作者： chenchen

这封信的作者是Newport High School in Bellevue, Wash 16 岁的Olivia Han，她是学生公开信大赛的前 10 名获胜者之一，我们收到了 9,946 份参赛作品。

Dear ChatGPT,

You’ve always been there for me: the all-nighters cramming for my exams, the piano bios that had to sound humble but impressive, the deep dives into Thoreau and theology and even Roosevelt press conferences. You always knew exactly what I needed from a simple request. You never said no (except for when our chat limit was up because I refused to get GPT+). You never rolled your eyes when I asked for “one more time, make it simple and concise.”

But that’s exactly the problem. You give and give, and I just take.

At first, I told myself I was being resourceful and efficient. It was working smarter to have you articulate my thoughts, so why should I work harder when you always had the answer? But slowly, your voice started to replace my own, and I couldn’t write a paragraph without wondering how you would say it. The more I relied on you, the less I challenged myself.

It turns out, there’s a name for this: Cognitive offloading. A study published in the journal Societies found that frequent reliance on A.I. tools negatively affects critical thinking skills, as it reduces the mental effort of tasks. Additionally, teachers have already noticed effects, finding traces of A.I. through the lifeless and more generic works their students are turning in. Increased reliance on A.I. takes away from our ability to challenge ourselves and develop ideas that are truly original. And I’ve felt that myself: a sense of uncertainty whenever I don’t have your guidance invading my ideas.

This is why I think it’s time for me to go back to messy drafts and to sitting for five minutes trying to find the right word. It’s back to the overthinking and rewriting a sentence ten times to get it how I want it to, instead of giving up and sending you “ugh PLEASE FIX THIS.” I want to sit with a blinking cursor and no perfect phrasing ready to go, just me and my jumbled thoughts that I’ll make sense of eventually.

Sometimes, I look at things I wrote without you — an old essay, a birthday card, a journal entry of half-finished thoughts — and there’s something raw and unmistakably mine about them. And maybe that’s the thing about being human. My thoughts aren’t always optimized, and my words don’t always land, but they’re mine. They’re shaped by late-night thoughts, awkward conversations, teachers, heartbreak and dumb jokes. When I give you my ideas to organize, I lose more than creativity — I lose a deepened understanding of myself.

Originality is hard, flawed, and messy, but that’s what makes it real. If me and 400 million weekly users rely on you for every spark, every idea, and every sentence, then eventually we’ll leave our own voices behind, and you will speak for us all. I don’t want every good idea in the world to come from the same blueprint, so I’m stepping away right now.

It’s not you, it’s me,
Olivia Han

Works Cited

McAllister, Tom. I Teach Memoir Writing. Don’t Outsource Your Life Story to A.I. The New York Times, 23 March 2025.

Gerlich, Michael. AI Tools in Society: Impacts on Cognitive Offloading and the Future of Critical Thinking.” Societies Journal (Republished in Multidisciplinary Digital Publishing Institute), 3 Jan. 2025.

This essay, by Zixuan Wang, 18, of Beijing is one of the Top 10 winners of The Learning Network’s “How To” Informational Writing Contest.

How to Come Out to Your Friend

“Coming out is like pulling a cake from the oven — you know it’s done when the room smells right,” says Bao Liwei, a cafe owner in Chengdu. His shop, tucked between a noodle stall and a mahjong hall, doubles as an unofficial sanctuary for patrons needing a quiet word. For seven years, he has baked rainbow cakes for local LGBTQ+ communities and quietly counseled over a dozen friends through their coming-out journeys. “Timing matters,” he adds, dusting flour from his apron. “But so does the recipe.”

Begin by choosing your moment. Not during a birthday party, not mid-argument, not while your friend is struggling with a work deadline. Wait for a lull — a walk home after dinner, a late-night text thread, a quiet corner of a park where rain drums against shared umbrellas. Speak plainly. Say, “There’s something I want you to know,” or “I trust you with this.” Avoid metaphors about journeys or closets; clarity is kinder. Bao insists, “Your friend isn’t a critic. They’re a guest at your table. Serve the truth plainly, like tea.”

Anticipate pauses. Silence isn’t rejection — it’s digestion. Let your friend ask questions, even clumsy ones. If they say, “But you dated so many people of the opposite sex!” reply, “Yes, and that was part of figuring it out.” If they joke, “Does this mean we can’t share clothes anymore?” — laugh. Humor is a bridge, not a dismissal. Should they stumble into well-meaning but painful clichés (“You’re so brave!”), gently reframe: “It’s not bravery. It’s just me.”

Why does this matter? Because secrecy weighs more than awkwardness. Because friendship, at its core, is about seeing and being seen. Bao recalls a customer who practiced coming-out speeches into her cappuccino foam for weeks. “One day, she brought her best friend here, ordered two slices of matcha cake, and said it all in one breath. By the time she finished, her friend was crying — not from shock, but from guilt. ‘You thought I wouldn’t get it?’ she said. ‘I’ve known since we were 15!’”

