25/03/2026
I was in the top sets at school, but learning felt incredibly hard.
From the outside, I was doing well.
Inside, I had so much going on, but it wasn’t noticed.
So I carried a quiet shame about how I felt.
I never felt good enough.
Even when I tried, I was told I could do better.
What wasn’t seen was the constant pressure and anxiety running through my body every single day. By the time I got into the classroom, I was already close to capacity.
Because it started long before school began.
Remembering what day it was.
Packing the right things.
Getting there on time.
Things that seem small, but for me, they were overwhelming.
But no one noticed. Because this is just what you’re expected to do.
And then there was school itself.
The smell.
The noise.
The busyness.
Desks and chairs touched by hundreds of others.
To my overloaded brain, it was chaos.
At the same time, it felt like a place where you could be caught out or humiliated at any moment.
I never understood what it took to avoid those words, the ones that cut deep and stayed with me.
So I buried how I felt.
Because that felt like survival.
But this had very little to do with learning.
Because I loved learning.
Books. Art. Drawing. History.
Thinking. Exploring. Understanding.
But school made it rigid.
Flattened it.
Forced it into a formula.
The one place that felt safe was the art room.
It had objects, textures, books, dried flowers, it even smelt like home.
I went there whenever I could.
History came close too, discussion, debate, different viewpoints.
But Maths was the opposite.
A sterile room, no relevance, no anchor. Concepts that felt disconnected from anything real. I didn’t struggle because I couldn’t understand, I struggled because I couldn’t connect it to anything meaningful.
Even English, which I loved, became hard.
A teacher repeating the same material year after year. A disengaged class. A monotone delivery.
It made something rich feel impossible to hold onto.
And somewhere along the way, I made a decision, without fully realising it:
If this is what learning is, I don’t want it.
I didn’t believe my intelligence should be measured by my ability to endure an environment that made me feel anxious, overwhelmed, and disconnected.
So I stopped.
Not learning, but that version of learning.
After 16, I tried different paths. But as soon as structure, assessment, and pressure appeared, so did the same anxiety.
And I checked out.
Instead, I found my own way.
Through conversations.
Through books.
Through films.
Through curiosity.
Through real life.
No grades. No pressure. No performance.
Just learning that felt safe, meaningful, and mine.
Extract from Could Try Harder out May 2026 and available to pre order from all good bookstores now.