“My Horse Hates Schooling”—Or Does It Hate How Schooling Feels?

“My horse hates schooling.”

“He switches off as soon as we enter the arena.”

“She’s bored by flatwork.”

“He just doesn’t enjoy going around in circles.”

These statements are often presented as facts about the horse’s personality.

But does the horse genuinely hate schooling?

Or does it dislike the way schooling currently feels?

There is an important difference.

The horse may be uncomfortable, physically struggling, confused by the rider’s aids or worried about what normally happens in the arena.

It may have learned that schooling means being nagged through endless laps, repeatedly corrected or drilled until it becomes tired.

It may simply know the entire routine before the rider has even mounted.

Before accepting that a horse hates flatwork, we need to look at what the horse is actually experiencing.

What does “hates schooling” look like?

Different riders may use the phrase to describe very different behaviours.

The horse may:

• become slow or unresponsive;

• stop at the arena entrance;

• resist leaving the gate;

• rush or become tense;

• nap towards the exit;

• swish its tail or pin its ears;

• hollow through its back;

• lean on the rein;

• become difficult in transitions;

• lose energy as soon as work begins;

• anticipate exercises;

• become distracted by everything outside the arena;

• or appear mentally absent.

These behaviours tell us that something is happening.

They do not tell us why.

“Hates schooling” is a label.

Our job is to look at cause and effect before deciding what that label means.

Could the horse be uncomfortable?

A change in willingness should never be dismissed as boredom or bad attitude without considering pain and discomfort.

If a horse that previously worked willingly begins resisting, losing energy or behaving differently in the arena, investigate what may have changed.

Consider:

• saddle fit;

• teeth;

• feet;

• back and muscular comfort;

• joints and movement;

• general health;

• the arena surface;

• the horse’s workload and recovery;

• and whether particular movements or one rein create more difficulty.

A horse may appear happier hacking because it can travel more freely in straighter lines. Schooling may ask it to bend, balance, engage and carry itself in ways that expose weakness or discomfort.

That does not mean every horse that dislikes schooling is in pain.

It means pain should not be ignored simply because the behaviour only appears in the arena.

A coach cannot diagnose the cause, but should recognise when the horse’s behaviour warrants assessment from the appropriate qualified professional or vet.

Does the horse understand what is being asked?

Schooling becomes frustrating when the horse is repeatedly asked questions it does not understand.

The rider may increase the pressure because the horse is not responding. The horse offers several different answers, becomes tense or switches off, and the rider assumes it is being difficult.

But more pressure does not make an unclear question easier to understand.

Horses need:

• clear and consistent aids;

• time to process the question;

• an achievable first step;

• an immediate release when they respond correctly;

• and repetition that remains consistent enough to make sense.

The horse may understand part of an exercise without being ready to produce the finished movement.

A few correct steps are still an answer.

If those steps are ignored while the rider continues demanding more, the horse may learn that trying does not bring relief or recognition.

Eventually, it may stop trying.

Is the horse physically capable of the work?

Understanding an exercise and being strong enough to perform it are not the same thing.

Schooling asks the horse to:

• balance itself on straight and curved lines;

• respond to changes of pace and direction;

• carry a rider while remaining supple;

• coordinate different parts of its body;

• develop strength through its back and hindquarters;

• and gradually take more responsibility for its own balance.

These abilities take time to develop.

A horse may complete an exercise once but be unable to repeat it at the same quality for another ten minutes.

As it becomes tired, it may lose rhythm, fall through a shoulder, lean on the rein, become slow or begin resisting.

That is not necessarily evidence that the horse hates schooling.

It may be telling the rider:

“I cannot maintain this any longer.”

Short periods of good-quality work, followed by appropriate recovery, are far more valuable than continuing until the exercise deteriorates.

Does every session look exactly the same?

Some horses have not developed a hatred of schooling.

They have simply memorised it.

The rider enters the arena, walks around the outside, trots several laps on each rein, canters in the same places and repeats the same familiar exercises.

The horse knows the entire session before it happens.

It may begin to offer 50% because experience has taught it that 50% is enough to get through the routine.

The horse is physically present but mentally elsewhere.

This does not mean every session needs to become a circus.

Horses benefit from familiarity, structure and repetition. Repetition is essential when teaching something new.

But there is a difference between useful repetition and mindless drilling.

