# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
Little me, confused about languages, but about to become even more confused. 

# data[].attributes.body
Whenever I’m asked what my native language is, I struggle to give a straight answer. As a Chilean who was raised abroad, I never really (to this day) felt identified with my ‘home’ culture. The reason being that I can’t truly choose one place to call my home.

# data[].attributes.body
I was five years old when my family told me we’d be moving to the United States. As a diplomat’s child, by the age of five I had already lived in three countries (Switzerland, Brazil and Chile.) Although living abroad was already part of my DNA, my language acquisition was on a totally different page. I had learned how to speak Spanish by being exposed to the language, but I was not literate in Spanish. My reading and writing definitely took a backseat in language acquisition at this stage. I could communicate in Spanish like any other Chilean five-year-old, but that all would drastically change when we moved.

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
My first American friend! We literally could not communicate orally with each other, but we somehow became best friends. 

# data[].attributes.body
I remember attending my first day of Kindergarten in a public school in Maryland and feeling overwhelmed by my inability to communicate with my peers and teachers. I honestly did not know a single word in English. My only exposure to English at this age came from music and TV. I quickly began to understand the struggles of being an immigrant. I specifically remember trying to ask my teacher if I could go to the bathroom, and failing to do so. I got by with hand gestures, signs, and a small electronic translator my mom lent me (mostly for translating single words, obviously not as useful as the electronic translators we have now, but definitely a handy tool to have.) Those first couple of weeks at school were torture. I was lucky that my public school had kids from all over the world, and I was quickly able to befriend many Latinos that were in my school. I was immediately placed in an ESOL class to help me learn English. My class was very small, probably around 6 students in total. I remember my teacher was the sweetest old woman I’d ever met. I still don’t know how this woman managed to get me to not only communicate in English, but also start to read and write. That ESOL experience for me is a complete blur. What I do remember is that I had that class every day for a year, until I was exited from the ESOL program. My teacher felt I was ready to no longer be in that class because my spoken English, especially my social English, had developed quicker than her average student. In an ideal world, this would have been the end of my English journey, right? I could finally communicate! I was able to hang out with classmates, talk to my teachers, make English-speaking friends, and get by academically. That was it, right? Things in elementary school went smoothly. My teachers were impressed by my ability to now communicate and complete my work. My English continued to develop mainly by being fully immersed in an English-speaking world. I only spoke Spanish with my parents at home, my brother and I had started speaking English with each other because it just felt more comfortable. Writing and reading were always challenging for me, and they continued to be all throughout my language acquisition journey. I got by in elementary school with my English that sounded native and fluent like my peers, but when it came to reading and writing, the differences were noteworthy. It was still “good enough” to succeed academically in elementary school with good grades. Everything changed after those five years of living in Maryland when we had to move back to Chile.

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
One of my English assignments back in the US (5th grade.) When I found this, I felt nostalgic and sad when I read "needs to stay in America forever." 

# data[].attributes.body
My transition back to Chile, and back to Spanish, was actually the hardest transition I’ve had to endure in my 27 years of life. I never once expected this to be the case. How could going back to the country I was born in, my supposed “home,” be so challenging? I guess I hadn’t taken into account the fact that returning to my hometown after expanding my world culturally could have repercussions on me as a person and as a learner.

