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An bealach a múintear é.

Briana Ní Loingsigh — Sat, 29 Aug 2026 15:55:34 GMT

It’s the way it’s taught.

Wed, 26 Aug 2026 14:01:54 GMT

If you ask people in Ireland why they aren’t able to speak Gaeilge - Irish as adults, you’ll often hear some form of ‘It’s just the way it’s taught.’

And maybe it is.

I can’t speak to what it’s like to learn Irish through the school system in Ireland as a child. I learned the bulk of my Irish from my seomra suí - living room in America as an adult.

Nor can I speak to the cultural weight and baggage felt by so many when the topic of the language is broached.

But I can speak to my own experience in school and the self limiting beliefs that it instilled in me.

From an early age, I knew I was different.

When other kids played for fun, my games and toys were often given to me at the direction of an occupational therapist.

When I started school, I would begin the day in the seomra ranga - classroom with my peers only to be taken out to a different, smaller class by an adult standing in the doorway at some point during the day.

I was told I learned differently than everyone else. That I just needed more help.

And I probably did. And those smaller classes and additional support probably did allow me to learn and succeed in ways I may not have been able to otherwise.

But that tacaíocht - support came at a cost.

I never had the words to explain to my peers where I was going.

When it was decided that I would repeat the second grade to give me a chance to be at the same level as my peers, I cried. I felt like I had failed as a seven year old at a point in the school system where failing grades didn’t even exist yet.

I felt different.

I felt worse.

I felt like I was somehow inherently and unequivocally wrong.

I know that all of these actions were done with my best interest in mind, and I’m sure that some people received the same support without feeling the way I did.

But by the time I moved into ‘mainstream’ (i.e. same as everyone else) classes at age twelve, I didn’t feel like I had overcome dúshláin - challenges to reach that point. I didn’t feel empowered or successful. I felt náirithe - ashamed it had taken me so long just to be like everyone else.

This feeling didn’t make me motivated to work harder.

So I didn’t.

It’s difficult to be motivated to do something you don’t believe you can do.

I didn’t study much. I didn’t try very hard.

And when I got low to average grades, no one questioned it. I was passing and that was enough

Instead of being encouraged to push myself, to try harder, to ‘live up to my potential’ I was commended for ‘doing my best.’

And so that became my best.

I started to believe that those grades really were all I was capable of.

I still found other areas I excelled in, areas where I was pushed to try harder and do more, like in art classes for example.

I don’t know where my life would have ended up without ealaín - art.

It’s because of art that I was able to get into one of the best schools in the country for my major, regardless of my GPA and SAT scores. And in that experience, I started to question what I had always believed I knew.

If my absolute best was average… how was I there?

I felt like I didn’t belong. I felt like I got accepted because of some mistake or out of charity.

Rinne mé cinneadh - I made a decision.

For the first time in my education, I wouldn’t just do what I needed in order to get by. I would try. Really try.

Not because I wanted good grades, but because I wanted to believe I belonged.

On Friday nights when other people in my dorm were getting ready to go out, I would be working on an assignment. I went from missing school at least once a week in high school to having perfect attendance in college.

I went from someone whose best work was average to graduating with honors at the top of my class.

But I still didn’t believe it.

I made excuses.

I’m not good, I’m just more responsible than a lot of other people. I only got a good grade because they know I worked hard, not because my work deserved it. Anyone could do what I did if they worked hard enough.

I was in a better place than where I started. I knew I could work hard enough to overcome my inherent nature.

But therein lies the problem.

I still believed I was inherently capable of less.

I could be better… but only if I worked harder than everyone else.

When I started learning Irish in 2020, I challenged myself again to set aside my preconceived beliefs that only a gifted few could become dátheangach - bilingual by choice and not by birth.

I went into Irish with the same nonstop intensity that led my to a successful college career.

And it worked.

Within a few short years, I was comfortable speaking the language.

But this was somehow different than my past experiences.

When it comes to language learning, you either understand or you don’t. There’s no prize for participation.

I could no longer diminish my accomplishments with excuses that ignored my own worth in the process.

As much as the school system I was raised in played a role in my thought process and self belief, these doubts and insecurity are likely just a feature of who I am as a person. A feature that was agitated by those well-intentioned experiences in school.