Useful repetition has a clear purpose. The rider notices the response, makes an appropriate adjustment and recognises when the exercise has improved.

Mindless drilling repeats the same thing regardless of the answer.

Does the rider hate schooling?

Sometimes the rider tells me:

“My horse hates flatwork.”

But after a little conversation, it becomes clear that the rider hates flatwork too.

They enter the arena expecting boredom, frustration or an argument.

They ride without a plan, count the minutes until they can finish and become far more animated when doing the activities they personally enjoy.

Horses notice changes in the rider.

They notice when the rider becomes tense, impatient, disengaged or unenthusiastic. They also notice when the rider becomes more positive, purposeful and clear.

If the rider treats schooling as something miserable that must be endured, it is hardly surprising if the horse develops a similar response.

Ask yourself honestly:

• Do I enjoy schooling?

• Do I enter the arena with a plan?

• Do I know what I am trying to improve?

• Do I recognise small successes?

• Am I more positive during other activities?

• Have I decided my horse will be difficult before we begin?

• Am I blaming the horse for an attitude I may be bringing into the session?

That does not mean the horse’s behaviour is imaginary or entirely caused by the rider.

It means the rider’s mindset is part of the experience too.

What is schooling actually for?

Schooling is not simply riding around an arena.

It is the process of helping the horse become:

• stronger;

• more balanced;

• more supple;

• more responsive;

• straighter;

• more confident;

• and better able to understand the rider’s aids.

It can happen in an arena, on a hack, across a field or through carefully planned polework.

A transition ridden on a bridleway is still training.

Maintaining rhythm up a gentle slope is still training.

Riding an accurate line between two points in a field is still training.

Moving the horse’s shoulders to open a gate is still training.

Schooling is not defined by the fence around the arena.

It is defined by whether the rider is thoughtfully developing the horse’s body, understanding and responses.

Give every exercise a purpose

Do not ride a circle simply because circles are something riders do in an arena.

Know why you are riding it.

A circle might help you assess or improve:

• bend;

• rhythm;

• balance;

• suppleness;

• control of the shoulders;

• response to the inside leg;

• or the rider’s own accuracy and position.

The same applies to transitions, serpentines, poles and changes of rein.

An exercise becomes meaningful when the rider knows:

• what they are trying to improve;

• what a correct response should feel like;

• how many repetitions are useful;

• and when it is time to stop or change the question.

If there is no clear reason for the exercise, the horse may simply feel as though it is being moved around until the rider decides enough time has passed.

Variety does not mean randomness

Making schooling more interesting does not mean throwing a completely different challenge at the horse every thirty seconds.

Constantly changing the question can create confusion rather than engagement.

Variety should still have a purpose.

A session might include:

• transitions between and within the paces;

• circles of different sizes;

• serpentines and changes of rein;

• ground poles;

• changes in stride length;

• a few steps of appropriate lateral work;

• stretch breaks;

• work in different parts of the arena;

• or taking the same training aim out onto a hack.

Several exercises can develop the same quality.

If the aim is responsiveness, you might use transitions, poles and changes within the pace.

If the aim is suppleness, you might use changes of bend, large flowing figures and suitable lateral work.

The exercises change, but the purpose remains clear.

Stop before the quality disappears

A good session does not have to be long.

More work is not automatically better work.

Once the horse has produced the response you were looking for, recognise it.

That may mean:

• giving a short walk break;

• changing to a less demanding exercise;

• allowing the horse to stretch;

• or finishing the session.

The horse should learn that effort brings release.

If every correct response is followed by another ten repetitions, the horse may stop offering so willingly.

Finish with the horse understanding more than it did at the beginning—not simply feeling more tired.

Look at the whole programme

The problem may not be one schooling session. It may be the lack of variety across the horse’s entire week.

Consider the balance between:

• schooling;

• hacking;

• polework;

• jumping where appropriate;

• fitness work;

• turnout;

• rest;

• and lighter recovery days.

Different horses need different programmes.

Age, fitness, temperament, experience, conformation, health and the rider’s goals all matter.

Variety can support physical development and mental engagement, but it still needs to suit the individual horse.

A varied programme is not an excuse to avoid the work the horse finds difficult.

Equally, schooling should not become the only thing the horse ever does.

Make the arena somewhere the horse can succeed

If every arena session includes tension, confusion, fatigue and correction, the horse may begin reacting before the work has even started.

The arena itself can become a predictor of pressure.

