What Grandparents Know That AI Never Will

Reflection from Head of School Dr. Peter F. Folan 

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my grandfather.

Some of my most meaningful memories are not the big moments, but the quiet ones—early mornings on Cape Cod, when the world felt still. I would wake up, sneak down the hall, and climb into bed next to him. No noise, no distractions—just his presence. At the time, I didn’t think of those moments as extraordinary. Looking back now, I understand they were something far more important. They were formation.

My grandfather—who I called “Puppy”—wasn’t a teacher. And yet, he taught me valuable lessons. He ran a dry cleaner in Brighton. He was a cantor at St. Patrick’s Church. He worked hard. He loved deeply. He had a quiet patience. His stories, his faith, and his presence shaped how I would see the world. He passed away when I was ten years old. Four decades later, I still carry him with me.

I’ve come to understand something that feels urgent today: the most meaningful influence in a young person’s life often happens quietly—in unhurried moments, in authentic relationships, in the simple act of being present.

We are living through a moment of extraordinary change. Artificial intelligence, biotechnology, and global interconnection are reshaping how we work, communicate, and make decisions. In response, much of the conversation about education has focused on skills, knowledge, and innovation. But we may be asking the wrong question: not just what should children know—but who are they becoming?

Knowledge alone is not enough. Machines can process data faster, but they cannot replace judgment, wisdom, or the ability to understand another person. The future will reward those who use what they learn with conviction and purpose. This kind of formation happens best through authentic relationships, which is why grandparents matter now more than ever.

Grandparents bring something essential: perspective. They understand that growth is not linear, that failure often leads to wisdom, and that character is revealed in moments of challenge. Grandparents are not interested in performance or outcomes, but in substance—not in what a child achieves, but in who that child becomes. Most importantly, they offer something young people need more of: time and depth. Grandparents make the time to listen, to tell stories, and to simply be present.

I am blessed that my own children have experienced this. They have spent summer days on Cape Cod with their grandparents. The rhythm is unstructured and unhurried: long mornings, simple routines, stories told without urgency, and family dinners. Those are the moments that last. They may not recognize it now—but one day, they will.

In my work, I have come to see that the students who thrive are not simply the brightest. They are the ones who are known—who feel seen, supported, and challenged by adults who care deeply about them. In our AI-driven world, children need to be grounded in what has always mattered: character, integrity, curiosity, and empathy. Our world will continue to evolve rapidly—but the enduring values that define a person should not.

When I think about the trajectory of my own life, I can trace so much of it back to those quiet mornings with Puppy. He showed up, no agenda, just an open heart—and in doing so, he changed my life. The greatest gift we can give a child is a solid foundation—shaped by presence, strengthened by relationships, and rooted in values that endure. Grandparents understand that truth.

It is time we recognize just how important that work truly is—and pause long enough to learn from it, and honor it.