” describes the unintended consequence where efforts to hide or censor information end up increasing public awareness of that information.

In summary, while there is a growing impulse to redact publicly available details, such practices should be employed judiciously.  When content is already publicly accessible and shared in an appropriate context, further redaction may do little more than detract from the intended message.  A balanced approach that respects both individual privacy and the integrity of the original content is essential.

It then said, “This version aims to maintain the original narrative while presenting the content in a balanced, professional manner.”

The first thing that I checked was where it quoted my response to Aslin.  Even where it was asked to rephrase text, a direct quote in the text should be considered sacrosanct, since that’s someone’s actual words being applied to the text, which should be considered separate from the text itself.  The idea is that if you rephrase someone’s quote, then it’s no longer their words.  The bot, however, had no issue with rephrasing that right along with everything else.  Where I wrote, “This trend of redacting anything and everything because of some vague notion of ‘privacy’ when out in public is ridiculous and needs to stop,” the bot changed it to, “The current trend of obscuring every detail under the guise of protecting privacy in public settings is excessive and counterproductive.”  Yeah, it sounds more formal, but again, it is a direct quote, and there was no indication that it was modified, even if the meaning was retained.  If one was to modify my original quote as the bot did, the correct way to do it would be to write, “[The current] trend of [obscuring every detail under the guise of protecting] ‘privacy’ […] in public [settings] is [excessive and counterproductive].”  Brackets and ellipses galore as we indicate what is and isn’t original text.  However, if I were to modify the quote myself to be closer to the bot’s output while preserving as much of the original quote as possible, I might have said, “[The] trend of redacting [content] because of […] ‘privacy’ […] in public is [excessive and counterproductive].”  It still feels dishonest to chop it up that much vs. leaving the original unmodified quote in place, but it’s still better than what the bot did.  That said, even my own edit feels like it does too much, and makes it less of a direct quote.  I certainly wouldn’t do that myself if I were writing it in this space.

Changing the quote like it did reminds me of one time at Food & Water Watch when the IT guy changed my quoted text in an email that he copied to our mutual boss.  This particular IT guy and I didn’t get along too well for a number of different reasons, including that he took any criticism extremely personally, and he also just loved to go crying to the boss about anything and everything.  If you looked up “being a little bitch” in the dictionary, his picture would be right next to it.  So I already had my guard up, because he was just bad news overall.  In this email to the boss that he CC’d me on, he included text from my response to him about something as a quote.  But in looking at it, I noticed something: an exclamation mark at the end of my sentence.  That seemed unlike me, because I am of the opinion that in the vast majority of cases, one should not use exclamation marks in professional communication, i.e. except in extenuating circumstances, exclamation marks are unprofessional.  So I checked my original text: I finished the sentence with a period.  That little bastard changed it, and that changed the entire tone of the communication.  It went from a neutral sounding statement to one that was charged with a lot of emotion, and I wasn’t going to tolerate that.  Trust and believe that I let him have it for that one, sternly admonishing him not to ever change my quoted text again, and copying the boss on that communication.  We knew that the boss was an idiot and that this kind of subject matter was very much outside of his expertise, so I was not about to let anyone respond to anything that I said if it wasn’t being quoted properly – especially so when the boss would very likely just take someone’s word on things and then authorize them to act based solely on what they said.  Yes, it was just a punctuation mark, but to me, it was deathly serious.  All of that said, don’t mess with direct quotations, since they’re not your words to change.

Meanwhile, the bot also scrubbed all of my examples from the response.  There was no discussion of my photos of Elyse, nor of The MoCo Show‘s photo.  That turned it into a discussion more about fire alarms than about redactions, when the point of the entry was really about redaction.  Fire alarms were just the way that I introduced it on the way to my making my actual point.  Though in all fairness, the examples that I gave were quite visual, and I can only assume that the bot didn’t know what to do with the graphics, nor did it mention them in its reasoning.