All of the individual múinteoirí - teachers who met me along my journey truly did all they could to make me believe I was capable, smart and equal to anyone else in my class.

It’s not their fault. Especially in America where they are doing an incredibly hard job often providing additional resources and experiences with their own time and money.

But despite the best efforts of our educators and scoileanna - schools, many of us reach adulthood with some level of baggage.

It is the way it’s taught.

I was, unintentionally, taught to feel different in a way that made me believe I was capable of less.

And many people in Ireland have shared that they were taught to see a beautiful, living language as a difficult ábhar scoile - school subject that they lost their one opportunity to learn the day school ended.

We’re not at fault for those beliefs, nor are those who instilled them in us.

On both sides there are people simply trying to do their best within a structure that doesn’t suit everyone’s needs.

No matter what our backgrounds, all of us deserve the chance to take a step back and look at what we were taught and challenge the beliefs that hold us back.

That doesn’t have to look like learning the Irish language as an adult.

But for me, it did.

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It’s the way it’s taught.

Briana Ní Loingsigh — Wed, 26 Aug 2026 13:55:04 GMT

Why Words Matter

Wed, 19 Aug 2026 13:59:08 GMT

I often share examples of how the Irish language is structured differently, often more poetically than English.

For example, when discussing emotions, we say that they are on us. We don’t say I am sad. We say tá brón orm - there is sadness on me.

We don’t say I miss you. We say braithim uaim thú - I feel you away from me.

And occasionally, I get comments from people saying that this doesn’t matter. It means the same thing, so it doesn’t make any difference. A few times I’ve even had people point out that you can phrase Irish in the same way you speak English. For example, tá mé brónach. And yes, in theory… that makes sense, but it sounds about as natural in Irish as saying ‘I have sadness on me’ does in English.

Every time I get comments like this, it makes me think about why.

First of all, are these people right? Does it all boil down to the same thing so it doesn’t really matter how it’s expressed?

I don’t think it’s that simple. It has been proven that the language we use matters. In fact, there was a UCLA study about how attaching words to emotions impacts the way we experience them. And the structure of saying ‘there is sadness on me’ is also similar to the therapeutic technique Cognitive Defusion in which patients are encouraged to reframe their emotions, thinking instead ‘I feel sadness’ rather than ‘I am sad.’

Of course, the reason the phrase ‘tá brón orm’ even exists in Irish is because sadness still does. We don’t cease being human simply because language offers us a different way to connect with our emotions. But I do believe its impact is real.

If you use Irish as your daily language, you may become so accustomed to saying a certain phrase or using a certain sentence structure that it does become reduced to communication. You’re saying it without contemplating the true depth of your words.

But I think it’s a lot like having a garden in front of your house.

Every day you walk past the beauty to the point where it becomes mundane, normal, expected. That doesn’t mean the flowers stop being beautiful. Nor does it mean you lose the ability to stop and appreciate their beauty.

In a world where the majority of society is focused on ‘the point’ the thought of stopping to see the beauty can feel like a threat. And maybe that’s why some people are quick to question ‘why speak Irish if everyone knows English?’

If you’re rushing through the world and more and more people decide to stop and stand still for a while, you might find yourself worrying you’ll reach your destination alone.

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If you enjoy my writing, I recommend the book Gaeilge i Mo Chroí - Irish In My Heart by Molly Nic Céile as well as her second book Gaeilge inár Saol - Irish in Our Lives which is coming out this September!

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Why Words Matter

Briana Ní Loingsigh — Wed, 19 Aug 2026 13:55:25 GMT

An Taobh Eile den Chomhartha

Sat, 15 Aug 2026 16:02:12 GMT

This post is written in the Irish language. To read it in English, click here!

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I am not a native Irish speaker. This is a way for me to share my Irish journey with you all and record my growth in the language. ✨

Is minic a bhíonn daoine ag gearán faoin méid Gaeilge in Éirinn na laethanta seo. Tuigim é sin. Ba í an Ghaeilge an t-aon teanga in Éirinn blianta ó shin, agus anois, is í Béarla an phríomhtheanga atá ann. É sin ráite, is iad na rudaí beaga a tharraing m’aird i gcónaí.