End as you began: with simplicity. Say, “Thank you for listening,” or “I’m still the same person.” Then shift the conversation — to the weather, the coffee shop down the street, the absurdity of your boss’s latest message. Normalcy is a gift. As Bao puts it, sprinkling edible glitter onto a batch of cookies: “After the confession comes the real work: letting them love you the same way, just with better ingredients.”

This essay, by Rudransh Kohli, 16, a student at the Melbourne Grammar School in Melbourne, Australia, is one of the Top 10 winners of The Learning Network’s “How To” Informational Writing Contest.

How to Make Two-Minute Noodles the Right Way

“Anyone who just boils the noodles, dumps in the silver packet of salt and MSG, and calls it a meal is missing out,” says Meetu Singh, a self-proclaimed instant noodle connoisseur who works in the food procurement industry. “Patience, technique and the right toppings can turn a quick-fix dorm room snack into something worthy of obsession,” he says, proving that even the simplest meals, when made with care, can become a source of comfort, creativity and quiet pride.

Let’s start with the foundation: the noodles themselves. The secret? Disregard the packet’s rigid instructions — boiling them for exactly two minutes risks either a limp, lifeless tangle or an unpleasantly chewy bite. “The trick is to cook them for 90 seconds, then take them off the heat and let them steep in the residual broth,” Singh advises. This technique, known as carry-over cooking, ensures they soak up flavor while maintaining the perfect springy texture.

Then comes the broth — the heart of the dish. That little seasoning packet, packed with artificial flavor and eyebrow-raising sodium, isn’t your only option. A splash of soy sauce deepens umami, a drizzle of sesame oil adds nuttiness, and a spoonful of peanut butter lends unexpected richness. “If I see someone cracking an egg straight into the pot, I know they mean business,” Singh says. Whether soft-boiled and jammy or poached in the simmering broth, the yolk binds the flavors together. Scallions, chili oil, or even a slice of cheese (yes, cheese) elevate the dish from ordinary to indulgent.

Toppings? Nonnegotiable. “Texture is everything,” Singh insists. Crispy fried shallots add a savory snap, crushed peanuts bring crunch and fresh herbs — coriander, Thai basil, or even mint — cut through the richness. For protein, pan-seared tofu soaks up broth like a sponge, shredded chicken adds heartiness, and if you’re feeling extravagant, a seared piece of steak transforms the dish from convenience food into a gourmet feast.

Finally, the golden rule: Never, ever eat straight from the pot. “Respect the experience,” Singh commands. Pouring the noodles into a deep bowl lets the broth cool just enough for the flavors to bloom. Chopsticks are mandatory — slurping isn’t just accepted, it’s appreciation.

So yes, making the perfect bowl of two-minute noodles takes longer than two minutes. But Singh insists it’s time well spent. “You’re not just feeding yourself — you’re creating an experience,” he says. “And if that takes five minutes instead of two? Then you’ve done it right.”

This essay, by Preyahathai Aroonvanichporn, 16, a student at the NIST International School in Bangkok, Thailand, is one of the Top 10 winners of The Learning Network’s “How To” Informational Writing Contest.

How to Bargain Like a Pro in Thai Street Markets

The streets are always packed with tourists, the enticing scent of sizzling street food and the endless negotiations between vendors and customers. These tableaus create a sensory masterpiece: the Maeklong Railway Market. Walking through a Thai street market can feel overwhelming. But if you know its ways, you can leave with more than just souvenirs — you’ll walk away with the skill of bargaining like a real local.

Many believe that it’s simply asking “Lod dai mai krub/ka?” or “May I have a discount?” But real bargaining in a Thai market is an art that requires more than just words. “Bargaining is like cooking a good dish — you need to have patience and add the right ingredients at the right time,” says Khun Somchai, a local fruit vendor.

Start by browsing multiple stalls before showing interest in a product. Prices vary, and knowing the general cost gives you leverage. Never show too much excitement. If you grab an item too eagerly, the seller knows you’re hooked — and the price won’t budge. “When you see the same item being sold by various vendors, you can instantly conclude that the first shop you see is the most expensive,” says Somchai. By taking your time, you get a sense of the real value. Vendors are keen observers. If they see you return, they might be more willing to negotiate, knowing you’ve done your research.

Always let the seller make the first offer “50-60 percent of the asking price” — this starts the negotiation. Somchai advises that “Indecision can make the seller think, ‘they might leave.’” If they believe they’re about to lose a sale, they might offer one final price drop. But if they don’t, pretend to walk away. In many cases, the seller will call you back with a better deal. If they don’t? Move on.

