Speaking Truth, Teaching Humanity: Sense of Responsibility in the Age of A.I.

by Kalyan Ali Balaven, Headteacher, Dunn School, America

When I think about Kurt Hahn’s vision of education—the insistence that schools shape character as much as intellect, and that responsibility to others is not a side lesson but the core of the curriculum—I realize I was fortunate enough to have my own personal Kurt Hahn in the form of my teacher, Tommie Lindsey.

Mr. Lindsey didn’t wear the badge of international fame when I met him. He was simply a public speaking teacher with a soft Kangol cap and an easy laugh, teaching in a classroom that became for me what Salem, Gordonstoun, and Outward Bound were for Hahn’s students: a proving ground for responsibility. He held us accountable not just for arguments and speeches, but for each other’s humanity.

Years later, as a Head of School in California, I find myself returning to his lessons—particularly now, when Artificial Intelligence dazzles us with its speed and fluency but also threatens to erode the human work of listening, caring, and belonging. If AI is the age’s accelerant, responsibility is our ballast. And responsibility, as Hahn envisioned, is lived in practice.

Responsibility as Story and Voice

Mr. Lindsey’s mantra was: “The story is the argument.”

I remember him handing me Gandhi’s Autobiography and saying, “Read this, and tell it in your voice.” At the time, my anger at my father and my fractured identity had me ready to give up on dialogue. But through performance, I claimed responsibility for my voice—and for the heritage I had been trying to outrun.

Round Square’s Discovery of Sense of Responsibility asks students to own not only their learning, but their story. This matters now more than ever. AI can generate essays, mimic speeches, even fabricate empathy, but it cannot live a story. It cannot shoulder the responsibility of telling truth born from experience.

One practice I carry into my classrooms and faculty training is the 90-Second Story: students must tell a personal story linked to a larger issue—whether AI ethics, climate change, or justice—in under two minutes. Responsibility here is not only to speak, but to connect the personal to the communal, and to listen deeply when others do the same.

Responsibility as Listening

In my book, Speaking Truth, Teaching Humanity, I write about a night when our debate team had been torn by racial tension. Most teachers would have told us to “get on the bus” and move on. Mr. Lindsey stopped us.

“No one gets on the bus,” he said.

We stood in the cold, backpacks at our feet, and circled up. He didn’t scold; he asked questions: What did you hear? What’s the difference between pain and blame? How do we stand with each other without standing over each other?

That night, I learned that listening is not courtesy. Listening is responsibility.

Hahn believed in expeditionary learning—young people tested in real environments, responsible for each other’s survival. Lindsey’s “bus stop seminar” was my expedition. It taught me that responsibility means holding the community together even when it hurts.

In the age of AI, where outrage is rewarded by algorithms, we must create intentional spaces for students to practice justice-oriented listening. One exercise we use is the 3-2-1 Drill: three minutes of speaking, two minutes of paraphrasing, one minute of response. It is awkward at first, but transformational—because listening becomes accountable.

Responsibility as Dignity in Dialogue

Hahn warned against the erosion of compassion in modern life. Lindsey echoed this in a single sentence that reset my young arrogance: “We debate ideas, not people.”

At a time when our team was competing in hostile spaces—restaurants that turned us away, judges who underestimated us—he insisted on dignity. Responsibility, he taught, is not only to stand for truth but to refuse to strip another of their humanity in the process.

Today, I embed this in what we call Darkness Circles: small, trust-centered dialogues on hard topics where the rules of engagement demand respect. Students debate genocide, religious conflict, or climate collapse, but always with the responsibility to safeguard dignity.

In an era when AI can generate flawless rhetoric, we must remember: dignity cannot be automated. It is a human responsibility, modeled and practiced until it becomes instinct.

Responsibility as Agency and Action

Kurt Hahn believed that schools must foster “self-discipline, responsibility, and the habit of service.” Lindsey embodied this when he refused to let the lack of school funding end our debate program. Instead, we sold candy, baked pies, and ran fireworks stands to fund our dreams. He taught us that responsibility meant hustling ethically for what we believed in.

