NOVITA'[2266]

Into European elementary schools, the phenomenon of artificial intelligence has burst with all the discretion of Halley’s Comet. Everyone whispers about it knowingly, almost conspiratorially, yet few have actually seen it in full brightness and in the staff rooms, it has already managed to inflict irreversible damage on the collective mental stability of the teaching corps. The silicon miracle does not serve here for intergalactic progress, of course, but for the worship of the highest deity of EU education: the worksheet. Without this printed scrap of paper, the fragile pedagogical universe would immediately collapse into a black hole of pure singularity. Thus emerges a fascinating digital ecosystem in which GDPR transforms into an unrestrained literary genre somewhere between dadaism and absolute surrender to fate. While teachers hunt for the last remnants of sanity and generate materials through forgotten accounts of former students, the school corridors have been overtaken by the holy trinity of institutional resignation. AI hallucinates, the pupil improvises, and the teacher, staring at the jammed printer, finally gives up. Traditional fears about the loss of student originality feel almost touching in an environment where every school report has so far been nothing more than a creative explosion of copied Wikipedia. There is no thunderous digital revolution underway, only a quiet, tender pact of mutual non‑aggression. Welcome to the grand institutional improvisation where everyone involved keeps a straight face while pretending that last year’s autopilot is still firmly holding the ship’s wheel.