The Brief

Students don’t have the same incentives to talk to their professors — or even their classmates — anymore. Chatbots like ChatGPT, Gemini and Claude have given them a new path to self-sufficiency. Instead of asking a professor for help on a paper topic, students can go to a chatbot. Instead of forming a study group, students can ask AI for help. These chatbots give them quick responses, on their own timeline.

For students juggling school, work and family responsibilities, that ease can seem like a lifesaver. And maybe turning to a chatbot for homework help here and there isn’t such a big deal in isolation. But every time a student decides to ask a question of a chatbot instead of a professor or peer or tutor, that’s one fewer opportunity to build or strengthen a relationship, and the human connections students make on campus are among the most important benefits of college.

Julia Freeland-Fisher studies how technology can help or hinder student success at the Clayton Christensen Institute. She said the consequences of turning to chatbots for help can compound.

“Over time, that means students have fewer and fewer people in their corner who can help them in other moments of struggle, who can help them in ways a bot might not be capable of,” she said.

As colleges further embed ChatGPT and other chatbots into campus life, Freeland-Fisher warns lost relationships may become a devastating unintended consequence.

Asking for help

Christian Alba said he has never turned in an AI-written assignment. Alba, 20, attends College of the Canyons, a large community college north of Los Angeles, where he is studying business and history. And while he hasn’t asked ChatGPT to write any papers for him, he has turned to the technology when a blank page and a blinking cursor seemed overwhelming. He has asked for an outline. He has asked for ideas to get him started on an introduction. He has asked for advice about what to prioritize first.

“It’s kind of hard to just start something fresh off your mind,” Alba said. “I won’t lie. It’s a helpful tool.” Alba has wondered, though, whether turning to ChatGPT with these sorts of questions represents an overreliance on AI. But Alba, like many others in higher education, worries primarily about AI use as it relates to academic integrity, not social capital. And that’s a problem.

Jean Rhodes, a psychology professor at the University of Massachusetts Boston, has spent decades studying the way college students seek help on campus and how the relationships formed during those interactions end up benefitting the students long-term. Rhodes doesn’t begrudge students integrating chatbots into their workflows, as many of their professors have, but she worries that students will get inferior answers to even simple-sounding questions, like, “how do I change my major?”

A chatbot might point a student to the registrar’s office, Rhodes said, but had a student asked the question of an advisor, that person may have asked important follow-up questions — why the student wants the change, for example, which could lead to a deeper conversation about a student’s goals and roadblocks.

“We understand the broader context of students’ lives,” Rhodes said. “They’re smart but they’re not wise, these tools.”

Rhodes and one of her former doctoral students, Sarah Schwartz, created a program called Connected Scholars to help students understand why it’s valuable to talk to professors and have mentors. The program helped them hone their networking skills and understand what people get out of their networks over the course of their lives — namely, social capital.

Connected Scholars is offered as a semester-long course at U Mass Boston, and a forthcoming paper examines outcomes over the last decade, finding students who take the course are three times more likely to graduate. Over time, Rhodes and her colleagues discovered that the key to the program’s success is getting students past an aversion to asking others for help.

Students will make a plethora of excuses to avoid asking for help, Rhodes said, ticking off a list of them: “‘I don’t want to stand out,’ ‘I don’t want people to realize I don’t fit in here,’ ‘My culture values independence,’ ‘I shouldn’t reach out,’ ‘I’ll get anxious,’ ‘This person won’t respond.’ If you can get past that and get them to recognize the value of reaching out, it’s pretty amazing what happens.”

Connections are key

Seeking human help doesn’t only leave students with the resolution to a single problem, it gives them a connection to another person. And that person, down the line could become a friend, a mentor or a business partner — a “strong tie,” as social scientists describe their centrality to a person’s network. They could also become a “weak tie” who a student may not see often, but could, importantly, still offer a job lead or crucial social support one day.

