We cannot repeatedly treat the heritage language as the optional extra and then be shocked when our children eventually treat it that way too.
We recently had a whole-class parent meeting at our heritage language school and I left feeling buzzing and rather unsettled. Even more so because these are first graders and we are laying the foundation. So, what do we want to pass on?
Many topics came up: homework, motivation, children not wanting to come to class, children not wanting to engage. All valid and well-established topics of contention with families and children who attend heritage language schools all over the world. But standing in this room, listening to what the teachers were saying hit me differently. I was a parent - the mum of a seven-year-old girl who is moving from being a receptive bilingual to actively using her language more and more. We’ve been working on this transition together and it’s been a long road. The line between passive and active bilingualism is looking smaller by the day for us, but would the other parents be able to make similar claims two-three years from now?
And in this room I just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the small, everyday messages children receive about their languages. The kind of things most of us have heard or said ourselves at some point:
Homework again? Really?
We’re not spending the whole evening on this.
Let’s just get it over with.
Just write something, so we’re done.
And I sat there thinking - this is so much bigger than “just” homework. We hear the word homework, but we’re actually addressing a much bigger beast here. And, mind you, I’m not writing this from a pedestal. As a mum, I’ve had my own myriad of tired evenings, left-for-the-last-minute homework and those let-us-just-get-it-done moments. But as someone who works and interacts with multilingual families every day, I also know how much these small moments add up.
I’ll be talking about Bulgarian below because that’s our language, but swap in yours. The story is the same!
Children are learning a lot more than what we think we are giving them
Children are always learning something from us and it goes far beyond what we think we are passing on. As the saying goes - they do as we do, not as we say. And not just about the language because, beyond vocabulary and grammar, they are learning how much the language actually matters to us - what it means to us and, consequently, what it should mean to them. We tell them all these stories about it - it’s important; they need it to talk to Grandma and Grandpa; they need it to talk to their cousins; it’s the language of family and of visits back home; it’s the language we speak at home, so they also need to. But how do we consistently show them that it matters, on a daily basis? How much intention do we actually put into it?
I have worked with multilingual families and organisations for many years and the question I hear most often comes in many versions:
Why won’t my child speak my language?
Why do they answer me in [another language]?
We were doing so well. I don’t know what happened!
Why don’t they want to go to heritage language school anymore?
There are many reasons a child might pull away from a language. But that moment rarely appears out of nowhere. Sustaining a language over time is shaped by thousands of small moments, long before the refusal comes.
What children are really watching
From very early on, children collect direct and indirect messages about their languages and start attaching meaning to them based on what they see. It is not necessarily the actual meaning, but the meaning as they see and experience it. We can tell them:
This language is important.
It connects you to your family.
You’ll be grateful one day.
It really is a great thing. You wait and see!
But they are also inadvertently watching everything around those words. What language do we cuddle in? Do we use it outside the home or only behind closed doors? Do we switch away from it the moment things get complicated or when someone else walks in? Do we engage with what they bring home from heritage language school? Do we treat their books and homework as something worth making time for? How often do we miss class because something else came up? What is this “something else” precisely and how do we decide what is more important? What gets protected in the family calendar and what is always the first thing to go? And many other similar questions.
None of these moments, on its own, tells a child “this language doesn’t matter”. And I do understand quite well that life doesn’t stop because we are trying to maintain a home language. We are busy, tired, sick sometimes. Sometimes homework doesn’t happen because the week was excruciating and we are lucky to make it to class at all; sometimes we miss a lesson for a birthday party; sometimes we switch languages because the situation genuinely calls for it or because we are going with the flow for some other reason. That is real life and nobody should feel guilty about it. That is the nature of juggling multiple languages and living in them - often messy and not always straightforward.
But children don’t experience isolated moments. They build patterns, they notice things and from there, they draw conclusions. Things like
This is important. or This is optional.
This is something we make time for. or This is something everybody complains about.
This belongs everywhere. or This only belongs at home.
This is something my family is proud of. or This is the annoying extra thing we have to get through on Sunday.
What messages are we sending?
Heritage language school is working against the clock
Heritage language schools get a few hours a week, while most of a child’s week happens in the school language. It reminds me of that famous line about only having eighteen summers with our children. A different context, but it’s somehow same feeling with heritage language school - the time is limited and it won’t come back. And it does feel finite, because it really is.
In those few hours, teachers are expected to teach reading and writing, build vocabulary and grammar, introduce literature, culture, history and geography, and help create a peer community around the language. They open a window into forms of the language children rarely hear in everyday family conversation. They teach lessons through a level of language that is often very difficult for the children to understand - the words, the constructions, the idioms, proverbs and sayings. And all of it competes with mainstream school, friends, media, sport and almost everything else.