Is cuimhin liom nuair a bhí mé óg i Meiriceá agus chonaic mé Gaeilge ar mhaisiúcháin Lá Fhéile Pádraig. Bhí mé fiosrach faoi bhrí ‘céad míle fáilte’ agus ‘sláinte.’

D’fhoghlaim mé beagán faoin nGaeilge mar gheall ar an bhfiosracht a bhí agam.

Thosaigh mé ag cur níos mó suime sa Ghaeilge nuair a thug mé cuairt ar Bhaile Átha Cliath don chéad uair. Chonaic mé comharthaí dátheangacha chomh luath chomh luath agus a shroich mé an t-aerfort..

Thar na blianta, d’athraigh mo dhearcadh ar na comharthaí seo agus d’athraigh an méid Gaeilge a bhí mé in ann a thuiscint.

Ar an chéad turas sin, níor thuig mé Gaeilge ar bith, ach bhí mé gafa leis na comharthaí agus na fógraí Gaeilge a chonaic mé. Chuir siad in iúl dom nach raibh mé fós i mo thír féin agus chuir siad fonn orm le bheith in ann teanga eile a thuiscint.

Ar an dara turas, ba dhúshlán iad na fógraí agus na comharthaí seo mar ba é sin an chéad uair a bhí mé in Éirinn ó thosaigh mé ag foghlaim na Gaeilge. Bhí mé sásta le gach focal a bhí mé in ann a thuiscint agus d’fhoghlaim mé cúpla focal nua freisin.

Anois, tar éis dom roinnt mhaith ama a chaitheamh in Éirinn agus ag foghlaim na Gaeilge, tá dearcadh éagsúil agam orthu fós.

Éiríonn leath an comhartha dofheicthe do chuid mhór daoine in Éirinn. Úsáideann siad an taobh Béarla agus sin é.

Tuigim é sin. Gan smaoineamh, úsáidim féin an taobh Gaeilge amháin.

Tá tuairim ag go leor daoine go bhfuil leath an téacs ar chomharthaí in Éirinn gan chúis. Agus aontaím leo.

⬇️ Leagan fuaime den phostáil seo, á léamh agam - Audio version of this post, read by me ⬇️

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An Taobh Eile den Chomhartha

Briana Ní Loingsigh — Sat, 15 Aug 2026 15:56:24 GMT

The other half of the sign

Wed, 12 Aug 2026 14:03:52 GMT

People often complain about how little Gaeilge - Irish is present in modern day Ireland. And that is a fair complaint for a language that was once the only one spoken there. But to me, the little things have always mattered just as much as the big ones.

From the first time I saw generic ‘St. Patrick’s day’ Irish on party decorations in America, I wondered what Céad míle fáilte, sláinte, and Erin go bragh* meant.
*How it is often anglicized in the US.

That question opened me to a curiosity towards the language.

A curiosity that deepened when I first visited Dublin and was greeted by fully bilingual signs as soon as I stepped foot off the plane and into the airport.

Overtime, my relationship with the bilingualism of Ireland has evolved just as my own bilingualism has.

On that first visit, they were nothing but a cool detail. A sign I definitely wasn’t back in America anymore.

On my second visit, they were a dúshlán - challenge. I was arriving back in Ireland for the first time after I began to learn the language and each sign was a reminder of both what I had already learned and what I had yet to undercover about the language.

Now, many years and many visits later, my relationship with those comharthaí - signs has continued to change.

For many people visiting Ireland, or even many living there, the bilingualism of signs, fógraí - announcements and more might feel almost invisible. They begin to tune it out focussing only on the English.

For me, half of the information has also become invisible. On my most recent visit, I found myself only reading the Gaeilge - Irish lines of text on signs, tuning out the announcements after the Gaeilge as well.

For many, half of the text on a sign in Ireland might be useless.

And I couldn’t agree more.

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The other half of the sign

Briana Ní Loingsigh — Wed, 12 Aug 2026 13:55:29 GMT

An Tairiseach

Sat, 01 Aug 2026 16:01:09 GMT

This post is written in the Irish language. To read it in English, click here!

