For years, AI in education hummed quietly in the background. It powered grading systems, adaptive tests and learning analytics but few outside the edtech field ever noticed. Then came generative AI, and everything shifted. Unlike earlier tools, GenAI didn’t arrive through ministries or school procurement plans. It landed straight on students’ phones and teachers’ laptops. That changed everything.
General-purpose GenAI tools are not designed to help students learn; they are built to do things for us. They write essays, solve problems, translate texts and generate code. Unsurprisingly, the first reaction from education systems was concern - about cheating, academic integrity and whether grading could still be trusted. But that response revealed something deeper: education’s long-standing dependence on credentials as proof of learning, rather than learning itself.
And yet, the genie is not going back into the bottle. Students already use GenAI widely outside classrooms, more so as they grow older. Parents use it at work and at home. Teachers use it to draft lesson plans, quizzes and feedback. Researchers use it to refine language, explore data, and solve problems that once took months or years. GenAI is no longer an experiment; it is part of education’s lived reality.
Its capabilities are undeniable. General-purpose GenAI can engage in dialogue, adapt to context, and synthesise information at a scale no human can match. In science, its potential is already transformative. AlphaFold, a generative AI system, predicted the structures of nearly all known proteins in a single year - a task that once consumed entire PhDs. That breakthrough has reshaped medicine and refocused human effort on harder questions. GenAI doesn’t just retrieve knowledge; it accelerates its production.
But this power comes with real risks. GenAI systems “hallucinate”, producing plausible but false answers. They are not fully consistent because they are shaped by probabilities rather than understanding, reflecting the perspectives of their training data. And even when the answers sound authoritative, they do not understand in any human sense. Their outputs demand scrutiny - often more, not less, than traditional AI systems.
For education, the stakes are high. When GenAI performs tasks for students, it risks pulling them out of the zone where real learning happens, when struggle, effort and growth take place. The same risk applies to teachers and leaders who outsource feedback, assessment, or even strategic thinking to machines, hollowing out processes whose value lies in process rather than output.
Yet used wisely, GenAI offers real opportunity. It can personalise the cognitive struggle of learning without sacrificing social cohesion, support students through conversational tutoring, and provide explanations when human help is unavailable. It can help teachers adapt instruction, analyse learning data through natural language, and focus their energy where it matters most: relationships, judgement and inspiration. It can expand access for second-language learners, rural students and those historically underserved.
The choice facing education systems is not really whether GenAI should be allowed, but how to ensure its pedagogical intent and shape its most effective use. GenAI will remain part of our societies. Education’s task is to ensure it strengthens learning, rather than quietly replacing it.
In 2024, when the TALIS data were collected, about a third of teachers were already using AI for work, mostly for planning lessons and learning about teaching topics. The uptake has probably grown since then. Out of those teachers using AI in 2024, TALIS data also reveal a quarter employ it to assess or mark students’ work. This represents a fundamental shift in how students are evaluated and raises a fundamental question: is it a good development or not?
The attraction of AI is obvious as teachers regularly say they are short on time. Between planning lessons, teaching and managing classrooms, and marking assessments, the workload can be relentless. So, if AI software claims it can assess hundreds of maths tests in seconds, it is no surprise that some teachers jump at the chance. AI is simply better than humans at doing certain things, particularly tasks requiring repetitive precision. But outsourcing assessment risks that teachers lose the connection to their students and the understanding of what their students can do. Out of teachers who use AI, at least 50% in Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, North Macedonia, South Africa, Türkiye and Viet Nam mark schoolwork with it, according to TALIS data. In Uzbekistan, the share reaches an astonishing 85%. That is fast take-up given that ChatGPT was only launched at the end of 2022. It is also a major change that, in most cases, has occurred without formal policies or consistent training.
For critics, the speed at which AI has been adopted is a risk, with technology companies competing for a global market with little regard for oversight. But for supporters, AI is the solution to numerous issues that teachers contend with on a daily basis. Across the OECD, 40% of teachers report that too much marking is a source of stress. By instantly assessing grammar, coherence and structure, proponents of AI argue it allows teachers to spend more time on lesson planning and mentoring students, freeing them from “never ending” marking.
But there is a lack of robust, large-scale independent evidence that proves AI enhances student learning. AI may struggle to capture subjective elements of assessment, such as creativity or originality and it may also have difficulty understanding context or cultural influences. In addition, there are privacy and data security concerns. And left unchecked, AI may spread misinformation, and algorithmic grading may amplify racial, gender and socio-economic biases rather than erase them.
These issues raise concerns about what checks have been carried out before implementing AI in the classroom. The effectiveness of algorithms varies considerably. Does the AI grade fairly across different student demographics? Does its feedback genuinely help students improve? Education leaders and schools should know the answers before deploying the software, particularly as some surveys suggest that nearly two-thirds of adults oppose the use of technology for marking.
Another profound shift to consider is the relationship between teacher and student. Traditionally, marking has been about more than just correcting errors. It is a form of dialogue with teachers’ comments offering insight and encouragement to students. If replaced by AI, does it weaken the personalised relationship between teacher and student? Could some students make less effort if they realise AI, and not teachers, are marking their work?