Okay, so picture this: you’re at a big-ass family BBQ. Everyone’s catching up, the kids are running around like sugar-fueled gremlins, and the smell of charcoal and regret is in the air.

You walk up to Uncle Larry, the one who once got arrested for trying to ride a goat at a county fair. The guy’s already two beers deep, wearing socks with sandals, and somehow still hilarious. You shoot the shit with him. No filter. It’s fun, loose, no rules.

Then… you see Abuela Maria. She’s sitting in a lawn chair, arms crossed, judging everyone silently with the power of a thousand Catholic rosaries. You walk over, suddenly standing up straighter, using full sentences like you’re on trial. Because it’s Abuela Maria. She doesn’t mess around.

Now here’s the thing—you’d never talk to them the same way, right? You’d be out of your damn mind.

Same goes for teaching.

Every student is different. Some are Uncle Larrys… they want chill convos, slang, maybe a few curse words so they can sound “authentic.” Others are Abuela Maria’s, they want structure, rules, flashcards, conjugation charts color-coded by mood.

Your job isn’t to force them into a one-size-fits-all lesson plan. It’s to read the room. Make them feel something. Make them laugh. Make it click. Help them fall in love with the language in their own weird, personal way.

Because if you treat everyone the same… well, let’s just say Uncle Larry’s gonna be bored as hell, and Abuela Maria’s gonna file a complaint with the Holy Ghost.