Let's teach the 'boring' bits.

This morning, as my son and I were filling the washing machine with dirty laundry, it got me thinking.

This may sound counter-cultural, but I believe we need to teach children that life can be boring. And that this is not only okay, but joyful.

There can be immense pleasure in leaning into mundanity: the sweeping and tidying, the organising and cooking, the slow and steady rituals that shape daily life. Especially when responsibilities are equally shared and we collaborate. We work as a team. A community.

We live in a culture of constant stimulation. A curated feed of influencers and viral content feeds us stories of people achieving remarkable things. We’re shown exceptional bodies, talents, lifestyles, adventures. The extraordinary becomes the norm. And the ordinary, invisible.

Much has been said about how pornography distorts our perceptions of sex. But what about how social media distorts our understanding of success, purpose, and even identity? What do these filtered windows into other people’s lives do to our sense of worth? How does our education system distort our children's worldviews?

In many heterosexual households, women still do most of the domestic and emotional labour. It’s often invisible and undervalued, passed off as something innate that women “just do,” rather than recognised as something learned, effortful, and essential. Our children see this. They absorb what’s honoured, and what isn’t.

In school, we showcase inspirational figures: those who changed the world, broke boundaries, won prizes. We celebrate innovation, conquest, and greatness. But we rarely talk about the majority of the world’s people: those who haven’t scaled Everest, ruled countries, or started revolutions, but who quietly exist in their communities. The ones who show up every day and change their small corners of the world in profound ways.

We may learn the motives of a war, but we don’t often learn about the people around us. Their experiences. Their emotions. 

Many school mottos talk about “striving for excellence.” Though well-intended, this language can nurture perfectionism and narrow ideas of success. We unintentionally glamourise academia, pushing children down a single path: toward university, white-collar jobs, measurable achievement. But most children won’t follow that path. And when they don't, they may feel lost. Expecting more, because we told them they should always aim higher. But “more” isn’t always the measure of a meaningful life.

So what can we do differently?

We can start by widening our definition of what a meaningful life looks like. We can help children see and value all aspects of living. Not just performing. Let them find joy in looking after others. In cooking not to impress, but to connect. In learning about their neighbours and friends and families. In tending plants, folding laundry, reading aloud to a grandparent. Not for a grade. Not for content. But for love. For presence.

As bell hooks discusses in Teaching to Transgress, education should be rooted in love and care. Not just for knowledge, but for each other and how to live in the world. She describes teaching as a “practice of freedom”: an act of resisting dominance, of recognising the full humanity of learners, and of transforming the classroom into a space where love and justice co-exist. In her view, the mundane tasks of life are not distractions from growth. They are the growth.

Similarly, Paulo Freire, in Pedagogy of the Oppressed, urges us to see education as a tool for liberation, not conformity. He emphasises the development of “conscientização”: a deep, critical awareness of social and political realities that allows learners to become agents of change. That begins not only with textbooks, but with the ability to question, to care, and to notice the structures of everyday life. When we notice these structures. We can challenge them.

We can begin this shift by reimagining the curriculum. Alongside inventors and war heroes, let’s study caregivers, community builders, and those who quietly dedicate their lives to service. Let’s read the stories of nurses, shopkeepers, cleaners, cooks, foster parents, and farmers. Not just what they do, but how and why they do it. There are many educators who naturally do this in their practice. Because they feel it is the right thing to do. But this is often done behind the scenes. We should make it centre stage in curriculum planning and delivery.

We can reimagine gender roles, too. Not with blame, but with a shared commitment to equity. Let’s raise children to see emotional labour and caregiving not as burdens (or women's work) but as essential human contributions. Everyone deserves a part in creating comfort, care, and connection.

Let’s teach children that fulfilment doesn’t come from being better than others. It comes from belonging to others. From contributing, caring, and noticing the world. It is about being a 'whole human' in the words of bell hooks.

Not everything in life needs to be exciting to be meaningful. There is quiet magic in doing the same thing every day, and doing it with care.

Let’s help our children see that the boring bits of life? They can sometimes be the most meaningful, too.