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I am not a native Irish speaker. This is a way for me to share my Irish journey with you all and record my growth in the language. ✨

Ní maith liom athrú.

Níor thaitin sé sin liom riamh.

Tá na nósanna céanna agam le blianta. Bím ag ordú an béile céanna ag an bialann chéanna. Seachnóidh mé athrú fiú nuair go mbeadh buntáistí i gceist.

Cheiliúir mé mo bhreithlá seachtain ó shin.

Bliain eile.

Nuair a dhéanaim machnamh ar am atá thart, tá na hathruithe níos soiléire.

Ní fheiceann muid na hathruithe beaga atá ag tarlú gach lá.

Cinntí beaga a chuireann siad tús le hathrú mór.

Le blianta beaga anuas, tá cuma iontach éagsúil ar mo shaol gach bliain.

In amanna, dhiúltaigh mé don athrú sin.

Mhothóinn socraithe i mo shaol… agus ansin, d’athródh rudaí móra arís. Ní raibh mé in ann stop a chuir leis an athrú ach in oiread.

Níl mé cinnte go díreach cén fáth, ach tháinig athrú ar mo dhearcadh ar na mallaibh.

Cúpla mí ó shin, cheistigh mé ‘Cathain go mbeadh stop curtha leis an athrú?’

Thuig mé ansin nach stopfadh sé choíche.

Cuireann athrú eagla orm.

Fiú nuair atá athrú maith i gceist.

Ní féidir liom a bheith cinnte go mbeadh na rudaí maithe i mo shaol anois fós ann má tá cuma difriúil air.

Ach anois, tuigim go mbeadh maitheas agus grá ann i gcónaí.

Agus uaireanta, tarlaíonn na rudaí is fearr mar gheall ar athrú.

*Quick sidenote about the title, I know that this is the mathematical term for ‘constant.’ That was on purpose. If anything goes wrong, Desmond Hume will be my Constant.

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An Tairiseach

Briana Ní Loingsigh — Sat, 01 Aug 2026 15:56:26 GMT

The Constant

Wed, 29 Jul 2026 14:00:46 GMT

Ní maith liom athrú.
I don’t like change.

I never have.

I will keep the same nósanna - habits for years. I will order the same thing every time I go to a restaurant. I will keep things in my life even after they stop serving me because the pain of their presence hurts less than the fear of change.

It was recently my birthday.

Bliain eile.
Another year.

Looking back, changes are more soiléir - clear.

Often in the moment we don’t see the rudaí beaga - little things.
The decisions we made that lead to more decisions that lead to a different life entirely overtime.

For the last few years, my life has looked significantly different each year on my birthday.

At times, I’ve wanted to fight this.

It has felt like every time I create a new normal, I find stability and familiarity, life forces change upon me again.

I don’t know if it’s age, how much has changed already, or something else inside me, but my dearcadh - outlook is shifting.

A few months ago, I found myself thinking ‘When will things stop changing?’

‘Not this year. Not next year. Maybe the year after that? But not if this happens. Or that. Or something else.’

I realized in that moment, I was longing for an existence that isn’t possible.

I was waiting for time to stand still while the world is always in motion.

Cuireann athrú eagla orm.
Change puts fear on me.
I fear change.

Even good changes because I can’t control if it will all work out.

I can’t know if the things I love about the life I have now will come with me to the next stage.

But I’m starting to realize that there will always be good and there will always be love.

And sometimes, change is what allows the best of life to happen.

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The Constant

Briana Ní Loingsigh — Wed, 29 Jul 2026 13:55:14 GMT

Nuair atá do chaitheamh aimsire pianmhar

Sat, 25 Jul 2026 16:01:27 GMT

This post is written in the Irish language. To read it in English, click here!

Only want to receive emails in one language? Manage your language preferences here.

I am not a native Irish speaker. This is a way for me to share my Irish journey with you all and record my growth in the language. ✨

Tá rejection sensitivity disorder nó RSD orm. Dar le Cleveland Clinic “RSD is when a person feels intense emotional pain related to rejection. While rejection is something people usually don’t like, the negative feelings that come with RSD are stronger and can be harder to manage. People with RSD are also more likely to interpret vague interactions as rejection and may find it difficult to control their reactions.”

