One of the biggest disputes in our house right now is the ongoing struggle between my partner and our daughter around “school.”
Since deciding to homeschool her a year ago, we’ve been reinventing what home and school even mean, requiring flexibility, attunement, creativity, and perseverance on our part.
And yet, here we are. Over a year into this journey, the battles feel eerily familiar: Dad offers options for schoolwork, reminds her of their shared commitment; she resists or shuts down. He appeals to her empathy – how much he’s bent and flexed, how hard this is. She disconnects further. Yesterday it ended, again, with his exasperation and her retreat to her room in a storm of hurt.
These kinds of repeating conflicts are not just frustrating, they’re wearying. When we become entangled in them, it’s often because we’ve slipped into autopilot. The neural pathways are well-worn. The scripts, rehearsed. Even our attempts to “try something new” often feel like reruns.
We’ve had many heartfelt conversations with our daughter, trying to get underneath the resistance: what does she feel when “school” comes up? What helps, what doesn’t? We’ve played with everything from timing to task to teacher to autonomy. And still… here we are.
So instead of offering you a magic fix (because there isn’t one), I want to share the framework we lean into when we’re inside these repeating cycles. These are principles that help us parent with presence within the pattern, not just after it’s passed.
Four Principles for Navigating Stuck Patterns
1. Tend to the Nervous System First
Before logic. Before consequences. Before the shoulds.
Ask: Are we in a state of connection, or are we activated and defending?
In our house, the very mention of school flips a switch. So now, we focus on connection before correction. Sometimes that means curling up next to her while she draws or pausing to genuinely enjoy whatever she’s immersed in. Only once we’ve landed in that shared space can we begin to transition. Not always smoothly, but with less reactivity.
2. Investigate the Story Behind the Reactivity
Ask yourself: What is this reaction really about, for me and for them?
Our daughter’s resistance hits nerves for both my partner and me. It stirs our fears of her falling behind, our childhood memories of compliance or rebellion, and our desire to feel competent as parents. That stew bubbles beneath the surface unless we slow down and tend to it.
Also ask: What am I believing about my child right now?
Is that belief generous? Is it developmentally informed?
When her amygdala has the mic, she cannot reason. And we have to remind ourselves that she’s not being difficult. She’s having a difficult time.
3. Reevaluate the Non-Negotiables
Ask: What really matters here? And is there more than one way to meet that need?
In our home, literacy is a value. But “reading” doesn’t have to look one way. We’ve learned she’ll tolerate read-alouds while bouncing on an exercise ball, or at bedtime when the day has softened her resistance.
We also examined our fixation on doing school first thing in the morning. Turns out, after lunch is her golden window. We had to decide what mattered more: the timing or the outcome.
Prioritize the Pattern
Ask: How much attention does this issue actually deserve?
In our case, we realized that the recurring school standoff wasn’t just a small inconvenience—it was draining relational capital. So we began treating it like a priority: slowing down around it, bringing more presence, resourcing ourselves so we had the patience to show up differently.
Repair and Reconnect—Every Time
No matter how conscious we try to be, rupture is part of the deal. What matters most is that we repair.
When the cycle ends in tears or slammed doors, we don’t rush to fix it. We give space, then circle back. We say: “That felt awful, didn’t it? I wonder if we could try again tomorrow in a new way?”
Conscious parenting isn’t conflict-free parenting. It’s learning how to stay present in the storm and return again and again to the relationship as the safe harbor.
If you find yourself stuck in a repeating battle with your child—pause. Not to fix, but to listen. To your body, your beliefs, their cues, the values underneath the mess. These patterns aren’t just problems; they’re portals. If we meet them with compassion and curiosity, they can usher us into deeper understanding, with our child and with ourselves.