My wife is Slovak. My son is basically a walking UN translator. I’m the one who can say pivo and ďakujem like a tourist. However, I occasionally blame Procrastination for delaying practice. And poor Sonia tried everything to change that. Bless her beautiful soul.
Ahojte, LinkedIn crew (that’s “hello” in Slovak—see? I’m basically fluent already. Or at least I know two words. Progress? 😂)
You know those fortnightly newsletters where I wax lyrical about Leadership Behaviours-growth mindset, embracing discomfort, lifelong learning, and how real leaders model curiosity like it’s their day job?
I love crafting them. I love your likes, comments, and shares agreeing with the sentiment. I love the illusion that I’m embodying every word.
But let’s drop the facade for a moment and get raw: I’m a walking, talking contradiction in one very personal area.
I’m married to an incredible Slovak woman who’s fluent in English (and obviously Slovak). Our son is a perfect 50/50 bilingual wizard. He flips between languages mid-sentence and corrects subtle grammar errors over breakfast. Family gatherings in Slovakia are lively. Additionally, everyone chats in melodic Slovak while I nod. I say ‘áno’ or ‘nie’ at the right moments. I hope the conversation stays simple. Procrastination can creep in, so I stay mindful.
The question I’ve been sidestepping for far too long (and the one tailor-made for this newsletter’s reflective tone): Why the hell am I not fluent in Slovak yet? Why haven’t I committed, put in the consistent effort, and joined the linguistic family party?
Here are my championship-level excuses—sorry, “thoughtful rationalisations.” Roast me in the comments if you must.
Excuse #1: Practical Sufficiency (The Comfortable Rut)
English runs the household show. My wife code-switches seamlessly. Our son toggles like it’s nothing. Everything flows—love, arguments, dad jokes (mostly in English). Why introduce friction by insisting on Slovak when the system is already purring? It’s like owning a sports car but choosing the minivan because “it’s reliable and has cup holders.” Sensible? Yes. Growth-minded? Laughable.
Excuse #2: The Adult Brain’s Fragile Ego
Children are linguistic black holes—they suck in languages effortlessly. My son mastered Slovak grammar before he mastered potty training. Me? One serious attempt and I slam into walls of consonant clusters that sound like a typewriter having a meltdown. Slovak demands about 1,100 hours for solid proficiency (Category III difficulty for English speakers). That’s hundreds of evenings I’d rather spend on easier dopamine hits, like endless scrolling or subtitles-on Slovak films (the hypocrisy burns).
Adults come armed with pride. Pride hates fumbling. Pride whispers, “If you sound like an idiot saying ‘štvrt’hodinovka,’ just… don’t.”
Excuse #3: The Spouse-as-Teacher Romance Killer
Turning intimate moments into language drills is a fast track to tension. “No, láska, it’s ‘ďuškovať,’ not whatever guttural noise just came out of your mouth—stop giggling!” We’ve wisely steered clear of making corrections feel like marital critique. Preserving harmony > perfect pronunciation. Smart survival tactic. Lousy growth strategy.
Excuse #4: The Heart-Tugging Guilt Factor
I feel it keenly. In Slovakia, I catch maybe 30% of the stories, humour, and warmth. My Mother-in-law is endlessly kind, but there’s always that pause when something poignant is said in Slovak and all eyes turn to me. I raise my glass, say “Na zdravie!” and hope it covers the emotional depth. One day my son will ask why I never fully learned Babička’s language. I’ll mumble something about “Dad’s brain being stuck in English mode.” Ouch.
Excuse #5: The “Should” Trap (Without the Fire)
The motivation feels mostly external: family heritage, guilt, “I ought to.” Not that deep, burning intrinsic pull like wanting to devour Slovak literature or banter fluently with my wife during heated debates. Without genuine excitement, it’s perpetually deferred.
And then there’s Sonia. Ah, Sonia—a beautiful soul, patient as a saint, kind-hearted beyond measure. She tried desperately to teach me Slovak. Lessons were gentle, encouraging, full of smiles and understanding. She explained cases, declensions, those diabolical sounds with endless patience. She believed in me. She really did.
But even her angelic faith was challenged to the point of failure. My adult stubbornness, my endless excuses, my brain’s refusal to retain anything beyond beer orders… it wore her down. Eventually, the lessons faded—not from lack of her effort, but from my chronic inconsistency. I still think of her fondly as the one who almost cracked the code. Almost. Sorry, Sonia. You deserved a better student.
So here I am: fully aware of the hypocrisy, laughing (nervously) at it, but not yet fully committed. Knowing the problem is easy. Publicly confessing it is… something. Actually changing? Still feels optional. For now.
But let’s entertain the fantasy: If Future Me decided to stop hiding behind excuses and actually bridge this gap, here’s what a gentle, realistic (non-heroic, no-pressure) proposal might look like. No grand vows. Just possibilities.
Proposal for a Slightly Less Avoidant Version of Myself:
1. Find a Selfish, Tiny “Why” — Something fun and personal, like “I want to catch my wife’s eye-roll sarcasm in real time” or “I want to order zmrzlina for my son without pointing like a caveman.” Make it feel good, not obligatory.
2. Micro-Habits, Baby Steps — 10–15 minutes daily. Flashcards for vocab and those nightmare cases (Anki or similar), passive listening to Slovak podcasts or music during walks/commutes, maybe a beginner YouTube series for basics.
3. Pronunciation Rescue Mission — Slovak sounds are brutal (ř like a buzzing chainsaw, ľ/ä/ô quirks, clusters galore). I’d drill with audio natives on Forvo or YouTube phonetics, record myself, cringe, repeat until less painful.
4. Gentle Family Experiments — “Slovak Snack Time”: 10 minutes at dinner a couple times a week, Slovak only. No harsh corrections unless begged for. Sticky notes on household items (fridge = fridge, because survival basics first). Keep it light and playful.
5. Neutral Third-Party Help — Book occasional online sessions with a tutor (italki/Preply style) for unbiased feedback. My wife stays my partner, not my frustrated coach.
6. Accountability via Newsletter Shame — I’ll check in here: small wins, spectacular fails, progress (or lack thereof). If I mangle “Milujem ťa” into walrus-speak, you’ll know. Transparency, or at least comedy.
Growth mindset isn’t instant enlightenment—it’s spotting your blind spots, chuckling at the absurdity, and gently deciding if the upside justifies the awkwardness. I’m still deciding. But putting this out there feels like a small push forward.
If you’ve got your own “preached it but haven’t lived it” gap (guitar, running, that side project), share below. Solidarity over perfection.
And if I ever reach conversational Slovak, my opening line to my wife: “Prepáč, že to trvalo tak dlho… ale vďaka Sonii za pokus.” (Sorry it took forever… but thanks to Sonia for trying.)
Until the next fortnight (or until procrastination wins again),Until next time bye-for-now, Phil.