For educators grappling with the pressures of AI’s sudden ubiquity, “Rethinking School in the Age of AI” is a much-needed, research-based pep talk. Maryanne Wolf, author of Reader, Come Home, approaches the work from her scholarship on cognitive neuroscience. She passionately argues that building a “beautiful reading brain” takes real and sustained effort, and she worries about young students who offload that hard work onto generative AI. Rebecca Winthrop, co-author of The Disengaged Teen, proposes an approach to education that moves away from an “age of achievement,” where schools sort and rank students, to an “age of agency,” which pushes students to uncover real knowledge and wisdom. At its most basic level, the episode offers cogent summaries of compelling research. However, its real gift to educators and administrators is the message that we are agents and that we can say no to technology that does not benefit the growing minds in our care. Winthrop and Wolf are not technophobes, but rather educators first and foremost. They offer a nuanced portrait of how AI can work in schools around the globe, but only if coupled with our embrace of human agency and the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom.

Introducing the power of a tool that positions youth as researchers, storytellers and changemakers, Ricardo Martinez and Ezequiel Aleman (eds.) explore Speculative Youth Action as a pathway for students to imagine futures beyond existing educational structures. Collective dreaming of systems that break with the traditional ways of schooling can engage students in creating “productive ruptures” that challenge the dominant narratives and may enable constructive change. This form of Youth Participatory Action Research (YPAR) centers the imagination and youth voice in reshaping educational practice. The papers in this issue highlight methods that draw out and champion not only critique but also possibility. What is particularly unique about these papers is that many are co-authored by youth and academic researchers in partnership. Engaging with this text, therefore, allows us to do more than read about change; we also experience it as embodied in the act of writing and publishing. Youth-led efforts for social justice are at the core of these reports, showing the way dreaming and speculation are, after all, what give social and educational change its heart and its purpose.

Blake Harvard’s Do I Have Your Attention? is a compelling, research-driven exposition on what it actually takes to engage students in meaningful learning by centering our understanding of attention. Blending just enough cognitive psychology with extensive classroom experience, Harvard argues that attention isn’t automatic. It must be earned and sustained through deliberate instructional design. The call to action is clear: let’s not mistake busy classrooms for effective ones. Artfully balancing theory and practice, this book is especially resonant for educators in independent schools, where autonomy meets high expectations and where we often have the freedom to shape our curriculum, but not always the tools to ensure that students are truly learning. Harvard challenges us to ask: Are we designing for learning or for distraction? Are we prioritizing novelty, or are we aligning our practices with how students actually retain and process information? Harvard’s work is a timely reminder that innovation isn’t always invention; it’s often thoughtful refinement of our practice. Individuals, teams, and campuses should consider this book as a springboard for professional conversations about attention, memory, and learning.

The thrust of this interview rests with a question that Dr. Anna Lembke, author, psychiatrist, and addiction researcher, poses about this moment in history: “What is it about modern life that makes us so vulnerable to addiction problems?” Lembke and interviewer LuLu Garcia-Navarro consider the “convenience and abundance” of ever-ready digital stimuli that Lembke contends has only served to make people more unhappy and lonely than ever. She posits that we have come to a kind of crisis of “endemic narcissism,” and suggests that in “this world of abundance, we have to intentionally seek out things that are hard.” A deeply compelling listen, this conversation offers educators familiar considerations to mull over when it comes to digital device use, academic rigor, and meaning making. Here, though, Lembke offers nuance by situating the issue as “a stressor of overabundance” that will have ongoing ramifications for how we are coming to regard our individual and collective humanity.

As debates over how taxation shapes educational access grow on both sides of the Atlantic, this UK-based analysis offers timely insights for American educators and policymakers. The United Kingdom’s decision to apply a 20 percent Value Added Tax (VAT) to private school fees, effective January 1, 2025, has raised concerns about independent schools' financial sustainability and broader equity questions. Similar tensions are emerging in the United States, where former President Donald Trump has urged the IRS to revoke Harvard University's tax-exempt status, reflecting a wider global scrutiny of private education’s public role and financial privileges. In “Short-Term Thinking,” Maxwell Marlow critiques the UK VAT policy, arguing that the estimated revenue gains of £1.3 to 1.5 billion may be overly optimistic. He suggests that these projections fail to account for shifts in enrollment and rising costs that could leave the government with a net loss, particularly in high-migration scenarios. The report warns of unintended consequences, including the potential closure of smaller schools, increased competition in the state sector, and reduced bursary access for lower- and middle-income families. Now that the policy is in effect, some of these predicted outcomes are beginning to materialize. For example, Eton College has raised its annual fees by 20% to accommodate the tax, pushing the cost of attendance to over £63,000, and Erskine Stewart’s Melville Schools in Edinburgh have begun selling school-owned properties to absorb the financial impact. Staffing concerns are also surfacing, as some schools face increased workloads and cost-cutting pressures. This paper offers a valuable case study for American stakeholders on the potential consequences of using tax policy to influence the education market. Whether by VAT in the UK or by revoking nonprofit status in the U.S., such approaches raise essential questions about access, affordability, and the social contract of independent schools.

What is 45 minutes of Hamlet? How much homework should we assign? What is the purpose of homework in the first place? A recent blog post by Megan Pacheco introduces a homework audit to help teachers reflect on these perennial questions – and the ways in which students interact with their homework. Pacheco is the executive director of Challenge Success, and her post draws upon insights from her organization’s school surveys that show homework as ranking among the top stressors for middle and high school students. She advises teachers to set aside 15-20 minutes at the end of a class for students to begin their homework; during this time, teachers can observe how students engage with the work (or don’t) and get feedback from them on their struggles and successes. As Pacheco writes, “a homework audit takes the guesswork out of assessment design.” Just as important, she adds, this approach can build relational trust between teachers and students. And while this approach alone may not tell us how much Shakespeare to assign, it can help us to better understand our particular students and to design learning environments that will challenge and support each of them.

In Loving Corrections, adrienne maree brown offers a powerful meditation on justice, accountability, and liberation rooted in the intimate, everyday choices we make in how we relate to others, our bodies, and the planet. As this 12th book in the Emergent Strategies Series asks educators to perceive movement beyond punitive models of justice, brown advocates for “loving corrections”—acts of accountability offered with care, humility, and the intention to sustain connection rather than sever it. Drawing on decades of experience in social justice movements and facilitation, brown critiques hierarchical leadership and calls instead for relational, trust-based strategies. She emphasizes that systems change must mirror the change we seek in ourselves: if we want liberated futures, we must practice interdependence, solidarity, and transformation in our relationships. “We don’t want an apology without the shifts in behavior,” brown writes, calling for behavioral change over performative gestures. The author challenges the tendency in activist spaces to sensationalize conflict, reduce people to their worst moments, and confuse moral certainty with actual justice work. Instead, brown urges readers to embrace complexity and resist disposability politics. Through examples ranging from interpersonal disagreements to global conflicts, the book highlights how humility and curiosity must guide our stance toward accountability. Whether inspiration comes from public forms of advocacy, or tender and loving conversations with our loved ones, this wide-reaching text asks us not to abandon one another in moments of failure, but to move through them with courage, care, and the belief that transformation is always possible and for everyone.