Language experts don’t do their homework either — Hēmi told us

Māori language teacher Hēmi Kelly is something of a legend among new reo learners.  

His advice — dispensed through Everyday Māori — is real and relatable, and helps anyone who’s struggling feel welcome, not stupid.

Now Hēmi is back at the beginning of his own journey again, this time taking on Portuguese, the language of his Brazilian partner.

Here’s Lizzie Dunn from Te Arawhata in conversation with Hēmi about battling new learner anxiety and embracing the small wins.

 

Lizzie:  Hēmi, you’re in São Paulo. What are your language learning goals while you’re there?

Well, six months is the maximum time we’re gonna spend here, because of visa stuff. Initially, I thought: I wanna be fluent.

Now, after four weeks here, I’m thinking that’s not a reality. Reassessing my goals one month in, I’d just love to be basic-level conversational.

I’d love to be able to get by comfortably in daily interactions: purchasing things, going to restaurants, and meeting people.

It’s quite a punch in the face.

You hear people say: “Yeah, I went and lived in the country and I was fluent in three months.” But now I’m here and I’ve realised, there’s no way.

My comprehension is getting better, but when you meet a native speaker, they rattle everything off so fast — all I can hear is noise. I have to say: “Oh, can you slow down?” And not everyone wants to do that.

Things like going to the supermarket can be really hard. You think: “Oh crap, I’m gonna have to talk to the cashier and they’re gonna ask me a bunch of questions . . . Oh, screw it! I don’t want to go!” And then I have to say to myself, “No, no, I have to go . . .” 

It’s really humbling. It’s a big wake-up call for me.

Is it bringing back memories of the reo Māori learning journey for you? Did that feel the same?

Oh, gosh! I would have been a teenager when I was at this stage with reo Māori. I don’t remember too much of the feelings — the anxiety — that I’m having over here.

I remember it being fun and games because I was at school. Then, after high school, when I was doing my own study, I was hanging out with friends who were into it as well. We were going to kapa haka and it felt fun.

Maybe I experienced some of this when I first started going to kura in a full immersion environment and I wasn’t really used to it. Yeah, I did feel some of this then.

For the millionth time, I am now vowing that my future children will learn the language early! Do you reckon going through this will change the way you teach reo Māori?

It has definitely reminded me of how hard it is to learn a second language.

I empathise more now with my students who might be finding the so-called ”simplest” things hard, like pronunciation.

Over here, there are sounds that are different to those in English. In class, they’re repeated to us over and over again, but every week we still have to be corrected.

As a teacher doing pronunciation with my students, I used to think: “Gosh! Why don’t they get it? We’ve gone through this already.”’ 

Now I understand that more. For them, the reo is a completely new language. There are new sounds and so much information coming in. They will absorb some things while other things slip through. They have to be reminded over and over until eventually — and it might be six months or a year down the track — they get it.

That’s one big thing. I can sympathise and empathise more with my students now, not be a hard ass.

So what does your learning schedule look like? What’s your formula to success?

I’m going to classes three hours a day, five days a week, so it’s intensive learning and then there’s homework, too.

As a teacher, I’m always saying: “Do this when you go home.” And now I’m the student who’s not doing any of it! I get home and think: “Oh, I’ve done three hours, I just wanna relax!”

My learning outside class is by osmosis. I’m hearing and reading the language all the time — on the train, in cafes, doing my shopping — and that exposure is enough for me at this point. Sitting down and doing more study would blow my mind.

So now I’m secretly thinking: “If Hēmi doesn’t do his homework, there’s no way I’m doing mine.”

Seriously though, do you ever think we can overdo it as students? Do so much we end up burning out? 

Oh, interesting question. I don’t know if you can overdo it, actually.  The more the better with language.

Okay, so no dice on the minimalist approach. If we want to progress in a language and we’re not fully immersed in it, we do actually need to do our homework. Any other tips for success?

There is one thing. A lot of material gets covered in a three-hour class. What I’ve found I need to do each day is focus on one structure or idea and practise using that over and over.

Today, we were learning comparatives. In class, I got it, but tomorrow we’re gonna move on to a new structure, and if I don’t put the time in now on comparatives, I’m gonna forget it.