Daniel Chambliss, a retired sociologist from Hamilton College, emphasized the value of relationships in his 2014 book, “How College Works,” co-authored with Christopher Takacs. Over the course of their research, the pair found that the key to a successful college experience boiled down to relationships, specifically two or three close friends and one or two trusted adults. Hamilton College goes out of its way to make sure students can form those relationships, structuring work-study to get students into campus offices and around faculty and staff, making room for students of varying athletic abilities on sports teams, and more.

“We understand the broader context of students’ lives. They’re smart but they’re not wise, these tools.”Jean Rhodes, a psychology professor at the University of Massachusetts BostonChambliss worries that AI-driven chatbots make it too easy to avoid interactions that can lead to important relationships. “We’re suffering epidemic levels of loneliness in America,” he said. “It’s a really major problem, historically speaking. It’s very unusual, and it’s profoundly bad for people.”

As students increasingly turn to artificial intelligence for help and even casual conversation, Chambliss predicted it will make people even more isolated: “It’s one more place where they won’t have a personal relationship.”

In fact, a recent study by researchers at the MIT Media Lab and OpenAI found that the most frequent users of ChatGPT — power users — were more likely to be lonely and isolated from human interaction.

“What scares me about that is that Big Tech would like all of us to be power users,” said Freeland-Fisher. “That’s in the fabric of the business model of a technology company.”

Yesenia Pacheco is preparing to re-enroll in Long Beach City College for her final semester after more than a year off. Last time she was on campus, ChatGPT existed, but it wasn’t widely used. Now she knows she’s returning to a college where ChatGPT is deeply embedded in students’ as well as faculty and staff’s lives, but Pacheco expects she’ll go back to her old habits — going to her professors’ office hours and sticking around after class to ask them questions. She sees the value.

She understands why others might not. Today’s high schoolers, she has noticed, are not used to talking to adults or building mentor-style relationships. At 24, she knows why they matter.

“A chatbot,” she said, “isn’t going to give you a letter of recommendation.”

This article was originally published on CalMatters and was republished under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license.

Today is officially the last day as a county employee for L.A. County CEO Fesia Davenport, who has been on medical leave for the past six months and received a controversial $2 million taxpayer payout that LAist brought to light last fall.

Davenport announced her planned departure last month, citing health concerns. While on leave, she has faced criticism from the public and county employees over the payout, as well as a lawsuit alleging it was an illegal gift that must be reversed. The payout was labeled “confidential” and kept secret from the public until LAist unearthed it two months later, even though state law requires settlement agreements to be public.

When announcing her plan to step down, Davenport said in a LinkedIn post last month she was doing so “to focus on my health and wellness.” She also emailed CEO office staff to say she’s learned she has a predisposition for the same type of health problem that killed her brother Raymond in 2018 and that two of her sisters experienced last year. One of her sisters will require 24-hour care for the rest of her life, Davenport wrote.

The $2 million payout, approved in secret by county supervisors, was in response to Davenport claiming she was harmed by a voter-approved measure that will change her job into an elected one in December 2028, almost two years after her employment contract was set to expire in early 2027.

The supervisors agreed to pay Davenport the $2 million she had requested, without negotiating her down from that amount. As part of receiving the taxpayer payout, the settlement deal says Davenport cannot make — nor cause anyone else to make — “negative statements or communications disparaging” the Board of Supervisors and other county officials. There are exceptions, including for required testimony and disclosing workplace conduct she believes is unlawful.

The $2 million payout was in addition to Davenport’s county salary of $630,813 in annual base pay.

Leaders of the two largest L.A. County employee unions — representing nurses, social workers, sheriff’s deputies and others — said many of their members were shocked and outraged to learn about the payout from LAist’s reporting. They said Davenport had been telling workers there was no money to give them raises, while secretly negotiating a $2 million payout for herself.

A lawsuit filed by a county resident and taxpayer in February claims the payout was illegal because Davenport did not have a valid legal dispute with the county. Under the state Constitution, local government settlement payouts are illegal gifts of public funds if they’re in response to allegations that completely lack legal merit or exceed the agency’s “maximum exposure,” according to court rulings.

