When you learn Dutch, it's easy to be your own harshest teacher. You correct yourself constantly, apologise for mistakes, and sigh when you forget a word. But what if kindness, not perfection, is what makes you fluent?
Every learner has two voices. The first one says, "Come on, you should know this by now." The second whispers, "It's okay, you're learning."
The trouble is, the first voice is often louder. It judges every mistake, every hesitation, every accent that sounds "too foreign." But here's the truth: that critical voice slows you down. When you learn from tension, your brain is busy protecting you, not remembering.
Kindness, on the other hand, tells your brain: it's safe to explore. And only when you feel safe, can you really learn.
Learning a language is emotional work. It's not only about memorising vocabulary: it's about using it in real time, often while feeling uncertain or exposed.
Neuroscience shows that when we're stressed, the brain releases cortisol, which makes it harder to recall information or form new memories. That's why your Dutch suddenly "disappears" when you have to speak to a real person, even though you knew all the words five minutes ago.
So when you feel that panic rising, the kindest thing you can do is pause, breathe, and smile. You're not stupid, lazy, or bad at languages: your brain is just trying to protect you.
Try imagining that you're teaching Dutch to your best friend. She makes the same mistakes you do. She forgets words, mixes up verb endings, and says de meisje instead of het meisje. Would you shout at her? Of course not. You'd smile, correct her softly, and say: "You're getting there."
That's the tone your brain needs when you talk to yourself. Because the more compassion you bring to learning, the faster your mind opens up.
One of the reasons I love creating my podcast Yes, you can speak Dutch! is that it allows learners to practise in a calm, pressure-free space. You can listen, repeat, pause, and try again, without judgment.
Many listeners tell me that repeating simple Dutch sentences aloud gives them a sense of peace. That's kindness in action: no deadlines, no grades, just gentle repetition and presence.
When learning feels kind, it becomes sustainable.
Notice your tone. Every time you catch yourself thinking "I should know this," change it to "I'm learning this."
Celebrate small wins. You understood a sentence on the train? Wonderful. You ordered a coffee in Dutch? That's progress.
Forgive quickly. When you forget, just smile. Forgetting is part of remembering.
Create moments of ease. Listen to Dutch radio while cooking, or rewatch a familiar series with Dutch subtitles. Comfort helps memory.
When you approach Dutch with kindness, it stops feeling like a test and becomes a form of self-care. It's not something you must conquer, but something you can grow into.
Fluency isn't about being flawless: it's about feeling at home in another language. And home is built with patience, warmth, and time.
When you learn Dutch, it's easy to be your own harshest teacher. You correct yourself constantly, apologise for mistakes, and sigh when you forget a word. But what if kindness, not perfection, is what makes you fluent?
At first glance, Verliefd op Bali is exactly what you expect it to be: a sunny, feel-good Dutch film about love, family, and second chances. It's light, it's cheerful, and it doesn't pretend to be anything more.
Repetition may sound dull, but it's actually one of the most powerful and gentle tools for learning Dutch. The secret is not how much you repeat, but how mindfully you do it.
Learning Dutch isn't only about mastering new words or pronunciation. It's also about discovering who you are when your language, your main tool to express yourself, suddenly disappears.
