A Stage Where Learning Becomes Easier

This morning, I had a moment. You know the kind—where you stop, take a breath, and realise, “Hey… maybe we’re getting somewhere.”

Emma started 5imple when she was just 4.5 years old. To be honest? She couldn’t care less. Learning felt like a chore. It still does most days. And I get it. She’s my daughter, after all. But I won’t sugarcoat it—Emma has been my biggest challenge as a parent, a teacher, and a human being just trying to hold it together.

There were (many) low points. Like, throw-the-iPad-on-the-floor low points. (And please—don’t do that. Those iPads are mine. I bought them for your child, thank you very much.)

But here’s the thing no one tells you when you sign up for this parenting gig:

You can be a teacher, a so-called “expert,” and still feel like you have no idea what you’re doing with your own kid. Being a parent is the ultimate humbling experience. We’re all just here, winging it, trying to convince tiny humans to do things that are good for them while they look us dead in the eye and say, “No.”

But if there’s one thing I do know—if I can offer any certainty in the great unknown of parenting—it’s this:

When it comes to English and Math foundations, I know how to help your child. I know how to make the tough stuff manageable. I’ve seen what happens when kids fall behind in primary school. I’ve seen bright, funny, curious little ones get branded as “not smart” or decide they “hate” a subject—all because the basics weren’t there.

The truth is, the secret to primary school success isn’t sexy. It’s not some magical hack or viral method.

It’s this:

30 minutes a day.

Do your homework. Every day.

And yes, sometimes those 30 minutes feel like burpees. Painful. Endless. Soul-destroying. But they work.

For Emma, our golden time is Sunday morning. That’s my day off. The day I don’t have to teach other people’s kids. But ironically, it’s also the best time I spend with my child. She’s rested. She’s focused. And I get to see all that hard work pay off.

Because after 18 months of highs, lows, and iPads narrowly escaping total destruction, I see it:

The stage where learning becomes easier.

It’s not perfect. Her handwriting? Terrible (especially for a girl, sorry not sorry). She’s still careless. Still sloppy at times.

But today, she finished a P2-P3 level worksheet in under an hour. She learned a new topic, by herself, with focus and confidence.

That’s the win.

Not perfection. Not straight-As. Not some child prodigy story.

Just a regular kid, putting in the work, making progress, and proving that daily effort adds up.

So here’s my wish for you and your child:

That you keep going long enough to reach this stage—the one where things finally start clicking.

Where learning becomes easier.

Where Sundays are good.

And hey, when that happens?

Count the wins. Pick your battles.

And please, for the love of our shared sanity, don’t throw the iPad.