I also feel like it mischaracterized my ending statement.  There, I said, “So all in all, let’s let this ridiculous redaction culture that I’ve seen online lately die.  It’s annoying, and it serves no real purpose.”  The bot ended with, “A balanced approach that respects both individual privacy and the integrity of the original content is essential.”  I’m not calling for any kind of balanced approach.  I’m saying outright not to do it.  That’s not asking for balance, but rather, “Stop doing this.”  Because let’s be real: if you don’t want to show a bystander in a shot, either wait for them to get out of the shot, or shoot from a different angle.  When I made that January 2023 trip to New York City, the muscles in my legs were quite sore the next day, and that was because of several extended periods of squatting while I was waiting for bystanders to clear.  You know those nice, clear shots that I got of the escalators at Macy’s and the restaurant from Seinfeld?  Those came after I was squatting down for an extended period waiting for people to clear, and then firing off my shots as soon as I got the opportunity – an opportunity which only lasted a few seconds before someone else walked into the frame.  Getting the right shot sometimes requires much patience, and if that means waiting several minutes in a somewhat stressful position for a clearing in order to get what you want, then that’s what you have to do.  The hell with a “balanced approach”.

The next entry that I sent through ChatGPT’s fun house was the one where I was talking about the time that I got dumped back in 1998, where I realized that my autism played a large role in the girl’s decision to dump me, even though nobody realized that at the time.

Here was its reasoning for this entry:

The article is likely a personal story about a breakup where the author was told their autism was the reason for the breakup.  The original content may have a more dramatic tone, but I need to rephrase it to sound more reasoned and professional, using careful, respectful language.

My rephrased version would express the experience as personal, but in a measured, introspective tone.  I’ll focus on the emotional impact of the breakup while emphasizing that autism is a natural variation in human neurodiversity.  It’s key to avoid internalizing prejudice and to focus on self-acceptance while recognizing the partner’s lack of understanding.

I can’t help but think that the bot was like, “Ah, crap.  This is a piece that has a lot of emotion behind it, and he wants me to clean it up.”  As such, it stripped out all of the story elements and focused 100% on autism.

So here’s what it gave me:

Reflecting on a Relationship’s End: The Role of Neurodiversity

Recently, I experienced the painful realization that my former partner’s decision to end our relationship may have been influenced by their inability to appreciate my autistic identity.  Initially, I was left with a profound sense of hurt and confusion.  It was difficult to come to terms with the notion that a quality intrinsic to who I am—my neurodiversity—could be held responsible for our breakup.

As I reflected on the experience, I began to recognize that this rejection was less about my personal shortcomings and more about a broader societal misunderstanding of autism.  Often, the very traits that make autistic individuals unique are misinterpreted as flaws by those who lack a full understanding of neurodiversity.  In this case, it became clear that my partner’s inability to embrace my authentic self was not a reflection of my worth, but rather an indication of their own limitations in accepting differences.

This experience has underscored the importance of self-acceptance and the need to seek relationships where one is truly valued for their whole self.  I have come to understand that being autistic contributes positively to my perspective and problem-solving abilities, and that any meaningful relationship should celebrate rather than stigmatize these differences.

Ultimately, while the pain of rejection is undeniable, this chapter in my life has reinforced my commitment to personal growth and advocacy for greater understanding of neurodiversity.  I hope that by sharing my experience in a thoughtful and honest manner, others who may be facing similar challenges will find strength in their own identity and the knowledge that acceptance begins with embracing who we are.

After the output, it concluded with, “This version aims to convey the original sentiments in a clear, respectful, and professional manner.”

That whole passage sounds altogether too politically correct.  First of all, I hate the term “neurodiverse”, along with similar terms like “neurotypical” and “neurodivergent”, and I especially hate the term “neurospicy”.  I just prefer the terms “autistic” and “non-autistic”.  In other words, having the thing vs. not having the thing.  Keep it simple.  I also didn’t like the bot’s use of “partner” to describe the other party in the relationship.  Trust and believe that she didn’t make it nearly far enough to have earned that title.  I reserve the use of that term for someone who is in a committed long-term relationship with someone, but where they are not legally married to each other.

Other than that, though, the bot did a pretty good job with summarizing the main points.  However, it missed a key point in the discussion, that none of us knew that autism was at play at the time.  She wasn’t like, “You are autistic, and therefore I am dumping you.”  She responded to the behaviors, and I was just doing my best, but none of us knew or understood the root cause at the time.  As such, by leaving that piece out, this seems to mischaracterize the whole thing by making it sound like I knew I was autistic from a young age, and that couldn’t be further from the truth, with my having been diagnosed as an adult.  There was a healthy dose of hindsight in the original post, as the events described had occurred 25 years prior, and therefore 25 years of additional maturity and wisdom, and this seems to make it seem like some things were known from the outset when they weren’t.  In other words, its conclusions are generally sound, but it absolutely destroys the context.

