It’s not just that the world is changing.
It’s that it’s changing faster than our shared ways of understanding can keep up.
Most parents sense this instinctively. We feel it in the compression of time, in the way new technologies appear before we’ve fully understood the last ones, and in how quickly conversations about the future move from abstract to personal.
Change is not linear. It is exponential. Tools, ideas, and systems now evolve faster than institutions can absorb them, faster than cultural norms can adapt, and faster than families can pause to make meaning of them.
For adults, this is disorienting.
For children, it can be overwhelming.
When I was about ten, I’d listen to music on a record player using a vinyl 45‑rpm single, held in place by those little yellow plastic inserts. Forty years later, an iPhone can play music, shoot cinema‑quality video, stream movies, and tap the world’s knowledge — all from the palm of your hand. That exponential change is only a portion of one lifetime. And it’s getting faster still.
The challenge is not a lack of information. We have more information than ever before. The challenge is a lack of orientation — a shared sense of where we are, what matters, and how to move forward thoughtfully.
The world right now often feels like a race between technology, competence and catastrophe—and it can feel as though catastrophe is winning. Artificial intelligence is part of this story — but it is not the whole story. AI didn’t create this moment. It simply revealed it.
In moments like this, society often defaults to urgency.
Prepare faster.
Learn more.
Get ahead.
Don’t fall behind.
These impulses are understandable. They come from care, not neglect. Parents want to protect their children from uncertainty, from obsolescence, from futures that feel less predictable than the ones we imagined for ourselves.
But urgency is not the same as wisdom.
When the pace of change accelerates, speed alone does not help us navigate. In fact, it often makes things worse. Without orientation, acceleration amplifies anxiety rather than offering insight. Children feel this acutely.
They hear adults talk about jobs that won’t exist, skills they’ll need, and futures they must prepare for — often without context or coherence. They absorb concern without always receiving understanding. They sense pressure without clarity.
This is not because parents or teachers are doing something wrong.
It’s because we are all being asked to make sense of a world that no longer pauses long enough for reflection.
What they need is not more speed—they need more orientation.
In the next post, we look more closely at how children experience this moment — and why adult posture matters more than prediction.
©2025 Richard Tavener
