Let me begin with a confession. I have watched a student, bright, curious, clearly brimming with the right answer, shrink into their seat the moment I said, “Come on, speak it in English.” That small, sinking motion. The sudden interest in the floor.
If you are a parent, you have seen it at home too. Your child who chats non-stop in Hindi, narrates entire IPL matches, argues their case at the dinner table like a seasoned lawyer, but the moment it is English, suddenly becomes very, very busy staring at their pencil box.
This is not a language problem. It is a confidence problem. Researchers call it language anxiety: the fear that kicks in when asked to speak in a language that does not yet feel like yours. Nobody fears the language itself. What they fear is being laughed at. Being wrong in front of everyone. Being that student. And in a classroom of thirty, that fear is enormous.
Students answer questions, deliver presentations, sit tests, all monitored, graded, reported. When your child says, “I don’t like English class,” they often mean: “I am afraid.” And fear, as we know, is a terrible teacher.
Every single person who speaks English fluently today was once terrible at it.
When a child learns to ride a cycle, they fall, graze their knee, feel embarrassed. But nobody says, “You fell, therefore cycling is not for you.” We say, “Get up. Try again.” Why do we treat a grammatical mistake in English as something to be ashamed of? A classroom where students know their mistakes will not be mocked is a classroom where students begin to speak. It really is that simple and that profound.
The answer is almost never grammar drills. The answer is joy and safety, in equal measure. Games work beautifully: a quick debate, a two-minute skit, a roleplay as a news reporter. When students enjoy themselves, English stops being an exam subject and starts being a living, breathing thing.
It also matters what a student believes about themselves. “I am just not an English person” leads to silence. “I am not there yet, but I am getting there” leads to everything else.
When your child attempts even one sentence in English, however broken, however funny, celebrate it. Loudly. Enthusiastically. Do not correct every mistake. Let them stumble, let them search for words. A child who feels safe enough to speak badly will eventually speak well.
You are not bad at English. You are afraid of English. That is not the same thing at all. Fluency is not a gift. It is a habit, built one small, brave moment at a time. So look up. Open your mouth. Say it, even if it comes out a little crooked. I am not listening for perfection. I am listening for you. And you have a lot worth saying.
Written with affection for every student who has ever stared at their pencil box a moment too long.
DIKSHA VERMA
TGT ENGLISH