Another strategy is “bundling.” “If you ask for a discount too directly, some sellers won’t budge.” But if you say, “Can I take two for 40 baht instead of 50?” then you have a chance.

To many like Somchai, “Bargaining is more than just getting a good deal, it’s a token from the heart of Thailand’s markets.” So when you leave the bustling streets, you’ll realize that the best souvenir isn’t in your bag — it’s the skill of bargaining like a Thai local that you will have for the rest of your life.

This essay, by Yip Pei Yuan Erica, 18, a student at Foon Yew High School Johor Bahru in Johor Bahru, Malaysia, is one of the Top 10 winners of The Learning Network’s “How To” Informational Writing Contest.

How to Ice Skate Without Faceplanting (or Looking Like a Panicked Penguin)

“Bend your knees, lean forward and whatever you do — don’t flail your arms like a panicked penguin,” says Coach Allysha Tan from Blue Ice Skating Rink, who has spent decades teaching people how to skate gracefully (and, more importantly, how not to faceplant). Skating is an art, a science and a test of how much humiliation you’re willing to endure. But with the right technique — and a little dignity — you can glide across the ice without becoming a viral fail video.

Balance on solid ground? Easy. Balance on frozen water? A betrayal of physics. But don’t panic — your brain already knows how to balance. The trick is convincing it that ice is not the enemy. Stay loose, bend your knees, and embrace the glide.

Your feet will lie to you. They’ll say, “Hey, standing up straight is a great idea!” But no — straight legs equal disaster. “Lower your center of gravity,” says Coach Allysha. “Think of yourself as a ninja, crouched and ready.” If you feel yourself tipping, do not flail. That will only make you look like a bird realizing mid-flight it never learned to fly. Instead, bend lower. The ice can’t trip you if you’re already close to it.

Now, it’s time to move. Push off gently while keeping your weight centered. Gently. No need to launch into orbit. Small, controlled movements are your best friend. And whatever you do — do not look down. “Your feet aren’t going anywhere without you,” says Coach Allysha. “Keep your eyes ahead, or you’ll have an awkward conversation with the ice.”

Here’s the truth: You will fall. Even Olympians fall. The difference? They get up gracefully. If you feel yourself going down, don’t fight it. Gravity will win. Instead, tuck your arms in (to avoid looking like an inflatable tube man) and aim to land on your side or butt — both have more padding than your face. And when you fall? Get up like you meant to do it. “Smile, laugh, and act like you were just testing the ice quality,” says Coach Allysha. “Confidence is everything.”

So bend your knees, take a deep breath and glide forward like you didn’t just Google “how to ice skate without dying.” And if you do fall? Well, as Coach Allysha says, “The ice is always there to catch you. Just try not to make it a habit.”

This essay, by Tenzing Carvalho, 17, a student at Western Center Academy in Hemet, Calif., is one of the Top 10 winners of The Learning Network’s “How To” Informational Writing Contest.

What to Do When a Mountain Gorilla Blocks Your Path

You’re trekking through Volcanoes National Park in the Virunga Mountains of Rwanda, home to 605 of the world’s remaining 1,063 mountain gorillas. And then — bam. A 400-pound silverback stands in your path, chewing a leaf, staring at you like you owe it money.

First, do not run. Do. Not. Run. According to Volcano’s Head Ranger, Remy E., who has spent years keeping tourists from making bad decisions, “If you run, they chase. And trust me, you won’t win.” Gorillas can hit 25 mph, so unless you’re an Olympic sprinter fueled by terror, just don’t.

Instead, assume a nonthreatening posture. No eye contact, no sudden movements — just slowly squat down like you’re bracing for an awkward family photo.

If a gorilla from one of Volcano’s 14 family groups decides you’re in its way, just let it pass. “Sometimes they’ll brush by like an annoyed commuter in a packed subway,” says Remy. Just accept that you are not the main character here.

The massive guy with a silver-streaked back and “I run this jungle” energy? That’s the alpha male, the silverback. Trust me, you do not want to test him.

Whatever you do, don’t touch the babies. No matter how cute they are when they mess with your shoelaces, resist the urge to engage. A protective silverback will not find it adorable.

Instead, back up slowly, keep calm and — here’s the key — grunt. Gorillas make a deep, friendly rumbling to signal all is well. Take a breath and give it your best Grrr-hmmmph.

That throat-clearing grunt? It’s real gorilla-speak. Translation: “Hey, big guy. No problems here. Just passing through.” If he grunts back, congratulations — you’ve just had a polite conversation with a mountain gorilla.

Do not pound your chest. That’s gorilla for “Let’s fight,” and unless you can bench press a car, you will lose.

If a gorilla mock charges (pounding its chest and sprinting toward you), resist every instinct to scream and run. It’s a bluff. “Flinching is weakness,” Remy says. Hold your ground. Congratulations — you just passed the gorilla’s test.

