extra! extra! 🗞️ ChatGPT Stories from Career Day

Happy Friday!

Before I became the badass you know me to be today, I was a badass…. STEM teacher. I spent a handful of years in the classroom teaching robotics, building marble rollercoasters, and (actually) sending ping-pong balls to space. This was my introduction to technology and a few times a year, I head back to my old district and share how I turned my love for innovation into a business.

All year I’ve been so amazed at how much 4th graders know about AI — “it’s a robot you can ask questions!”, business — “my uncle is a landscaper”, and what Steve Jobs invented — “miss, did you have an iPhone at my age?”. No young grasshopper, I had a walkie-talkie. True story. The range on that thing was my radius for riding my bike - out of range, grounded.

Attending Career Day is not only my way of giving back but fills my love for teaching without having to actually do it.

So I show up with all the stops including pictures of me in the 4th grade….

and a crowd-favorite activity; using ChatGPT to write & illustrate a story.

It’s hard enough explaining that I do “tech consulting”, so instead I’ve opted-in to teaching the kids how to use one of the tools I lean on for my business.

We talk about how ChatGPT learns information — and how sometimes it gets it wrong. We talk about saying please & thank you so the robots don’t forget we were nice to them when they take over the world…

Then, we get creative.

We write the ChatGPT asking to write a story for a 4th grade classroom, then the students popcorn to add details for characters, conflict and of course style.

And this Career Day had some of the best stories I’ve seen yet, so I thought I’d give your inbox a little laugh and share one of my favorites below.

Enjoy! — Sara

ChatGPT Prompt: I want to write a story for a 4th grade class about hamburgers. The hamburger, Bob is the size of an adult and is angry because someone stole his Weiner dog, Jerry. They live In a big city like Austin, TX. Bob has seeds on his bun and pickles for hair, and cheese as a bandana. The villain is a slice of pizza named Jeffery. Bob finds the dog in a pizza parlor eating pineapple pizza. 

Bob the Burger’s Big City Adventure

In a bustling city full of skyscrapers, food trucks, and bustling sidewalks, there lived an adult-sized hamburger named Bob. Bob was no ordinary hamburger—he wore a cheese bandana, his bun was sprinkled with sesame seeds, and he had pickles for hair that flopped around when he walked. Bob loved his life in the big city, but what he loved most was his loyal Wiener dog, Jerry.

Jerry was no ordinary dog, either. With a bun-colored coat and a knack for sniffing out food adventures, Jerry was Bob’s partner in every escapade. But one sunny morning, disaster struck.

Jerry was gone.

Bob’s kitchen apartment was a mess, with overturned ketchup bottles and mustard trails leading out the door. On the wall, scrawled in marinara sauce, was a single word: JEFFERY.

“Jeffery,” Bob growled, his pickles standing on end. Jeffery was the most notorious pizza slice in town, known for his greasy schemes and cheesy crimes.

Bob grabbed his spatula (every hamburger needs one) and stormed out the door. He searched high and low—at the taco stand, in the food truck alley, and even at the donut shop where Jerry liked to sniff the sprinkles. Finally, a tip from a french fry vendor led him to the darkest corner of the city: Jeffery’s Pizza Parlor.

The neon sign above the parlor flashed: “Pineapple Paradise.” Inside, it smelled of melted cheese and tropical fruit. Bob burst through the doors, his pickles flopping as he marched toward the counter.

“JEFFERY!” Bob bellowed. The villainous pizza slice spun around, his greasy face glinting under the fluorescent lights.

“Well, well, well,” Jeffery sneered. “If it isn’t Bob the Bun. Looking for someone?”

Jeffery gestured toward a booth, where Jerry sat happily munching on a slice of pineapple pizza.

“Jerry!” Bob exclaimed, relieved but confused. “What are you doing here?”

Jerry wagged his tiny tail and barked. Jeffery cackled, a laugh so oily it made the nearby breadsticks cringe. “Your dog’s got good taste, Bob. Pineapple pizza is the future!”

Bob narrowed his sesame-seeded eyes. “You let my dog go, or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” Jeffery interrupted, sliding toward Bob. “This is my turf, Burger Boy.”

Thinking fast, Bob whipped out his spatula and flipped a stack of napkins into the air, causing a pizza-slice distraction. With Jeffery momentarily blinded, Bob grabbed Jerry and made a dash for the door.

But Jeffery wasn’t done yet. He hurled a flying slice of pepperoni at them. Bob ducked just in time, and the pepperoni splatted against the wall. Outside, Bob sprinted down the street, Jerry in his arms, until they reached the safety of their apartment.

That night, after the excitement had settled, Bob set down a fresh bowl of pickles for Jerry, who wagged his tail happily. “No more pineapple pizza for you, buddy,” Bob said, scratching Jerry behind his floppy ears.

And from that day on, Bob and Jerry stuck to their usual food adventures—far away from Jeffery’s Pizza Parlor.