Boredom

The human mind is naturally active, constantly searching for stimulation and action. When nothing novel arises, a quiet unease can settle in. In response, we instinctively reach for our phones, our computers, or even food—anything to quell the discomfort of unoccupied time.

The experience of boredom has fascinated philosophers for centuries. The Roman thinker Seneca described it as “an agitation of a mind which can find no issue because … of the hesitancy of a life which fails to find its way clear.”

So deep is our aversion to boredom that we cling to anything that alleviates ennui, that nagging sense of dissatisfaction. We long for tasks that immerse us so completely that time seems to flow effortlessly rather than drag.

We crave mental engagement—a goal, a plan, a purpose. Yet, too often, nothing truly meaningful captures our attention. The absence of such purpose leaves us restless, seeking any distraction to keep boredom at bay. In essence, boredom stems from restlessness—a desire for something elusive and undefined.

Perhaps, then, boredom is not an enemy but a necessary companion on the path to meaningful work and deep fulfillment. Therefore, boredom need not be feared.

British philosopher Bertrand Russell argued that it is an essential part of life: “All great books contain boring portions, and all great lives have contained uninteresting stretches … No great achievement is possible without persistent work, so absorbing and so difficult that little energy is left over for the more strenuous kinds of amusement.”

Instead, boredom should be seen as a signal—a reminder that we are momentarily mentally disengaged and in need of change, a break, or new ways of connecting with the world.

In classrooms today, the prospect of boredom seems impossible due to the intensification of expectations, where students and their teachers are panicked more than bored with the intensity of moving between subjects, assemblies, tests, projects, and busy lives, where a day is never finished, but a state of ‘that will do’. To introduce boredom also seems dangerous. Listless students, restless to stave off dissatisfaction, seems like a terrifying idea.

Yet the idea of slowing down the nervous system within learning spaces has merit. Contemporary practices have explored ideas such as mindfulness and meditation in classrooms. These practices can be beneficial for certain learning environments and dynamics. However, fostering states akin to ‘boredom’ can be achieved through even simpler means.

From an educational perspective, the goal is not encouraging boredom per se but rather the opportunity to slow life down enough to enable new connections and states of learning to emerge. Instead of reaching for an iPhone, students’ hands are forced to find ways to fill the space using their bodies and minds creatively.

Predictability is a precursor to boredom and allows energy to be directed toward learning creatively rather than administrative tasks. An achievable example that applies to the idea of predictability is the implementation of daily routines, structures, and consistent methods of “how things are done” in your classroom. This creates space where students know “what comes next” and the mental task of basic planning is reduced. Although this is far from the opportunity to “be bored” it is an idea for how to create opportunities where students can notice details and smaller nuances, essential for deep learning.

How can you, through predictable routines in your classroom, create enough predictability for the students’ mind to be lulled towards noticing and desiring new states of curiosity? How does this also influence your state of being as an educator?

It can always be useful to think about what appears an impossibility in teaching and learning and try to engage a more expansive perspective that makes the impossible a reality. How else can you create spaces for boredom in your classroom today?

As Dorothy Parker states:

“The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity.”

Until next time,

Mon x