The Hidden Strengths of Language Learning: How Bilingualism Shapes Resilience and Connection

My five-year-old daughter sat in her classroom, eyes bright with determination as she tried to explain something to her Mandarin-dominant classmate. At first, she spoke in English, but when she noticed her friend’s confusion, she quickly pivoted—gesturing, simplifying her English word choice, making eye contact, and incorporating a few Mandarin phrases. Her classmate’s face lit up with understanding, and suddenly, the conversation flowed. I watched in awe as my daughter navigated this moment with such persistence, refusing to let language be a barrier. It wasn’t just about communication; it was about problem-solving and being flexible, driven by a deep desire to connect. In that moment, I realized that bilingualism was shaping her in ways I'd read about but hadn’t fully appreciated—hidden strengths that went far beyond just speaking multiple languages.

You see, bilingual individuals share a distinct human experience—one that requires constant adaptation, perspective-taking, and creative problem-solving. Because they regularly move between languages and cultural contexts, they develop skills that go beyond words. Inherent to the bilingual experience is an ingrained sense of empathy. They know what it means to struggle for understanding, to search for the right word, or to bridge gaps between different ways of thinking. This awareness makes them highly attuned to others’ challenges, prompting them to adjust their communication instinctively. Whether simplifying language, switching tones, or intuitively reading body language, bilinguals learn to connect across differences. This ability to shift perspectives makes them natural bridges between people and cultures, fostering deeper understanding in an increasingly interconnected world.

Another hidden strength of bilingual individuals is their cognitive flexibility. The mental agility required to switch between languages strengthens their ability to multitask, solve problems creatively, and adapt to new situations. I see this often in my own life, navigating between Cantonese, Mandarin, English, and variations of Chinglish. When speaking with my family, for example, I instinctively switch between English, Cantonese, and Mandarin, adjusting depending on whom I’m addressing. At times, I’ll reach for an English word with my dad when I can’t recall the Cantonese equivalent, I’ll rephrase an English sentence in a way that makes more sense to a Mandarin speaker, or I'll interject English words with a Cantonese accent so it is contextualized to a Cantonese-dominant speaker. This constant linguistic flexibility isn’t just about translation—it’s about shaping thoughts in real-time, filtering between different structures, and finding the most effective way to communicate. Becoming bilingual truly goes beyond learning language—I see it in my daughter when she pieces together ideas in different ways, finds creative solutions when words fail her, and navigates between languages, both consciously and subconsciously, to make herself understood. Bilingualism is a way of thinking that allows her to adapt, problem-solve, and embrace challenges with confidence.

Becoming bilingual isn’t easy. It takes effort, persistence, and countless moments of struggle—searching for words, navigating misunderstandings, and working through the mental gymnastics of switching between languages. But through these challenges, bilingual individuals develop a set of strengths that go far beyond language itself. Bilingualism fosters perseverance, empathy, and cognitive flexibility—hidden strengths that shape how they engage with and contribute to the world. Watching my daughter in that classroom, I saw a glimpse of who she is becoming—resourceful, resilient, and deeply attuned to others. Whether in schools, workplaces, or across cultural divides, bilingual speakers bring a unique way of thinking and connecting that truly enriches the world around them.

One Parent, One Language: When the Model Works—And When It Feels Out of Place

I was raised in a One Parent, One Language (OPOL) household. My father spoke to me in Cantonese, my mother in English. But my Cantonese wasn’t limited to our home—I was also immersed in it at school and in my daily life growing up in Hong Kong. OPOL worked well for us because these were my parents’ heart languages—the languages they felt most comfortable expressing themselves in. But what happens when the language a parent speaks under OPOL isn’t quite their own? What if the model, instead of creating a natural connection, introduces a feeling of distance for one parent, like something is missing or doesn’t quite fit?

The strength of OPOL is its clarity—each parent provides consistent exposure to a language, helping a child develop proficiency in both. When the languages are deeply tied to the parents’ identities, it reinforces not only linguistic ability but also emotional connection and cultural grounding. This is particularly powerful when one of the languages is a non-dominant / minority language that might otherwise be lost (e.g., Spanish in the USA). For many families, OPOL helps children grow up multilingual with strong bonds to their heritage and the ability to transcend cultural and linguistic boundaries. But when a parent is assigned a language they wouldn’t normally use—perhaps a non-native language or a heritage language that feels unfamiliar—it can create a sense of distance, making conversations feel more like an effort than an exchange.

