The Crisis of Comfort in Education

“Comfort and easy are short-term friends but long-term enemies. If you are looking for growth, choose the challenge.” — Steven Bartlett

Better known for his podcast and book, The Diary of a CEO, Bartlett’s message has been a central theme in our High School advisory this term, where our focus has been on self-awareness and self-management.

One idea, in particular, has stayed with me: “You must make pressure your privilege.”

At its core, this means learning to see pressure, not as something to avoid, but as something to lean into. Whether psychological, physiological, or professional, pressure presents an opportunity. When we shift our mindset, we don’t just endure it, we can grow from it. And in doing so, we enhance not only our experience of pressure, but our experience of life itself.

This is something I resonate with deeply, both personally and professionally.

Over the past 15 years in education, I have worked closely with students who found the traditional classroom challenging for a variety of reasons: bullying, focus, learning difficulties, or simply thinking differently. Many arrive with low confidence and a fragile sense of self-belief.

But something powerful happens over time.

When we meet students at their “just-right” level, name their strengths, support their areas for growth, provide continuous feedback, and work in true partnership with families - change happens. They grow in confidence. They build resilience. They start to understand that challenge is not something to fear, but something to work through.

And most importantly, they learn one of life’s greatest lessons: they can do hard things.

On the other end of the spectrum, however, I have started to observe a growing trend, a crisis of comfort. And I understand where it comes from. As parents and educators, we don’t want children to suffer. But increasingly, I am seeing what happens when this instinct is taken to an extreme.

I am talking about the rise of the “opt-out.”

The option to withdraw when things feel uncomfortable. The option to avoid when something feels hard.

This can look like:

• Removing children from school plays because they feel nervous

• Excusing them from physical activity due to discomfort

• Missing assessments or important school days

• Requesting reduced academic demands - less reading, less writing, even less maths (yes, those requests have been made).

And while each of these may come from a place of care, the long-term impact is concerning.

Because when children are consistently opted out of challenge, nothing is gained. There is no growth. No resilience built. No confidence earned.

Instead, the message becomes: When things feel hard, we step away, we step down, we fold.

I have immense faith in children. In my experience, they are often underestimated in both their resilience and their capacity to learn. When we remove challenges, we don’t protect them, but we limit them.

We teach them not to trust themselves. We teach them that pressure is something to fold under.

When the lesson should be the opposite: Pressure is where we learn to adapt.

As a school, we hold high expectations, not just academically, but physically and emotionally. We believe in honest feedback, clear standards, and meaningful growth. And yes, that means there will be discomfort at times.

But that discomfort has purpose.

The pressure to make everything easier—to soften expectations, to adjust policies for comfort can be intense and take its toll on our leadership. And standing firm is not always popular. It can create tension. It can create disagreement - I am prepared for this. 

But we will not fold.

Because what matters most is the outcome.

Students who know who they are. Students who understand what they are capable of. Students who are healthy in mind and body. Students who can step into the world with the confidence that they can face challenges—and overcome them.

This may not be a universally accepted view. It may even create discomfort in itself.

But the truth is simple:

Growth requires challenge. Psychologically. Physically. Professionally.

And in education, that is a principle that I will die on a hill for!