The case for beautiful studying

Moving study time away from the tedious and uncomfortable, toward beautiful and satisfying.

everal years ago, my family and I went ice-skating on the Arrowhead Provincial Park Fire & Ice winter trail. It's a 2km loop through a snowy forest—lovely on its own merit.

But that's not all. At night, twinkling fairy lights guide the way…

And there's more. A hundred or so torches line the trail.

This particular detail strikes me as utterly gorgeous. These lanterns don't cast much practical light. They're not there to be "helpful." Someone invested considerable effort to place them along the trail's edge and keep them fueled.

I remember being awestruck when I saw them. They served no purpose beyond beauty itself—beauty was their purpose.

I've had a complicated relationship with "beauty"—not uncommon—because of how it gets equated with serums and luxury. I've avoided beauty, assuming it equivalent to vanity. Here too, beauty often collapses into mere aesthetics.

Yet increasingly, I'm drawn to beautiful design—not just in furniture or physical spaces, but in programs, interventions, and most importantly, in how teaching and learning unfold.

I want to make the case for beautiful teaching—a craft that's radically inclusive, that leaves learners feeling good, and that feels good to practice.

I also want to make the case for beautiful learning—an experience of joyfully disorienting and recalibrating, both inside and outside the classroom.

And I especially want—as far-fetched as it may seem—to make the case for beautiful studying.

Have I lost you? I wouldn't blame you. Studying can be just about the most tedious of all school-related tasks. It's quiet (or should be), uncomfortable (or should be), reveals what we don't understand (or should do), and ends only when we take a test (not much fun either).

So how can studying be "beautiful"? What would a torch-lined, forest-trail, lantern-lit-night of skating under the stars version of studying look like?

Bookeneded by the delicious & delightful

Exam periods typically overflow with exhaustion and joylessness. One of my favourite study strategies turns this on its head. I encourage learners to punctuate intensive study times with visits from beloved, uplifting friends, savouring favourite meals, and booking time for cherished, creative hobbies. In other words, I suggest a study schedule that begins with... not studying.

Without constraints, without scheduled joy, days could theoretically pass with morning-to-night studying. Except, not really. That's impossible. Hours pass, that part is true—hour upon hour sitting in the same place—but only small bursts of active, awake studying actually happen.

So, let's study during those bursts. Let's leave behind the unfocused sitting, the distraction by this, that, and the other. Let's intentionally book in buoying, energizing connections and nourishment.

Efficient & defined

Part of what makes studying such a drag is that it often remains undefined. Writing "studying" or "study Bio" in an agenda doesn't reveal what to actually do. But tremendous efficiency emerges when we define precisely what to do in that "studying" window.

I encourage learners to make it absolutely clear and numerical:

In this way, studying has a clear beginning and a definite end. And because of this clarity, more room opens up for rest, connection, movement, or other academic tasks.

I know—"efficiency" and "bookending" might not seem like ideals of beauty. But when studying ceases to be dreadfully aimless, when it no longer meanderingly destroys entire days, when it's thoughtfully sandwiched between joyful experiences, learners can actually begin looking forward to studying. It becomes a time of connecting with favourite people, enjoying favourite meals and activities, all while building confidence.



Wishing you kind learning, 

Deena

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