They say the best way to learn a language is to just speak it no matter how stupid, broken, or downright ridiculous it comes out of your mouth. Sounds great in theory, right? Except when you’re a shy teenager with a dad who happens to be your biggest heckler.

When I first started learning Japanese, I was terrified of saying anything wrong. Not because of strangers, not because of teachers oh no. My biggest critic was my dad. And bless him, his way of “encouraging” me was laughing brutally every time I mispronounced a word. I mean, the man could’ve had a side hustle as a stand-up comedian, the way he went in on me.

So for the first few years, he thought I wasn’t making any progress at all. But the truth? I was making progress I just refused to speak in front of him. My Japanese vocabulary consisted of a few safe little phrases I could throw around when he was nearby. You know, the kind you couldn’t possibly get wrong. “Konnichiwa.” “Arigatou.” That was about it.

Fast forward a few years, and the fear started to fade. I stopped caring so much about sounding silly, because, well, you can’t get better if you never open your mouth.

But then… plot twist. The other day, Dad and I ended up in a business meeting together. (Fun fact: I work for his company. He’s basically my boss’s boss’s boss. So we rarely cross paths in official settings. This was a rare and terrifying exception.)

When it was my turn to speak in Japanese, I opened my mouth, got halfway through my sentence, and boom I messed up. Of course, Dad burst out laughing. And just like that, I was 16 again, wanting the ground to swallow me whole.

But here’s the funny bit: I realised something. Every single word he’s ever laughed at me for over the years? I never forgot them. Not once. Those words have been seared into my brain like embarrassing tattoos. I learned them quickly and permanently, simply because he made such a scene about them.

So now I’ve decided, stuff it. I’ll speak Japanese wrong, right, upside down if I have to. If I get laughed at, at least I know I’ll remember the correction forever.

And before you feel too sorry for me, let me add this: I get my revenge. Whenever Dad mispronounces an English word, I swoop in, correct him, and laugh just as loudly. We’re totally even.

The lesson?

If you’re out there learning something new whether it’s Japanese, French, or how to pronounce “quinoa” without sounding pretentious and someone laughs at your mistakes, don’t sulk. Thank them. Because you will never make that mistake again. You’ll always remember. And trust me, you’ll get the last laugh eventually.

So go on mess up gloriously. Say it wrong, say it badly, say it boldly. And if anyone laughs? Good. They’ve just helped you learn.

loads of luv

Hannah