Dear Families,
This is the second letter in my series reflecting on artificial intelligence and the questions it raises for schools and families.
This week, I listened to Ezra Klein’s latest conversation on AI, which was a discussion exploring the rapid emergence of “AI agents,” systems designed not merely to respond to prompts, but to act independently, carrying out complex tasks on a user’s behalf. The pace of development described was striking, as were the uncertainties surrounding its broader effects.
Amid these conversations about what machines may soon do, I find myself drawn to the insights of thinkers asking a quieter question:
What becomes more valuable, not less, in an AI-shaped world?
In an opinion piece, David Brooks urged students to “major in being human,” suggesting that as machines assume greater responsibility for cognitive tasks, distinctly human capacities would only grow in importance: a personal voice, creativity, empathy, discernment, situational awareness.
Similarly, Anthropic’s CEO, Daniela Amodei, observed: “The things that make us human will become much more important instead of much less important… when we look to hire people at Anthropic today, we look for people who are great communicators, who have excellent EQ and people skills, who are kind and compassionate and curious and want to help other people.”
Even the evolving language within education reflects this shift. For many years, educators used the phrase soft skills to describe qualities such as communication, empathy, curiosity, adaptability, and presence. It was, in hindsight, an unfortunate label. “Soft” suggested something that was nice to have, but not essential.
Today, those same capacities are increasingly described as durable skills, and this shift in language is telling. They are the abilities that persist in value even as the world evolves. Put simply, they are the skills of being human.
At Brookwood, these qualities are not treated as an adjunct to academic learning, but as inseparable from it. Intellectual growth and human development unfold together. Students learn not only to solve problems, but to explain reasoning. Not only to form ideas, but to express them clearly. Not only to work independently, but to collaborate thoughtfully.
We see the impact of this every day:
In students who greet adults with confidence.
Who ask genuine questions.
Who listen closely.
Who engage with kindness and presence.
Who carry themselves with a sense of curiosity and ease.
I was reminded of this recently while speaking with an educator who interviewed for a teaching position for next school year. This individual was not actively seeking a new role. Instead, they had set job alerts specifically for Brookwood.
Their connection to Brookwood began with a single visit last year. They came to observe our changemaking program and Forest School, expecting to learn about pedagogy. Instead, they found themselves struck by something less easily described: the spirit of the community, the quality of interactions, the unmistakable sense of a deeply human-centered school. “It simply felt different,” they reflected.
This is something we hear with notable consistency from visiting educators: that Brookwood possesses a distinctive culture, one defined by warmth, intellectual vitality, humor, kindness, and genuine presence. And this is no small outcome.
In a world increasingly shaped by automation and mediated by screens, our children will need more than technical fluency. They will need the ability to connect, to communicate, to discern, to adapt, to lead, to collaborate, to act with empathy and integrity. They will need durable skills.
These are the qualities that technologies cannot replace, and the ones that will allow our students not merely to keep pace with change, but to shape the world they inherit.
I so appreciate the notes and reflections you send in response to these letters. If you’re willing to share: what questions or thoughts come to mind for you as a parent when you think about AI?
Warmly,
Jon