I mo thuairim féin, mothaíonn sé cosúil le gloine briste faoi do chraiceann. Foghlaimíonn tú conas a bhogadh go réidh ionas nach mbeadh sé pianmhar. Uaireanta, buaileann duine eile thú áfach. Is minic a bhfuil timpiste i gceist, ach téann sé go smior ionat.

Sin an rud is measa. Tá a fhios agat nach dtuigfeadh daoine eile. Timpiste a bhí i gceist. Sin é. Ní rud mór. Ní cúis pian nó deora. Ní thuigfeadh siad agus mar gheall ar sin, bheadh cúis pian eile i gceist dá mbeadh a fhios acu.

Is timthriall é foghlaim teangacha. Déan botún. Foghlaim. Déan botún. Foghlaim. Arís is arís. Bíonn tú ag déanamh dul chun cinn ag an am céanna a bhíonn tú ag teip.

Bíonn sé sin crua do chách in amanna, fiú duine gan RSD orthu.

Ag an tús, bhí sé crua. Tar éis tamaill, ní raibh an méid céanna botún déanta agam.

Thuig mé nach raibh daoine ag súil le foirfeacht. Ba leor é an iarracht.

D’éirigh mé níos compordaí. Bhí sé fós scanrúil, ach ba fiú é mar bheadh bród mór orm tar éis gach rang nó comhrá.

Ó am go ham, bím ag streachailt fós. “Níor chóir dom botúin mar sin a dhéanamh go fóill.” “Ba chóir dom a bheith níos fearr.”

Caithfidh mé machnamh a dhéanamh nuair a mhothaím mar sin. Tá mé in ann Gaeilge a úsáid. Scríobh mé an t-alt seo go nádúrtha amhail le Béarla. Is féidir liom leabharthaí Gaeilge a léamh agus éisteacht le podchraoltaí. Tá Gaeilge agam.

Is leor é sin, fiú muna bhfuil mo chuid Gaeilge foirfe.

Má tá RSD, imní shóisialta, nó rud ar bith eile a chuireann eagla ort roimh theanga a fhoghlaim, déan iarracht. Is fiú é, geallaim duit. Agus ní chaithfidh tú é a dhéanamh leat féin. Tá feabhas mór déanta ar mo RSD le cuidiú ó theiripe, cairdeas tacúil, agus leigheas.

⬇️ Leagan fuaime den phostáil seo, á léamh agam - Audio version of this post, read by me ⬇️

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Nuair atá do chaitheamh aimsire pianmhar

Briana Ní Loingsigh — Sat, 25 Jul 2026 15:55:10 GMT

When Your Hobby Hurts

Wed, 22 Jul 2026 14:00:20 GMT

I have RSD. Otherwise known as rejection sensitivity disorder. Cleveland Clinic describes it as “when a person feels intense emotional pain related to rejection. While rejection is something people usually don’t like, the negative feelings that come with RSD are stronger and can be harder to manage. People with RSD are also more likely to interpret vague interactions as rejection and may find it difficult to control their reactions.”

What it actually feels like is having gloine briste - broken glass under your skin. You learn to move carefully so it doesn’t hurt. But if someone bumps into you, even if it’s just an accident, its excruciating.

What makes it harder is knowing that to them it was just a bump. It wasn’t intentional, nor would they expect or understand a big reaction. Nor would you want to have one. Because reacting outside of what’s expected, normal or appropriate would be another trigger within itself. Another cause of pain.

Learning a teanga - language is an act of repeated failure. Of learning a word, saying it wrong. Saying it again, with slightly better pronunciation. Forgetting the word. Being reminded of it. Learning it again. And maybe saying it slightly better still.

It’s hard for anyone to take at times. And I’m sure this feels relatable even to those without RSD.

In the beginning, bhí sé crua - it was hard. But I soon found that at that stage, I was right more often then I was wrong.

Remembering a few words or phrases was praised as a success. A pronunciation anywhere near comprehensible was a win.

The goal for perfection was reset to something more attainable and it no longer hurt to learn, fail, learn, fail.

