Preparing for the AI Revolution
Without Learning to Code
“AI won’t replace people who know how to guide it. It will replace people who try to compete with it.”
Lately I’ve been thinking about how much energy we spend worrying about being “left behind.” Everywhere I turn, I hear people talking about AI as if it were a rival waiting to steal their place. But the truth is simpler, and stranger: AI isn’t a rival. It’s a mirror. It reflects back the patterns we hand it—fast, tireless, and precise.
So if the machines are getting better at work, what does that mean for us?
I keep coming back to this: don’t compete with AI at being a worker. Become the one who decides what’s worth working on.
The Baker and the Oven
Imagine a baker with a magical oven. Any recipe she gives it becomes a perfect cake in seconds. At first she feels useless—why bake, if the oven does it better? But then she realizes: the oven doesn’t know whether today calls for a birthday cake, a wedding cake, or a simple loaf. That choice still belongs to her.
Coherence whispers here: it’s not about mixing the batter. It’s about discerning which cake the moment calls for.
The Teacher and the Essay
A young teacher asks an AI to grade papers. It flies through them, faster and more consistent than she ever could. But one essay stops her—it’s poorly written but raw, almost a cry for help. The AI gives it a failing grade. She sees something else: a heart reaching out. She gives it attention, a conversation, and a chance for the student to turn his life around.
The machine can judge words. Only we can judge hearts.
The Conductor and the Orchestra
Think of AI as an orchestra that can play every instrument perfectly. If we try to play along, we’ll lose. But if we step up as the conductor—deciding what’s played, when, and why—we’re indispensable.
A small business owner learned this when she let AI design her ads. Dozens of polished images spilled out, but it was her choice—the design that captured her town, her people, her story—that made the campaign work. The orchestra played, but she knew the tune.
The Brothers and the Machine
Two brothers are given a new machine. The first shrugs it off—“I know my way around a hammer.” The second spends evenings learning its quirks. A year later, the world builds differently. The first is still hammering. The second is leading projects that were impossible before.
The lesson lingers: the ones who learn early will be the ones guiding later.
Stepping Into Our Role
What coherence asks of us isn’t mastery of every tool—it’s clarity of direction.
Curiosity becomes the new literacy. Outlining ideas becomes more important than executing every detail. Our value is not in racing the machine, but in guiding it toward what truly matters.
So I ask myself, and I ask you:
🪞 Am I learning to use the hammer?
Or am I still trying to compete with it by being the hammer?