Changing that association takes time.

Begin with questions the horse can answer.

Keep the rider’s aids clear.

Recognise small improvements.

Include appropriate breaks.

Introduce difficulty gradually.

Finish before tiredness turns a good session into an argument.

The aim is not to trick the horse into enjoying flatwork.

It is to create sessions that feel understandable, achievable and worthwhile.

Does the horse hate schooling?

Perhaps.

But before accepting that conclusion, ask:

• Is the horse comfortable?

• Does it understand the rider’s aids?

• Is it physically capable of the work?

• Is the rider blocking or confusing it?

• Has the session become repetitive?

• Is the horse being drilled after it has already answered?

• Does the rider enter the arena expecting a problem?

• Does each exercise have a purpose?

• Is there suitable variety across the week?

• Does the horse experience release and recognition when it tries?

The horse’s behaviour is information.

Instead of asking only:

“How do I make my horse work in the arena?”

Try asking:

“What is it about the current experience of schooling that my horse is finding difficult?”

Because very often, the horse does not hate learning.

It hates confusion, discomfort, repetition without purpose and work it cannot yet understand or sustain.

Your horse may not hate schooling at all. It may simply be asking you to change the way you school.

Whips and Spurs—Are They Refining the Aid or Replacing It?

 

Whips and spurs are firmly on the hit list in many modern discussions about horse welfare—pardon the pun.

Some people see them as perfectly ordinary pieces of riding equipment. Others see their presence as evidence of force, punishment or poor horsemanship.

But, as with most things involving horses, the answer is not as simple as saying they are always right or always wrong.

A whip can be used appropriately.

It can also be used badly.

Spurs can refine communication in skilled hands.

They can also become a substitute for an ineffective leg, an outlet for frustration or a source of constant irritation.

The equipment alone does not tell us the whole story.

We need to look at why it is being used, how it is being used, whether the horse understands it—and what effect it has.

Is the equipment itself the problem?

We now live in a world where riding with less or even no tack is often presented as the ultimate evidence of kindness, trust and good horsemanship.

In skilled hands, tack-free riding can demonstrate excellent training and communication.

But removing equipment does not automatically make riding kinder, safer or easier for the horse to understand.

A rider can be unfair with no whip, no spurs and no bit.

Another rider may use appropriate equipment with excellent timing, control and consideration for the horse.

The presence of a whip or pair of spurs does not, by itself, tell us whether the horse is being ridden well.

Their absence does not tell us that either.

Equipment is not a substitute for skill—but removing equipment is not a substitute for skill either.

The questions we should ask are:

• Why is the equipment being used?

• Does the horse understand the original aid?

• Is the rider capable of using the equipment accurately?

• Is it refining communication or replacing it?

• Does it create understanding—or simply a stronger reaction?

• What effect is it having on the horse physically and mentally?

This is not an argument for using artificial aids on every horse.

Nor is it an argument for banning them from every rider.

It is an argument for understanding what they are for—and accepting responsibility for how they are used.

What are artificial aids supposed to do?

The rider’s natural aids include the leg, seat, weight, hands and voice.

Whips and spurs are described as artificial aids because they are additional pieces of equipment used to reinforce or refine that communication.

The important words are reinforce and refine.

An artificial aid should not become the only aid the horse listens to.

A whip should not replace a leg aid the horse has never properly understood.

A spur should not become the engine that keeps an unresponsive horse moving.

Before adding an artificial aid, the rider should know:

• what they are asking;

• which natural aid the equipment is supporting;

• when it should be used;

• where it should be used;

• what response they are looking for;

• and when the pressure must stop.

If those questions cannot be answered, adding equipment is unlikely to make the conversation clearer.

It may simply make it louder.

When the whip replaces the leg

One of the most revealing situations is the supposedly “lazy” horse that barely responds to the rider’s leg—but becomes instantly animated when the rider reaches for a whip.

The whip has not even touched the horse.

Its presence alone changes the behaviour.

Put the whip down and the horse “dies a death” again.

This tells us something important.

The horse is perfectly capable of noticing what is happening and producing more energy. It has simply learned that the whip matters and the leg does not.

The rider may believe the whip has made the horse more responsive.

But has the horse become responsive to the rider’s leg—or to the sight, movement or anticipated threat of the whip?

If the horse only performs while the whip is being carried, the original aid has not necessarily improved at all.