If a judge finds a payment was an illegal gift, they can order the money to be paid back. County lawyers are disputing the case, saying the payout served a legitimate public purpose.

The judge assigned to the lawsuit, James C. Chalfant of L.A. County Superior Court, is retiring at the beginning of next month, before the first scheduled hearing in the case. Online court records do not yet indicate which judge will take over the case.

Last month, county supervisors ordered new transparency measures in response to LAist revealing the payout. The county will now create a public dashboard of settlements between the county and its executives, and make sure all such settlements are reported to the public on meeting agendas after they’re finalized.

Ever since Davenport suddenly went on leave Oct. 8, her CEO role has been filled temporarily by Joe Nicchitta, the county’s chief operating officer.

The county CEO oversees the roughly $50 billion county budget, labor relations with over 100,000 county employees and implementing key priorities of the county Board of Supervisors — including poverty alleviation and addressing homelessness.

County supervisors, who oversee the CEO, will be in charge of selecting a permanent chief executive.

California lawmakers passed legislation in 2017 agreeing to cover up to $270 million of losses related to the Olympic Games after L.A. covers the first $270 million should a deficit occur. That legislation directed the governor to execute a contract solidifying the state's commitment.

But more than eight years later, that contract hasn't been inked by the governor's office.

The state's guarantee is of potentially huge importance to the city of Los Angeles, which took on a huge risk when it agreed to be the financial backstop for the Olympics in order to secure the host city bid. L.A.'s financial exposure is essentially unlimited. If LA28, the private nonprofit running the games, winds up with a deficit exceeding $540 million, the city is responsible for the rest.

When asked about the contract, the governor's office directed LAist to the California Department of Finance. Spokesperson H.D. Palmer said that the state is currently in talks with LA28 and the city of L.A. about contract language, but asserted there are no “sticking points.” He said only that working out contract language takes time.

LAist asked LA28 for more details on what's being discussed and when the contract would be finished.

"We engage regularly with our state partners on various Games planning items and look forward to continuing our strong partnership with the state and the city in the lead up to 2028 as we work to execute a fiscally responsible Games," Jacie Prieto Lopez, vice president of communication and public affairs at LA28, said in a statement.

Ilanna Morales, a spokesperson for L.A. Mayor Karen Bass, told LAist in a text message that the city was "confident that an agreement will be reached and that the 2028 Olympic and Paralympic Games will be a financial success."

The lack of a signed state contract could trigger alarm bells in city government, where some officials are already upset that another key contract remains unsigned. That is an agreement between Los Angeles and LA28 over compensating the city for extra services it will provide for the Olympics, such as police overtime. That contract was scheduled to be signed more than six months ago.

City officials say if that contract isn't airtight, it could leave L.A. with millions in unexpected costs. Referring to that unsigned contract, Councilmember Monica Rodriguez warned CEO Reynold Hoover in a public letter last week that the coming Olympics could "bankrupt" the city.

Love them or hate them, jacarandas are back and in bloom.

One question that might come to mind as you’re pointing out how pretty they are, or complaining about the flowers falling all over your lawn — am I even saying that tree’s name right?

To answer this question, I put on my linguist hat and traced the word back to its origins.

The English pronunciation

You likely already know this one, or can guess it — “jack-uh-RAN-duh.”

This is the pronunciation in most English dictionaries, but many Spanish speakers bristle at the hard “j” sound. Overall, it’s not super close to the original pronunciation, but it turns out that people saying the word with a hard “j” sound are onto something. More on that soon.

The Spanish pronunciations

Yes, that’s pronunciations in the plural.

If you grew up seeing Mexico City’s iconic jacarandas in bloom, you likely pronounce it “hah-cah-RAHN-dah” (that’s written out with English phonetics). That’s how it’s said in Mexico and Central America.

