“Hearts 1- Robots 0”
Remembering what it means to feel alive—even when the world runs on code.
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We were in the car, the late afternoon light pouring in through the windows, when the radio turned to a conversation with Suzy Welch, Professor of Management Practice at NYU Stern School of Business. She had found, in her recent research, that only 2 percent of Generation Z exhibit the values companies most seek in new hires: achievement, learning, and an unbridled desire to work. The discussion soon turned toward AI—how it might increasingly replace entry-level jobs, perhaps even reshaping what “work” itself means.
From the back seat, my 12-year-old son, a member of Generation Alpha standing right at the threshold of Gen Z, spoke up. “I’m not so worried about AI,” he said. “AI can’t take my spot on the soccer field.”
My husband chuckled and mentioned something he’d read about robots being trained to play soccer. My son thought for a moment and then he blurted out a version of this:
“Yeah, maybe they could play,” he said, “but they’d just be doing what someone told them to do. I’m different—I have a heart that beats and a brain that have to work together. Some of the best things I’ve learned came when I messed up. Robots don’t really mess up—they’re built to be perfect. But I get better because I make mistakes. That’s how I know I’m alive.
An almost sacred stillness filled the car, as if time had paused to listen...and then he continued...
“When I play, I think about my grandparents cheering me on and the stories they told me when they played soccer. I want to be like them. I feel that. It’s in my blood! I don’t think a robot can. It’s not just about scoring goals—it’s about being alive out there.”
I just sat there, taking it all in...
What moved me most wasn’t the clarity of his argument, but the feeling beneath it. He was speaking, not just about intelligence, but about aliveness—that unmistakable pulse of joy and meaning that arises when the heart and brain are in rhythm. It’s the same aliveness we experience when a conversation flows, when creativity sparks, or when something finally clicks not just in the mind but in the body.
As leaders and learners, this is the current we are called to stay connected to. AI will advance, and perhaps even outthink us in many ways. But no algorithm can yet replicate the delight of being alive: the thrill of discovery, the humility of failure, the tenderness of remembering a loved one mid-stride.
To lead from aliveness is to remember that learning itself is a living process—one that breathes, surprises, stumbles, and grows. Perhaps the leaders we need are not those who perfect only performance, but those who ignite purpose—who help others feel the wonder of being here, participating in life’s unfolding. AI may process information faster, but we are the ones who can transform experience into meaning. That, perhaps, is our greatest human intelligence.
What may the 98% point to?
When Welch’s findings surfaced—that only two percent of Gen Z aligned with traditional work values like achievement and relentless drive—it raised alarms about motivation and discipline. But perhaps the question is not why they don’t share those values, but what the other ninety-eight percent might be showing us.
Today’s young people are coming of age in an era of saturation—information everywhere, pressure everywhere, systems shifting faster than they can take root. Amid all this noise, they seem to crave something different: authenticity, joy, connection, and purpose. Their resistance to “work for work’s sake” may not signal a lack of ambition, but a deeper intuition—an understanding that aliveness, not achievement alone, gives meaning to effort.
As educators, parents, and leaders, we might take this as a cue to listen differently—to see their longing for purpose as a compass rather than a flaw. To teach not only how to achieve, but how to feel alive while achieving. To design learning and leadership that honor curiosity, emotional intelligence, creativity, and the courage to fail forward.
If only two percent fit the old mold, maybe it’s not the youth who need reshaping, but the mold itself. Perhaps the ninety-eight percent are pointing us toward a new definition of success—one measured not only by relentless drive, but by coherence, connection, and the courage to stay human in a changing world.
Perhaps they are also feeling something that has not yet taken full form—something stirring beneath the surface of our current systems. An intelligence moving through them, offering signals we would be wise to notice: signals of exhaustion with fragmentation, of longing for authenticity, of desire for meaning over metrics. What if this sensitivity is not resistance but resonance—a generational intuition attuned to the next turning of humanity’s evolution?
What if what we interpret as disengagement is, in truth, an early language of transformation—an embodied sensing of the future asking to be born? Or simply a moment to inquire, be curious and listen from the emerging future.
I am certainly curious and very much wanting to listen in for what wants to emerge.
Leadership Apothecary Practice: The Pulse of Purpose
Purpose: To reconnect with the sense of joy and aliveness that fuels authentic leadership and learning.
Feel your pulse. Take a quiet moment. Place your fingers on your wrist or your heart. Feel the rhythm—steady, alive, human.
Ask: When do I feel most alive? Recall a moment from recent days when you lost track of time, felt joy, or sensed deep connection.
Trace the meaning. What made that moment matter? Who or what were you connected to?
Bring it into your work. Before your next meeting or decision, pause and remember that pulse. Let that aliveness shape how you show up, listen, and lead.
End with gratitude. Whisper a quiet thank-you—for the heart that beats, for the mind that learns, and for the life that keeps unfolding through you.