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Vital words for understanding
struck (me) – made a strong impression or shocked me suddenly
speechless – unable to speak because of surprise or strong emotion
internalised – accepted something deeply, often without noticing, so it shapes your thinking or behaviour
belief – something you feel is true, even if it’s not based on proof
exposed – open to something, often something challenging or unfamiliar
effort – the energy or attempt you put into doing something
grapple with – to struggle while trying to understand or deal with something difficult
ashamed – feeling bad or guilty about something, especially in front of others
dare – to have the courage to do something difficult or scary
brave – doing something even when you’re afraid
withdrawal – pulling back or stepping away from something, especially because of fear or discomfort
sidelines – a place where you’re watching but not actively taking part
harmless – not dangerous or meant to hurt
rush – a fast, strong feeling (like excitement or panic)
struggle – a hard effort to do something, especially when it doesn’t come easily
step away – to remove yourself from a situation, usually to give space or calm down
refusal – saying “no” or choosing not to do something
on behalf – doing something for someone else or representing them
After spending two weeks in the company of a Canadian, one thing struck me again and again — and it left me speechless every time. Learners, even those who’ve made visible progress, freeze the moment a native speaker enters the room. Or, at the very least, they feel deeply uncomfortable. Why is that? What is it that makes us shrink in these moments? What are we so afraid of?
It’s not because they’re unprepared. It’s not because their English is poor. It’s because something much deeper is at play: the internalised belief that native speakers are the ‘real’ judges of English. And that if we speak with mistakes in front of them, we’ll be exposed — as if our effort counts for less in that moment.
But let’s pause here and ask a simple question: why do we feel that way? Here’s the thing: most native speakers don’t speak any other language. Many have never had to grapple with verb forms, word order, idioms. They don’t know what it’s like to build a sentence from scratch under pressure. They’ve never sat in your chair. They’ve never had to. And yet, it’s you who ends up feeling ashamed.
I’ll tell you what I think: every person who dares to express themselves in a foreign language is brave. You’re not just learning new words. You’re learning to think differently, to decode social rules in another culture, to navigate meaning while your brain is still translating. That deserves admiration — not silence, not withdrawal, and certainly not correction from the sidelines.
And here’s where I need to be honest about something that still makes me angry.
Many of us grew up in a school system that punished imperfection. You were taught that mistakes were embarrassing. That getting it wrong meant you were wrong. And so you began to hide. You learned that silence was safer than risk.
What breaks my heart is that even today — even in the age of communicative language teaching — I still see people, even teachers, correct others harshly. I’ve watched relatives correct a loved one’s English at the dinner table. I’ve seen a student’s confidence disappear in front of me because someone thought a sarcastic joke about their grammar was harmless.
Why do we do this to each other?
Why is being „right“ more important than being kind?
As a teacher, I’ve made a different decision. I don’t jump in. I don’t finish sentences. I don’t rush to offer the word someone’s searching for. I give space. And that space isn’t empty — it’s powerful. It says: I trust you to get there.
And guess what? They do.
They search. They struggle. And then, slowly, they speak. Not because I saved them — but because I let them try.
Sometimes I quietly step away from the conversation, letting them manage it on their own. I become invisible. And in that invisibility, they shine.
We learn through trial, not perfection. We learn by speaking before we feel ready. The best support I can give isn’t more grammar explanations — it’s belief. A calm, steady presence. A refusal to panic on their behalf. A quiet voice that says: You’ve got this. You’re doing the hard thing. And I see you.
So if you, like many, still hesitate when a native speaker is near — remember this:
You are not less.
You are not wrong.
You are learning.
And in my eyes, that makes you the strongest voice in the room.
→ Quick Task for Today
Talk to yourself in English for 2 minutes.
Pick one simple topic — your morning, your lunch, a walk you took, or a memory you love.
Don’t aim for perfect grammar. Just speak. Let the words come.
(And if you forget a word? Use another. Keep going.)
Bonus: Record yourself. Listen back with kindness. Notice how much you can say.