Ashraful Chowdhury

Me and the art of language have never had a synchronized relationship. Being a one-year-old coming to this country I didn’t think of how difficult language would be or how important it was well…  At that age I don’t think I could have comprehended anything at that age anyway. My  verbal acrobatic skills were pretty good. I was simultaneously juggling learning Sylheti and English. My early years were like a love-hate relationship, learning Syhleti and Bangla were normal because that’s what everybody spoke to me in. It was a consistent routine for me at the age of five when I’m at the house I’m speaking Bangla while I’m at school for those 8 hours of torture I’m speaking English. I have come to understand later in my life that speaking is one thing trying to perfect the other aspects when you yourself are imperfect. You just feel like you’re gasping for air all the time trying to figure out How do I “perfect” this Language. 

I still remember vividly when I was in elementary school. The entire system felt overwhelming—new place, new people, new expectations. School was my first real introduction to structured learning, and it felt like a heavy weight on my shoulders. The only moment of relief came during those precious 30 minutes of recess, where I could finally feel like a kid again, free from the pressures of language assessments and expectations. To measure our comprehension, speech, and writing, teachers used a letter-based reading system—the closer you got to Z, the better you were. Weekly spelling exams and occasional presentations loomed over me like dark clouds. These moments gave me nightmares. I was never exceptional at reading, just barely keeping up with the middle of the pack, and at that time, that was enough for me. Feeling different at six or seven years old was unsettling, and I dreaded standing out for the wrong reasons. The weight of eyes staring at me, the silent judgment—it made me feel like I didn’t belong. Spelling, reading, and anything that required me to raise my hand and share my thoughts I would try my best to avoid, I despised it all. Every missed word felt like proof that I was falling behind. That fear followed me everywhere in class, making me hesitate to even do regular interactions at times.

The real issue, spelling, I didn’t want to read because I couldn’t sound out the words and even when I wanted to practice I just couldn’t grasp it. Teachers would always say “ practice your flashcards”  or “sound it out”, I would always go to my older sister, everyone else was heavily good at math  because that’s what they preached heavily back in Bangladesh. She was the only hope for me at that time but it didn’t work Until I was actually put in an ESL class. The teacher there was so caring and she left such a big impact on me that I actually ended up visiting the school to see her but found out that she no longer works anymore. She would help us syllable for syllable and stop whenever we made a mistake and read the word together. That was like my first sense of a community in school. 

I felt for the first time that I was being seen—not as the child who was having trouble keeping up, but as someone who was trying and simply needed patience. My ESL class turned into a haven where I felt comfortable and understood, where making mistakes was not met with sighs or red ink. Outside of school, I began to read more to have a better understanding of the words and how to spell them. Little by little, things changed. My words became clearer, my sentences stronger. By the time I reached middle school, I wasn’t just surviving in English—I was learning to use it in a way that felt like my own.

Looking back, I realize that learning English was never just about grammar or spelling. It was about finding my voice, about feeling like I belonged in a space that once felt foreign. The support I received in that ESL class shaped not only my ability to use language but also my belief in myself.  I hope that this message or the story resonates closely to those who aren’t really familiar with the new environments, always seize the opportunity to build bridges and develop that camaraderie  in the development of language,  that’s what my ESL teacher meant to me I’m so worried for that connection I would have never depicted language as a art.