So this afternoon, everywhere I go, everything I see, all the people I talk to, I’m going to try to use that one structure. Otherwise, it will get lost as we move on and on.

Also, I’m at that point where I can understand more than I can speak. That’s what happens with language.

I can speak — I just need time to formulate the sentences. But I don’t often get that opportunity throughout the day. People don’t have time to stop and listen to me trying to put a sentence together. That’s where the anxiety comes in.

If I’m going to the shop, I formulate the sentences I need in advance, like: “I’d like a coffee and orange juice please.” But then they’ll say something I wasn’t expecting: “Do you want sugar in the orange juice?” and I think: “Huh? What?”

So I’ve realised that what I need at this point is a one-on-one tutorial on top of what I’m doing in class. I need a person to sit down with me for an hour and practise having a conversation.

It can’t be my partner, cos no, that doesn’t work. It can’t be your partner.

Have to say I’m both disappointed and somewhat relieved that finding my own Scotty Morrison is not necessary for the fluency journey! 

No, it has to be someone external. It can’t be your kids either. Maybe it could be a friend, but there has to be a proper agreement: “I’m gonna pay this person because it’s their time and they’re helping me.”

Hēmi, many of us are struggling to reach our fluency goals. What do you think is the biggest factor holding us back?

Lots of people want to become fluent or conversational. But the reality is they may not be in a position with their whānau, or friends, or job, where they need the language to get by. If you’re not forced to use it, then fluency can become unreachable.

Because you need to have the language around you all the time. You need to be exposed to it in many forms.

I mean, you can progress without that — there are examples of people who have done it, but it’s slow-going and it’s lonely.

Having exposure to a language in many forms — through media, daily conversations, casual interactions, through a wide range of people — makes it a whole lot easier to achieve fluency goals.

I’ve talked to so many people, Māori and non-Māori, who feel a deep internal need to learn te reo Māori. For themselves and their whānau, it’s literally one of the most important things in their lives. It’s the same for me. And yet, we still struggle to make the necessary decisions to truly prioritise it.

So last pātai. For those of us who’re about to start (or return to) our reo Māori classes and are feeling nervous, what’s your advice for getting through first-class jitters? The feeling when you stand up to introduce yourself that a bunch of people might think you’re stupid?

Yeah, I think it’s possible to prepare for some of those things. We know they’re coming.

In the same way that I have to prepare for the supermarket, it’s a good idea to memorise phrases so it’s easier to rattle them off.

Revise all the meeting-and-greeting things. Just practise “kia ora” if that’s where you’re at. You can never do enough revision. Prepare and back yourself.

What about dealing with the feelings though? Do you think at a certain point, we simply need to push through?

Yeah, I don’t know. The anxiety is hard.

Maybe we do have to push through. Going to kura reo for the first time, I remember feeling completely out of my comfort zone. I didn’t know anyone. Driving there, parking up, stepping out of the car, going to the pōwhiri — that was really, really hard. But I had to do it, and I got through it, and I met some cool people who I’m still friends with today.

Being over here, when I know I have to go and talk to the cashier at the supermarket — it seems so small, right? But it’s hard. I rely on Fabio a lot, but I can’t do that all the time anymore. In the end, I have to tell myself: “I need to go get some food. I’ve got to do this. I have to get over it.”

I’ve had some cool experiences from doing that! And some, not so cool. The reality is that some people don’t know you’re learning and think you’re being rude. But others can see you don’t speak the language and are really helpful.

It’s those cool experiences — which happen more than the bad ones — that I walk away from, thinking: “I did it!”

It’s only by pushing through that you get to those moments.

Ka nui te mihi — it’s been awesome to have this kōrero.

 

A version of this interview was first published in Lizzie’s weekly newsletter Te Arawhata. 

Lizzie Dunn (nō Te Whānau a Apanui, Rarotonga, Austria, England, and Scotland) has always been fascinated by cultural identity. After working in just about every corner of New Zealand media, she launched Te Arawhata, an email newsletter highlighting opportunities for everyone to connect with te ao Māori. 

E-Tangata, 2025