Conversations
A Conversation with Frances Blanchette
Frances Blanchette, a professor of linguistics and psychology at Penn State, grew up speaking American English, though multilingualism shaped her family history. Her professional work gives her a unique perspective on how language develops and is maintained across generations. Through her research and personal experience, she has seen how heritage languages can fade if they are not actively nurtured.
Blanchette and her husband made a deliberate choice to raise their children bilingually in Tamil and English. In the United States, English is everywhere, but maintaining Tamil requires intentional effort and integration into daily life. She explained that without this effort, children can grow up disconnected from the culture and community their family comes from.
“They’re going to get English and American culture no matter what,” Blanchette said. “They won’t get Indian culture unless we make a point of integrating it into their lives. Language is such a huge part of that. If they can speak it well, it opens doors for connecting with people and really understanding their heritage.”
Language use in her household shifts naturally depending on context. Her children speak Tamil with their father and English with her, often switching instinctively without instruction. Blanchette encourages her children to see their bilingualism as something positive and empowering, rather than something unusual or difficult.
“It makes me very sad to think about, if one day they feel embarrassed to speak Tamil,” she said. “But I hope they’ll understand that it’s something to be proud of. It’s part of who they are, and it connects them to our family and our culture.”
Blanchette also emphasizes that multilingualism is beneficial at any age. She challenges the common myth that children get confused when exposed to multiple languages at an early stage, noting that learning additional languages opens social and cognitive doors.
“Kids may stay quiet for a little while as they figure it out, but they do figure it out,” she said. “Being exposed to multiple languages doesn’t harm them. It actually gives them skills that last a lifetime.”
For Blanchette, heritage languages are more than just words. They help people stay connected to culture, family, and identity. As a linguist and parent, she understands how language shapes the way we see the world, and she values the role it plays in keeping communities and traditions alive.
A Conversation with Archith Seshadri
Archith Seshadri’s relationship with language has been shaped by constant movement. He spent his early childhood in Mumbai before moving to Australia at the age of seven, where he lived for the next several years in a predominantly English-speaking environment. Later, his family relocated to Atlanta, where he has lived ever since. Across continents and cultures, language became both a point of continuity and adaptation.
Seshadri speaks English and Tamil, the language of his South Indian parents. While English became the dominant language of his education and daily life—reinforced by English-medium schooling and its role as a universal language—Tamil remained an essential link to his family and heritage.
Although he never learned to read or write Tamil formally, he speaks it fluently, a skill that has allowed him to maintain close relationships with older relatives whose primary language is Tamil.
His connection to the language deepened through repeated visits to India. These trips not only helped him stay connected to relatives, but also strengthened his ability to relate to others who share the language. During a visit to Chennai following severe floods in 2015, Seshadri participated in charitable efforts to support affected communities. Being able to communicate directly in Tamil made those interactions feel more personal and meaningful, reinforcing the idea that language can shape how care and empathy are expressed.
Seshadri also speaks Hindi, a skill that has proven valuable in professional settings. While working as a journalist in New Delhi, he was able to communicate with people in a newsroom environment using Hindi, allowing him to navigate conversations more effectively.
Earlier in his education, Seshadri studied German while living in Australia, beginning in elementary school and continuing through middle school and part of high school. Although he retains basic knowledge of the language, he no longer speaks it fluently. Without regular exposure or a surrounding community of speakers, maintaining the language became difficult—an experience that reflects how easily a language can fade when it is no longer actively used.
Today, English is the language Seshadri uses most often, but it is not the only language that has mattered in his life. Tamil continues to anchor him to family and memory, Hindi has shaped his professional experiences, and German remains a reminder of how languages can fade without use. Together, these experiences illustrate how language is shaped by circumstance—strengthened through connection, and lost when distance grows.
A Conversation with Shuntaro Hari
Shuntaro Hari was born in Tokyo, Japan, and grew up in a household where Japanese was the primary language. Both of his parents are Japanese, and speaking the language at home was natural from the beginning. At the same time, he attended an international school where all of his classes were taught in English, allowing him to grow up bilingual from an early age.
When he moved to New York at seven years old, that balance shifted. English quickly became the dominant language in his daily life, but his parents made a conscious effort to ensure Japanese did not disappear from their home. They continued speaking it consistently and enrolled him in a Japanese weekend school so he could actively maintain and strengthen his fluency.
The contrast between Hari and his younger brother highlights how environment shapes language. His brother was born in New York and never lived in Japan, meaning he did not grow up surrounded by a Japanese-speaking community. Because of this, their parents had to be even more intentional about reinforcing the language through weekend classes and continued practice at home. Hari recognizes that being raised in a Japanese-speaking environment gave him a strong foundation in the language.
Adjusting to life in the United States was not always easy. Early on, he felt self-conscious speaking Japanese in front of others.
“I think towards the beginning, when I moved to New York, I was a little bit more shy to speak my native language or speak Japanese in front of friends who I didn't really know,” Hari said. “Over time, I think I've gotten used to it and I've gotten more comfortable.”
That growth reflects a shift not just in confidence, but in identity. What once felt like something that made him different in an uncomfortable way has become something he values.
For Hari, continuing to speak Japanese is not just about maintaining fluency — it is about protecting something larger than himself.
“It’s important to me because my whole family is Japanese,” Hari said. “If I didn’t push my kid to speak Japanese, they wouldn’t be able to communicate with my parents or the rest of my family. This could continue to the point where they don't teach their children, and then I think the culture within the family could slow down and regress.”
His concern goes beyond abstract ideas of heritage. Language, for him, is deeply tied to gratitude and connection.
“It’s not only about keeping the culture alive, but also continuing the ability to communicate with your family,” he said. “My grandparents helped me a lot when I was younger, so being able to communicate with them is the least I could do.”
Through Hari’s story, it becomes clear that language is more than vocabulary or grammar. It is memory, responsibility, and belonging. In a place where English dominates nearly every space he occupies, choosing to continue speaking Japanese is an intentional act — one that preserves not only culture, but family bonds and identity.