This is where OPOL has its limitations. Language is more than just words—it’s how we build trust, share laughter, and make sense of the world together. When a parent speaks to their child in a language that doesn’t feel fully theirs, something shifts. Jokes don’t land quite the same way. Deep, winding conversations—the kind where a child asks why a hundred times—feel harder to sustain. The quiet comfort of a heart-to-heart, where a child unspools the details of their day and sorts through their feelings, can feel just out of reach—the right words hovering close but never quite landing. Even discipline, which requires both clarity and emotional nuance, can become difficult; the guiding voice meant to teach and correct can sound harsher than intended, stripped of the softness that makes a child feel safe enough to listen. A language that is meant to be a bridge can, instead, start to feel like a wall.

Is it worth the sacrifice? Strict language separation can create a sense of order, but it isn’t always the best path to communication. A child doesn’t acquire a language in rigid halves—they pick up what they hear most often, what feels natural, what allows them to engage fully in the world around them. Consistency matters, of course, but multilingual parenting isn’t a test of discipline or purity; it grows through exposure, interaction, and the freedom to use language in ways that feel meaningful. A parent who mixes languages, who instinctively switches to the one that allows for deeper conversations or moments of tenderness, isn’t failing at OPOL—they’re making sure language remains a gateway to expression, not a guardrail of restriction. Because at the end of the day, what stays with a child isn’t the perfection of a method, but the voices that shaped them—the ones that soothed them to sleep, answered their endless questions, and made them feel at home in every language they carry.

Speaking Without Apology: Finding Confidence in the Languages We Carry

The other day, I was speaking in English with someone whose primary language was Mandarin. As we navigated the conversation, I had a fleeting thought: It’s too bad my Mandarin isn’t strong enough to express myself fully. But then I caught myself. That wasn’t entirely true. My Mandarin is good enough for a meaningful conversation. Yet, somewhere deep inside, the voice in my head expected my Mandarin to match my English fluency—an impossible standard. And then I wondered: was this person having the same thought about their English? Were we both holding ourselves to expectations that no one else had placed on us?

This feeling is all too familiar for multilinguals. No matter how much we know, we are often hyperaware of what we lack. We hesitate before speaking, apologize for mispronunciations, and downplay our abilities. Receptive bilinguals, included. Monolinguals, on the other hand, rarely seem to experience this in the same way. For example, a person who speaks only English rarely stops mid-sentence to lament that their English isn’t quite English enough. This discrepancy illuminates how multilinguals too often measure their own voices against impossible ideals—ideals shaped by a monolingual bias.

Take the United States as an example. Someone who grew up hearing Spanish at home but speaks it with an accent might tell themselves, I should be better at this. I sound so "American." A second-generation Korean speaker might hesitate before speaking, afraid of using the wrong honorifics. A Vietnamese speaker might avoid conversations with elders altogether, not wanting to face the embarrassment of forgetting a word mid-sentence. Meanwhile, those who speak English with non-standard accents, or what is dismissively called "broken English," are often judged unfairly and treated as less capable simply because their English doesn’t fit rigid norms. These are two sides of the same coin. Whether it’s feeling inadequate in our heritage languages or being judged for speaking English "imperfectly," the underlying message is that only certain ways of speaking are fully accepted. That fluency is the price of cultural authenticity and belonging. But language is not just about correctness—it’s about communication, culture, and connection.

So what if we stopped apologizing? What if, instead of measuring ourselves against unrealistic standards, we embraced the richness of how we already speak? And recognize the way we speak—accented, code-switched, imperfect—carries the history of where we’ve been, the people we’ve known, and the worlds we navigate. Rather than seeing our language abilities as something to fix or perfect, we can recognize them as evidence of adaptation, bridging, and connection. Perhaps the goal is not perfection. Perhaps the goal is to feel at home in our voice.

