If school psychology were a sport, it would be an extreme one. Caseloads are overflowing. Students' needs are increasingly complex. Crises arise without warning. And layered on top of this is the fact that most of our time isn't spent with students; it's spent in meetings and writing 15- to 30-page reports for every child evaluated. Hours in front of a computer can drain mental, physical, and emotional resources. For those of us juggling our own children, aging parents, or side commitments, the stress can be overwhelming.
There are bright spots, however. Spending one-on-one time with children who are often marginalized and misunderstood is like being given access to secret gold mines that no one else in the building knows about. The value of giving clarity and confidence to parents who don't understand what's happening with their child can never be overstated. Knowing that my input could change the trajectory of how a child is perceived and raised is enormous. Recently, I was enthusiastically greeted by a student who, just months ago, was completely withdrawn and growling as a means of communication. The pros do outweigh the not-so-pros in this field.
Recently, a colleague mentioned a new AI program that could help reduce our report-writing time so we could focus on what really matters: the students themselves. I heard her words, but I did not believe them. I have worked this job since 2002, and nothing, I mean nothing, has come close to accomplishing that claim. To complicate matters, I had been staunchly against all things artificial, especially intelligence. I thought of it as a moral issue, defending the integrity of the human spirit.
And then something miraculous happened. Another psychologist offered me an opportunity to watch her use SageReport. I decided to keep my expectations low. I witnessed her enter several PDF files. After what seemed like only 30 to 45 seconds, she received a fully integrated report, including recommendations for the classroom, the home, and eligibility. I did not believe what I saw, so I kindly demanded that she show me again. She pulled up another student and demonstrated it once more. A full report. I'm pretty sure my emotional outburst was a bit unsettling. I thanked her profusely and went into a daze of wondering.
This wondering had me feeling torn and hypocritical. Who am I if I allow AI to do part of my job? Am I less authentic if I lock arms with it? These identity questions haunted me, but the pull toward reclaiming sovereignty over my time and sanity could not be ignored. My concerns about AI didn't disappear, but they became smaller next to the concrete possibility of helping more students today. I decided to lean in.
What I have realized is that when we equate AI with what we do, rather than who we are, things get muddled. We are more than our ability to perform routine tasks, our memory, our speed, or our data analysis skills. We are our capacity for human judgment, compassion, empathy, creativity, humor, and intuition. These remain distinctly human, and they are where connection matters most. If we maintain clarity on these differentiations, the decision to use AI becomes less difficult. Presence for children, teachers, parents, and the community becomes more available. Slaving over a computer screen can now be a choice rather than a sentence.
Presence is not merely an abstract concept encountered in a yoga class. Research consistently shows that the quality of human connection is one of the strongest predictors of both learning and mental health outcomes, especially for children. Presence is needed for us to clearly see one another. It is required for implementing human judgment outside of the rules. It is an absolute non-negotiable when empathy or intuition is called for. None of these gifts can be given by any artificial source.
Since that demonstration, I've cut my report-writing time by at least 75%. This is far more sustainable and significantly addresses a problem that, before now, seemed unsolvable. For me, that changed everything.
Every person has to make this decision for themselves. For me, the ethical calculation comes down to this: what is the weight of my concerns about AI against the actual hours I could give to an at-risk child? Most technology pulls us away from each other. Technology that increases human connection is something remarkable. I do not know what the future holds. What I do know is that my time right now is precious. My sanity right now is necessary. The needs of children and families right now are enormous. If there is something that addresses my ability to impact all three issues in my little corner of the universe, I know what I have to do.
