When Excellence is Met with Suspicion

Yanci Rea, Clinical Counsellor

In recent months, I’ve been reflecting on the quiet but significant toll that academic mistrust places young learners, especially those navigating both high school and university environments in an era shaped so strongly by artificial intelligence.

These reflections draw on my counselling practice, where I primarily support adults but also work with adolescents and young adults who are balancing school, work, family responsibilities, and the transition into adulthood. Much of my work focuses on anxiety, confidence, identity development, and the emotional impact of academic expectations. This gives me a unique advantage to observing how learning environments shape wellbeing across different stages of education.

AI has become part of everyday learning for many students. High school students often use it to clarify instructions or break tasks into manageable steps, while university students describe using it to organise research, check their understanding of complex concepts, or reduce the overwhelm that comes with competing deadlines. For both groups, AI can offer a sense of steadiness when expectations feel unclear or when life outside school is demanding.

It is important to acknowledge that not all AI uses are ethical or supportive of learning. Some students rely on AI in ways that replace rather than enhance their thinking, and educators are rightly concerned about the impact this has on academic standards and skill development. Recent commentary in education, including perspectives from the Guardian, highlights widespread concerns among teachers and professors about declining critical thinking skills, inconsistent institutional guidance, and the risk that AI may erode the very capacities education is meant to cultivate. These concerns sit alongside the reality that many students turn to AI not to avoid learning, but to cope with rising academic pressure and the sheer volume of responsibilities they juggle.

The challenge is that ethical and unethical use often look similar on the surface, which contributes to the heightened vigilance and uncertainty felt across classrooms.

Yet alongside these new tools I can see a growing emotional tension. Students often describe feeling unsure about what is “allowed”, anxious about being misinterpreted, and fearful that their genuine efforts will be questioned. Many also express confusions about inconsistent guidelines, rules that vary between teachers' subjects, or institutions, leaving them unsure of how to navigate expectations that seem to shift without warning. In some cases, students report that AI policies have not been clearly communicated at all or have been updated multiple times in a short period, creating further uncertainty. This emotional landscape is becoming increasingly common, and it shapes how safe young people feel to show their capabilities.

Tools like Turnitin, widely used across schools and universities, can unintentionally amplify this tension. While these systems aim to uphold integrity, educators themselves are still navigating unfamiliar territory. Many feel caught between supporting students and enforcing rapidly evolving institutional rules. Some rely heavily on detection tools, even while acknowledging that these systems can be inconsistent or overly sensitive. Emerging evidence also shows that AI detections systems can misidentify the writing of multilingual students, whose sentence patterns or vocabulary choices may be interpreted as “AI-like”. This creates an additional layer of vulnerability for young people who are already working hard to express themselves in a second language.

Beyond AI detection tools, students describe a broader sense of being monitored, through plagiarism software, attendance tracking systems, behavior-alerts apps, and increasingly strict digital submission platforms that automatically flag formatting irregularities or late uploads. While these tools are designed to support academic integrity, they can also create an atmosphere where students feel watched rather than supported.

Another emerging layer of complexity is the growing requirements to complete GenAI declaration forms, even when using tools they have long considered routine academic support. Some institutions now classify Grammarly as a form of generative AI because it not only checks grammar but can also restructure sentences and paragraphs. As a result, students are asked to formally declare when and how they have used it, often without fully understanding why this is necessary or how their work may be interpreted. The declaration forms typically ask students to specify where AI was used, in what way, and for what purpose, a process that can feel daunting when expectations are unclear.

Several students have shared experiences of receiving notifications that their assessments showed “indicators” associated with AI use, even when they believed they were working within acceptable guidelines. While these messages are often framed as supportive, they reinforce the sense that students are being closely monitored and may be at risk of unintentional misconduct. For many young people, this adds yet another layer of anxiety; not only must they produce quality work, but they must also navigate administrative systems that feel opaque, inconsistent, and easy to misinterpret.

In my practice, I also hear a different kind of concern emerging – witnessing peers use AI in ways that replace rather than support learning. Some young people describe feeling unsettled when they see classmates relying on AI to generate entire assessments. Their distress is not rooted in judgement, but in a genuine worry about what this means for learning, skill development, and future professional competence. These reflections highlight that AI-related anxiety is not only self-directed; it also arises when young people question whether the integrity of learning is being upheld around them.