Moving along, the next Journal entry that I let it chew on was the one that I wrote about the Mighty Morphin Alien Rangers story arc in Power Rangers, where I posited the idea that the entire story arc not only served as a bridge between Mighty Morphin Power Rangers and Power Rangers Zeo, but that it also served as a testbed for the production to explore different hero-side concepts in the show that they had never done up to that point.  I explained the thought process behind what I was saying, and also listed a number of elements to make my point, and also described how some of those same elements had been implemented more fully in later Saban-era seasons.

Interestingly, while the bot did indicate that it reasoned with this for 14 seconds, it did not disclose its reasoning.  And once you read what it said, I think that you will understand:

The Power Rangers Sandbox: A Thoughtful Analysis

The Power Rangers franchise, widely recognized for its vivid characters, dynamic action sequences, and imaginative storytelling, offers more than simple entertainment—it provides a creative space for both reflection and analysis.  At its core, the series functions as a “sandbox” for narrative experimentation, where themes such as teamwork, resilience, and identity are explored within a distinctive, stylized universe.

The series is notable for its blend of fantasy and action.  Its narrative framework, which features a diverse group of heroes working collaboratively against formidable challenges, reflects broader societal values related to unity and perseverance.  This collaborative spirit not only drives the on-screen action but also invites viewers to consider how shared efforts and mutual support can overcome adversity in real life.

Moreover, the evolution of the Power Rangers over the years serves as a compelling case study in media adaptation.  As the franchise has developed, it has continuously incorporated new technological advances and responded to shifting audience expectations—all while preserving its unique identity.  This adaptability underscores the importance of flexibility in serialized storytelling, demonstrating how established narratives can be refreshed and reinterpreted for new generations without losing their foundational appeal.

In essence, the Power Rangers franchise can be appreciated both as a cultural phenomenon and as an innovative experiment in narrative construction.  By engaging with its evolving storylines and visual style, audiences are encouraged to examine how popular media reflects and shapes contemporary values.  Ultimately, this thoughtful approach to a long-standing entertainment series reveals its broader significance as a medium that both entertains and provokes critical reflection on the nature of heroism and collective action.

In describing its work, the bot said, “This version strives to maintain the original observations while presenting them in a clear, balanced, and professional manner.”  In describing its work, I said, “What the hell was that?”  That has absolutely nothing to do with anything that I said.  No wonder why it gave no reasoning for this one, because it gave zero consideration to my actual content.  I went deep into the weeds discussing Power Rangers in some detail, while the bot was like, “Power Rangers?  Say no more.  I got this,” and then spewed out some generalities about the franchise.  I didn’t talk about any of what it discussed.  The only connection to what I said was the use of the term “sandbox” in the first paragraph.  Beyond that, it just wrote about whatever it wanted that was vaguely related to Power Rangers.  Epic fail on ChatGPT’s part with that one, since it just went off and did its own thing and disregarded my entry entirely.

In the next outing, I gave it the entry where I describe my experiences in sixth grade.  Do you remember how it said, “The content is long!” in regards to the entry about redactions?  It really hadn’t seen anything yet.  If it thought that entry was chonky, I just threw a real chonker at it.  At 14,756 words, and with a 50-minute calculated read time, that is my longest entry to date, coming in more than 5,000 words longer than the Hewitt Gardens entry, which was my my longest entry prior to that.  This was also a story post, which described the events that occurred during a period that spanned about nine months.

The reasoning on this one was surprisingly brief:

I need to rephrase the content of the “One of my Best Years in School” page to sound more reasonable and professional.  The original likely includes anecdotal language, so I will adjust the tone while retaining the meaning.

Here’s a rephrased version:

“Reflecting on My Most Fulfilling Academic Year, I realize that time was marked by personal growth and rewarding academic experiences.  My interactions with supportive teachers and peers allowed me to develop skills that have shaped my life.  The curriculum was enriching, providing me with opportunities for deeper exploration and meaningful collaboration.  I am deeply grateful for the community and experiences that continue to influence my professional and personal journey.”

And here’s the output that the bot gave me:

Reflecting on a Transformative Academic Year

In reviewing my educational journey, one academic year stands out as particularly transformative and rewarding.  During this period, I experienced significant personal and intellectual growth, supported by dedicated educators, a stimulating curriculum, and a collaborative peer community.