It became comfortable to try. Scanrúil - scary, but always rewarding because everytime I made it through a class, or even a conversation without any pain-causing bumps, the road grew smoother and smoother.

Ó am go ham - every now and then, there is a pothole. There is a moment of “I should’ve known that.” Or “I shouldn’t still be making that mistake.”

But with the pain is tuiscint - understanding. Understanding that while it’s hard information to take in sometimes, it further smooths out the road ahead.

If you have RSD, social anxiety, or anything else that makes the thought of learning a language feel particularly terrifying, just try. I promise is fiú é - it’s worth it. And there is help. My RSD has become significantly more easy to manage through therapy, supportive friendships, and medication.

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When Your Hobby Hurts

Briana Ní Loingsigh — Wed, 22 Jul 2026 13:56:11 GMT

Overcoming the fear of speaking

Briana Ní Loingsigh — Thu, 09 Jul 2026 14:03:49 GMT

Fáilte - Welcome to the twelfth edition of Irish Learner Support Group!

Speaking is obviously at the core of every language. It is how the language exists in it’s most basic form and also how it is used most often. But it can be absolutely the scariest thing for learners to practice.

And if you can work up the courage to try, it can still be very difficult to find opportunities to do so.

Why is speaking so scary?

There are a lot of reasons! But some of the most common ones are:

It’s fast.
The people we’re speaking too often speak more quickly than what we may have heard in a classroom and there are no subtitles or transcript to give us a chance to confirm what we think we heard or take in the information more slowly.
It’s multitasking.
You’re not just focussed on one part of the language. You’re having to listen and comprehend what is being said. Then you have to think of what you want to say in response, form the right sentences and grammar and pronounce them correctly. That’s a lot all at once!
It feels embarrassing.
Even though it’s not true, we can feel like whoever we’re speaking must be thinking about how much better they are than us, or frustrated with us for taking more time to reply, or thinking our mistakes our funny. Remind yourself of times when maybe you spoke to someone who was newly learning a language you speak fluently. Did you think any of those things? Probably not! And even more importantly, many people who speak Irish learned it themselves in one way or another. Even if they took Irish in school for their whole lives, there were likely times when they had their own insecurities or gaps to bridge in the language.

It can be scary. But it is also so worth it!

And it definitely gets easier and less scary the more you do it…

So… How do I start practicing speaking?

Find your community!
There are a lot of groups both online and in person where you can practice speaking in an environment that is safe and friendly because everyone is there with the same goal as you - labhair Gaeilge - speak Irish!
Online - I recommend joining Gaeilge i Mo Chroí’s Patreon group! There are additional benefits as well, which can be very helpful to learners such as Irish subtitles on her videos. But she also has a fantastic conversation group where I myself found my confidence in speaking years ago!
Sign up here!
In person - Scéal.ie has a list of language focussed events that take place all across Ireland! But there are Irish language events all over the world! Try Googling “Pop-up Gaeltacht in [your area]” and you’ll be surprised at what you find! If you’re in the northeast of America, Daltaí na Gaeilge has events in person throughout the year in New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania.
Find a partner!
If you’ve met someone either in person or online who speaks Irish, even if they’re also a learner, it’s a great opportunity to form a friendship and make a decision to set aside time to have conversations as Gaeilge together!
You can also achieve this same effect by booking a one-on-one conversation lesson with a tutor on iTalki! If you use my promocode CRFOG you can get $5 off a when you spend $10 or more to book your first conversation!
I myself have booked conversation lessons on iTalki before (and I am currently using the platform every week for Polish lessons!) You can pay as you go, so you’re not locked into a subscription or weekly sessions if you’d like to just try out having your first conversation or want some extra speaking practice with an actual teacher every now and then.

Book now!

How to prepare for conversations?