# data[].attributes.body
I remember my first ever Spanish test in a private Chilean school. We had to read The Little Prince, now one of my favorite books, but at this time, my worst enemy. I picked up the 110 page book in Spanish and attempted to start reading it to my mom out loud. I read about 5 words in a minute, and understood around half of them. I remember looking up at my mom and seeing a distraught expression on her face. She looked deeply worried and almost in disbelief. She truly had not realized how bad my Spanish had gotten in the past couple of years. She decided it would be best if she read the book aloud to me while I followed along and listened. We thought this strategy would work, until I took that excruciatingly painful test. When I got my test back, I realized I had failed my first ever test. I hadn’t even failed something back in the US, where English was clearly not my strong suit. My mom and I realized we would have to change some things in order for me to start building my Spanish skills. I started having private lessons to build up my Spanish to hopefully reach grade level. I recall even struggling in my English classes in school. I was not used to being asked questions like, “What is the past participle of the verb ‘run’?” or “What is the present continuous tense?” I had never been taught grammar rules explicitly before, not even in my ESOL class. My English teacher in Chile seemed confused as to how my English sounded so good, but I had no ‘theory’ to back it up. This teacher constantly made me participate in class, something I avoided most of my elementary and middle school experience due to fear of getting teased. Whenever I pronounced a word with my American accent, my classmates who supposedly were trying to acquire a British accent would mock me. This made me think, imagine if they laugh at me while I speak English, imagine what they’ll think of my Spanish? I must acknowledge that in my entire time living in the US, not once did someone mock me for my accent or my inability to express a coherent message. In Chile, things had been surprisingly very different. Luckily, my Chilean accent never left me, but I must say confidently, Chilean slang and jargon is some of the hardest within all of Latin America. We barely enunciate our words, we don’t pronounce the letter ‘d’ when it’s in the middle of a word, and the speed in which we speak is also unhuman. Ask any non-Chilean- Spanish speaker and they will agree. This would be the start of one of the most challenging stages of my life, not just because of language, but because of culture. I had never before realized just how closely knit language and culture were. I unfortunately started to notice that I did not fit in like a normal “Chilean” in my school, and in my “home.” In all honesty, Chile did not feel like a home at all. I began to have a lot of identity issues with regards to my culture. I didn’t feel quite Chilean, but I knew I also wasn’t American. What was I then? I would later learn that I was a third culture kid.

# data[].attributes.body
At this point my bilingualism had reached a bit of a plateau. My Spanish had improved for sure, but my English stayed pretty much the same during my stay in Chile. My English class was not challenging me in the way I needed it too, and my Spanish class was way too challenging. Academically, I was not doing great. English was my only saving grace. My English at this point was stronger than my Spanish, especially in terms of my speaking, reading and writing. Everything was once again going to take a dramatic turn when my dad was told that we’d be moving to Havana, Cuba.

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
My first international school, and probably my favorite school I've ever attended. 

# data[].attributes.body
Our move to Havana was actually the easiest out of all of them for me. What’s ironic is that I was convinced this would be the hardest move, so I made sure to lower my expectations completely before arriving. I remember going to visit the International School of Havana with my brother and my dad, the school we were potentially going to be attending. My mom really wanted us to continue growing our English, so she was adamant that we went to an English-speaking school. After visiting the school, I was excited. I had never been to an international school before, so as soon as I got there and saw a big sign with the word ‘welcome!’ in around ten different languages, I couldn’t help but feel eager to study there. I feel fortunate to have studied in this school, not just because of the fact that I could continue developing my English skills, but because I was exposed to a huge array of cultures and made some of the best friends I could ever ask for. My transition to this school, like I mentioned, was the easiest. Every teacher and classmate welcomed me with open arms, and I finally felt like I fit in. I didn’t feel like an ‘immigrant’ like I did in the US, but I also didn’t feel like an ‘alien’ like I did in my home country. I started mid way through 8th grade and was able to get by academically due to the fact that my classes were all finally in English. I finally felt comfortable in my classes and felt like I could succeed in them as well. Things took another wild turn when my high school experience in Havana started.

# data[].attributes.body
In high school, I was set to begin with the IB (International Baccalaureate) program. I had been warned about this program from my older brother, who also has an interesting language acquisition journey, and had to be retained in grade 11 due to his lack of points to pass the IB program. I was really scared to start the IB, but thought that if I chose the right subjects I’d be fine. At this point, I really wanted to continue building my English and Spanish skills, so I took IB English Language and Literature higher level and Spanish Literature higher level. These were some of my most challenging classes, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was really learning and progressing so much. With these classes, I was able to see the large amount of gaps that I had, especially in my writing. My worst experience with my IB English class was when my teacher asked to see me after class to talk about an essay I had written. She told me that when she read my paper, she could tell that English was not my first language. This was the first time a teacher had ever said something like this to me. I had gotten by until now as being pretty much ‘native.’ This was a huge blow to my self-esteem, not because I didn’t want to accept that English was not my first language, but because I couldn’t believe I had gotten by until 11th grade without a single person pointing out that my writing was bad. I know my teacher’s intention was not to say my writing was “bad,” but that’s how I interpreted it. This only made me want to work harder. I remember staying for extra classes with her so that she could help me improve my writing. I had definitely defeated the infamous “plateau.” I’m pleased to say that I was able to successfully finish the IB program, not with the points I necessarily wanted, but I was proud either way that I was able to pass. Things were once more going to take a rough turn.

