A Counsellor’s Voice
As a counsellor working daily with Polish children and youth in the UK, I often step into a space where two worlds intertwine. I meet young people born here or those who arrived as toddlers. I listen to their stories, fears, dreams, and questions that frequently remain unanswered. With many of them, I work on a foundation that seems simple on the surface yet is often remarkably fragile: a sense of identity.
Lately, within our school community, and the wider Polish community in the UK, a topic has resurfaced that deeply moves me, both as a specialist and as an observer. More often, Polish parents speak to their children at home in English. The motivations vary: a desire to give the child a head start at school, fear of an accent, or… an attempt to learn English alongside the child, as the adults themselves try to navigate a new linguistic reality.
From the perspective of the counselling room, however, I see the flip side of this coin. A side that is rarely discussed at the family dinner table.
‘If my Polish mother speaks to me in English, who am I?’
For a developing child, language is not merely a tool for communication. It is home, the smell of Sunday dinner, the intonation of a mother’s voice, safety, and roots. When a Polish parent consistently addresses their child in English from the very beginning, they unconsciously send a deep and confusing message: ‘My native language isn’t good enough for you’ or ‘My Polishness is something better hidden.’
Children absorb these nuances with their entire being. In my office, I hear heartbreaking questions:
‘Whom do I actually belong to?’
‘Am I Polish if we speak English at home, yet I still feel like an outsider at my British school?’
‘Why does my mother pretend to be someone she isn’t?’
This breeds a profound crisis of belonging. A young person begins to feel suspended in a vacuum. In British society, they may be perceived through the lens of otherness, while at home, deprived of natural, living contact with a heritage that could be their greatest strength and support, they drift. Polish Saturday Schools often become the only place where this connection can be rebuilt, but the effort is infinitely harder when the domestic foundation has been undermined.
Without Judgment, with Deep Care
I write this not to judge anyone. As a counsellor, I deeply understand the pressures of migration. I know how hard it is to find your footing in a foreign country, how intensely you wish for a better, easier start for your children, free from the barriers we ourselves faced. I understand parents who want to practice English or feel that English sounds ‘safer’ in the British public space.
Yet, I want to invite you to reflect. The Polish language in your mouth is the greatest gift you can give your children. It is the gift of grounding. A child who knows their native language and is proud of it develops a stable identity. They learn subsequent languages much more easily when they have a firm foundation in their cultural base.
Before you reply to your child in English the next time, consider what lies behind that reflex. Try to return to Polish, your children need your true voices, in your true language.
Let us give them the certainty of knowing who they are and where they come from. Because roots are not a burden… they are wings.
Beata 🤗