I started teaching in 2010. After a whirlwind one-year Master’s program that claimed to prepare you for what I believe to be is one of the most important professions in the world, I walked out with three certifications, Spanish K-12, English K-12, and ESOL, and a whole lot of anxiety about what teaching on my own would look and sound like.

My first job was teaching Spanish at a middle school in Annapolis, Maryland. You might hear “Annapolis” and picture yachts and preppy polos, and yes, there’s some of that, but this school was (thankfully) very diverse. What most surprised me was the significant population of Latinos who already knew a good amount of Spanish since it was their home language (like me). I was excited (and nervous) to get started.

Feeling Fluent, But Not Always Confident

Although I’d spoken Spanish all my life, I hadn’t received formal instruction in the language until high school. After college, I worked hard to refine my Spanish across all domains: reading, writing, grammar—especially grammar, since so much of middle and high school Spanish programs focus heavily on rules. When I stepped into that classroom, I felt prepared…mostly.

Middle schoolers are a one of kind age group. They’re curious like elementary school kids, but also sharp and brutally honest like high schoolers. I quickly learned that the best teachers are confident and clear communicators. And while I knew a lot, I still carried insecurity partly as a new teacher but especially when it came to speaking Spanish all day in a formal setting. I was used to speaking Spanish at home, mostly in Spanglish, and suddenly I was expected to model “standard” Spanish full-time.

So, like many new teachers, I clung to what I did know.

When Insecurity Sounds Like “Así No Se Dice”

To prove my own fluency (mostly to myself), I doubled down on grammar and corrections. I wanted students—and especially my heritage Spanish speakers—to know I had command of the language.

I remember announcing homework one day and accidentally rolled the R in tarea, saying tarrea. A student corrected me right away (and she was right), and I felt that familiar flush of embarrassment. So next class, I made sure to be extra picky with requiring accent marks and tildes. Subtle payback. Not proud of it, but that’s the truth.

It wasn’t about her though. It was about me trying to prove something—to her, to the class, and probably to myself. And I’m not alone in that. I’ve seen other teachers, especially those who never received solid training on heritage language learners, fall into the same trap: pointing out what students don’t know instead of honoring what they do. (The irony of all ironies was that I once was this heritage speaker student type and I hated that style of teaching. And yet, I was falling into the same patterns.)

And that’s where I got it wrong.

Learning to Teach With Students, Not At Them

Over time, as I learned more about Spanish language instruction, linguistic diversity, and heritage speakers (which are wildly underrepresented in U.S. teacher training), I realized just how damaging this “correction-first” approach can be.

Instead of validating students’ home languages, I had been (unintentionally) reinforcing the idea that they weren’t “good enough” speakers—despite the fact that many students had more proficiency in speaking Spanish and certainly more confidence in their ability than I did at the time as their everyday language.

I knew I had to do better. I worked to learn strategies to get me out of my comfort zone. I asked them to teach me how to say this in their version of Spanish. I asked them to make connections to the formal structures we were discussing in class and how they spoke at home. I asked them to help me expand my awareness of different ways of speaking Spanish versus the “right” way.

Once I started approaching language with curiosity instead of control, everything shifted, for me and for my students. They became my teachers, sharing beautiful, regional words and conjugations unfamiliar to me. Our classroom became a space of shared learning, not a place where correctness was the currency of worth.

Letting Go of “The Right Way”

Language policing isn’t just a classroom problem—it’s everywhere. Scroll through any comment section on TikTok or YouTube, and you’ll see people from different countries and/or regions (or even the same one!) arguing about the “right” way to say something.

As far as I’m concerned, most of that comes from insecurity. Language is constantly evolving, shaped by context, culture, and intention. The “right” way depends on who you’re talking to, where you are, and what you’re trying to say.

If we cling too tightly to rigid rules, we miss out on the beauty of linguistic diversity. But when we listen with curiosity, we grow our language toolkit, and our capacity for connection.

Bottom Line:
If you’re a teacher, a language learner, or someone navigating multiple languages in your daily life, trust that growth comes from openness, not perfection. Confidence is built through practice, curiosity, and compassion. And that applies to all languages.

Real Live Documentation of My Early Teaching Days 🙃

💛🤟Xiomara Rivera Pagán, Ph.D.