You can hear this pronunciation loud and clear in the song “What Else Can I Do” from the movie Encanto.

But the tree is native to South America, specifically Argentina, Paraguay, Uruguay, Bolivia and Brazil. And for those who grew up seeing the equally iconic floral displays in Buenos Aires, there’s a subtle but important difference. In South American Spanish, the word is spelled jacarandá, so it’s pronounced with emphasis on the last syllable: “hah-cah-rahn-DAH.”

But where does the word come from?

Here’s the twist: jacaranda might register as a Spanish word to many, but it isn’t — at least not originally. It comes to English via Portuguese and Old Tupi, a language that used to be a lingua franca for much of colonial Brazil. The word, which refers to a number of different trees, is in the historical record as early as 1614.

The Tupi word was originally recorded as yacaranda or îacaranda — unfortunately, there are no recordings of how this was pronounced back then. Then, it turned into jacarandá in Portuguese. In Portuguese, the letter “j” is pronounced like “zh,” not like the English letter “h.”

So that means in Brazil, it’s pronounced something like “zhah-cah-run-DAH.” You can hear my best attempt at saying it, after a year’s worth of college-level Portuguese classes, in the audio clip above.

However you say jacaranda — “jack-uh-RAN-duh,” “hah-cah-RAHN-dah,” “hah-cah-rahn-DAH,” “zhah-cah-run-DAH” — have at it. Just make sure not to park under one.

The latest clash between California and President Donald Trump over abortion and gender-affirming care could soon leave doctors caught between state and federal law.

Under a bill that may soon pass the Legislature, California medical providers and affiliated businesses could face hefty state fines if they comply with a federal subpoena seeking abortion, gender-affirming or reproductive care information without first notifying the California attorney general, patients and providers.

But delaying responding to the feds could put them at risk of violating federal law, and independent constitutional scholars say the pending law might not survive a legal challenge.

The bill is in response to efforts the Trump administration and conservative states have undertaken to block or criminalize abortion services and care for transgender people.

Under Assembly Bill 1930, any medical provider or business served with any civil, criminal or regulatory inquiry, investigation, subpoena or summons seeking “legally protected health care activity” “shall not comply” unless the provider notifies the state attorney general as well as others involved in the care.

The measure’s author, Assemblymember Rick Chavez Zbur of Los Angeles, said the impetus for the bill, in part, was a federal subpoena from the Trump administration to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles seeking medical records for youth transgender patients.

“No one should have to fear that seeking lawful medical care in the state of California could put their privacy and their safety at risk,” he told the Assembly Judiciary Committee at a hearing last week.

Lawmakers spent just 17 minutes discussing AB 1930 at its first legislative hearing last week, despite the legal complexities and consequences for California’s patients, doctors, hospitals, insurers, tech companies and others. It passed on a party-line vote, according to the CalMatters Digital Democracy database. It now moves to the Assembly Public Safety Committee where it’s scheduled to be discussed on Tuesday

The Los Angeles hospital was one of 20 medical providers that offered gender-affirming care for minors that received federal subpoenas seeking patients’ medical records. At the time, the U.S. Justice Department said the subpoenas were part of an investigation into “health care fraud” and “false statements.” Some of the families sued to fight the subpoenas. In January, the feds backed off and didn’t receive the records.

Rady Children’s Hospital, which operates facilities in San Diego, Orange and Imperial counties, told CalMatters earlier this year that the U.S. Health and Human Services inspector general was investigating the hospital. The investigation preceded Rady’s decision to halt most gender-affirming services for minors, a decision that is now tied up in multiple court cases.

The measure says that in order for a business or provider to release records, the entity making the legal demand must include an affidavit declaring that the investigation is not related to punishing providers for performing abortions, transgender care or other services protected under California law or that the investigation involves a possible California crime or is an inquiry into “professional discipline.”

The recipient would be required to inform the attorney general’s office within seven days of receiving the legal demand. The attorney general would have an additional 30 days to review the matter before the recipient could comply with the order.