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
My friends and I on graduation day (2013, Havana.) 

# data[].attributes.body
Our five years in Cuba had come to an end, and it was now time to return to Chile. Leaving Havana was truly heartbreaking, but what worried me even more was my transition back to Chile. I was dreading going back out of fear of it being as bad as it was the last time. I had finished school with the idea that I would study dentistry at a private university in Chile. Although my dream was to study abroad, my dad told me he didn’t have the funds to support that. Once it was confirmed that we’d be moving back to Chile, I decided I’d try a similar strategy I had tried when moving to Cuba, “lower your expectations and you won’t be disappointed.” I at least now felt confident in my Spanish and English skills, but studying a university degree in Spanish was truly intimidating to me. This is one of the things that deterred me from actually studying dentistry. I couldn’t imagine having to take a biochemistry class in Spanish when IB chemistry was already my most challenging class in English (the language I had more skills in.) My plan B was always to study something related to languages. I didn’t know exactly what, but I felt that my language journey had been too significant to not take into account when choosing a course. I decided that studying English to Spanish Translation would make sense for me. There was one tiny university in Santiago that offered the course and I thought this would be the right fit for me. My experience with this degree really helped me solidify my Spanish and English skills. I was once again confronted with these ‘gaps’ in my learning, especially in Spanish. I had to pretty much teach myself Spanish grammar, and orthography to meet the standards of this degree. I don’t regret getting my translating degree because I truly believe that this course (finally) made me feel confident in both my English and Spanish. Something I had struggled with my entire life. I finally felt like both my English and Spanish were at the same ‘level.’ I no longer felt like a “fake bilingual.”

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
My class receiving our teaching degrees (2020, Santiago.) 

# data[].attributes.body
I never really saw myself teaching after getting my translating degree. I thought I would just work as a translator, but I realized the minute I finished my internship that this might not be the path for me. I felt like translating required infinite hours on my own by my computer. I needed something more social, and something that made me feel like I was making a difference and helping others. I unfortunately did not feel that when translating. My shift in direction to teaching really came from an unfortunate event in my life involving a lawsuit with my father. I never thought something so positive could come from such a dark period in my life. My mom was the one that told me to give teaching a try and paid for an entire course (CELTA) for me to try it out. After finishing the course, I realized that teaching was something I could really see myself doing. I quickly enrolled at a local university to get my official teaching degree. Being bilingual myself, and having an intense language acquisition journey, motivated me to want to help other kids that might be going through a similar experience I went through. I have found that having this experience under my belt really has helped me not only teach English learners, but also connect and empathize with my students. I wouldn’t want my experience to have gone any different. Even though there were numerous challenges, and moments that really discouraged me from furthering my language education, I feel like it has shaped me to be the person and teacher I am today. Being able to help a student the way my first ESOL teacher did is the dream I was chasing, and I feel I have proudly accomplished it.

# data[].attributes.body
If there's something I learned in this long journey that I'm still embarked in it's that all our students have different, complex, and fascinating stories related to their language acquisition. My journey has taught me to be caring and empathetic with those that are learning and adapting not only to a new language, but to new culture. As Crookall and Oxford once stated, "learning another language is ultimately learning to be another social person." It is important to always promote inclusivity in order to never silence or marginalize people that are going through this complicated process. As we all know by now, language acquisition entails a lot more than just learning grammar and vocabulary, it actually involves "an alteration in self-image, the adoption of new social and cultural behaviors and ways of being, and therefore has a significant impact on the social nature of the learner" (Posada-Ortiz, Garzón-Duarte). This is why as teachers our job is to ensure that our learners are in a safe environment where they can be themselves and make mistakes. I was fortunate enough to have people (many of those being teachers) that made my journey easier by just being patient and understanding that learning another language is difficult. No matter the language. As teachers, our empathy, understanding, and acknowledgement of each individual students' "story" is what can really make a difference for our learners to succeed.

# data[].attributes.body
- Advocacy in action in How educators can advocate for English language learners: All in!, National Education Association, 2015, pp. 11-14.

- Posada-Ortiz & Garzon-Durante. Autobiographies:
A tool to depict English language learning experiences, GIST Education and Learning Research Journal, 18, pp. 161-179.
- Dr. Kenji Hakuta (Colorín Colorado videos)