The Beginning of The Language Grill:
I was conceived while my parents were travelling the world, and perhaps that early momentum shaped everything that followed. Movement became the rhythm of my life, and curiosity became its constant companion. My grandmother used to say my middle name was “Why,” because I asked questions no one could answer, and when the answers ran out, I went searching for them myself.
Teaching began long before I held a certificate. I provided the “how.” I taught people to play tennis, showed people how to sailboard, how to water‑ski, how to follow instructions that confused them. My father had thought I would become a sports teacher, simply because people learned so well when I explained things. The pattern was always the same: I mediated meaning instinctively, even when the topic was not mine. I translated intention, not just information.
Language fascinated me in the same way movement did. I wanted to know what the birds were saying when they chirped, what the dogs were saying when they howled. I wanted to understand how people communicated across cultures. I could read technical jargon and interpret what someone was asking for, then give it shape. This eventually led me into graphic design, which became another form of translation: understanding meaning and giving it a visual expression.
One moment remains vivid. A cousin joined me for skydiving and reached the final briefing with a look that hovered between determination and rising panic. The instructor’s words overwhelmed her, and I could see the meaning slipping away. I repeated his explanation in a way she could understand, and the fear eased. The instructor reprimanded me for “teaching without qualification,” yet all I had done was translate his meaning. That moment revealed something essential: my role has always been to bridge the space between what is said and what is understood.
My path into language teaching was a natural extension of this. I studied Language and Literature to understand communication more deeply. I actually failed English in high school, something which forced me to confront a question that shaped my entire methodology: how can a native speaker fail their own language? The answer was simple. I did not think in the rules they assessed by. That realisation opened the door to questioning the structures, assumptions, and cultural habits embedded in English itself — the very things I would later “grill” in my teaching.
Although I had resisted the idea of becoming a “traditional teacher,” I soon realised that teaching is not just my profession. It is the way I clarify, interpret, guide, and facilitate understanding. It is the way I see the world.
This is why The Language Grill exists.
This is why I teach.
Till next time,
Leonie