ONE DAY, I asked a room of students, “How
many of you play video games?”
Most hands went up.
“How many times has this happened that
you start playing, and suddenly two hours
are gone. You missed lunch, and you didn’t
even notice?”
Almost all hands stayed up. Some smiled,
recognising themselves. Years ago, I saw this
with my sister when she completed Age of
Empires in a single night without sleep.
Then I asked: “When was the last time this
happened with your studies?”
Silence. The same person who plays for three hours
can’t focus on a textbook for thirty minutes. Why?
This is engagement—when your attention is so complete
that time disappears. You’re not forcing yourself.
You’re just there. Fully present. Learning without effort.
THE VIDEO GAME PRINCIPLE
When you improve engagement in your studies and
activities, you directly improve your well-being and
fulfilment. This is why we advocate hobbies—anything
you’re good at and interested in becomes a source of engagement.
Let me explain with video games.
Your skill is Level 30. If I ask you to play Level 3, what
happens? It’s too easy, too boring, and therefore, you
quit. Now flip it. Your skill is Level 3, but you play
Level 30. Now what happens? You feel frustrated
and stressed, and so you quit.
But when your skill matches the challenge—
Level 30 playing Level 28 or
32—something different happens. You
get absorbed. Time disappears. You’re
learning, adjusting, improving, and it
doesn’t feel hard. You get immersed and
don’t even notice what is happening around
you. It’s called Flow.
WHAT THIS LOOKS LIKE IN COLLEGE
Most students feel either bored or overwhelmed.
The mismatch is subtle but
powerful. Sometimes the task is too easy.
For example, you already understand the
coding assignment, but you are required to
“complete” it anyway. That boredom is not
laziness. It is under-challenge. In that case,
don’t shrink. Raise the bar yourself. Solve it
in fewer lines. Try a new method. Teach it to
someone who is struggling. When you add difficulty
voluntarily, engagement returns.
Other times, the problem is the opposite. The
economics chapter feels like Level 30 when your understanding
is still at Level 5. You don’t even know
where to begin. That’s not incompetence. It’s overchallenging.
Break it down. One section. One concept.
One example. Look for another explanation. Discuss it
with friends. Turn the lecture into a conversation. As
skill rises, stress falls.
Sometimes the obstacle isn’t the subject but the system.
A professor moves too fast. A textbook feels lifeless.
Instead of withdrawing, shift your angle. Prepare before
class so the lecture becomes reinforcement. Translate
dense pages into diagrams. Turn abstract theory into a
discussion. The moment you adjust either the challenge
or your approach, you move closer to the flow state.
See the pattern? Each option adjusts the challenge
or changes your angle to move you closer to
flow. You are not surviving academics. You are
redesigning your engagement with them.
Flow isn’t rare. It’s misplaced. Students experience
it in games, sports, hobbies—but rarely in
academics. Not because they can’t, but because
they haven’t created the right conditions.