Just Try Harder

Just Try Harder

written by Locke Curfman, LPC, Clinical Director

One afternoon several years ago, one of our daughters came home from school and announced

that she no longer wanted to attend. As parents, statements like that tend to get our attention. After some gentle questioning, she finally explained what had happened. She had been struggling in math and worked up the courage to ask her teacher for help. When she approached the teacher’s desk and explained that she was having difficulty understanding the material, the teacher responded:

“You don’t need help. You just need to try harder. Go back to your desk.”

The teacher was wrong.

Not because she was uncaring. Not because she was intentionally cruel. She simply did not

understand what our daughter was experiencing.

Our daughter was not lazy. She was not unmotivated. She was not refusing to learn.

She was struggling to access the information being presented to her.

For years, my wife and I had tried to explain to teachers that our daughter learned differently.

She often processed information more effectively through listening than reading. She typically

needed additional time to absorb new concepts. Sometimes instructions needed to be repeated

before they fully registered.

None of those things reflected a lack of intelligence. They simply reflected the way her brain processed information. Even when she attended public school and qualified for accommodations, the support often

failed to address the actual problem. I remember one math assignment in particular. The class was given several sheets of multi-digit addition problems. The accommodation provided to our daughter was simple: instead of several sheets, she would receive only one.

On paper, that sounded helpful. In reality, it wasn’t.

The problem wasn’t that she had too many problems to comple

te. The problem was that she

couldn’t successfully complete any of them.

Reducing the amount of work did not remove the obstacle.

It simply gave her less work she still could not do.

Eventually we withdrew her from traditional school and placed her with a retired special

education teacher who provided one-on-one instruction. The results were dramatically better.

For the first time, someone was teaching the child instead of teaching the curriculum. Yet there remained one persistent mystery. Reading.

No matter how hard she worked, reading seemed unusually difficult. She often lost her place.

Matching exercises that required looking from one column to another were frustrating. Tasks

that seemed straightforward for other students were exhausting for her.

Then we learned about Irlen Syndrome. People with Irlen Syndrome may experience words that appear to move, blur, distort, disappear, or even fall off the page. Imagine trying to read a book if the words refused to stay where they belonged.

We had our daughter evaluated. The results were eye-opening. She displayed significant markers for Irlen Syndrome. Through specialized color overlays and later customized lenses, she was finally able to see words as they actually appeared on the page.

Think about that for a moment. It did not matter how hard she tried.

Effort was never the problem. Motivation was never the problem. Character was never the problem.

Her access to the material was limited until the underlying issue was identified and addressed.

Unfortunately, years of being told to “try harder” had already done some damage. When children repeatedly fail despite genuine effort, they often begin drawing conclusions about themselves. They stop believing the task is difficult and start believing they are deficient. A learning challenge becomes a self-worth problem.

A well-known quote often attributed to Albert Einstein says, "Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

And that is where many well-meaning adults unintentionally make things worse. We often assume that poor performance is evidence of poor motivation. We see a struggling student and conclude they need greater effort, more discipline, or a better attitude.

Sometimes that is true. Often it is not.

Sometimes the issue is not that a child will not learn. The issue is that the child cannot access the information in the form it is currently being presented.

Irlen Syndrome is one example. Dyslexia is another. A child may be highly intelligent and highly motivated while still struggling to process written language. ADHD provides another example. Telling a child with ADHD to “pay attention” can be about as helpful as telling a nearsighted child to “see better.” The challenge is not knowing what to do. The challenge is consistently regulating attention and executive functioning. Students with Auditory Processing Disorder may hear perfectly well while struggling to

accurately process spoken information, particularly in noisy environments. Children with dysgraphia may understand material completely but struggle to express that understanding through handwriting or written output. Individuals on the autism spectrum often thrive when information is presented in ways that fit

how they process the world, while struggling when forced into a one-size-fits-all approach to learning. The list goes on.

The common theme is simple: We often mistake performance problems for motivation problems.

Society tends to celebrate perseverance, and rightly so. Perseverance matters. Hard work

matters. Determination matters.

But perseverance assumes the path is passable. If a bridge is out, telling someone to walk harder will not get them across the river. Likewise, telling a child to try harder will not overcome every obstacle.

Sometimes the obstacle must first be identified. Sometimes the obstacle must be removed. Sometimes the obstacle must be accommodated.

Only then can effort produce the results everyone hopes to see. This is also where I think educators can benefit from distinguishing between learning preferences and learning barriers.

A student may prefer hands-on learning over lectures. Another may prefer discussion over worksheets. Those are preferences.

But learning disabilities and processing disorders are different. They are not preferences.

They are barriers to access.

Our daughter did not simply prefer another way of learning. She literally could not perceive

printed words in the same way many of her peers could.

The solution was not to lower expectations.

The solution was access.

Once she could actually see the words remain stable on the page, she didn’t need someone to

expect less from her. She needed someone to understand what was standing in her way.

Many children and adults are carrying burdens that look like laziness from the outside but feel

like impossibility from the inside.

Before we tell them to try harder, we should first make sure they have access to the path we’re

asking them to walk.