Let’s get a little bored

Hi,

In the Northern Hemisphere, the summer holiday is beginning in many places.

I love this time of year. Not only because schools close their doors for a while, but because it quietly proves something we sometimes forget during the school year: children can develop beautifully without adults constantly directing the process.

During the summer holiday, school loses its daily grip. There is no timetable, no lesson plan, no bell, no worksheet waiting at 10.15. And often, parents loosen their grip a little too.

Not because they stop caring, of course. But because following your child around all day, trying to organise every minute, is exhausting.

My neighbour said it beautifully the other day:

“I’m on holiday too. By ten in the morning, I’ve had enough. Then I tell my children: grab your bike, go into the neighbourhood, and see what the other kids are doing.”

I loved that.

Because somewhere in that sentence sits a whole educational philosophy.

Go out. Look around. Find people. See what is happening. Join in. Or don’t. Try something. Come back when you need to.

There is a whole world to discover. Sometimes pointing them in a general direction is enough.

During the summer holiday, you often see what children return to when nobody is watching too closely. Sport, games, building things, animals, music, reading, friends, nature, making videos, working, travelling, helping at home. Sometimes small things. Sometimes serious things. Sometimes things we would never have planned for them.

And yes, you also see boredom.

“What should I do now?”

That sentence can drive adults mad. It can also make us feel responsible. We want to solve it quickly. Suggest something. Organise something. Fill the space.

Please don’t.

Boredom is not always the problem. Sometimes boredom is the in-between moment. The moment after one activity has lost its meaning, but before the next one has been found. The moment where a child has to feel, think, look around, wait, and eventually choose direction again.

Cultural anthropologist Victor Turner wrote about being “betwixt and between”: no longer fully in the old situation, but not yet in the new one either. Of course, he was writing about rites of passage, not about a child lying upside down on the sofa saying they are bored.

But still, I think there is something there.

Because boredom can also be such an in-between moment. The moment between “someone else is organising my day” and “I have to find direction myself.”

And self-development also has these in-between moments.

Moments where the old structure has disappeared, but the new direction has not yet been found. Moments of slowing down, not knowing, irritation, and waiting. Moments where nothing seems to happen, until the learner starts to move again.

And that movement matters.

Because when a child moves from “What should I do now?” to “I think I’ll try this,” they are not just filling time. They are practising self-direction.

A child picks up a football. Starts drawing. Builds something from old cardboard. Messages a friend. Helps in the garden. Watches a video and then tries to make one. Goes outside and comes back covered in mud. Starts a tiny project nobody asked for.

And when that happens, the child has not just “found something to do.”

They have overcome the empty moment.

That matters.

Because boredom only becomes useful when children have enough space, safety, and possibilities to move through it. If there is no space, boredom becomes frustration. If there is no safety, it becomes stress. If there are no possibilities, it becomes passive waiting.

But when those conditions are there, boredom can turn into self-direction.

And maybe that is why holidays can be so powerful. They often offer more unplanned time, more freedom to choose, more chances to follow curiosity, and more room to return to what naturally attracts you.

Of course, not every child has the same holiday. Not every child has the same freedom, safety, family situation, neighbourhood, money, or opportunities. We should be careful not to romanticise summer.

But still, many of us will recognise this: sometimes learners return after a holiday just a little different. A little taller, calmer, braver, more independent, or more themselves.

And yes, part of that is simply because we have not seen them for a while. Children grow. Life continues. Development does not stop because school is closed.

But sometimes it feels bigger than that.

Sometimes they return with a story, a new skill, a new confidence, a new responsibility, or a new interest. They discovered they could handle more than they thought.

And nobody wrote a lesson plan for it.

That is the beautiful, uncomfortable reminder of the summer holiday.

So maybe this is my holiday wish for all of us.

I hope we get a little bored.

And when we do, I hope we remember that this might not be the end of something, but the beginning of something new.

I’ll be back in two weeks,

Rob