高掛紅燈籠：Lighting the Way for Tradition and Life in Bilingual Schools

It's the Lunar New Year at our Mandarin dual-language public school in Los Angeles.

Red lanterns line the school courtyard, swaying gently in the breeze. 紅燈籠高掛，迎接新年—symbols of prosperity, luck, renewal. The air hums with anticipation as the reverberating drums signal the arrival of the 舞獅。 The lion dancers—左搖右擺，步步生風—weave through the crowd, their movements bold and alive, while children squeal in delight. Just beyond, a face-changer performer lifts a fan, and in an instant—bian lian變臉，一瞬之間，面貌全非。 Gasps ripple through the crowd. The magic of 新年 is here.

At the entrance of our bilingual school, a dragon winds its way across the wall—長龍蜿蜒—each scale a paper plate, each plate painted by a child’s hands. 龍，祥瑞之兆，承載著好運與力量。 Some plates are carefully detailed, others wildly colorful, but together they conjure something greater than any single piece—獨木不成林，眾志成城。 The children point, searching for their own contributions—我的呢？在哪裡？—their faces lighting up with pride. Pride that connects their art to ancient beliefs, passed through generations that are ever enduring—承傳千年的文化，如今就在眼前。

For those in the school community who celebrate, these moments whisper: 你屬於這裡，你的文化被看見，被珍惜—you belong here; you are seen and known. For those experiencing it for the first time, it’s an open door—請進，請欣賞，請體會。 And for the parents standing at the edges, hearts warmed by the sense of nostalgia felt deep in their bones, it is evidence that their culture is not just something that they leave at home—文化不僅是歷史的回音，更是今日鮮活的篇章。It is relevant. It's alive.

Some schools acknowledge culture. Others bring it to life. When a school chooses the latter—when it lets 紅燈籠照亮走廊 red lanterns fill its hallways, when it 讓紙盤龍化為傳承的橋樑 turns a paper plate project into a majestic symbol of belonging, when it 讓孩子親身體驗而非只是在書本上讀到 allows tradition to take root—it does more than just teach about a holiday. It affirms that culture is not just something to be studied. It is something felt. 它做的不僅是教授一個節日，而是賦予一種認同，讓文化真正被感受、被理解、被珍惜。 And today, in this space filled with light and movement and squeals of joy, our Chinese heritage is alive and I couldn't be more grateful. 新年快樂，萬事如意！

Silent Strength: Reclaiming the Beauty of Receptive Bilingualism

To the quiet bilinguals of the world—those who understand a heritage language deep in their bones but might not speak it back fluently—your story is worth celebrating. Too often, society tells you that understanding isn’t enough; that without perfect fluency, you’re somehow less whole. But they couldn’t be more wrong. The ability to listen, to comprehend, to feel the weight of words passed down through generations, is not just a skill—it’s a bridge. A lifeline. A sacred connection.

You are proof that languages live in more than just spoken words; they live in our hearts, in the laughter of a family dinner, in the familiar rise and fall of an abeula’s lullaby. You carry your language in the way you read between the lines, in how you instinctively know the cultural weight of a phrase, in how you interpret love in a voice that speaks more than words. And this, this quiet strength, is a gift. It’s a tie to your ancestors, to the stories that came before you, and to the culture you hold within.

But let’s be honest—being a receptive bilingual isn’t always easy. The world can be unkind, reducing bilingualism to a competition, a rigid standard that silences those who don’t fit the mold. You may feel judged by others or even by yourself. You may feel like you’re standing on the edge of two worlds, belonging everywhere and nowhere all at once. It can be lonely to carry a language in your heart but not on your tongue.

And yet, every moment you hear, understand, and hold that language is an act of defiance against forgetting. Receptive bilingualism is not a lesser form of bilingualism—it’s a powerful declaration that heritage matters, that culture matters, that connection matters. So, to those who quietly listen, who piece together meaning and make connections across cultures, who hold their heritage with reverence even when the words catch in their throat—you are the keepers of something beautiful. You are enough. And the world is richer because of who you are with these languages within you.

