Narrator: Imagine a room of middle schoolers auditioning for a new reality TV show. Hidden cameras are rolling, but not for the reason they think. Among them are child actors with a script: one plays a relentless bully, another a henchman, and a third, the victim. Group after group of real kids are brought in, and time after time, they watch uncomfortably as the victim is taunted. They shift in their seats, look away, but do nothing. Then, a girl named Lucy enters. As the verbal abuse starts, she doesn't just watch. She moves closer to the victim, asks if he’s okay, and then confronts the bully directly, telling him his behavior is "not cool." When the producers reveal the setup, Lucy breaks down in tears, overwhelmed with relief that the boy’s pain wasn’t real. Her father, watching from another room, wasn’t surprised. He had always told her, "I expect you to help others."

This powerful scene captures the central question of Michele Borba's book, UnSelfie: Why Empathetic Kids Succeed in Our All-About-Me World. In a culture that seems to reward self-interest, what makes one child stand up while others stand by? Borba argues that the answer is empathy, a skill she contends is not an inborn trait but a teachable virtue that is the single greatest predictor of a child's future success and happiness.

Narrator: The book opens with a stark warning: modern youth are experiencing a measurable decline in empathy. Borba presents data showing that today’s teens are 40 percent less empathetic than those from three decades ago, while narcissism has surged by 58 percent. This "Selfie Syndrome," a hyper-focus on self-image and personal achievement, is fueling increases in bullying, cheating, and mental health struggles. Yet, Borba argues that empathy is not a lost cause; it is a skill that can be systematically taught and cultivated.

To prove this, she points to the Seeds of Peace International Camp. Founded in the 1990s, the camp brings together teenagers from conflict zones like Israel and Palestine. These teens arrive carrying generations of inherited fear and hatred. For three weeks, they are immersed in activities that force collaboration and dialogue. They live together, eat together, and are guided through intense conversations where they must listen to the perspectives of those they’ve been taught to see as the enemy. The transformation is profound. A Palestinian camper, after hearing the stories of his Israeli peers, had a breakthrough, stating, "I realized that they have peaceful people just like us... at the end of the day, we are all humans." The camp demonstrates Borba’s core thesis: empathy isn't magic; it's a muscle that strengthens with practice, capable of bridging even the most profound divides.

Narrator: Before a child can feel with someone, they must first be able to recognize and name feelings in themselves and others. Borba identifies this skill as emotional literacy, the first habit of empathetic children. She argues that our plugged-in, fast-paced culture actively hinders this development. With kids spending hours on screens, they miss out on the face-to-face interactions where emotional cues are learned.

The book highlights a powerful antidote: the Roots of Empathy program. In this innovative educational model, a baby and its parent visit a classroom throughout the school year. The baby becomes the "teacher." For example, in a third-grade class in Alberta, Canada, students gather around a blanket where seven-month-old Joshua is placed. The instructor guides the children, asking, "What do you think Joshua is feeling right now?" The students observe his clenched fists and furrowed brow, guessing he might be scared or unsure. One child suggests they should all smile to make him feel safe. They do, and Joshua’s face breaks into a wide grin. In that moment, the children aren't just learning about emotions; they are experiencing a direct connection, learning to read nonverbal cues and see the impact of their own actions on another's feelings. This simple, repeated exposure to a baby’s unfiltered emotional world teaches them more about empathy than any lecture ever could.

Narrator: Having empathy is one thing; acting on it is another. Borba explains that empathetic children are guided by a strong moral identity—a self-conception as a person who is kind, fair, and responsible for others. This internal compass helps them act on their values, even when it's difficult. She uses the story of Captain Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger to illustrate this. As a boy, Sully was deeply disturbed by the story of Kitty Genovese, a woman murdered while dozens of neighbors failed to intervene. He made a private pledge that he would never be a bystander.

Decades later, when his US Airways flight lost both engines over New York City, that moral identity kicked in. His decision to land the plane on the Hudson River was not just a technical calculation but the culmination of a lifetime of "deposits" into his identity bank. He was a person who helps. This is why, after the successful landing, he walked the aisle of the sinking plane twice to ensure no one was left behind. Borba argues that parents can cultivate this in their children by praising character over achievement ("That was kind of you to share") and establishing a family identity centered on caring, creating a mantra like "We are a family that helps." This helps children see themselves not just as smart or successful, but as fundamentally good people.

Narrator: One of the biggest barriers to empathy is the human tendency to divide the world into "us" and "them." Borba asserts that the antidote is collaboration. When children work together toward a common goal, tribal lines blur and empathy blossoms. She points to the classic Robbers Cave Experiment, where two groups of boys at a summer camp were pitted against each other, quickly becoming hostile rivals. However, when the researchers manufactured crises—like a breakdown of the camp's water supply—that required both groups to work together, the animosity vanished. They stopped being "Eagles" and "Rattlers" and became one unified group of campers.

This principle is applied in schools through programs like Playworks, which transforms chaotic playgrounds into collaborative communities. Instead of unsupervised free-for-alls, trained coaches teach games that require teamwork and inclusion. A simple rule for resolving disputes—a quick game of Rock, Paper, Scissors—replaces arguments with a fair and immediate solution. The results are dramatic. Schools with Playworks see a 43 percent reduction in bullying. Children learn to negotiate, share, and support one another, turning recess from a source of conflict into a training ground for empathy.

Narrator: The final and most crucial step in the empathy journey is developing moral courage—the strength to stick your neck out for what is right. Empathy might allow a child to feel for a bullied peer, but moral courage is what empowers them to step in. Borba highlights the story of Pink Shirt Day. When a ninth-grade boy in Nova Scotia was mercilessly bullied for wearing a pink shirt, two twelfth-graders, Travis Price and David Shepherd, felt it was wrong. But they didn't just feel bad; they acted. They went to a discount store, bought 75 pink tank tops, and used social media to organize a school-wide protest.

The next day, hundreds of students showed up wearing pink, creating a sea of solidarity that sent a clear, undeniable message: the bullies were the ones who were isolated, not their victim. The bullying stopped instantly. That single act of moral courage has since grown into an international anti-bullying movement. Borba uses this story to show that children need a toolkit of "Upstander" strategies—like creating a distraction, telling an adult, or rallying support from peers—to translate their empathetic feelings into effective action. This is the ultimate expression of empathy: not just feeling for others, but acting for them.

Narrator: Ultimately, UnSelfie delivers a powerful and optimistic message: empathy is the essential ingredient for a successful and meaningful life, and it is a skill that can and must be taught. In a world increasingly defined by digital isolation and self-promotion, the book argues that the true advantage belongs not to the most self-centered, but to those who can connect with, understand, and care for others. The journey from recognizing another's feelings to acting with moral courage is the path to raising not just successful kids, but good human beings.

The challenge Borba leaves us with is to look beyond grades and trophies and ask ourselves if we are actively cultivating our children's hearts as much as their minds. Are we modeling kindness, expecting courage, and creating opportunities for them to see the world through another's eyes? Because in the end, the ability to take an "unselfie"—to turn the camera away from oneself and focus on the needs of others—is the greatest gift we can give the next generation.