Teaching language as a shared journey

Finding home in a border village

Josipa’s journey began in Slavonia, in the village of Davor, nestled along the Bosnia and Herzegovina border. Though she left to study in Zagreb, she eventually returned to her roots, drawn back to a community where generations of remarkable Croatians have emerged – from writer Matija Anton Relković to footballer Ivica Olić.

“Young people are returning to Davor,” she explains, contradicting the typical narrative of rural exodus. “Life in big cities isn’t what it once was. When people grow up and start thinking about family, many come back.” With approximately 2,000 residents, the village maintains vibrant summer festivals and fishing traditions along the Sava River, creating a thriving community that defies rural stereotypes.

From reluctant teacher to passionate guide

Though teaching wasn’t Josipa’s original career plan, her fascination with languages led her to education almost accidentally. “When I enrolled at university, I assumed I’d become a teacher eventually,” she admits with a laugh. “And I’ve never regretted it.”

Her first experiences teaching German to elementary school children proved challenging. “It was exhausting,” she recalls. “The classes were in the afternoon when the children were already tired from their regular school day. I’d arrive full of energy while they’d just finished sports and wanted to do anything but learn.” This teaching baptism by fire taught her patience and adaptability – skills that would prove invaluable in her future work.

When teaching becomes mutual growth

The transition to teaching Croatian online opened a new world for Josipa. Her students came from diverse backgrounds – India, Russia, Ukraine, France – creating a multilingual environment where she sometimes found herself mixing languages mid-sentence. “I’d say ‘like’ instead of ‘wie’ when switching between English and German lessons,” she laughs. “It was chaotic but beautiful.”

What began as simple language instruction evolved into something deeper. “With students I’ve taught for years, our lessons become a form of therapy,” she explains. “We spend the first ten minutes just talking about life – what’s happening, what we’re experiencing. These aren’t just lessons; they’re relationships.”

Building bridges across cultural divides

Josipa approaches each student with careful attention to their individual needs and abilities. “I should know how much a student can achieve and encourage them to continue learning,” she reflects. “I love feeling progress hour by hour, day by day, working so people don’t feel stressed about the difficulties of the language.”

Her method involves connecting new concepts to familiar territory, creating bridges between the known and unknown. She’s particularly sensitive to the regional variations within Croatian itself – the different dialects that can confuse even native speakers. “Within our small country, we have several ways to say the simple word ‘what’ – što, kaj, ča, ca. Even some Croatians don’t know Croatian perfectly,” she says with a smile. “Why should we expect perfection from learners?”

Boxing bags and ballads: life beyond teaching

When not guiding students through Croatian grammar, Josipa retreats to her home gym – a room filled with training equipment, weights, and her beloved boxing bag. “It’s perfect for stress,” she explains. “Since I sit so much while teaching, it helps both mentally and physically.”

Music flows through her daily life – while cooking, cleaning, before and after work. Her tastes range widely, from Croatian pop bands like Pips, Chips & Videoclips to the emotional ballads of Montenegrin singer Miladin Šobić. “I don’t have a favorite song,” she admits. “It changes weekly depending on my mood.”

In the evenings, she unwinds with television shows like Breaking Bad or various sitcoms. This balance of physical activity, music, and relaxation helps her maintain the energy and enthusiasm she brings to each lesson.

For Josipa, language teaching transcends grammar rules and vocabulary lists. “The goal isn’t perfection,” she insists. “It’s understanding. When we speak English or German incorrectly, we can still understand what someone means.” This philosophy – prioritizing connection over correction – defines her approach to both teaching and life, creating a space where mistakes become stepping stones rather than stumbling blocks.