Have you ever felt like teaching your kids a second language is an uphill battle? Like no matter how many resources you buy, how many words you introduce, or how much effort you put in, you’re still falling short?
If so, you’re not alone. And maybe—just maybe—it’s not entirely your fault.
What if there was something working against you? Not just the busyness of life, not just the occasional resistance from your kids, but a whisper in the back of your mind telling you that you’re not doing enough?
That you’re failing? That other families have this all figured out, but you just don’t have what it takes?
This “Screwtape Letter” is my way of putting those thoughts under a microscope—of calling out the subtle, insidious ways discouragement creeps in and convinces us to quit before we ever see the fruits of our efforts.
Read on, and if you recognize any of these whispers, know this: they’re lying to you.
My dear Wormwood,
I see you have been assigned to a most delightful case—a mother, earnest and eager, who wishes to teach her young ones a second language. How ripe she is for our influence!
The goal, dear nephew, is not to dissuade her outright but to exhaust her. Convince her that this task is insurmountable, that she is woefully unqualified, and that any slip-up in pronunciation or grammar will ruin her children's future.
First, whisper to her that she is not fluent enough—that she must first master the language before daring to utter a single phrase to her children. Let her believe she must take courses, read textbooks, and achieve native-like pronunciation before she can even start. By the time she feels “ready,” the children will have long moved on, and the precious early years will have been squandered.
If she presses forward, sow the thought that consistency is key, and if she cannot manage a perfect daily schedule, she should abandon the effort altogether. Remind her of the days she forgot to practice, the chaos of a busy household, the interruptions, and the exhaustion that make structured lessons nearly impossible. Let her equate inconsistency with failure.
Next, use comparison as your ally. Show her the picturesque Instagram feeds of polyglot families seamlessly switching between languages, their children speaking with perfect accents, as if by magic. Let her conclude that her own efforts are pale and hopeless in comparison. If her children do not eagerly respond in the new language after a week, convince her she must be doing something wrong—perhaps the curriculum is flawed, or worse, she is.
If she begins to see small victories—the child using a word here, a phrase there—diminish them. Make her crave faster progress, so that instead of delighting in the journey, she grows impatient. When her child resists one day, whines another, or simply prefers their native language, let despair creep in. "If they aren’t fluent by now," she should think, "is this even working?"
Do not let her see the secret power of small efforts. Make sure she undervalues the casual moments—singing a song together, playing a game in the language, using even a single phrase at breakfast. Let her forget that true learning is slow, layered, and woven into daily life.
Above all, Wormwood, ensure that she does this alone. Make her feel that no one understands her struggle, that her spouse is uninterested, that her friends think she is overambitious. If she begins to seek community or support, whisper that she is better off managing it herself. An isolated mother is an easy target.
Should she ever consider seeking joy in the process—laughing at mistakes, embracing imperfection, or simply enjoying the small victories—remind her that this is serious business. No time for fun. No patience for playful trial and error. She must either be perfect or quit.
In this way, my dear nephew, you will ensure that she does not fail outright (for failure would only make her try again with renewed resolve). No, the key is to make her slowly give up, not in a moment of dramatic defeat, but in a quiet, exhausted surrender.
If we do our work well, she will one day say, “I wish we had learned a second language in our home,” without ever realizing she was the one who could have made it happen.
Your affectionate uncle,
Screwtape
The Final Word: Don’t Let Discouragement Win
If you felt this letter hit a little too close to home, you’re not alone. These doubts are the same ones I’ve faced, and the same ones I hear from countless parents trying to teach their kids a language.
But here’s the truth: your small efforts matter. The imperfect days, the messy attempts, the one-word conversations at breakfast—it’s all adding up, even if you can’t see it yet.
So let’s silence the whispers of doubt. Keep going. Keep speaking. Keep making language a part of your home, little by little.
Because one day, you’ll hear your child respond in another language without hesitation, and you’ll realize—you did it. 💛
The ones truly rooting for you,
Cindy O and the team at Homeschool Languages,
where we help you lead your family confidently in learning a new language <3
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