The equipment has replaced it.

A correctly used whip should help the horse understand that it must respond to the original leg aid. The long-term aim should be a clearer response to a quieter natural aid—not permanent dependence on the whip.

Using the whip everywhere except where it makes sense

If the rider asks the horse to go forwards with the leg, any reinforcement must be applied in a way the horse can connect to that original question.

Yet we regularly see riders tapping the shoulder, waving the whip around, flicking it across the horse or using it on different parts of the body without any obvious relationship to the aid they just gave.

The horse may react to that movement or sensation.

But reaction is not the same as understanding.

If the whip is intended to reinforce the forward leg aid, its use needs to make that connection clear—commonly behind the rider’s leg, with appropriate instruction and consideration for the individual horse.

Random use creates random meaning.

The rider may produce movement, but the horse may have no idea which question it was supposed to answer.

Using the whip on only one side

Always carrying or using the whip on the same side may create another problem.

The horse can begin to anticipate it on that side. It may move its quarters, alter its bend, drift through a shoulder or become uneven in its response.

If the rider already has one weaker or less effective leg, relying on a whip on that side may disguise the asymmetry rather than address it.

That does not mean the whip must be swapped constantly without reason.

It means the rider needs to understand how its placement affects the whole horse.

Ask:

• Why am I carrying it on this side?

• Which part of the horse am I trying to influence?

• Is the horse moving forwards, moving sideways or simply moving away from the whip?

• Am I improving straightness—or creating another imbalance?

• Am I correcting the horse, or compensating for something in my own position?

The side on which an aid is used should be a decision, not a habit.

Are you using the right whip for the job?

Not all whips are designed for the same purpose.

A short jumping crop and a longer schooling whip are different tools. They are held and used differently, and they suit different types of work.

A rider should not simply grab whichever whip happens to be nearest and assume it will do the job.

The chosen whip should be appropriate for the session, the horse and the rider’s ability.

The rider must also be capable of carrying it without:

• losing control of the reins;

• altering the contact;

• tipping or twisting;

• disturbing their balance;

• accidentally touching the horse;

• or allowing it to wave around unpredictably.

The same applies to carrying two whips.

There are legitimate training situations in which two whips may be used by an appropriately skilled person for a specific purpose.

But two whips should not simply mean twice the threat or twice the opportunity to create a reaction.

The rider must be able to explain why each one is present and what precise response it is intended to influence.

Timing changes the meaning

Timing may be the most important part of using any aid.

An artificial aid can only reinforce the rider’s original question if the horse can connect the two.

A clear sequence might be:

1. The rider asks with the natural aid.

2. The horse is given an opportunity to respond.

3. If there is no response, the aid is reinforced promptly and appropriately.

4. The moment the horse answers, the additional pressure stops.

The release is as important as the aid.

If the rider continues using the whip or spur after the horse has responded, there is no clear reward for finding the correct answer.

Equally, if the rider kicks repeatedly for half the arena, becomes frustrated and then uses the whip, the horse is unlikely to understand:

“That was the consequence of ignoring your first light leg aid.”

It may simply learn:

“Occasionally, and without warning, the rider hits me.”

That can create tension, fear or a stronger reaction.

It does not necessarily create understanding.

The horse can only learn from an aid if the timing makes its meaning clear.

Too late, too long or after the correct response—and the lesson changes completely.

The horse that stops at a fence

A very clear example of poor timing can be seen when a horse stops at a fence.

The rider turns away, gathers everything back together and then uses the whip several strides later.

But what is that use of the whip now connected to?

The refusal has already happened. The horse is no longer being asked to jump the fence and may already be travelling in a different direction.

Using the whip at that point does not clearly explain:

“You should have responded to my forward aid and jumped.”

It may simply tell the horse that after a mistake, the rider becomes angry and unpredictable.

The stop itself also needs investigating.

Was the approach balanced and straight?

Did the horse understand the question?

Was the stride appropriate?

Did the rider remain committed?

Was the horse frightened, confused, uncomfortable or physically capable of jumping what was asked?

Simply turning away and hitting the horse answers none of those questions.

If the moment has passed, it has passed.

The rider cannot correct poor timing by delivering a stronger aid several strides later.

The correct response is to regain balance and composure, understand what contributed to the stop and represent the horse appropriately—provided it is safe and fair to do so.

