When Studying Isn't the Problem

His Body Was at the Table. His Mind Was Somewhere Else.

One fine Sunday, I was feeling particularly lightheaded. And not in the pleasant, happiness-induced sort of way.

As I floated around the kitchen trying to produce something edible enough to qualify as both breakfast and lunch, the boys found an excuse to entertain themselves with the television.

Between episodes, an advertisement kept appearing for an upcoming movie featuring their favourite cartoon character.

The six-year-old was instantly excited. The more sombre nine-year-old joined in. Soon they had the whole event planned—from where they would sit to what snacks would be served.

I remembered the tests scheduled for the next day and sighed to myself.

After breakfast, I asked them to switch off the TV and study. To my surprise, both of them complied immediately.

Good, I thought. Half the battle is won.

It is worth mentioning that there was no argument about switching off the television.

They both did it without protest.

Looking back, that mattered.

The boundary itself wasn't creating resistance that day. What happened later had a different root altogether.

The six-year-old got to work right away.

The nine-year-old, however, disappeared outside and tarried his time. After repeated reminders, he eventually came in and sat down with his books.

On the surface, it looked like cooperation.

What happened next was something I didn't expect.

At first, he studied.

Meanwhile, the six-year-old was racing through his work at his usual speed. He finished his schoolwork, prepared for his test, and when I put him through a quick written test, he got every answer right.

I had promised him TV if he finished his work.

A promise is a promise.

I handed over the remote.

The six-year-old skipped off happily to the TV room.

And that was when the power struggle began.

The nine-year-old came running, grabbed the remote, and marched back to his books.

The six-year-old's protests were ignored.

This was the sixth remote. The previous five had met unfortunate ends, and I had already declared that no new remote would be purchased. He argued that he was merely protecting the remote.

Lawyer, remember?

I sat beside him to help him study.

Everything I said was met with irritation.

Then protests.

Then tears.

Then a full-blown meltdown.

"What is your problem? I'm studying now!"

The more I spoke, the worse it became.

I tried reasoning and reassuring.

I tried speaking softly.

Nothing worked.

At one point, I remarked that studying would feel much easier if he built the habit steadily throughout the academic year.

That only escalated things further.

"Why are you scaring me?"

That wasn't my intention at all.

Yet somehow every word I spoke seemed to pour fuel onto the fire.

Eventually, I stopped talking.

It became obvious that very little learning was happening.

He would declare that he was finished. I would offer a quick dictation test. He would protest and return to his books.

Round and round we went.

Then a thought occurred to me.

I asked him whether the movie was premiering that day.

He said yes.

And suddenly the situation looked very different.

I realised that some battles are worth fighting.

But not every battle needs to be picked up, fought, and won.

Not today

The tests were not as important as his relationship with studies.

I knew he would bounce back once the anticipation had been fulfilled.

I told him to go watch the movie and return to his studies afterwards.

The meltdown ended almost immediately.

Not gradually… Immediately.

🌱 Looking Closer

Looking back, I don't think the problem was studying.

And I don't think the problem was television either.

The first trigger may have been losing the remote. In that moment, he lost some control over how the afternoon would unfold.

The second was watching his younger brother receive something he wanted.

The third was the fear of missing an event he had been looking forward to all morning.

His body was at the table, but his mind was somewhere else.

Part of him wanted to prepare for his test.

Part of him was already sitting in front of that television, watching the movie he had anticipated, planned for, and imagined.

No wonder everything felt like a struggle.

He wasn’t refusing to cooperate. He was trying to be in two places at once.

🧑 Let's Adultify

Does this happen to adults?

Absolutely.

We sit in meetings while thinking about holidays.

We try to work while waiting for an important phone call.

We attempt to focus while counting down the hours to an event we have been looking forward to all week.

Our bodies are present, but our minds are elsewhere.

Imagine trying to finish an important report while tickets for a once-in-a-year event sit in your inbox waiting to be used.

Or being told to focus on work while everyone else in the house is enjoying something you have been eagerly anticipating.

Most of us would struggle too.

The difference is that we recognise the feeling in ourselves more easily than we recognise it in children.

When adults struggle to focus, we call it distraction.

When children struggle to focus, we sometimes call it disobedience.

Perhaps they are not always the same thing.

🥜 A Nugget to Chew On

Not every child who struggles to focus is refusing to cooperate.

Sometimes they are simply trying to be in two places at once.

❓Over to You

Have you ever found yourself trying to do one thing while your mind was completely occupied by another?

And have you ever seen that same struggle play out in a child?

🌿 A Note from This, Right Here

This article is part of a small publishing experiment.

Over the coming weeks, I'll be sharing stories, reflections, and practical insights across parenting, growth, motherhood, spirituality, and simple living.

Rather than filling your inbox with every article, I’m working towards a more curated experience—a weekly collection of stories, reflections, and practical insights gathered into a single edition.

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