Keep a journal.
I know… that might not feel like a logical answer to speaking more, but writing and speaking both use the same aspect of language learning - output! Keeping a daily or even weekly journal can help you get in the habit of thinking about your life and the things you want to say in Irish while taking off some of the pressure and giving you a chance to check things like grammar and pronunciation. It’s also an excellent way to find the words and phrases you naturally want to use in Irish! That gives you a chance to look them up and familiarize yourself with using them so you feel more prepared and comfortable when you’re actually having a conversation!
Talk to yourself!
You might feel silly doing it, but again, it’s a really great way to practice thinking and speaking in Irish in real time. And just like keeping a journal, it helps you find the gaps in your vocabulary so you can look things up and feel ready to talk about the topics that naturally come up in your life.
Don’t make a cheat-sheet.
It can be really tempting to write down what you want to say beforehand, especially if you’re in a class or conversation group where you know that you will be asked certain questions. But it can actually hold you back a lot to prepare too much. When you always have the answers there, you’re never giving your brain a chance to really do the work of recalling the information you’re trying to say out loud. Not only does this hold you back from building your memory and natural speaking skills in the language, it can also really hurt your confidence! You might find yourself thinking that you need to have a script in front of you to have a conversation. Remember, it’s okay if you don’t understand everything. It’s okay if you don’t know every word. It’s okay if you make mistakes. All of those things lead to learning.

Speaking can absolutely be one of the scariest aspects to learning a language.

I remember being absolutely terrified the first few times I had to speak to other people in Irish. I would be torn between knowing it was a good opportunity to learn more and feeling absolutely terrified of the mere thought of saying a word.

But every time I pushed through the fear and tried anyway, I was glad I did.

I always came away from every conversation happy, even if I couldn’t perfectly say everything I wanted to or understand the whole conversation. I’ve come to realize that while speaking can feel like the scariest part of learning a language, it’s also the most fun!

Outside of lessons, if you’re just speaking for the sake of using and enjoying the language, people rarely correct you (unless you ask for it) or call out your mistakes. The more speaking practice you have the more you realize that it’s not about who made the least mistakes by the end of the conversation or who in the room has the best Irish. It’s about connecting. It’s about meeting other people who share your interest in the language and talking about that. And then maybe finding that that they also share your interest in other areas of life and talking about that too!

As learners, speaking often feels like the culmination of everything we’ve learned. It feels like the time when we have to pull all of our skills together and show everything we know. But there is a big difference between a Pop-Up Gaeltacht or Ciorcal Comhrá and an oral exam. Speaking in those environments isn’t about perfection or skill. It’s about connection and fun.

Another great environment to practice speaking is my Irish Language Learners Support Group! (Bilingual)

Together, we meet each month and discuss what is making it difficult to learn as well as what tools and resources we’ve found to overcome those difficulties! Some people also choose to use this as an opportunity to practice speaking Irish in a low pressure, friendly, bilingual environment! I created this group because I wish something like this existed when I was earlier on in my own journey.

Our next call on Zoom is Saturday, 1 August at 11am EST, which is 4pm Irish time. All are welcome!

Join us!

Want even more advice and support learning Irish?

Masterlist of Irish Resources

How to Learn Irish Guide

Book a language coaching call

Labhair mé Sualainnis mar thimpiste

Sat, 27 Jun 2026 16:02:28 GMT

This post is written in the Irish language. To read it in English, click here!

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I am not a native Irish speaker. This is a way for me to share my Irish journey with you all and record my growth in the language. ✨

Is Meiriceánach mé. Rugadh agus tógadh mé ag labhairt as Béarla amháin. Cé gur fhreastail mé ar ranganna Spáinnise agus ranganna Fraincise ar scoil, níl ach cúpla focal agam sna teangacha seo. Tá mé ag foghlaim na Gaeilge le sé bliana agus tá líofacht bainte amach agam. Tá roinnt Polainnise agam freisin.

Sin é.

Sin an scéal maidir le gach teanga a rinne mé iarracht a fhoghlaim mo shaol ar fad.

Mar gheall ar sin, is dócha gur cuireadh sé iontas ar dhaoine a chloisteáil gur labhair mé Sualainnis i siopa nuair a bhí mé ar saoire i Stócólm cúpla bliain ó shin.

Bhí iontas mór orm féin.

Shíl mé i gcónaí go mbeadh sé béasach cúpla focal a fhoghlaim sa teanga áitiúil dá mbeinn in áit gan Bhéarla mar an phríomhtheanga.

Níor fhoghlaim mé ach ‘yes’ agus ‘go raibh maith agat’ i Sualainnis, ach mhothaigh mé réidh don tsaoire.