Artificial aids cannot travel backwards in time and clarify a question the rider has already stopped asking.

If you missed the moment, you missed the moment

Using the whip several strides after the unwanted response, using it harder because the rider is angry or continuing after the horse has answered changes its purpose completely.

At that point, it is no longer clarifying an aid.

It is punishing the horse.

Artificial aids should never become an outlet for frustration.

Riders make mistakes. They miss moments, lose balance and sometimes react too slowly.

But the horse should not be punished later because the rider’s timing was late.

If you missed the moment, you missed the moment.

Regroup, improve the preparation and ask the question again more clearly.

Spurs should refine—not become the engine

Spurs are often misunderstood as a way to make a slow horse go faster.

That is not their primary purpose.

Spurs should refine an aid the horse already understands. They allow a skilled rider to give a more precise signal without increasing the general amount of leg pressure.

For that to happen, the rider needs a stable, independent lower leg.

If the rider grips, swings the leg, turns their toes out or loses control of their position, the spur may touch the horse repeatedly and unintentionally.

It is no longer precise.

It has become constant pressure.

Just as a horse can become numb to a constantly nagging leg, it may become less responsive to a spur that never leaves its side.

Other horses may become tense, irritated or defensive.

The important question is not:

“Can this rider wear spurs?”

It is:

“Can this rider control exactly when the spur touches the horse—and remove it the moment the horse answers?”

If not, the equipment cannot be used with the accuracy it requires.

When the spurs keep getting stronger

A common pattern begins with a small spur.

The horse becomes less responsive, so the rider chooses a longer or stronger one. When that stops producing the desired reaction, the equipment escalates again.

But stronger equipment does not automatically create clearer communication.

If the rider’s leg is permanently against the horse, the timing is inconsistent or the natural aid was never properly established, a larger spur may simply increase discomfort without solving the training problem.

Before changing the spur, ask:

• Why has the horse become less responsive?

• Is the rider using the spur constantly?

• Is the lower leg stable?

• Does the horse understand the natural aid?

• Is the rider releasing the pressure after the response?

• Could pain, weakness, fatigue or confusion be involved?

• Is the horse reacting defensively rather than responding willingly?

The answer may not be a stronger spur.

It may be a quieter, better-controlled leg and a return to the original conversation.

From riding aid to battle equipment

When a horse becomes less responsive, some riders keep adding more.

More leg.

Then a whip.

Sometimes two whips.

Spurs.

Then larger or stronger spurs.

Eventually, the horse is being ridden like a battle horse when the original problem may have been that it could no longer hear the rider’s natural aids through all the noise.

More equipment can create more reaction without creating more understanding.

That distinction matters.

A horse rushing forwards because it is anxious about what may happen next is not necessarily in front of the leg.

A horse that becomes animated whenever the whip moves is not necessarily attentive to the rider.

A horse that reacts sharply to the spur is not necessarily working with greater willingness or engagement.

Reaction can look impressive.

But reaction and understanding are not the same thing.

Before adding an artificial aid

Ask:

• Have pain and discomfort been considered?

• Does the horse physically understand and cope with the work?

• Is the natural aid clear?

• Does the rider remove the pressure when the horse responds?

• Is the rider balanced and stable enough to use the equipment accurately?

• Is the chosen equipment appropriate for the session?

• Is it being used in the correct place?

• Is the timing clear?

• Is it reinforcing the original aid or creating a separate one?

• What happens when the equipment is removed?

• Is the rider acting through training—or frustration?

If the horse needs increasingly louder equipment to produce a basic response, stop escalating and investigate why.

The aim should be quieter communication

Used appropriately, an artificial aid should help make the rider’s natural aids clearer and eventually quieter.

It should not create permanent dependence.

The goal is not a horse that only goes forwards when the whip appears.

It is not a horse that needs a spur in every stride.

It is not a horse that obeys because it is worried about what may happen if it does not.

The goal is a horse that understands the rider’s question and responds confidently to the lightest appropriate aid.

Whips and spurs are tools.

They are not automatically evidence of abuse, and riding without them is not automatically evidence of better horsemanship.

The tool is not the whole welfare story.

The hands—and legs—using it matter.

If you need increasingly louder equipment to make yourself heard, first ask whether the horse ever understood the original conversation.

Related training guides

• The “Lazy” Horse—I’ve Yet to Meet One

• The “Hot” Horse—Energy, Tension or Confusion?