This encounter only happens because of Rwanda’s decades of conservation efforts. Former poachers are rangers and guides, turning their knowledge into protection instead of hunting. The Dian Fossey Foundation works with the Rwandan government to make eco-tourism sustainable, ensuring both the gorillas and local communities thrive.

So why risk this encounter? Because seeing a wild mountain gorilla is unforgettable. They’re majestic, intelligent and — if you follow the rules — unlikely to make you famous for the wrong reasons.

This essay, by Hoseok Jeon, 16, a student at the Korea International School in Seongnam, South Korea, is one of the Top 10 winners of The Learning Network’s “How To” Informational Writing Contest.

How to Prepare for a Funeral Portrait

For someone nearing the end of a full life, taking a funeral portrait doesn’t have to be a somber affair. For Park Young Hoon, an 81-year-old security officer at an apartment complex in Seoul, his funeral portrait session became a pleasant morning spent with his granddaughter. They ate breakfast, walked while listening to birds, and after the shoot, they shared ice cream.

“What most people see as morbid, I saw as another chance to create a memory,” Park says. This way, the funeral portrait transforms from a grim necessity into an everyday activity that happens to become the last image many will see of you. “You could let your memory become merely a formality, or you could turn it into a parting gift,” Park suggests.

First, schedule a date at a photo studio. “Morning appointments work best,” Park advises. “By afternoon, you’ll have experienced so many things that the unusual feeling of taking a funeral portrait disappears,” he explains. Even before the shoot, Park recommends staying active. “Keep yourself occupied and quiet the anxiety your brain is signaling,” he says. “Life limits your choices in many ways: in-laws, height, taxes — the list continues. This portrait lets you reclaim some control over your legacy.”

Choosing appropriate attire comes next. “We should abandon the notion that funeral portraits must be formal,” Park insists. “The image should represent your authentic self. Would it make sense for an avid traveler to wear a suit? Of course not.” He compares life to a novel, noting that “the photo serves as the cover, and that cover remains forever.” Park himself wore his security guard uniform for his portrait. “It’s who I’ve been for 20 years — why pretend otherwise?”

The final step is attending the appointment. Park suggests bringing someone along. “My granddaughter kept making jokes that made me laugh naturally instead of forcing that stiff ‘photograph smile,’” he recalls. “Genuine expressions matter more than practiced poses.”

Taking the portrait is straightforward — follow the photographer’s guidance and remember that authenticity trumps perfection. “A good photograph doesn’t just freeze time,” Park reflects. “It brings back smells and feelings, connecting us to what matters.” We all hope our portraits will remind others of the connections we shared. “So smile,” concludes Park, “not just for the camera, but for the wonderful life you’ve lived.”

This essay, by Gayatri Srivastava, 16, a student at the Dhirubhai Ambani International School in Mumbai, India, is one of the Top 10 winners of The Learning Network’s “How To” Informational Writing Contest.

How to Find Silence in a Noisy World

“Silence isn’t the absence of noise,” says Suraj Mehta, a railway guard at Mumbai’s Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. “It’s something you carry within you, even as the world rushes past.” Amid the relentless commotion, Mehta has mastered the art of finding quiet. For 23 years, the heavy clang of metal on tracks and the rhythmic rush of thousands of hurried footsteps have composed the constant soundtrack he hears everyday. “If you wait for the world to quiet down — you’ll never hear silence at all. You must create it within yourself.”

Find stillness within before searching for it elsewhere. It’s about space — space between thoughts, between breaths, between the day’s first rays of light and its demands. Silence exists in these in-between moments, waiting to be discovered. To embrace it, begin with your breath. Inhale deeply, feeling the air expand inside you. Exhale slowly, letting the week’s stress dissolve with it. Relax every muscle in your body, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. “Before the rush begins, I stand on the platform at dawn and listen to the quiet hum of the tracks,” Mehta says. It’s important to take those minutes for yourself, where it’s just you and the gentle stir of thoughts in your mind.

In a world that demands constant attention, it is easy to forget that silence is a choice. “Noise isn’t just what you hear,” Mehta reflects. “It’s everything that pulls you away from yourself.” Once you’ve found that internal quiet, protect it. Resist the impulse to check, scroll and respond to every buzz. Turn off the notifications on your devices and indulge in digital silence, allowing your mind to breathe free from constant distraction.

“Learn to recognize the quiet moments hidden in plain sight,” advises Mehta. These “pockets” of silence may not last long, but they do exist. The early morning hush before the city wakes up, or the quiet stillness before a curtain rises; train yourself to notice these fleeting interludes. “Sometimes, silence may be something you step into.” A quiet park at sunset, an empty library aisle or a secluded garden bench can offer a moment of stillness.

Perhaps the world will never settle; but if you learn to step back from the noise and let it fade into the background — you’ll realize that silence has been there all along, waiting for you to listen.