Throughout that year, I was immersed in an environment that challenged me to excel academically while nurturing critical thinking and creativity.  The coursework provided both depth and breadth, allowing me to explore subjects comprehensively and apply theoretical concepts in practical contexts.  This balanced approach not only enhanced my understanding of the material but also prepared me for future academic and professional endeavors.

Equally important were the extracurricular activities and community initiatives that complemented my formal studies.  These experiences enriched my learning by fostering a strong sense of belonging and encouraging collaborative problem-solving.  The supportive interactions with teachers and peers created an atmosphere where challenges were met with collective effort and mutual encouragement.

This memorable year has left a lasting impact on my personal and professional development.  It instilled in me a commitment to lifelong learning and the pursuit of excellence, values that continue to guide me today.  I remain profoundly grateful for the opportunities and experiences that made that year one of the most rewarding chapters of my educational life.

The bot gave me no concluding statement for this.  And considering that this is another case where the bot just took my text as a prompt and then wrote a bunch of generalities based on it, leaving me saying, “What the hell was that?” again, it’s just as well, because it clearly did not understand the assignment.  It took in over 14,000 words, returned 207 words, and said absolutely nothing.  Tell me, ChatGPT, what level was I at in my academic career during the events described here?  What year did this happen in?  Because ChatGPT failed to give either one of those bits of informaton.  It also made the year seem like it was all rainbows and sunshine, which is not entirely accurate.  I’m not going to say that the year was perfect, but it wasn’t terrible, either.  It was a mixed bag, for sure, as I had good relationships with my teachers for the most part, but I also experienced a lot of bullying at the hands of some of the other kids.  ChatGPT didn’t discuss any of that, and that was a large part of the entry.  No discussion of standardized testing, either.  I also didn’t talk about either extracurricular activities or community initiatives in that entry.  For that matter, I don’t believe that I participated in any extracurriculars in sixth grade.  I came to school at the beginning of the day and left at the end of the day, and didn’t do anything beyond that in school.  I did a lot of stuff with church that year, and I took a karate class at the local YMCA, but nothing through the school.  All I know is that if this were a school assignment to summarize and rephrase the original work, I would probably fail them on it, because while it’s decent enough standing on its own, even if it is a bit vapid, it has nothing to do with the original.

So that one is a bust.

The next one that I did was my entry about autism acceptance.  Recall that the entry focuses on an initiative that various transit agencies signed on to where their regular announcements were rerecorded with children’s voices for the month of April.  I strongly disagreed with the initiative, largely because it seemed to box autism in and make it sound like a kiddie issue, when in reality, autistic children grow up to be autistic adults.  It also places some heavy criticism on the person who spearheaded the initiative, and the programs that they supported.

As far as reasoning went, the bot gave no reasoning behind what it spewed out, and also gave no concluding statement.

So here’s what it spat back out:

Autism Acceptance Means Embracing Every Individual on the Spectrum

In discussions about autism, it is essential to recognize that genuine acceptance must include every individual on the spectrum, irrespective of the range of abilities, challenges, or support needs they may have.  True autism acceptance is not about endorsing only certain aspects or manifestations of autism—it is about acknowledging the intrinsic value and dignity of all autistic people.

This inclusive approach requires an understanding of the diversity within the autism community. Autistic individuals experience the world in various ways, and their unique perspectives contribute to the broader tapestry of human experience.  Embracing this diversity means not only celebrating strengths and talents but also addressing the real challenges that some may face, and ensuring that supports and accommodations are available to everyone.

Moreover, fostering authentic acceptance involves moving beyond mere tolerance toward building a culture of empathy, understanding, and mutual respect.  It is crucial for policymakers, educators, and community members alike to listen to autistic voices, consider their experiences, and work together to dismantle systemic barriers that limit full participation in society.  Only by committing to this comprehensive and inclusive perspective can we create environments where every autistic person is valued and empowered.

In summary, true autism acceptance is a holistic and all-encompassing approach—one that honors the full spectrum of autism by ensuring that every individual, regardless of differences in abilities or needs, is supported and included as an integral part of our community.

This one is similar to my original entry only at a very high level.  The first sentence is great: “In discussions about autism, it is essential to recognize that genuine acceptance must include every individual on the spectrum, irrespective of the range of abilities, challenges, or support needs they may have.”  Boom.  Perfect.  I also don’t find what it says in this passage to be particularly disagreeable.  After all, autism acceptance means everyone, which includes both children and adults, regardless of level of functionality.  However, beyond that, it’s really not about my entry.  The bot does not touch on any of the details that I covered.  No mention of the Autism Transit Project, Jonathan Trichter, or any of the harmful therapies that Trichter has advocated for.  It’s just a lot of generalities, and with the lack of any specific criticisms that I include in my original post, it sort of whitewashes the whole thing.  It uses a bunch of words and says very little, even if I don’t disagree with what it says.

