Kedusha is not a separate subject from limud haTorah — it is the soil the learning grows in. A talmid whose mind is quietly pulled toward what he has seen on a screen does not walk into the beis medrash whole. The Gemara in front of him is the same Gemara, but the head he brings to it is divided, and a divided head cannot taste the geshmak of what it learns.
This is rarely loud. It shows up as a boy who is a little flatter than he used to be, a little quicker to give up, a little harder to reach. He may still know the material, but the fire is lower. The nisayon takes up room in his mind that should belong to his learning, his tefillah, and his simcha — and it does so privately, where we often can't see it.
There is also the matter of who he becomes. The years in our care are the years a bochur is quietly deciding what kind of ben Torah he wants to be. A nisayon left unaddressed doesn't stay still; it grows roots, and the longer it sits the more it tells him that this is simply who he is. Stepping in early — gently, without drama — is often what keeps a passing struggle from hardening into an identity.
So when we help a talmid with kedusha, we are not bolting on one more program. We are protecting the very thing that lets him grow at all — his clarity, his self-respect, and his ability to be fully present in front of a blatt Gemara. Care for his kedusha is care for his learning. They were never two separate things.