My Child Cries Because of School: What Can I Do?

When school becomes a source of tears

When your child comes home with teary eyes and slumps onto the couch with a defeated sigh, as a parent, it's heartbreaking. Maybe they say nothing at first. Or maybe they whisper, "I'm stupid," or "I hate school." You didn’t expect these words to come so early—not at age 7, not at 10. And yet, here they are. You see them withdrawing, or lashing out at homework, or dreading Monday mornings. You're exhausted from trying to make things better, but deep down, you still hold onto the hope that there’s a way through.

Understanding what's behind the tears

Children cry about school for many reasons—some big, some small, nearly all of them very real in their inner worlds. Some kids are crushed by the weight of perfectionism, fearing anything less than “excellent” is a failure. Others feel lost in the noise of the classroom, unable to keep up or to concentrate due to learning challenges. And some children are simply feeling unseen—disconnected from how and what they’re being taught.

I remember a mom, Sarah, who came to me after her son, Luca, started crying every night after dinner. He was 8. "He says he feels stupid," she told me, "because he's the slowest in reading group." It turned out Luca wasn't just struggling with reading; he was struggling with his belief about himself as a learner.

It’s important, before jumping into “solutions,” to take a step back and listen—really listen. Make space to understand what’s happening underneath your child’s surface-level emotions. Sometimes that means asking gentle questions like:

• “What feels hard right now?”
• “What’s something that helped you today?”
• “When do you feel happiest at school?”

Your child may not answer right away. That’s okay. What matters most is not prying for results, but creating open, safe conversations that say: “Whatever you’re carrying, I’m here to carry it with you.”

Don’t jump to fixing—start by reconnecting

As parents, our instinct is to fix. We google tutors, analyze report cards, even consider switching schools. But one of the most healing things we can offer—especially if your child is feeling defeated—is to reconnect them to their own sense of capability.

Part of that starts with how we talk about effort and mistakes at home. Instead of praising only results, highlight their persistence, curiosity, and bravery for trying. If they freeze when they get something wrong, explore how mistakes are not threats—they’re stepping stones. You might enjoy this article about turning mistakes into meaningful learning, which offers more guidance on shifting your child’s mindset.

And if your child feels they’ll never “catch up,” try reading this story about helping kids who feel left behind. It shows how belief in learning can be reignited—even when a child is convinced they’re not cut out for school.

Make learning feel personal (and even fun!) again

One young girl I worked with, Emilie, was convinced she’d never understand history. Reading pages of facts made her anxious and confused. But when those same lessons were turned into audio adventures—stories where she was the main character, exploring timelines like a brave explorer—her attitude shifted. Her mother used an app that transformed parts of Emile’s written lessons into personalized adventures using her name. It brought learning back to her world, in a way that didn’t feel like school at all.

Tools like the Skuli App (available on iOS and Android) can be incredibly helpful here. Beyond audio adventures, it also allows parents to turn a photo of a lesson into a personalized quiz or even audio, perfect for kids who understand best by listening, not reading. Whether you’re on a car ride or cuddling before bedtime, it can make learning feel like less of a battle—and more of a story your child gets to be part of.

Support doesn’t mean doing it all for them

One of the hardest lines to walk is supporting your child without doing everything for them. But every time we swoop in to make the homework less scary, we unintentionally send the message: “I don’t believe you can handle this.”

Try scaffolding instead. Sit beside them as a steady presence, but don’t jump in unless they ask. Encourage them to break big tasks into smaller ones. And maybe most importantly, take moments to pause and celebrate: “I saw how frustrated you were, and you kept going. That’s what learning looks like.”

If your child is struggling with bad grades, don’t miss this piece on whether poor academic performance shapes a child’s future. Spoiler: their future isn’t written by report cards.

Holding space for slow healing

It’s tempting to want pain to vanish quickly, especially when that pain belongs to your child. But emotional healing—and transformation of their school experience—is often an incremental journey. Some days there will still be tears. Some days you'll wonder if anything is working. And then, one afternoon, they might come back with a quiet smile and say, “Today wasn’t so bad.”

Don’t underestimate your presence as their anchor in all of this. You’re not just helping them with school—you’re helping them learn to face struggle without walking away from it. That’s something they’ll carry far beyond the classroom.

Finally, if traditional school still feels misaligned with how your child learns or thrives, it may help to read this reflection on why some children do better outside of standard settings. It could open new possibilities, or at minimum, create room for compassion—for them and yourself.