This isn’t a tips-and-tricks conversation.

It’s more of a landing place — for that point in the evening where everything has already started to unravel.

You know the one. The books are open, but nothing is happening. There’s tension sitting just under the surface. You can feel it building, even before anything has actually gone wrong.



By 7pm, the day has already taken its toll. School, expectations, holding it together in environments that don’t always fit. And now we’re asking for focus, memory, output — often from a system that’s already running on empty.

It can look like avoidance.

It usually isn’t.

Some children can’t do the “just study” thing.

Not because they don’t care. Not because they’re lazy. But because the kind of pressure that exam time brings shuts their system down rather than switching it on.

You see it in small shifts.

The fidgeting that becomes restless. The silence that isn’t focus, but withdrawal. The “I can’t do this” that lands heavier than it should.

That’s usually the point where we try to push through.

And that’s often where it starts to go wrong.

What matters more than anything else is what’s happening underneath.

If the nervous system is already overloaded, nothing you say is going to land in the way you hope it will.

It’s not really a study problem at that point. It’s a regulation problem.

Which changes what helps — sometimes quite quickly.

In real terms, that often means stepping back before stepping in.

Not abandoning the work, but pausing long enough for things to settle.

A few minutes outside. Something physical. Something sensory. Enough of a reset to bring the body back to a place where thinking is possible again.

It can feel like you’re losing time.

Most of the time, you’re not.

Once things are calmer, the way in matters.

Starting at the beginning of a chapter, expecting them to work through it in order, often creates more resistance than progress.

It tends to work better to start with something concrete.

A question. A key idea. Something they can engage with straight away, rather than something they have to build up to.

From there, you work backwards.

Filling in gaps, making connections, building meaning once there’s something to attach it to.

For children who struggle with dense text, the format matters as much as the content.

Talking it through. Recording it. Using colour, shape, movement — anything that makes the information easier to hold onto.

It doesn’t always look like studying.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t.

Time needs handling differently as well.

Long stretches tend to overwhelm quickly. It’s easier to work in smaller, contained bursts, where the goal is clear and reachable.

One task. One outcome. Then a break.

Not because they can’t do more — but because this is what keeps them in it.

You’re not building endurance in that moment. You’re building access.

And through all of this, your role shifts slightly.

Less fixing. More holding.

The tone you bring matters more than the exact words.

Calm enough to steady things. Certain enough that they can borrow your belief when theirs isn’t there.

Because when a child starts to believe they can’t learn, they stop trying long before the work even begins.

None of this makes exam time easy.

It doesn’t remove the pressure, or the deadlines, or the reality of what’s being asked.

What it does is change how those moments are navigated.

And once you see how quickly things can shift when the starting point changes, it’s difficult to go back to pushing through in quite the same way.

 TOOLKIT

Exam week — what actually helps

For ADHD, dyslexic, and differently wired learners

Start here, not with the work

If they’re already overwhelmed, studying isn’t going to land

Check:

• Are they calm enough to think?
• Or are you about to push into a moment that’s already tipping?

Quick resets that usually work:

• movement (even a few minutes helps)
• something cold or crunchy
• stepping outside
• deep pressure (a proper hug, something weighted)

Don’t wait until it’s already fallen apart. This part matters more than it looks.

Change how you start

This is where it often goes wrong.

“Start at the beginning” sounds logical. It rarely works.

Try:

• start with a question
• pull out key words
• get them to explain it out loud first

Once something makes sense, even slightly, the rest becomes easier to build.

Make it small enough to begin

Overwhelm kills momentum.

Keep it contained:

• one task
• one outcome
• then stop

Use whatever helps:

• a timer
• a whiteboard
• a visible checklist

If it feels too big, it usually is.

Let them move while they learn

Stillness isn’t always helpful here.

Try:

• walking and talking
• building, drawing, mapping
• saying it out loud
• using colour to organise ideas

If it looks different, but it’s working, it counts.

Use language that steadies, not pressures

In the moment, tone matters more than content.

Instead of:

→ “Just focus”

Try:

• “Let’s start small”
• “We’ll find a way in”
• “You’ve done hard things before”

You’re not fixing it. You’re holding the space while they find their way through.

When it tips

It will.

When it does:

• lower the input
• lower your voice
• pause the task
• stay nearby

Trying to recover the work rarely works here. Settle the system first.

Afterwards

Not immediately. Not while it’s still raw.

Later:

• “What made that harder?”
• “Where did it start to slip?”

You’re not analysing. You’re building awareness slowly.

For you

You don’t need all the answers.

You don’t need to know the content.

You don’t need to get it right every time.

What matters is that you stay.

Because when everything else feels unstable, you are the one thing that isn’t.