Hi, I’m Amy! I grew up in a trilingual home where my heritage played a leading role in my development. My dad is an immigrant from Stuttgart, Germany, and my mother was raised in a Mexican-Native American household in Bellflower, California. Before I was born, they made the decision to raise me in a trilingual household. My parents prioritized German and Spanish over English, since they wanted me to stay connected with my ancestral roots while still living in the U.S. So, when I was younger, I spoke in broken English. My parents’ friends fussed over this amazing trilingual-ish toddler, while I stood nodding and not understanding a single English word spoken to me.

In preschool, I blended in well because everyone was still learning how to speak in general. The preschool staff assumed I was a late learner, since I didn’t participate much in activities. Eventually, my language speaking abilities developed, not just from my parents speaking to me, but from exposure to American friends, German relatives, my Mexican grandparents, and LOTS of television. My parents encouraged language learning through television, and I imagined every other child in America watching Bluey, while I was learning Spanish through El Chavo del Ocho. I can still vividly remember the sound of Elmo counting to 3 in German: “Eins, zwei und drei! Genau!”

So much exposure to languages at home made my 5-year-old brain hurt until I reached the breaking point. The building frustration of hearing words I didn’t know in languages I didn’t understand grew like vegetation in a garden: rapidly and strongly.  When my dad sung to me in German, I would put my hands on the guitar strings and make him stop. I began to hate it when my mom and grandmother would speak in Spanish. I would say “¡No niña aquí!” and wouldn’t stop until they communicated with me in English.

As a 7-year-old, I was determined to speak only English. I still spent a lot of time with my Mexican family. My grandma was always around, talking in Spanish to me, and we went to Mexico at least twice that year. But with the COVID lockdowns, my grandma stopped visiting. That’s when I really felt the loss of my Mexican roots. 

I started German school around this time—and not by choice. My parents became more serious about my speaking more languages. I hated it. I was forced to do 30-minute Zoom lessons every week during COVID, which I felt didn’t improve my German. Once the online school year had ended, I was enrolled in virtual language learning summer camps. The summer camps were a drag and did absolutely nothing for my German skills. The sessions were way too easy, even for someone who spoke in broken German. “What is the name of the color of an apple in German? How would you say girl in German? Label the dog with the correct article auf Deutsch!

Eventually, I started German school after my days at school and on the weekends. While everyone else was outside or watching TV, I spent five hours after school and every day in a classroom that smelled like a hospital. 

I misbehaved a lot. I was mean to the teachers and ran out of the classrooms. We discovered that part of the reason I was disinterested was that I was actually more fluent than the class I was enrolled in.  Once I was placed correctly, I began to enjoy it. While there was a big age gap between my 6th grade peers and my 2nd grade self, I still made friends. Most of the sessions were still on Zoom from the comfort of my own non-hospital-smelling house, which I preferred. And instead of homework from a textbook, our only homework was to speak additional German to close friends and family while being aware of pronunciation. I would find myself in the car on the way back home from school every day with my dad speaking in German instead of watching YouTube on my phone. Talking with him really helped me learn about him, how he grew up, and his experiences as a young boy in Germany. It allowed me to get to know my dad in ways I never imagined I would have, and it gave me a glimpse into his childhood. Speaking, interacting, and learning German in this way sped up my entire learning process.

I started to pick up German fast, and I became fluent. More importantly,  I discovered how much fun languages can be. I walked around the streets of Ulm at the Münsterplatz, going to various shops with my cousins and ordering Spaghetti Eis (vanilla ice cream formed to resemble pasta noodles with strawberry jam on top to look similar to tomato sauce) in German. I translated for my mom while I watched the locals’ impressed faces at an American girl easily switching between German and English. It wasn’t just the reactions I enjoyed; it was applying my learning to my everyday life. 

Now that I’m older, I can appreciate the gift of speaking other languages. Learning other languages has helped me relate better to my parents and understand their heritage.The more I study new languages, the easier it becomes to learn more. Learning languages has given me confidence. I’m not scared to mess up articles, tenses, or conjugations in any language. Even though I’m relatively new to Spanish, I seek joy in communicating without fear. That’s the key to learning. There simply is no greater feeling than being able to speak to someone in their own language, even if it’s as simple as ordering food at a Mexican restaurant.