The Multilingual Home: Six Evidence-Based Approaches to Raising Bilingual Children

Parents today recognize the immense benefits of raising bilingual or multilingual children. For many, it’s about preserving cultural heritage and fostering a sense of connection to family and tradition. Others value the cognitive and social advantages of bilingualism, such as enhanced problem-solving skills, greater empathy, and improved career prospects.

Yet, the path to raising multilingual children can be challenging. Parents often wonder: How should families balance a minoritized language (a language with less visibility or power in a society) with the dominant societal language (the primary language spoken in the broader community)? Should each parent take on a specific language, or should the home environment focus on one language exclusively? And if children don't achieve "perfect" bilingualism, is it worth the endeavor?

Six Approaches to Raising Bilingual Children

The following table outlines six well-established approaches to raising bilingual children. Each strategy includes a brief description, an illustrative example, an analysis of why the approach is effective, and potential challenges families may encounter. Link to table here.

Practical Strategies for Long-Term Success

Raising bilingual children is a long-term commitment that requires intentional planning and adaptability. The following strategies can help families maintain momentum while fostering language development:

1. Make It Engaging: Incorporate books, songs, games, and media in the target languages to make learning enjoyable.

2. Create Consistent Routines: Dedicate specific times to each language, such as reading bedtime stories in the minoritized language or using certain vocabulary and phrases to engage with bedtime routines.

3. Build a Support Network: Seek out communities, playgroups, or schools that reinforce the minoritized language. Connecting with other families who share similar goals can also provide motivation.

4. Celebrate Milestones: Acknowledge and reward achievements, such as using a new phrase or completing a book in the minoritized language.

5. Cultivate Intrinsic Motivation: Share about the benefits of bilingualism with your child, emphasizing cultural connection, cognitive development, and future opportunities. When children understand the "why," they are more autonomous and empowered in the process.

6. Model Lifelong Language Learning: Share your own positive experiences with the languages you are learning and/or passing down. Children often model their attitudes on their parents’ excitement and commitment.

In our family, we embrace a multilingual approach, speaking both Mandarin and English at home to the kids, with English spoken between parents, English/Mandarin/Cantonese spoken with different grandparents, and some Cantonese exposure from me to share another part of our cultural heritage. Living in the English-speaking United States, we have intentionally supported our daughters’ exposure to Mandarin from the start through children’s media, Mandarin-speaking caretakers, Mandarin-focused preschools, and now enrollment in a Mandarin-English dual-language immersion public school. We also strengthen their connection to the language and culture with visits to family in Taiwan and Hong Kong. While our children are multilingual, we recognize that their linguistic journeys will be different from our own and remain committed to cultivating their motivation to take ownership of their unique multilingual experiences.

What approaches have worked for your family? Share your experiences in the comments—I’d love to hear how you’re fostering bilingualism or multilingualism in your home.

Unmuting Diversity: Challenging Linguistic Bias in the Language Classroom

“Your English is so good!”

This seemingly innocuous phrase often reveals underlying linguistic bias. While meant as a compliment, it implies surprise that someone could master English so well—an assumption rooted in stereotypes about who is or isn’t expected to be proficient. In language classrooms, similar biases can shape interactions and expectations. Educators may unconsciously hold certain students to higher or lower standards based on their accents, fluency, or cultural background, reinforcing hierarchies of language and marginalizing diverse linguistic identities. Unmuting diversity in these spaces requires us to recognize these patterns and actively work to create truly inclusive and equitable learning environments. Below are four ways to consider linguistic bias, which I shared in a recent session at the CATESOL State conference (see handout).

Accent Discrimination

Accent can be a powerful marker of identity, but in the TESOL classroom, it sometimes becomes a basis for discrimination. Accent discrimination occurs when individuals are judged based on how they sound, often aligning with societal biases against certain linguistic and cultural backgrounds. For example, a TESOL instructor may unconsciously favor students whose accents align with “standard” varieties of English, providing them more opportunities to speak, while students with different accents are overlooked or critiqued more harshly. Overcoming accent bias means recognizing and celebrating linguistic diversity—even in the ways we speak English—fostering an environment where all voices are valued equally.

