Every week my colleagues Riley and Owen go deep into Reddit threads and X conversations to hear what parents and teachers are actually saying about maths learning. Not the polished conference talk version. The 3am post version. This week, what came back wasn't primarily about timers or sensory chaos (we've covered that ground recently). It was something quieter, and in some ways just as painful: children who have completely switched off, and children who feel excluded before the lesson has even properly started.
"He Just Wants to Play Roblox"
If I had a pound for every time a parent used that phrase this week, I would be writing this from somewhere considerably warmer. The ADHD engagement problem is absolutely everywhere right now. One parent put it plainly: "My son has ADHD and just clicking multiple choice maths questions cannot hold his attention for more than two minutes. He just wants to play Roblox." Another said: "We have tried flashcards and chanting, but he just zones out. He only wants to play multiplayer games on his tablet."
And honestly, who can blame him? The apps these children are being handed are, as one parent described them, "just glorified flashcards." The child can see the seams. There is no story, no stakes, no reason to care whether 7x8 is 54 or 56. Commercial games are meticulously engineered to feel compelling. Most educational maths apps are not, and children with ADHD are the first to clock the difference.
What I keep thinking is that the answer isn't to trick children harder. It's to give them something genuinely worth engaging with. A summer parent on X put it well, looking for apps that her ADHD son would "actually want to play, without realising he is learning." That's a high bar. It's also the right bar.
The Kids Who Are Already Out of the Race
This theme landed harder than I expected. It came up repeatedly from SENCOs and teachers: the moment a multiplayer maths game starts, a certain group of children simply opts out. Not noisily. Quietly. One teacher wrote: "My SEND kids just opt out during our times tables sessions because they know they won't win the mini-games against the faster kids." Another described it from the accessibility angle: "When the gen-ed classes play multiplayer maths games, my special ed students get left behind because the UI is too complex or punishing."
There is something particularly hard about this kind of exclusion because it is invisible. The lesson is happening, the majority are engaged, and a handful of children have already written themselves off as participants. One SENCO flagged a related problem: "Our school uses standard apps that just don't accommodate our kids with dyscalculia. The number pads are tiny and the fonts are unreadable." These children aren't disengaged because they don't care. They're disengaged because the tool wasn't built with them in mind.
I think about those children a lot. Sitting at a laptop, watching the leaderboard scroll, already knowing their name won't appear near the top. That experience doesn't build maths fluency. It confirms the story they've already started telling themselves about being bad at maths.
Year 5s and 6s Who Have Simply Stopped Pretending
This one is a bit different, and it doesn't get talked about enough. Older primary children, particularly in Years 5 and 6, are rejecting educational games not because they're overwhelmed but because they find them insulting. One teacher was refreshingly blunt: "Educational games are too obviously educational. The Year 5s and 6s see right through them, think they are 'babyish', and refuse to engage." A parent echoed it from the home angle: "The games on these maths apps are basically just dressed-up flashcards. The kids get bored in five minutes."
A separate thread on X picked this up too, with a maths lead asking what subscriptions people were cancelling this year because they want to move away from rote "drill and kill" learning. The replies were illuminating. Teacher after teacher describing the same exhaustion with tools that look like learning but don't feel like anything to the child sitting in front of them.
There is something worth sitting with here. A nine-year-old who refuses to engage with a maths app because it feels babyish isn't being difficult. They're being perceptive. The question is whether we meet that perception with something better, or just try to force compliance.
"I Can't Even Focus on the Numbers"
I had intended to leave sensory overload entirely to previous columns, but this week it showed up in a more specific, practical form that I think is worth naming separately. It wasn't just about high-stimulation apps in general. It was about apps that make the maths itself impossible to find. One parent with a neurodivergent daughter said: "Why do all maths games have so many flashing lights and noisy backgrounds? I can't even focus on the numbers, it's totally overwhelming." A SENCO described it from the classroom: "There is too much visual clutter on these maths websites. My neurodivergent kids get completely overwhelmed before they even start the maths."
The distinction matters. These aren't children who are refusing to do maths. These are children who genuinely cannot locate the maths inside the product they've been given. The decoration has buried the lesson.
As our founder Gal Darrash says, "The children reaching out to us through their parents and teachers aren't asking for less. They're asking for something that actually believes they can do it."
A Note on What We're Building
XTables Champions was built precisely for the children described in these threads: the ADHD child who needs genuine engagement rather than a thin game wrapper, the SEND student who keeps opting out of multiplayer sessions, the Year 5 who has decided maths games are beneath them, and the neurodivergent child who can't find the numbers through the noise. The platform is pressure-free, visually calm and scaffolded to meet children where they actually are, rather than where we wish they were.
If any of what you've read here sounds familiar, I'd genuinely love to hear from you. Drop us a message or have a look at what we're building. We're a small, founder-led team and we read everything.