AI and Our Children

As a child, I excelled at math. Solving problems came naturally to me—but language didn’t. In fact, I wasn’t promoted to the next grade because I failed my language subject, despite being a strong math student. Thankfully, the school recognized that diligence and potential aren't always measured by perfect grammar. They let me advance—not through the usual path of promotion, but by acknowledging the strength of my ideas.

Still, language never became my strength. Even in university, mandatory English classes did little to change that.

But then came AI.

Now, I can express thoughts clearly—sometimes even beautifully—not because my command of language has transformed, but because a machine finally understands what I want to say. That’s not just convenience. That’s a beacon of light for someone like me, who always had ideas but often struggled to say them right.

Today, my sons—just 7 and 9—are already growing up alongside this technology. And as AI enters their lives, so do the expert debates: Will it dull their thinking? Cripple their creativity? But maybe that’s the wrong conversation.

Reframing the Fear

When calculators arrived, we were warned they’d weaken our minds. Yet here we are—still solving, still thinking. Now that AI walks beside our children, the warnings return: Will they lose their writing skills? Their decision-making?

What if we shifted the focus—from what they might lose to what they might gain?

They’re not just using tools. They’re stepping into new forms of intelligence:

Hyperlinked thinking – connecting diverse ideas across disciplines with agility and creativity

Accelerated learning – personalized feedback loops that reinforce mastery and curiosity.

While we competed with human peers for clarity and competence, their generation may wrestle with creative paralysis—the daunting feeling of having to stand out next to machines that can “do it all.” And yet, the answer to both our anxieties may be the same: acceptance.

Parenting Toward Possibility

Acceptance doesn’t mean complacency. It means presence. It means recognizing that while tools change, values endure. Our job as parents isn’t to protect old skills, but to cultivate timeless strengths—curiosity, adaptability, discernment, and authenticity.

Let’s raise children who aren’t afraid of being replaced by machines—because they know what only they can offer: soul, empathy, intuition, and story.

Let them explore. Let them express. Let them feel seen not just for how well they write, but for how bravely they think.