The Best Modeling Tool I Didn’t Learn in Academia
How GenAI changed the way I approach feature engineering, forecasting, and iteration.
In academia, we’re taught to revere clean models, strict workflows, and the slow accumulation of rigor. That discipline has served me well — until I stepped into the world of messy sustainability data and business timelines.
Here, the perfect model is the one that’s good enough to ship. And the best assistant I’ve found for building those models? GenAI.
To be fair, I’d worked with GenAI during academia; but I rigorously tested my model for a year (a year!) before I and my PhD thesis advisor submitted the code to a scientific journal.
GenAI is not awesome because it replaces my thinking—it doesn’t—but because it reflects my thinking back at me. It works faster than me, more playfully, and with surprising insight.
And when it fails, it fails faster than I ever could as a mortal human. GenAI is not just a tool. It’s a mirror.
What Academia Taught Me — And What It Missed
In academia, I was trained to respect structure: define your problem, lay out your assumptions, choose your tools carefully, and build upward — rigor first, clarity second, iteration third.
That works beautifully when you’re building models for theoretical systems. But out here, in the chaotic realm of sustainability and finance, the world doesn’t hand you clean data or clearly defined variables.
You’re often trying to model systems you barely understand — social dynamics, climate vulnerabilities, fragmented balance sheets — all under time pressure, with incomplete information.
I had the tools to formalize. But I needed something to catalyze.
How GenAI Became My Co-Thinker
At first, I used GenAI for small things: rewriting Python docstrings, explaining why a model threw an error, helping me brainstorm variable names.
But slowly, it crept into my upstream workflow — especially during those “I don’t even know where to start” moments.
Here’s what it helped with:
Feature ideation: I’d describe the problem and dataset, and it would return ten potential features — some obvious, some genuinely novel.
Scenario framing: I could ask, “What variables might shift under X policy change?” and get useful thought starters for modeling.
Forecast scaffolding: I’d describe a desired output, and it would sketch out how to structure the model pipeline, which techniques to consider, and what tradeoffs might show up.
Was any of it plug-and-play? Never. But it was always enough to move me forward.
Sometimes GenAI doesn’t solve the problem — it just reminds you there is a solution to the problem.
The Tool That Reflects Your Thinking
What surprised me most is how using GenAI became a mirror.
When I asked it to generate feature sets, I started noticing my own blind spots. When it gave me a model outline, I noticed what it assumed about the data — and whether I agreed.
The conversation itself became part of the modeling process. Not an interruption, not a shortcut — but an extension of my own thinking.
It wasn’t doing the modeling for me. It was helping me see my modeling logic more clearly.
Where It Breaks — and Why That’s Useful
There are things GenAI still can’t do well:
It fumbles with advanced math, especially dynamic or probabilistic reasoning.
It can’t prioritize well when information is ambiguous.
It occasionally invents logic that sounds good but breaks when implemented.
But these flaws are helpful in my opinion.
They highlight what requires human judgment. They nudge me to double-check things I might otherwise gloss over. They make me more cautious in the right places.
From Clean to Curious
In academia, I aimed for elegance. Now I aim for curiosity.
Where I am now, models don’t need to be clean first — they need to be useful first. Especially in sustainability, where uncertainty is high, stakes are real, and the story matters as much as the prediction.
Using GenAI lets me start messy and refine later. It gives me permission to sketch, to brainstorm, and to reshape ideas in motion.
GenAI shifted my modeling from “prove this works” to “explore what’s possible.”
The Bottom Line: Start With the Question, Not the Framework
The best tool I never learned in school isn’t a statistical method.
It’s an approach: collaborative, iterative, and more interested in direction than precision. Except you don’t even need colleagues for this.
GenAI won’t replace modeling discipline. But it does reshape how I use that discipline — and where I invest my energy.
When your goal is clarity, not control, GenAI becomes less of a shortcut — and more of a co-pilot.
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I really enjoyed your reflections here, and probably because they mirror almost exactly a conversation I had the other day with some friends.
I loved this comment.
“In academia, I aimed for elegance. Now I aim for curiosity.”
For the last year or so I have been describing myself as a Curiositist. I don’t espouse a religion. I don’t promote a political ideology. I just want to know why things are the way they are and work the way they do. And I want to find useful ways to employ what I learn to help myself and others. Eventually, we do need theory, though, because to make things work at scale, we have to understand the fundamental “how and why.” As one of my professors at Georgia Tech used to say: “Yes, it works in practice, but can you make it work in theory?”
But this section really resonated with me:
“The Bottom Line: Start With the Question, Not the Framework”
As a professional decision and risk analyst, I couldn’t think of a more succinct and useful description of formal decision analysis. Very nice! However, I wouldn’t give up using these concepts with other people, especially for large complex projects. But I am really fascinated with the idea of possibly integrating GenAI with formal decision problem framing and analysis.