The Stories That Shape a Child’s Identity: Why Grandparents Matter More Than Ever

By Nargish Khambatta – Principal & CEO Gems Modern Academy & EVP, Education, Gems Education

The stories your parents tell your children are much more than just memories. They form a solid thread between generations to make for a timeless gift.

Between school runs, extracurricular activities, packed timetables, colour-coded calendars, and the battle for attention by the irresistible glow of a screen, the rhythm of modern family life is fast and often fragmented. In this relentless rhythm, something essential is at risk of being quietly diminished: the unhurried, intergenerational conversations that help a child understand who they are.

In this whirlwind, some vital connections are likely to fall by the wayside unless we take the time, and make the effort, to strengthen and reinforce them. The link between your child and their grandparents and the time they spend together beyond periodic babysitting or holiday visits is one such link. I trace my own love for stories, and perhaps for language itself, to my paternal grandfather. He had the remarkable ability to recite Young Lochinvar and The Charge of the Light Brigade with effortless precision, his voice carrying both drama and dignity. And yet, he would forget what he had for breakfast or where he had placed his cap after his morning walk. As a child, I found this endlessly fascinating. Could memory really falter in the everyday, yet remain so vivid in what truly mattered? The strong bond I shared may have stemmed from grandpa’s stories or his poems, or from his tales ‘from those golden days’ which were steeped in nostalgia. But they were nutrients for my nascent heart and mind that have shaped so much of who I have become.

As an educator, I see echoes of that same magic in a different setting. Some schools celebrate Grandparents’ Day each year on Valentine’s Day, a small but intentional gesture. Many grandparents mark it in their diaries months in advance; some travel across countries just to be there. And when they arrive, something shifts. Classrooms mellow. Children listen differently. They pause when it matter. Because what grandparents offer is not just affection, it is continuity. When grandparents speak of their childhood, of growing up in another place, another era, of navigating a different world, of small triumphs and significant struggles, they are doing far more than just reminiscing. They are placing a child within a larger story. They are offering context, perspective, and a sense of belonging that no textbook can replicate.

Psychologists Marshall Duke and Robyn Fivush of Emory University explored this through what they called the “Do You Know?” scale. Their research found that children who are familiar with their family’s stories, their ups and downs, their ordinary moments and defining ones, tend to show greater emotional resilience, stronger self-esteem, and a deeper sense of control over their lives. Grandparents’ stories, especially the ones about overcoming difficulty, transmit unspoken but powerful messages to a child: You come from a line of people who endure. You belong to something bigger than yourself. You can handle life’s challenges too! Grandparents are, in many ways, the keepers of that narrative. They are the custodians of family history, sharing stories and traditions that provide children with a sense of continuity and belonging. At the heart of this is the idea of intergenerational selfhood. The understanding that one’s identity is not formed in isolation, but within the flow of a larger, ongoing narrative.

For children growing up in a digital age, their stories open windows into a world that feels almost unimaginable, one without instant answers, constant connectivity, or curated perfection. A story about walking miles to school, waiting patiently for a weekly television programme, or making toys out of what was available does more than entertain. It stretches imagination. It builds perspective. It quietly nurtures empathy.

There is also a unique gentleness in the grandparental role. Free from the daily responsibilities of discipline and routine, they often meet children in a space of unhurried attention. Their stories meander, repeat, and linger—but in doing so, they carry warmth, humour, and a sense of history that anchors a child in ways we often underestimate.

Research from the University of Oxford reinforces this understanding. The Oxford Grandparenting Study, which examined over 1,500 children, found that those with strong grandparental involvement experienced fewer emotional and behavioural challenges. These relationships are not incidental; they are foundational. And yet, in the busyness of modern life, these connections can easily become occasional rather than intentional.

Perhaps the role of parents, then, is not to be everything for their children, but to be thoughtful curators of all that can nourish them. Creating space for grandparents’ stories is one of the simplest and most enduring ways to do this. It does not require grand gestures. A phone call that turns into a story. A question that opens a memory. A shared activity, a recipe, a hobby, a ritual, that carries meaning across time. Get them to use tech effectively. Your video calls can get them to know what their grandmom’s favorite toy was. Or what their favorite memory from granddad’s school is. Get your child to create a simple Grandparent Journal as a gift for their birthday. Get your parent to teach your child how to sew, or cook, or fish, or solve crossword puzzles. These small acts accumulate, quietly shaping a child’s sense of self.

Because, in the end, identity is a story we are all writing. And without a beginning, it can feel unmoored. It is grandparents who offer that beginning—rich with context, resilience, and continuity.

So the next time you see your child sitting beside a grandparent, listening to a story that wanders or repeats or lingers longer than expected, just pause.

Let it unfold.

In that moment, something deeper is taking shape. Your child is not simply listening; they are locating themselves within a family, within a history, within something steady and enduring.

In a world that constantly urges them to move faster, achieve more, and become something new, these moments offer something quietly powerful: a sense of origin.

They come from somewhere.

They belong.

And their story did not begin with them.

Long after childhood passes, it is the stories we inherit, not the things we accumulate, that remind us who we are, and where we belong.