Parents also play a significant role in this landscape. Many express confusions about AI expectations and worry about how to support their children without unintentionally crossing boundaries. They often feel caught between encouraging independence and helping their young person navigate unclear academic rules. Their concerns highlight how AI-related pressures ripple beyond the classroom and into family life, shaping household stress, communication patterns, and expectations around academic performance.

I often hear students express fear that their authentic work will be misread or flagged, even when they have not used AI inappropriately. This worry sits heavily with them. It influences how they approach learning, how they view themselves as learners, and how much confidence they feel when submitting work.

To illustrate these themes, the following composite examples draw on multiple student experiences while protecting confidentiality. One example involves a high-achieving senior student who uses AI only to organise her ideas and manage the initial overwhelm of starting an assignment. Despite using AI appropriately, she experiences significant anxiety when submitting her work. Her concern is not about wrongdoing, but about the possibility of being misinterpreted by detection systems. This fear often overshadows her sense of accomplishment and contributes to ongoing self-doubt.

Another example comes from a young person balancing school, part-time work, and caring responsibilities. For this student, AI provides structure and helps break complex tasks into manageable steps. While the tool reduces cognitive load and supports engagement, the student remains unsure about what is considered acceptable for use. He has been told that AI can be used “to support but not replace thinking”, yet this guideline feels vague in practice. This uncertainty creates an additional layer of stress, even though the intention behind using AI is to stay connected to learning rather than avoid it.

A third example involves a student who chooses not to use AI at all, despite being encouraged to do so by teachers. His decision is shaped by a fear of being accused of misconduct, even when using AI within permitted guidelines. For this student, avoidance becomes a protective strategy, a way to minimize risk in an environment where the boundaries feel unclear.

These examples highlight common emotional themes: uncertainty about expectations, fear of being misjudged, pressure to keep up with peers, and a sense of vulnerability that can quietly erode confidence. They also show how AI, while helpful for many students, exists within a broader culture of surveillance and suspicion that shapes their wellbeing. This "surveillance" is not limited to AI detection tools; it includes plagiarism-checking software, attendance-tracking systems, behaviour-alert apps, and digital submission platforms that automatically flag irregularities. When these systems operate without consistent frameworks or clear communication, students can feel as though they are being held responsible for rules that are still being written, a dynamic that affects not only their academic confidence but also their sense of psychological safety.

It is important to note that this reflection is not research, but an ethical commentary drawn from professional practice and observation. The mention of Turnitin is included only as a contextual example of how mistrust can be reinforced by technology, and how this impacts student wellbeing. As a practitioner, reflecting on this, I am drawn to several key questions for educators and counsellors.

• Do our classrooms feel safe enough for students to succeed?
• Do we recognise effort or only police outcomes?
• Do we prepare young people for the future or make them afraid to show what they are capable of?

When mistrust becomes the default lens, it does more than affect individual students and instead can reshape the atmosphere of learning itself. Suspicion can silence curiosity, discourage risk-taking, and weaken the sometimes-fragile trust that allows students to feel safe enough to ask questions, make mistakes, and grow. Some students report withholding ideas in class for fear of being judged, while others avoid seeking help because they worry it will be interpreted as evidence of misconduct. From a counselling perspective, even small moments of perceived doubt can erode resilience and confidence, leaving students anxious about showing their capabilities.

Collaboration between educators, counsellors, parents, and students is key. Together, we can cultivate classrooms and learning spaces where integrity and compassion coexist, where effort is acknowledged, and where students gain the confidence to explore and achieve. When excellence is met with suspicion, achievement is not only overlooked; but also quietly diminished.

These reflections are shared to highlight broader cultural shifts in education and counselling. They are not directed at any one school or individual but offered as an invitation to consider how we can nurture trust and wellbeing in the age of AI.

Author Biography

Yanci Rea

Clinical Counsellor, Coach Practitioner, NLP Master Practitioner, Author

Yanci is a qualified Clinical Counsellor, Coach Practitioner, NLP Master Practitioner, and author. She runs Time Para Me, a private practice dedicated to holistic wellbeing, advocacy, and resource creation. Her work blends professional care with personal legacy, including the publication of her book and reflective journal, which invite readers into healing and connection. Yanci is passionate about supporting individuals and communities with warmth, clarity, and integrity.