Speaking Truth, Teaching Humanity: What I Learned from Mr. Lindsey to Teach and Lead in the Age of A.I.

By Kalyan Ali Balaven

Why this book matters now

In a moment when artificial intelligence can draft lessons, essays, even “empathetic” replies, this book argues that authentic humanity—the daily, lived practice of seeing the whole student—matters more than ever. Through personal narrative and practical playbooks, Kalyan shares how one teacher, Mr. Tommie Lindsey, transformed his life—and how those lessons translate into modern classrooms and school leadership.

“In the age of Artificial Intelligence, authentic humanity matters more than ever.”

“AI can write essays, draft arguments, even simulate empathy. But it can’t hand you a box of canned food without judgment.”

The spine of the book: five through-lines for educators & leaders

1) Story as evidence (not ornament)

Lindsey taught us that the story is the argument—that identity and lived experience are data for learning and citizenship. The book opens here and returns to it as a practical stance for teaching writing, debate, and civic voice.

In practice: short “90-second story” routines; a 3-minute “Your Story, Your Mic” podcast prompt; portfolio-based demonstrations of learning.

2) Listening as an act of justice

The book frames listening as active repair—especially when dialogue is hot. Circles, norms, and “pause & dignify” moves help communities hold pain without weaponizing it.

3) Dignity in dialogue

We debate ideas, not people. From on-the-bus conflict de-escalations to community forums after world events, the book shows how to protect belonging while telling hard truths—skills students need for digital spaces where algorithms reward outrage.

4) Space teaches

Physical design signals values: circles over rows, visible mirrors for practice, teacher in the back to shift agency forward. When culture is right, students run the learning.

In practice: an “Empty Chair” exercise to test whether routines and space carry learning even when the teacher steps out.

5) Inclusion you can taste

Food is a recurring metaphor for whole-student education: don’t invite people to a table where they can’t eat. That idea expands into hiring, programming, trips, and events designed so everyone can partake.

“What do you like to eat? What can’t you eat? What makes this meal special for you? … We must ask students what they need to belong… and then shape the experience around their humanity.”

In practice: run an “Inclusion Menu” workshop; do an “Empty Plate Audit” to visualize what nourishes, what’s missing, and what excludes.

Classroom-to-leadership bridges (toolkit inside)

The closing section gathers concrete routines—voice, dialogue, risk-taking, restorative responses, space design—so readers can move from story to system.

“This chapter gathers all of the optional practices from across the book into one place—a toolkit… All are rooted in the same ethos: agency, voice, belonging, and courage.”

“These practices aren’t magic tricks… The ability to listen deeply, speak truth with dignity, risk failure, build belonging, and see the whole student? That will always be human work.”

For readers following AI + education

This isn’t an anti-tech screed; it’s a human compass. The book argues that as artificial intelligence scales, we must double-down on the distinctly human: dignity, dialogue, discernment, and design for belonging.

“…teaching humanity is still the highest form of intelligence.”

What readers will take away