One thing worth noting, though, is that I hate the use of the term “on the spectrum” as a euphemism for “autistic”.  I am not afraid to say “autistic”, because it is an accurate description of what is going on, and will not be offended if you use it to describe be, because that is exactly the term that I will use.  I don’t want to see the word “autistic” become a term that people don’t use out of fear of offending someone.  Additionally, autism is not the only disorder described as a spectrum, and so it should not take any sort of lead position in that kind of terminology, because it is one of many, even if it is probably the best known.

So with that out of the way, let’s go to church, as I had it rephrase my entry about various experiences with organized religion.

Here is the bot’s internal monologue, i.e. its reasoning:

I need to rephrase the page to sound more polished. The original starts with, “Thinking about various church experiences…” and goes on to discuss a Vacation Bible School experience from the 90s. It mentions a Reddit post asking, “What do you still have memorized?” The author recalls the offertory song sung during the offering. Upon reflection, the author questions the priorities surrounding the funds raised during that time, and plans to elaborate further. I’ll aim to express this more clearly and professionally.

The discussion leads to recalling various church experiences I had growing up, which were definitely a mixed bag. Some of them were good, but others were less than ideal.

For some background: I attended church from 1989 to 2003, though I was never particularly religious. My father, though ethnically Jewish, didn’t follow the religion, and my mom, a former Presbyterian, stopped attending after college. My early years had little religious influence, aside from a light Baptist preschool experience and occasional religious discussions with my mom, which I wasn’t fully convinced by, even as a child.

I never really saw much purpose in the nightly prayer Mom and I shared because it felt like we were just talking to ourselves. In 1989, Mom found a church she enjoyed, First Presbyterian. We attended regularly, and they offered programs throughout the week, including Vacation Bible School. The church was welcoming, with fun and catchy songs for the kids—nothing too heavy-handed or overly religious, just a positive, fellowship-focused atmosphere with physical activities and a relaxed vibe. Overall, it was a fun and memorable experience.

Throughout the week, an offering was taken each morning before the groups dispersed. It wasn’t a big deal, just a casual donation. In the second year, the event adopted a “Camp Can Do” theme, and a goal was set to fill a large pot with donations. Our contributions, mostly coins, were all for fun—aimed at watching the leader get his head shaved if the goal was met. The offering likely helped cover the program’s costs. Overall, my church experience in Rogers was positive, with a relaxed and welcoming environment, despite my skepticism about the religious aspects. After moving to Virginia, Finley Memorial offered a different experience, where feeling accepted took longer but eventually came with time.

I can jive with this.  It summarized the entry nicely enough, picking out the fact that I questioned the offering at the Mennonite church’s VBS program, and it captured the background pretty well.  My only criticism there is that I would never have described her as a former Presbyterian, because she has been Presbyterian all of her life, even during that period where she did not attend church.

The bot, meanwhile, wrote this, complete with headers:

Reflections on My Church Experiences

Recently, I found myself revisiting memories of a Vacation Bible School (VBS) program that my sister and I attended during my middle school years in the mid‑nineties.  A discussion on Reddit prompted me to recall not only the offertory song we once sang as the plate was passed around but also a range of other church-related experiences from my childhood.  These memories reveal a mixed bag of impressions—some positive, others less so.

Early Exposure and Family Background

For context, I attended church regularly from 1989 until 2003.  My early years were largely free of religious influence; I spent the first eight years of my life without much exposure to organized religion.  My father, who was raised Jewish but did not practice the religion as an adult, and my mother, who was raised Presbyterian and attended church until college (then took a long hiatus), provided very little formal religious instruction during my formative years.  My only early religious experience was a brief enrollment in a Baptist preschool in Rogers, where religious activities were minimal—typically involving a few visits to the sanctuary and a simple “God is great, God is good” prayer before snack time.  Although my mother occasionally discussed religious ideas with me, I remained skeptical even at a young age, finding it difficult to reconcile the descriptions of “God” with my observations of the world.