That ethos now shapes my leadership. When I arrived at Dunn School, one of my first initiatives was launching the Jurgensen Entrepreneurship Program, where students don’t just write business plans but fund, pitch, and launch ventures that matter to them. Agency, grounded in responsibility, scales from candy sales to transformative programs.

AI can optimize a budget or simulate a pitch. But it cannot shoulder the risk of asking, the courage of failing, or the resilience of trying again. That is the responsibility we must teach.

Responsibility as Belonging

Responsibility is not only to self, but to community. Lindsey lived this every time he ensured no student went hungry on trips. Once, when a restaurant locked its doors to us, he bought microwave burritos from a gas station and handed them out with a smile: “They may take your seat at the table, but never let them take your dignity.”

That lesson of food as pedagogy—of making sure everyone can eat—has shaped my own initiatives. At Dunn, we created the Inclusion Lab, measuring whether students feel seen and heard. We founded the Center for Community, Belonging, and Purpose, ensuring no one sits at a table without a meal that nourishes them.

Round Square asks its schools to model Service and Democracy. To me, both flow from belonging. Responsibility means asking not only, “Who is at the table?” but also, “Can they eat the meal?”

Responsibility in the Age of AI

Artificial Intelligence raises profound questions for schools. If machines can perform skill, what is left for students? My answer: responsibility.

AI can write code, craft essays, and even simulate empathy, but it cannot choose to stop the bus and make students listen to each other. It cannot feed a hungry teenager in shame and say, “This stays between us.” It cannot insist on dignity in dialogue or resilience in failure.

Those remain ours—the irreplaceable human work of education.

Conclusion: My Hahn, Our Responsibility

In Mr. Lindsey, I met my Kurt Hahn: a teacher who insisted that responsibility is not a unit to be taught, but a life to be lived.

He taught me that stories are arguments, that listening is justice, that dignity is non-negotiable, that agency must scale, and that inclusion is food on the table.

As AI accelerates, our responsibility as educators is clear: to double down on the authentic humanity that machines cannot replicate. Hahn called it character. Lindsey called it truth. I call it the work of my life.

And I believe it is the work of ours—every educator, every school, every student across Round Square—to ensure that responsibility remains not a slogan but a lived experience.

Alongside the 90-second story, the 3-2-1 Drill were developed as classroom practices with my students and colleagues, and they’ve grown into reliable tools for building responsibility, empathy, and authentic voice.

The 3-2-1 Drill: A Mini Guide

Purpose:
The 3-2-1 drill is designed to help students take responsibility for both clarity and depth in communication. It scaffolds their ability to be concise, reflective, and purposeful—skills that translate directly into character and leadership.

How it Works:

• Step 1 – Three Words
  Ask students to distill a complex idea, text, or experience into three words. This demands focus and prioritization.
• Step 2 – Two Sentences
  Expand the three words into two complete sentences that capture both meaning and nuance.
• Step 3 – One Story
  Share a single short story or example (personal, historical, or imagined) that brings the two sentences to life.

Timing:

• The exercise can be done in 5–7 minutes.
• Works well as a warm-up, closing reflection, or paired with a reading/discussion.

Why It Matters:

• Encourages responsibility in word choice and perspective.
• Builds habits of reflection–choosing what matters most.
• Offers a safe structure for every voice to be heard.

I’ve found that exercises like this not only improve communication but also cultivate what Kurt Hahn envisioned: responsibility to self, to others, and to truth. I said this as we opened school this year, “Authentic humanity is the most important outcome of progressive education—because when students are fully known, they can fully tell their story.” These kinds of simple, repeatable drills create that authenticity in real time.

We always love hearing from schools about their Round Square experiences. If you’d like to share a story from your school, reflect on one of the Round Square Discoveries, or—if you’re a Head of School—take part in our Talking Heads podcast, we would be delighted to hear from you. Please get in touch at jason@roundsquare.org.