That is a huge ask and we need to take responsibility for what we bring to the table and how we provide support because this was never meant to be a one-way street. So, when parents say We send them there. Isn’t that enough?, my honest answer is -absolutely not! Heritage language school is not a repair shop. It cannot take a language that has very little space anywhere else in a child’s life and carry the whole language on its own. It cannot magically manufacture more room for it. What it does is provide support and a partner for language sustenance.
And this is where homework becomes interesting. Not because every worksheet is sacred, but because it teaches a lot more than what is on it.
Homework is never just homework
Sitting down to read or write with your own child at home is a very different dynamic from what they experience at school. I always remind parents I work with that they are not teachers and they should not look to emulate what happens at school. The reality is that sometimes it works beautifully and sometimes it absolutely doesn’t, which can be really frustrating and demotivating. A task that takes ten minutes in class can turn into forty minutes of negotiation at home and, honestly, heritage language should not become yet another area where parents feel they are failing. Just the opposite - it should feel like home, like one of those places where you feel truly connected with your child!
But there is a real difference between:
This is getting miserable. Let’s stop and come back to it later.
and
Whatever. Just write something and let’s get it over with, so you don’t go to class without homework.
Because homework does a lot more than provide practice for spelling or reading. It communicates value.
Homework communicates value.
Sitting beside a child for ten minutes says: this deserves some of our time, some of my time. Opening the book says: I’m interested in what you’re learning. Trying to understand the task, even when you struggle with it yourself, says: this matters enough for me to engage with it too.
And we absolutely underestimate how much children acquire from that.
Why language status makes this even more important
Another thing to also keep in mind here is that children are not learning their languages in a neutral world. They pick up very early which languages carry prestige, which are linked to opportunity, which are expected at school, which are admired, which are barely noticed and which are frowned upon.
For many migrant and minoritised languages, the wider world is already sending strong messages about relative value. And what happens at home can either reinforce it or challenge it. Children tend to hide what they think might embarrass adults and we need to show them their language is definitely something to be proud of.
The bitter truth in our environment is that when English, Dutch, Spanish, Italian or French, for example, surrounds a child, nobody needs to explain why it’s useful. The child lives it through all the messaging they receive from the environment. A heritage language like Bulgarian though often occupies a much smaller space: home, grandparents, a weekend school, a summer trip, perhaps some events. That makes every message around it carry even more weight.
Do we use it in public? Do we engage with its books, films, music and stories? How do we do that? Do we treat literacy in it as worth developing? Do we protect the few places where our children actually get to use it?
Or do we keep communicating, without ever saying the words: this one matters less?
Do we keep communicating: This one matters less.
Children will make an interpretation whether they mean to or not; it’s only natural. That is how humans make sense of patterns and learn. And if one language is always protected while the other is endlessly negotiable and hardly made time and space for, that becomes information. Very clear information.
The message underneath
This is the hard part and I say it with a lot of compassion, because I know how much parents, including myself, are juggling. But I think it is true.
We cannot repeatedly treat the heritage language as the optional extra and then be shocked when our children treat it that way too.
We cannot say I want my child to speak Bulgarian. while repeatedly showing them that that language is the thing we do if there’s time or if there isn’t anything else more important happening. And the way we talk about heritage language school, its homework and its requirements is a big part of that picture. It’s a paradox because we chose to send them there, but then we let go of all responsibility. Or is sending them there meant to just checkmark a box? Children hear the eye-rolls. They hear the “just get it over with”. What do you think they learn from it?
So what can we do instead?
Contrary to popular belief, passing on a language doesn’t “just” happen somehow on its own in the background while we are busy with other things. It can’t be winged. There are no shortcuts. What makes the difference is consistency - showing up for it again and again, especially when it’s inconvenient. That doesn’t mean doing everything. It means being intentional about a few things.
Protect a few non-negotiables - Choose what stays, even in busy weeks. That might be going to class and fifteen minutes of homework.
Show interest, even when you can’t help - Ask what they did in class. Look at the book together and let them teach you something.
Pause instead of dismissing - When homework turns into a battle, Let’s come back to it later. keeps the value intact. Whatever, just write something. doesn’t.
Watch how you talk about the language - Complaints about class, homework or “that weekend school” are heard, even when they’re said in passing. (Remember, they hear even the eye-rolls!)
Speak respectfully about the teachers - They are doing a huge amount with very little time and busy schedules. Children notice whether we treat them as partners.
Give the language a life beyond class - Books, music, films, video calls with family and using it in public without lowering your voice.
Passing on a language doesn’t “just” happen somehow on its own,
in the background, while we are busy with other things.
It can’t be winged. There are no shortcuts.
You know what? They were listening all along.
I always like to end on a positive note and I will, but first the uncomfortable truth - when, years from now, our children stop answering us in Bulgarian, it really shouldn’t come as a surprise. It sounds harsh because it is. They were listening all along - not only to what we said about the language, but to how we treated it.
The good news is that the same is true the other way round. Every small, consistent sign that this language is worth our time and effort is a message too. And children hear those just as clearly.
