Dear Sue,
I wanted to reach out because I’ve been feeling quite torn lately about how Isaac is responding to his lessons. On the one hand, I really want to support him and give him the tools he needs to succeed. I know he’s behind, and I’ve seen how much he struggles with reading and spelling. But on the other hand, the lessons are clearly difficult for him—and sometimes even emotionally draining.
There have been a few times now when he’s gotten really frustrated. He’ll say things like “I can’t do this” or “I hate this.” Once or twice, he’s even teared up, and that’s when my heart breaks. I start wondering if I’m doing the right thing by continuing. Am I pushing him too hard? Should we take a break? Is this helping or making things worse?
I understand that learning can be challenging at times, but I’m just not sure where the line is between healthy struggle and harmful stress. I guess I’m looking for reassurance—or maybe permission—to slow down. Or even stop altogether for now.
I really respect the work you do and the care you show your students, which is why I’m reaching out. I’d truly appreciate your thoughts.
Regards
Ida
Dear Ida,
This question usually comes with guilt in one hand and confusion in the other. A parent watches their child cry over a reading exercise, gets frustrated during a math task, or throws a pencil in exasperation—and wonders, “Am I doing more harm than good?”
Let’s flip the script.
Imagine your child couldn’t walk—maybe after an accident—and they needed to do 20–30 minutes of physiotherapy a day, 4–5 times a week, to learn to walk again. There would be tears. There would be pain. Some days they’d resist.
Would you stop the treatment?
Or would you hold their hand, dry their tears, and whisper, “You can do this. I’ll be right here”?
What the research really says
The science is clear: dyslexia doesn’t fix itself. It’s linked to weaknesses in core cognitive functions—like phonological processing, working memory, sequencing, and processing speed. Without targeted intervention, the brain continues to rely on inefficient pathways. And as schoolwork becomes more complex, the gap between the dyslexic learner and their peers only widens.
Studies have shown that untreated dyslexia correlates with:
- Increased school dropout rates
- Chronic academic underachievement
- Elevated risk for anxiety, depression, and low self-esteem
- Long-term impact on career choices and adult literacy
One study found that up to 40% of students with learning disabilities like dyslexia drop out of high school—more than twice the national average. And beyond academics, the emotional toll is deep: children may internalize the struggle and begin to believe they’re “not smart” or “not capable.”
The cost of doing nothing is far greater than the cost of a few difficult sessions now. This isn’t about pushing children to breaking point. It’s about understanding that struggle is part of the process. Progress often looks messy. It’s a child stumbling over a word they’ve seen ten times before. It’s a sigh, a groan, a moment of defeat—before they rise, try again, and finally get it.
Of course, support matters. So does pacing. If your child is overwhelmed, you don’t cancel the lesson—you adjust it. You shorten it, break it up, give them a brain break. You extend the timer. You bring in a bit of humor, a game, or a word list that’s just slightly easier.
But you keep going.
Because confidence doesn’t come from comfort zones. It comes from conquering something that once felt impossible.
So, when your child says, “This is too hard,” you don’t say, “Okay, we’ll stop.”
You say, “Yes, it’s hard—and look how far you’ve come. Let’s take it one step at a time.”
The power of “productive struggle”
Recent research backs this up. In a widely shared article, Professor Chad Topaz explains that learning new or difficult skills—like reading, writing, or math for children with dyslexia—naturally creates a high cognitive load. The brain is juggling unfamiliar tasks, which leads to discomfort, frustration, and sometimes even tears. But this struggle is not a sign that something is wrong—it’s a sign that the brain is working, adapting, and building new neural pathways.
Topaz calls this phase the “productive struggle,” and it’s essential for deep, lasting learning. The truth is: real learning feels hard—because it is. But pushing through that difficulty, with support and consistency, is what creates genuine progress.
What to do when it feels too much
So what should you do when your child gets upset during a lesson?
- Acknowledge the frustration.
“This is tough. I know. But tough things make us stronger.” - Adjust the pace, not the purpose.
If your child is drowning, you don’t throw them out of the pool—you teach them to swim with floaties. That might mean shorter sessions, brain breaks, or adjusting the timer. But you keep swimming. - Be their cheerleader, not their shield.
Your job isn’t to protect them from all discomfort. It’s to walk with them through it. Confidence is not the absence of struggle—it’s what grows when we overcome struggle.
Progress doesn’t come from perfect lessons. It comes from consistency, courage, and a bit of grit—on both sides of the screen.
So, should you stop?
No.
You should stay. Support. And show them they’re stronger than the struggle.
Because they are. And so are you.
Sue
More about Sue
Sue is an educational specialist in learning difficulties with a B.A. Honors in Psychology and a B.D. degree. Early in her career, Sue was instrumental in training over 3,000 teachers and tutors, providing them with the foundational and practical understanding to facilitate cognitive development among children who struggle to read and write. With over 30 years of research to her name, she conceptualized the Edublox teaching and learning methods that have helped thousands of children worldwide. In 2007, she opened the first Edublox reading and learning clinic; today, there are 30 clinics internationally. Sue treasures the “hero” stories of students whose self-esteem soars as their marks improve.