A Positive Shift at First Presbyterian Church

In 1989, my mother finally found a church that resonated with her—First Presbyterian Church in Rogers.  Although she had initially considered attending this church when we first moved to Arkansas in 1985, she was not impressed by the minister at that time.  By 1989, however, a new minister had taken over, and the experience improved markedly.  Our routine included attending Sunday services, participating in a midweek after‐school program, and joining the annual Vacation Bible School during the summer.

At First Presbyterian, the atmosphere was relaxed yet respectful.  The church managed to balance reverence with an environment where children could have fun.  For example, the children’s songs were modern and engaging rather than the traditional tunes like “Jesus Loves Me,” which, in my view, sometimes promoted unquestioning loyalty rather than encouraging thoughtful engagement.  VBS was a weeklong event held each late June.  It was a collaborative effort involving our church, a local Methodist congregation, and a local Disciples of Christ church, with hosting duties rotating among them.  The program featured well-produced music with catchy titles such as “Friendimension,” “Camp Can Do,” and “Team Up with Jesus.”  For elementary-aged children, the program was designed to be both educational and enjoyable.  Younger participants experienced an extended version of Sunday school, while older children—like myself—were bused to Beaver Lake for a loosely themed day camp that emphasized fellowship and physical activity over rigid instruction.  On the bus rides, our day camp leader, David Artman (affectionately known as “Captain Dave”), entertained us with a mix of religious and secular songs, making the journey as memorable as the camp itself.

Creative Approaches to Offerings

An interesting aspect of VBS was how the weekly offerings were handled.  Each day began with a brief opportunity to contribute, with the understanding that any donations would help offset the program’s expenses.  During one memorable year, which had a camping theme dubbed “Camp Can Do,” the program leader, Duke Mobley, set a fun goal: if we could fill a large camp-style cooking pot with donations by week’s end, a particular child from our church would have his head shaved in front of everyone.  My sister and I contributed our small collections of pennies, not for the monetary value but as a symbolic gesture.  Although we ultimately reached only about half the target, the playful nature of the event underscored that the purpose of the offering was to support the program rather than to emphasize individual contributions.

It is also worth noting that the VBS program concluded at the end of elementary school, as it was designed exclusively for children up to rising sixth grade.  By the time I completed my third season at age 11, I felt it was time to move on from the program, an experience that, while bittersweet, was an expected part of growing up.

Overall Church Experience in Rogers

My overall church experience at First Presbyterian in Rogers was highly positive.  I appreciated the relaxed atmosphere and the balanced approach to religious practice.  As a child, I found the church environment welcoming and enjoyable, and as an adult, I recognize the thoughtful efforts made to create a fun and engaging experience for young attendees.  Being the only child from my school in the congregation meant that I was free of any preconceived notions based on school interactions—a circumstance that contributed to my sense of acceptance and belonging, even though I never fully embraced all of the theological aspects.

A New Chapter in Stuarts Draft

In August 1992, our family moved to Stuarts Draft, Virginia, bringing with it a host of changes: a new home, a new school, and a new church community at Finley Memorial Presbyterian Church.  Unlike the mid-sized First Presbyterian Church in Rogers—which was spread over two buildings and offered a wide array of facilities—Finley Memorial was a smaller, single-building congregation with a modest membership.  Although it shared the same denominational affiliation (Presbyterian Church [USA]), the experience was markedly different.  Initially, I felt like an outsider among the youth at Finley Memorial, but over time, as new members joined and the group evolved, I gradually transitioned from being the “new kid” to becoming an integrated member of the community.

Then in its little “ta-da” conclusion statement, it said, “This rephrased version seeks to capture the original narrative and personal insights while presenting the content in a clear, balanced, and professional manner.”  And in this instance, it actually did.  If all of these outputs were like this one, this would probably be a very different kind of entry.  This one is a pretty good result.  It leaves out a lot of details and a lot of opinions, but it seems to capture the big details and tells the intended story.  It provided the background information, it told the story, and it made it clear to the reader where the high and low points of the experiences were.  The bot did what we asked it to do, and rephrased the thing “to sound more reasonable and professional”.  It also compressed an entry of 6,376 words with a 22-minute read time down to 931 words and a four-minute read time.  Not bad.