Chuaigh mé go siopa chun cúpla rud a cheannach.

Bhí mé ag fanacht sa scuaine nuair a chúla mé an duine os mo chomhair ag caint leis an airgeadóir.

Níor thuig mé cuid mhór den chomhrá sin, ar ndóigh, ach thug mé faoi deara nár dúirt an custaiméir ach ‘jak’ (yes) agus ‘tack’ (go raibh maith agat.) Agus sin é.

Ní raibh rún ar bith agam chun ligeant orm féin go raibh Sualannach mé nó go raibh Sualainnis líofa agam, ach níor mhothaigh sé ceart go mbeadh ar dhuine eile mo theanga féin a labhairt nuair a bhí rud chomh simplí mar ‘ja, ja, tack’ i gceist.

Ghlac mé leis go raibh sí ag rá rud amhail le “Ar aimsigh tú gach rud a bhí á lorg agat?’ Agus dúirt mé “Ja.” Bhí mo chárta creidmheasa i mo lámh agus bhí mé réidh chun íoc, abair ‘tack’ agus imeacht gan stró.

Ní hé sin cad a tharla, áfach.

Chuir sí ceist eile orm. Ceist nach raibh mé ag súil leis. Is dócha go raibh ‘An bhfuil mála de dhíth ort?’ nó rud mar sin i gceist uirthi. Cheannaigh mé níos mó ná an duine a bhí romham.

Ní dúirt mé ach siolla amháin, ach bhí náire orm roimh Bhéarla a úsáid ansin.

Bheinn in ann ‘ja’ a rá arís agus an mála a ghlacadh. Nó cur cuma fíor-líofa orm féin agus ‘ja, tack’ a rá. In ionad sin, rinne mé cinneadh le bheith ionraic. Ní bheinn ionraic faoin méid Sualainnis a bhí agam. Bheinn ionraic nach raibh mála de dhíth orm.

Rinne mé mo dhícheall chun cuimhneamh a dhéanamh ar an bhfocal ar ‘no’ as Sualainnis. Ní raibh ach focal amháin ar intinn agam.

“Nie.”

Ciallaíonn sé ‘No.’ Ach… Ciallaíonn sé ‘No’… as Polainnis.

Tháinig mearbhall uirthi, ar ndóigh, ach thuig sí cad a bhí i gceist agam ar aon nós.

Mar thimpiste, chruthaigh mé féiniúlacht nua dom féin mar dhuine áitiúil a raibh Sualainnis líofa agam. Agus chomh gasta mar sin, scrios mé an fhéiniúlacht le siolla amháin.

Sula raibh deis aici ceist ar bith eile a chuir ormsa, d’íoc agus d’imigh mé.

Tá an scéal seo greannmhar, ach tá rud níos doimhne i gceist freisin.

Dá gcaithfinn fiú uair amháin ag déanamh staidéir ar an tSualainnis, bheinn neirbhíseach roimh chaint. Fiú dá mbeadh a fhios agam nach mbeinn in ann mórán a fhoghlaim chomh gasta mar sin, mhothóinn brú a bheith níos fearr ná a bheinn.

In ionad sin, tharla an mhalairt. Bhí muinín orm mo dhá fhocal a úsáid mar bhí dearcadh éagsúil agam. Ní raibh mé ag iarraidh Sualainnis a labhairt. Bhí mé ag iarraidh cumarsáid a dhéanamh agus sin é.

Níl náire orm an scéal seo a roinnt mar ní mhothaím go bhfuil sé náireach nach raibh níos mó Sualainnise ar eolas agam. Ach is minic go mothaíonn muid ba chóir dúinn a bheith ar eolas faoi gach focal i dteanga a bhfuil muid ag foghlaim. Fiú nuair atá muid fós ag tosú amach. Bíonn náire orainn botúin a dhéanamh, ach cén fáth?

Má dhéanann muid botúin nó nach bhfuil focal ar eolas againn mar fhoghlaimeoirí, níl cúis náire i gceist ach is comhartha é go bhfuil muid fós ag foghlaim.

⬇️ Leagan fuaime den phostáil seo, á léamh agam - Audio version of this post, read by me ⬇️

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