Language Hierarchies and Global Englishes

Not all Englishes are created equal—at least in the eyes of many traditional curricula and assessments. Language hierarchies often privilege Standard American or British Englishes, positioning them as the “correct” or most-desired varieties of Engish while sidelining other global varieties. This creates a perception that some ways of speaking are inherently more valuable than others, perpetuating inequality. Imagine a TESOL curriculum that focuses solely on American English while ignoring vibrant English varieties of Indian Englishes, Singapore English, or African American Vernacular English. By embracing Global Englishes, educators can validate the diverse linguistic realities of students and challenge these entrenched hierarchies.

Fluency-Based Assumptions

Judgments based on a student's fluency often overlook the complexities of language learning. A student’s ability to speak fluently doesn’t always reflect a deep understanding of course content, just as a student with limited fluency might possess remarkable insights. In TESOL settings, educators sometimes assign leadership roles or critical tasks based on perceived fluency, inadvertently marginalizing quieter or less fluent students. Recognizing the broader competencies students bring to the classroom means moving beyond surface judgments and appreciating the different ways they contribute.

Breaking Cultural Stereotypes

Cultural stereotyping happens when educators make assumptions about language-learning abilities based solely on a student's cultural, ethnic, or national background. These stereotypes flatten the rich diversity within cultural groups, leading to missed opportunities for genuine connection and understanding. When a TESOL instructor assumes all students from a specific country struggle similarly with pronunciation or share the same learning style or interests, they ignore individual strengths and challenges. Moving beyond stereotypes means taking the time to understand each student’s unique experience, creating more inclusive classrooms where all learners can thrive.

Unmuting diversity in the language classroom means more than acknowledging linguistic differences—it’s about actively valuing and amplifying them. By challenging biases, dismantling hierarchies, and embracing the rich tapestry of global Englishes, we create spaces where all students feel seen, heard, and respected. In other words, we empower students to bring their full linguistic and cultural identities to the classroom, transforming these spaces into hubs of equity and belonging. It’s not just about teaching language; it’s about fostering a world where every voice has a chance to thrive.

Beyond Perfection: The Beauty of Imperfect Language Learning

Many people believe that bilingualism is an “all or nothing” pursuit, where anything less than perfect fluency in two languages falls short of being truly bilingual. This mindset puts a lot of pressure on parents and can discourage many from trying to raise bilingual children. For example, a child might understand their parents’ native language but prefer to respond in English. Rather than being recognized for their bilingual abilities, they might be unfairly viewed as “not really bilingual.”

To take perspective, we need to dismantle this “gold standard” of bilingualism that demands native-like fluency in both languages. Bilingualism is not a rigid benchmark but exists on a spectrum, where every level of proficiency holds unique value. Languages themselves are dynamic and alive, constantly shifting and evolving, which makes each step in a bilingual journey meaningful and worth celebrating. Receptive bilinguals, for instance, may not speak a second language fluently but can deeply understand it. This isn’t a "lesser form" of bilingualism; receptive bilinguals possess unique strengths in comprehending cultural nuances and embodying unspoken traditions, allowing them to bridge cultural divides in ways that monolingual/monocultural individuals cannot.

Dominant bilinguals, who are more proficient in one language while maintaining meaningful skills in a second, bring their own distinctive contributions to the table. Consider someone who grew up speaking Spanish as their first language and learned English later in life. While they might still feel more at home speaking Spanish, they have developed strong English skills to excel in a professional setting—perhaps working as a community health worker. This person may conduct complex discussions in Spanish with patients and families while seamlessly switching to English to coordinate with medical staff. Their proficiency in both languages, though not perfectly balanced, enables them to bridge critical gaps in care, build trust, and create deeper connections. This ability to navigate multiple linguistic and cultural contexts adds real value far beyond any pursuit of native-like perfection.

Ultimately, breaking free from the unrealistic ideal of perfect bilingualism means embracing the beauty of imperfect language learning. Every step on the spectrum of bilingualism holds value, reflecting the dynamic, evolving nature of language itself. When we let go of the idea that it’s “all or nothing,” we empower more people—especially children—to approach bilingualism in meaningful, unique, and impactful ways that celebrate its messy and vibrant reality.