Then the last Journal entry that I subjected to ChatGPT was the one about the time that Augusta County had school on Saturday.  That day was a poor idea from the outset, done solely in order to avoid having the last day of school on a Monday.  As far as the Journal entry went, it told the story of the pointlessness of the Saturday school day, and the absolutely shameful methods that the school used in order to get kids to show up.  Putting it all together, it laid bare how poor of a decision it was to have school on that day, because if it was a big waste of a day for everyone (except maybe that one teacher who taught a full lesson on the Saturday).

The bot actually gave a very long bit of reasoning.  It said what it was going to do, and then threw out a few paragraphs:

I need to rephrase the page titled “The Most Pointless School Day Ever” in a more professional, measured tone.  I’ll rewrite the text in a way that’s clear, formal, and respectful, avoiding informal language.  I’ll keep all essential details but tweak the tone.  The goal is to make the entire passage sound more refined while maintaining the original content’s meaning.  I’ll make sure the rephrasing reads smoothly across multiple paragraphs while keeping any key points intact.  Time to get started with this!

There was one day I attended school that I absolutely regret going to, and looking back, I’m certain I would’ve skipped if given the chance.  It was when Augusta County decided to hold a makeup day on a Saturday, due to the exceptionally snowy winter of 1994.  The county had canceled school for 16 days during that winter, but they only built in three snow days on the school calendar, meaning those days were essentially “freebies” for unexpected closures.

Augusta County had an unusual situation in 1994, where they had to make up 16 snow days after not having any built-in snow days the previous year.  This was especially surprising given the region’s snow-prone but southern nature.  The county preferred to use existing off days for makeup time, leaving no breaks the rest of the school year.  I disagreed with this choice — I would have preferred to extend the year in June instead of losing all breaks, particularly the Memorial Day holiday.

The Saturday makeup day was a complete disaster, with very little notice and a high absentee rate.  The administration’s attempt to encourage attendance with a pizza party for one homeroom was flawed — it only rewarded showing up, not actual effort.  The day was a waste of time, with teachers unable to teach new material due to low attendance.  Most classes just watched movies, while one health teacher tried to teach, though it didn’t matter much.  Augusta County hasn’t had school on a Saturday since.

And here is what the bot output after thinking about it for a minute:

Reflections on an Unusual Make-Up Day

This year marks thirty years since what I consider the most inefficient day of my school career—a day that, given the choice, I would have preferred to skip entirely.  On that day, Augusta County scheduled a snow make-up day on a Saturday.

The context for this decision was the unusually snowy winter of 1994 in Augusta County.  That winter, 16 school days were canceled due to weather-related issues, including one full week of closures.  In our county, a single academic calendar applies to all schools despite wide variations in weather conditions.  In more rural parts, treacherous roads justified a cancellation, while in urbanized areas such as where I lived, roads were generally passable.  To account for these differences, the calendar had already built in three snow days, making the school year 183 days long.  However, because the previous year had no built‐in snow days and had experienced 14 snow days, the district had to schedule make-up days to compensate for a total of 13 additional days.

The district’s approach to allocating make-up days was a point of disagreement for me.  They typically preferred to use existing non-instructional days rather than extending the school year.  In this instance, with 16 snow days in play, the district planned instruction five days a week from the last snow event in March until June 17—with all teacher workdays, conference days, and holiday weekends repurposed for make-up instruction.  In my view, it would have been preferable to append the make-up days at the end of the school year, preserving the scheduled breaks that help prevent burnout.  Given that the summer break already lasted more than two months, an additional week at the end of the year would likely have been acceptable, aside from inconveniencing families with pre-planned vacations.

A particular issue arose when the district exhausted its list of make-up days.  In one instance, a make-up day scheduled for late January—originally intended to replace a teacher in-service day—was itself lost to snow.  With no remaining scheduled days and all other off days already used, the administration made an impromptu decision.  They added a few days at the end of the year and then, in order to ensure the school year ended on a Friday, they designated an otherwise unscheduled Saturday in April as a school day.  The announcement came with less than one week’s notice, significantly disrupting weekend plans.

Predictably, many parents opted to keep their children at home, leading to unusually high absentee rates.  As an incentive to boost attendance, the administration offered a pizza party to the homeroom with the highest attendance.  However, this incentive raised two concerns.  First, it merely rewarded attendance—even if a student was present only briefly—rather than recognizing genuine academic engagement.  Second, the reward applied to only one homeroom, meaning that even if a student’s individual effort was significant, they might not receive any benefit if their homeroom did not win the contest.  In effect, the incentive ended up rewarding those who were simply present while leaving others without acknowledgment.

