Education journalist Jenny Anderson and Brookings Institution researcher Rebecca Winthrop have produced an engaging, thought-provoking book that has much to offer educators and school leaders. Anderson and Winthrop mix journalistic anecdotes with a rich vein of data and analysis to explore why today’s teens are apathetic, undermotivated, and overwhelmed – and more importantly, what to do about it. Indeed, although the book touches on elements of the discourse about attention, phones, social media, and coping with the modern world, the authors are far more interested in developing a framework for cajoling today’s students out of their modern malaise. While some of the book is aimed at parents, the guidance is no less sage. Each student mode in its typology – “resistor,” “passenger,” “achiever,” and “explorer” – comes with its own descriptors and attendant behaviors. Of particular note are the gaps and overlaps between the various modes. For example, “resistor” behavior might overlap with some elements of “explorer” mode, and a student stuck in “passenger” mode might seem to be emerging only to get stuck in performative “achiever” mode. Truly, many independent school educators will recognize, with resignation, the authors’ description of “achiever” mode in which students “tie their self-worth… to high performance” at the expense of real learning and growth. Rather than blaming students, however, Anderson and Winthrop ask what adults can do differently, specifically how we can design for more meaningful, actionable learning. In a moment when there is so much despair in the field of education, The Disengaged Teen might just be the book to offer a blueprint for schools and teachers.

Education has cycled through competing, and sometimes complementary, models of intelligence: IQ, EQ, and CQ among them. Now, artificial intelligence (AI) is rapidly reshaping teaching and learning, as well as the world beyond the schoolhouse. Isabelle Hau proposes relational intelligence (RQ) as a distinctly human response to this digital shift. Hau describes relational intelligence as the ability to build trust, navigate complexity, and create meaning with others. Drawing on research from neuroscience, education, and public health, she shows that human development is fundamentally relational: strong connections drive learning, well-being, and long-term success, while relational deprivation harms cognitive and emotional growth. Some urgency for Hau’s argument derives from the fact that, despite powerful technological tools designed to help us connect and relate, we are communicating and sharing less. This “relational recession” is evident in growing rates of loneliness, increasing screen time, and declining face-to-face interactions. As AI companions may contribute to these downward trends, Hau calls for greater opportunities for people to relate to one another. Schools that prioritize strong teacher-student relationships, workplaces that value trust, and healthcare that emphasizes human bonds will all be more effective, if not cherished. 

What separates the school that thrives in the age of AI from the one that quietly becomes irrelevant? According to Dan Fitzpatrick, it isn't technology but rather leadership vision. Drawing on James Carse's distinction between finite and infinite games, Fitzpatrick argues that most schools are stuck playing a finite game: optimizing for test scores, managing the present, and treating graduation as an endpoint. His four-step framework — Scope, Shape, Influence, Align — urges leaders to move from reactive AI adoption toward something more deliberate. The book's most practical contribution is its distinction between linear innovation, including using AI to make existing systems more efficient, and nonlinear innovation, such as using AI to rethink what school is for entirely. Fitzpatrick builds on his framework with a nine-step Centre of Excellence model that turns aspiration into an implementation sequence. For independent and international school leaders, the message is direct: the autonomy that defines these institutions carries an obligation to act where public systems, constrained by policy cycles, cannot. More than just another broadside about AI tools, this is a book about what leaders might do with the freedom they already have.

The ability of AI systems to create both complex and human-sounding products (across all mediums) has made many of our fundamental assumptions regarding originality and authorship unworkable. For years, assessments have been used to surface an individual's level of understanding through independent tasks, particularly those which could be taken home. AI can now assist with, if not accomplish, these types of assessments with little to no detection. Perkins and Roe suggest that this situation is not a new crisis; instead, it is a moment that brings longstanding weaknesses into focus. The structure of assessment systems (which have always allowed for gamed student responses) is being tested at scale. Additionally, a significant divide is growing: digitally well-equipped schools are now designing assessments based upon collaboration, ethical decision-making, and human-based abilities, while digitally disadvantaged schools are likely to continue using high stakes, traditional exams. For school leaders, the challenges surrounding the impact of AI-generated content on the development of assessments will be both technological and strategic. Decisions about assessment design will need to consider issues related to equity, accessibility, and institutional values. Since AI-generated content can produce answers to questions posed in assessments, school leaders will need to rethink how they define and measure learning. This work includes creating transparent processes for evaluating evidence of student thinking, while assuring that the new forms of assessing student knowledge do not further widen the existing inequalities among schools.

Jen Roberts's article offers a thoughtful and grounded perspective on a growing classroom challenge: how to respond when students misuse generative AI. Rather than reacting with suspicion or punishment, Roberts encourages a reflective, student-centered approach. She presents real classroom examples where honest dialogue and gentle inquiry helped students take ownership of their choices and better understand the role AI plays in their learning. What makes this piece especially useful for educators in independent and international schools is its blend of practical strategies and empathetic guidance. Roberts outlines clear steps for teachers, including how to address suspected misuse without relying on unreliable AI detectors, how to create opportunities for revision and reflection, and how to equip students with the tools to make more thoughtful choices. Her approach fosters a culture of integrity, not just compliance, and invites schools to treat AI as an evolving teaching opportunity rather than a threat.

In Rehumanizing Assessment: Gathering Evidence of Student Learning Through Storytelling, Tom Schimmer and Natalie Vardabasso make the case that the written test, designed to be individual and silent, is one of the primary ways schools suppress the very voices they claim to value. This assessment format marginalizes students from cultures that center collectivism and oral expression, narrowing both what counts as evidence of learning and who gets to demonstrate it. Schimmer and Vardabasso ground their approach in research connecting storytelling to meaning-making, empathy, and culture, and translate it into actionable strategies for the classroom. Teachers need new forms of assessment to gather evidence of higher-order thinking, and storytelling is an authentic means of doing so. For educators in independent and international schools, the book offers a concrete alternative to conventional assessment formats. Many schools name critical competencies in their vision statements and student profiles, yet they still rely on assessments that were never designed to elicit evidence of them. Storytelling offers a way for students to move beyond recall and to demonstrate how they process, connect, and apply what they learn. The result is assessment that nurtures critical and creative thinking while being more equitable and culturally expansive.

International school students are often culturally and linguistically diverse, yet many school leaders intentionally limit neurodiversity in their schools. In a book chapter from a very large tome, Diversity and Inclusion Challenges for Leaders of International Schools, author Lauren Jones argues that while international schools frequently proclaim their commitment to inclusion, their decisions often fail to reflect it. Jones focuses on financial decisions, arguing that schools that wish to be neuro-inclusive must align their structures to set these students up for success. Jones describes reducing the size of her leadership team in favour of doubling the size of the student support team, thereby enabling the school to accept a wider range of students. Her budget served both as a tool to support neurodiverse students and as a signal to the community about the school’s priorities. Jones also tackles stated objections to a broader admission policy. Demonstrating that a more open admissions process can increase enrollment; have a positive impact on both academic and social development; and consequently build a school’s reputation as caring and effective, the article provides a path for international school leaders to make bold decisions in favor of all students. More broadly, Jones challenges leaders to examine whether their publicly stated commitments to inclusion are reflected in the institutional choices they make.