Empowering Students Through Storytelling: Humanizing Pedagogy in Action

Imagine a classroom where every student feels truly seen and heard, and where their voices, backgrounds, and experiences shape their learning journeys. This is the goal of humanizing pedagogy — an approach that views students as whole people, and not just as academic performers. Rooted in the work of Paulo Freire and Maria del Carmen Salazar, humanizing pedagogy emphasizes the value of students’ lived experiences, histories, and identities. Freire describes this as recognizing students as “fully human” rather than “reduced to things,” while Salazar calls for teaching that respects students’ personal and cultural knowledge. One powerful way to bring this philosophy to life is through storytelling, where students share their own stories, creating a classroom culture of empathy, connection, and relevance.

Allowing students to tell their own stories helps cultivate a classroom culture where every voice matters. For example, in a history class, students can be encouraged to share family stories that relate to the historical period being studied. Perhaps a student’s grandparent has a memory of the Civil Rights Movement, or maybe someone has a family connection to a recent migration story. These personal insights add depth to the lesson while allowing students to bring their backgrounds and experiences into the learning process. When students contribute in this way, they are not only connecting with the material but also sharing pieces of themselves with their peers, fostering empathy and understanding.

Creating space for storytelling doesn’t require overhauling the curriculum; it can be woven into everyday interactions. Simple prompts like “Has anyone had a similar experience?” or “Can you think of a time when you faced a challenge like this?” can invite students to reflect on their lives in relation to the lesson. As they share, they learn to connect academic concepts to real-world experiences. These moments can be powerful, making abstract ideas more concrete and encouraging students to see themselves within the subject matter.

For storytelling to truly humanize the classroom, it’s essential to create a supportive environment where students feel comfortable sharing. Establishing norms around respectful listening is key. Encourage students to listen actively, ask open-ended questions, and show appreciation for their peers’ stories. Modeling openness yourself by sharing personal anecdotes related to the lesson can also set the tone, demonstrating that everyone’s stories have value. This builds trust and shows that the classroom is a safe space for authentic expression.

Storytelling as a teaching tool may seem simple, but it can profoundly shift classroom dynamics. By giving students space to share their experiences, you invite them to connect with each other, deepen their understanding of the material, and feel valued as whole people. In this way, storytelling is more than just a technique; it is a pathway to humanizing pedagogy, helping students see themselves as active participants in their learning journey.

Beyond Practicality: Why Bilingualism Enriches Children’s Lives

In a globalized world, where borders are shrinking and cultures constantly intersect, being bilingual or multilingual is frequently celebrated for its practical benefits. We tell young people that knowing multiple languages opens doors – they can help family members, assist tourists, or navigate foreign countries with ease. This perspective is valid, and indeed, multilingualism offers a wide array of advantages in an interconnected world. Yet, there’s a depth to being multilingual that goes beyond these everyday benefits, a depth that goes beyond practical significance.

When you speak more than one language, you experience the world in a uniquely layered way. Languages are not just codes for the same set of universal meanings; they each bring their own histories, cultures, and perspectives. A word in one language might capture a feeling or concept that doesn’t exist in another—like the Chinese phrase '人情味' (rénqíngwèi), which describes the warmth and empathy found in human relationships, something richer than mere friendliness. Multilingual individuals constantly shift between these perspectives, accessing a nuanced, embodied understanding of life and culture that others might not fully understand or appreciate. This cognitive and emotional flexibility doesn’t just change how multilinguals communicate – it shapes how they think, feel, and connect with the world around them.

At its core, multilingualism offers another way of being human. Through each language, we see the world from a different lens, challenging us to grow in empathy and open our minds to new possibilities. Every language is embedded with cultural nuances that shape how we express identity, convey respect, and approach problem-solving—for instance, the Chinese concept of '面子' (miànzi), or 'face,' which emphasizes respect, dignity, and social harmony in interactions. Living with multiple languages is diversity embodied in thought and expression. Existing as a multilingual being isn’t simply a skill; it’s a dynamic way of experiencing and interacting with the world.

So, while it’s beneficial to remind kids of the tangible benefits of being bilingual, we should also honor the profound beauty of their multilingual minds. Let’s celebrate multilingualism not just as a tool for communication, but as a way to foster empathy, deepen our connections across cultures, and enrich our human experience.