Bridging cultures through Ukrainian language

From sports teacher’s son to language guide

Alex’s path to teaching wasn’t accidental, though it took an unexpected turn. “My father is a physical education teacher, a track and field specialist,” he explains with a hint of irony in his voice. “And I’m absolutely not athletic.” Instead, young Alex found himself drawn to languages, their patterns and structures, while his father taught him to read and tell stories.

When it came time to choose a career, he faced two options: become a translator or follow his father’s teaching path. “Ukraine doesn’t need many translators,” he says practically, “so I chose teaching – and I’m completely satisfied with that decision.” Though he selected a different subject, the influence of his father’s dedication was unmistakable.

The shadow of his father’s reputation loomed large when Alex began teaching at the same school. “He had an excellent reputation, was very principled. Students and colleagues highly respected him,” Alex recalls. “I had to prove I wasn’t any worse.” This early pressure shaped his approach to teaching – thorough, responsible, but with his own distinctive style.

Where biology meets linguistics

Unlike most language instructors, Alex approaches Ukrainian through an analytical lens. “I never have two identical lessons,” he says, leaning forward as if sharing a professional secret. “It might seem like language teachers always cover the same topics in the same way, but it’s completely different each time.”

His method is adaptive rather than rigid. When students struggle to grasp a concept, Alex shifts gears – asking questions, observing their mood, introducing real-life examples. “We model concrete situations from real life, and suddenly the grammar makes sense,” he explains. This flexible approach means sometimes abandoning textbook exercises temporarily for conversation before returning to them with fresh understanding.

What fascinates Alex most are the linguistic collisions between German and Ukrainian – moments when different languages reveal different ways of thinking. “For instance, in German, you must always specify ‘my wife’ when speaking, but in Ukrainian, we don’t use the possessive. She’s automatically ‘mine’ when I’m at home – why would I need to specify?” These cultural nuances become windows into different worldviews.

The classroom as cultural exchange

One of Alex’s greatest joys is facilitating cultural understanding. “I’m always curious whether language logic reveals something about national character,” he muses. “Chinese words are very short – do Chinese speakers think faster than we do? Psychologists say that’s incorrect, but I’m still not certain.”

These philosophical questions keep his teaching fresh. While explaining Ukrainian verb movements (go, drive, fly), he encounters fascinating confusions: “German students ask – do you drive with a bus, with a car, with a horse, or with a boat? No, we drive with a car, but we swim with a boat or flow with a boat. We fly with an airplane.”

Each lesson becomes a two-way street of cultural exchange. “Students explain colloquial phrases to me, or tell me certain words aren’t used in their region,” he says. “I grow alongside my students – that’s what keeps me motivated year after year.” This continuous learning sustains his enthusiasm through challenging times.

Secret ingredients of borscht and language

Outside the classroom, Alex is developing creative outlets – working on video editing skills, considering writing a book, perhaps starting a YouTube channel. “It could be something professional, or about personal life – perhaps how we’re experiencing the war, or what dreams people in my profession have,” he reflects.

When conversation turns to Ukrainian cuisine, his eyes light up. “Borscht, of course! But proper borscht takes three hours to cook. When it’s made well, it’s not just food – it’s art.” He chuckles before adding with mock seriousness, “Ukrainians might kill me for calling borscht a soup. To us, borscht is something sacred, something entirely different.”

This same passion extends to his appreciation of Ukrainian culture. Though not a music enthusiast by nature, he speaks warmly of Kvitka Cisyk, a Ukrainian-American singer who spent her life in the US but never forgot her homeland. “She thought constantly about Ukraine and spread our culture abroad,” he notes with admiration.

Finding common ground through language

What surprises Alex most is how similar German and Ukrainian cultures can be. “We have almost the same cuisine – we eat a lot of meat, potatoes, bread. Sometimes our languages even follow the same logic,” he observes. This recognition of shared patterns amid differences brings him satisfaction.

As one of few men in a female-dominated profession, Alex has a unique perspective. “Women are more reliable with paperwork and books,” he says with a smile. “For men, paperwork can be unbearable – it’s difficult for us.” Yet he thrives in this environment, finding it professionally enriching.

Despite the ongoing war, Alex maintains his teaching schedule and future plans. The digital connection with students offers normalcy amid uncertainty. “Working with German students brings me less stress,” he admits quietly. “They’re very responsible, very stable. I feel at home speaking with them.”

For Alex, language teaching is ultimately about building bridges – between different grammatical systems, between cultures, and between people separated by geography but united by curiosity. In each lesson, he creates a space where understanding flourishes, one carefully explained phrase at a time.