On the day in question, the low attendance undermined the instructional purpose.  With classes significantly underpopulated, teachers found it difficult to deliver new material effectively.  Instead of proceeding with regular lessons, the schedule devolved into a series of movie viewings and computer games.  All four core academic classes were combined for a single movie presentation—a historical fiction film that many found tedious—while the exploratory class was reduced to playing educational games on older Apple IIGS machines.  Even during the extended learning class, when we watched an episode of a popular game show, the overall consensus was that the day had little academic value.

The situation illustrates a broader issue: when attendance is significantly below the required quorum—whether due to a field trip, a senior skip day, or, in this case, a Saturday make-up day—it is impractical to introduce new material.  In such scenarios, it would be more efficient to postpone new lessons until normal attendance levels are restored.

One class, however, managed to deliver on its promise.  In health class—a component of the physical education program—the teacher insisted on a full lesson, partly as an effort to encourage attendance.  Although the class was evaluated primarily on attitude and effort rather than strict academic performance, it stood in contrast to the rest of the day, which many felt was wasted.

In retrospect, it is clear that the district quickly recognized the shortcomings of this scheduling approach.  The overwhelming absenteeism and widespread dissatisfaction among families demonstrated that the policy was both impractical and disruptive.  Since that time, Augusta County has not scheduled school on a Saturday—even during severe winters—opting instead to adjust the calendar in ways that preserve scheduled breaks and better accommodate students’ and families’ needs.

Its parting statement for this one was, “This version aims to convey the original narrative and criticisms in a clear, balanced, and professional manner.”  Okay.

In reading this one over, it’s probably the best out of all of them.  The bot actually did what was asked of it.  It rephrased it to sound more measured, and it mentioned all of the things that I brought up, while refining how I said it.  It also took what was originally 2,100 words and a seven-minute reading time and turned it into 792 words and a four-minute reading time.

My only complaint is in the second paragraph, where it said, “However, because the previous year had no built‐in snow days and had experienced 14 snow days, the district had to schedule make-up days to compensate for a total of 13 additional days.”  That conflated what I said about snow days in sixth grade, where we had 14, and what I said about snow days in seventh grade, where we had 16, with three of them built into the calendar.  The way it conflated the two made for a sentence that ultimately didn’t make sense.  14 snow days and no days built into the calendar, but we only had to make up 13?  And why did the previous year’s snow days have anything at all to do with the way that snow days in the subject year were made up?  Other than that one sentence, though, which would need to be rewritten, it is conceivable that this could be used with minimal editing.  So, good work.

So out of seven selections, you have one that feels incomplete that mischaracterized what I said and changed a direct quote (the redactions one), one that produced a nice summary but missed some key points (the one about the old relationship), two that could only be described as, “What the hell was that?” because they were completely original compositions that had nothing to do with what I originally wrote except in general subject matter (the Power Rangers and sixth grade ones), one that was not disagreeable but was only marginally related to what I wrote about, and two that met the requirements of the task and performed respectably, even if their outputs weren’t perfect.  That said, the usual advice about using generative AI tools absolutely still applies: don’t just blindly rely on them to do your work for you.  They have definitely gotten better with time, as my first and second runs with ChatGPT, done about 20 months apart from each other, will indicate, but all the same, I wouldn’t directly use anything from an AI chatbot, and instead use it as inspiration for your own work.  After all, computers are only as good as the people who program them.  A computer can only do what it is told to do, and follows every instruction literally.  It cannot assume or reason on its own – even AI chatbots.  ChatGPT even acknowledges as much, including a disclaimer that says, “ChatGPT can make mistakes.  Check important info.”  Though as TXL from Today’s Special taught us, computers do not make mistakes.  They only make mistakes when you feed them bad information, i.e. garbage in, garbage out.  Therefore, you have to use your noodle when making use of content from it.

One thing that I also noticed about all of these rephrasings is that they lacked personality.  I suppose that comes with the territory to an extent, since the original instruction was to make it sound “more reasonable and professional”, and professional communications are normally kind of boring and impersonal.  It’s too bad that it couldn’t manage to retain a little bit of my personality and writing style while still refining it, but I suppose that’s the state of the art for the time.  It’s not unreasonable to think that if we were to repeat this exercise this a year or so down the road, my various complaints about what we got thie time might not be an issue anymore, and I’ll probably have new things to criticize them over.  But that’s for a future entry.

Categories: Artificial intelligence, Schumin Web meta