The Old Surf Cartoon That Hangs in My Office and What it Can Teach Us in the Age of AI

I fell in love with surfing and surf culture in my early twenties while working as a lifeguard on the beaches of beautiful Long Branch, New Jersey. There was something about it: the raw elements, the effortless cool, and the blend of excitement and fear, that immediately pulled me in. While I’m definitely no Kelly Slater, I’ve had my share of unforgettable moments in the water (and plenty of humbling ones, too), and consider myself extremely lucky to be able to take part in such a thrilling and rewarding activity.

As most surfers did, I devoured every issue of Surfer Magazine that I could for many years until its final print in 2020. Somewhere along the way, I stumbled upon this cartoon by Kyle Metcalf, and it’s been displayed in my classrooms and offices ever since. It remains pinned to my office wall today.

For those who might not understand exactly what’s happening here: this surfer, for whatever reason, has a broken longboard. Maybe the conditions were rough and he had a bad wipeout, or maybe the board fell off the roof of his car (I’ve seen that happen!). Regardless, instead of trashing the board entirely and giving up on surfing, he shapes it into a shortboard so he can get back out into the water. It’s a simple, clever example of creative problem-solving.

Without getting into the nuances of shortboards vs. longboards (for the purposes of this cartoon, they both have the same function: to catch waves), the point is, I took a liking to this cartoon. To me, it’s always represented the power of optimism, attitude, and the surfer mindset: focus on the present, make do with what you’ve got, and get out in the water by any means possible. Not to mention, do it calmly, so as not to wake the dog!

Today, as I reflect on my 17-year career in education and where we are today, this image has taken on a much deeper meaning. In many ways, we’re stuck with a broken surfboard. Budget crises, teacher shortages, and a complicated political landscape have made our jobs much more difficult than they should be. Widespread burnout is forcing many to leave the profession, and it’s understandable. I'd be lying if I said I hadn’t considered it myself.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere in the fall of 2022 – just when we thought that the waters couldn’t get any rougher – generative artificial intelligence bursts onto the scene, flipping education on its head. Suddenly, we were forced to put many fundamental aspects of teaching, such as homework, traditional assessment, and the role of the teacher, under the microscope.

We often compare generative AI’s impact in education to that of the handheld calculator, with regards to the change it ignited in math classrooms. Even though calculators were initially met with resistance, we eventually accepted them and evolved, pushing math education beyond rote arithmetic and into deeper conceptual understanding and reasoning.

While it’s easy to expect that our response to generative AI will follow a similar pattern, this analogy falls short in one important way: the urgency. The calculator didn’t suddenly reach one million users in five days, like ChatGPT did. AI is forcing change that is much more sudden, and therefore, much more uncomfortable.

In many ways, the change has just begun. Once AI tutors are more safely vetted and accessible, the traditional role of the teacher will become obsolete. Human teachers will still be essential – but not as active transmitters of content. Instead, teachers will need to focus more on being coaches, mentors, and experience architects for students. It’s a monumental shift, so resistance is understandable; but ultimately futile. The future is now, and technology never goes backwards.

Rather than throwing up our hands, declaring war against "plagiarism," and resisting change, maybe there’s a better way. Maybe we can learn something from that old surf cartoon. Just like the surfer, we are faced with a problem. The conditions of the ocean are rough, and our trusted longboard is broken. We are left with a choice: do we trash the board, accept our fate, and walk away from surfing? Or do we get creative, adapt, and find a way to get back out into the water?

I think you know which option I’m alluding to.

Change is inevitable. Progress is optional. While we can’t always control the conditions, we can control how we respond. Let’s reshape what we have, paddle back out, and keep moving forward. Because sometimes, we could all use a little inspiration, even if it comes from a decade-old cartoon.