The measure, which is co-sponsored by Attorney General Rob Bonta, would also mandate that the provider notify patients and providers whose records are being sought. Those who break the rules would face civil penalties of up to $15,000 per violation.

Democrats move to protect abortion

California lawmakers have, in recent years, enacted more than a dozen laws designed to shield medical professionals from conservative states and the federal government on abortion and transgender health care.

Democrats passed the laws after the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade and other states began banning or criminalizing abortion. Thirteen states ban abortion and some, most notably Texas, penalize anyone who helps another person get an abortion.

Legislative efforts to protect clinicians and patient medical records have expanded as the Trump administration has increasingly politicized other services like gender-affirming care for minors.

California laws prohibit state law enforcement from extraditing medical professionals who may have violated another state’s laws on abortion or gender-affirming care. They also prohibit medical facilities from sharing patient information about those services with out-of-state law enforcement.

LGBTQ+ civil rights group Equality California is the latest bill’s other co-sponsor. Zbur was its executive director before being elected to the Legislature.

Equality California’s legislative director, Craig Pulsipher, told the Judiciary Committee the measure builds “on California’s existing protections to ensure that patients can access health care without fear that their personal information will be weaponized against them.”

Various groups that oppose gender-affirming care are against the measure, as is the California Chamber of Commerce.

In a letter to lawmakers, representatives for the state’s influential business lobby said CalChamber’s members appreciate lawmakers wanting to “help defend businesses facing subpoenas,” and they don’t oppose the bill out of “support for misuse of subpoena powers.”

“However, we are concerned that AB 1930 will compel businesses to violate federal law in order to comply with state law,” they wrote.

Layla Jane, a “detransitioner” who sued her health care provider over the gender-reassignment surgery she received as a teen, said the bill would protect doctors from investigations into negligent care and make it harder for patients like her to subpoena for medical records.

“This bill shields providers so they can keep chopping up bodies,” she told the committee. “It wraps the doctors, the clinics, the gender industry in a legal blanket and says, ‘You are protected from accountability no matter who you harmed.’ There is no blanket for me.”

Would the bill survive a legal challenge? 

Bill Essayli, a former Republican state lawmaker who oversees the U.S. Attorney’s Office in Los Angeles, said in a statement that Zbur’s measure would be unconstitutional.

“Any effort by California to restrict the federal government’s lawful use of, or compliance with, subpoenas is unlawful and unenforceable under the Supremacy Clause,” Essayli said.

Three independent constitutional scholars who CalMatters asked to review the bill suggested Essayli may have a point.

Under that provision of the U.S. Constitution, states cannot pass laws that run counter to the federal government’s legal authority.

“If there’s a conflict between federal law on the one hand, and state or local (law) on the other, federal law wins out,” said Erwin Chemerinsky, the dean of UC Berkeley School of Law.

Chemerinsky and the other scholars said the measure is unlikely to run into the same legal problems that caused a federal judge to block California’s attempt to ban federal agents from wearing masks. The judge in the mask case ruled that the state had discriminated against the federal government since it exempted state police from the ban.

This proposed measure doesn’t single out the federal government; the bill applies to any entity issuing subpoenas.

Still, the scholars said forcing private health care providers and businesses not to respond to a subpoena on a federal deadline could be legally problematic.

“It looks like the federal government could say you’re impeding their law enforcement,” said Leslie Gielow Jacobs, a law professor at University of the Pacific McGeorge School of Law.

“Is this impeding federal ... objectives?” said Vikram David Amar, a law professor at the UC Davis School of Law. “If so, it would be invalid under Supremacy.”

The California Attorney General’s Office responded to an interview request for Bonta with an unsigned written statement.

“Bills aren’t final when they’re introduced and can change throughout the legislative process,” it read. “Our office will continue to have conversations with stakeholders regarding AB 1930 and will address concerns as appropriate and needed.”

This article was originally published on CalMatters and was republished under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license.