I'm constantly confused by the reason why my dad doesn't like our native language. To be more specific, he does like it, he just doesn't like to hear us speak it.
When we were much little it felt like a taboo each time it slipped, like you had committed a serious offense that's worth the whole house staring at you as you shut your lips in shock.
But here's the twist, we learnt to understand our language anyways because the same dad wouldn't stop using it to speak with my mom my whole life.
He almost always speaks it with every adult as well so it was really confusing on the why, but regardless the rule was laid out, he was serious as well so we had no choice.
Hearing my language has never been my issue due to my parents one sided exposure, speaking it was at first, although I wasn't totally terrible at it. It still gave my primary class a good laugh, since anytime we had to read a novel, my teacher would call me up and sit back for the laughs.
But still, I could actually read it out a book fairly well, but I purposely made mistakes and changed lips for the laughs, something my teacher missed even though I always aced the exam and tests.
Which was why the faces on my classmates when I dropped the act was definitely worth the acting, since my teacher looked like she saw an angel assist me to pronounce them.
But in the end, we (siblings) all eventually fairly spoke our language learning through sheer experience, outsider source, friends who only used them, and the closest source, my mom who didn't know how to switch between languages like my dad.
She would only switch to English on realizing, but she failed wayy too many times and didn't really care at all if we should, so it was an inevitable conclusion that we learned not just to understand, but to respond.
And as a young adult, after living in a different region for over a year, I came back home and spoke my language for a week straight to joggle my memory.
My dad wasn't exactly pleased with it, but my mom joined me without haste and we bond better. I tried speaking to my dad with it, but he would reply with English, forcing me to switch, but after multiple attempts, he partly caves in.
But speaking no more than a few words or very short sentences when he's mad, but never a full on discussion like my mom does, which shows his dedication and due a conclusion that it wasn't such a random 'don't' to him.
Till now, I still don't see the point of his attempt back then. Just like one other rule which was to not lock our doors, a rule that's still exists only by technicality, but meaningless when everyone else seems to have mastered his footsteps, no matter what footwear he put on.
We just knew, so long as he never went barefooted, we'll never miss his timing, and we've all gone a ridiculous consecutive runs of success on our dad's side compared to mom, who walks like her feet doesn't touch the floor.
Even now, he still throws little jabs about speaking our native, even as a very native man it made much less sense, but now I speak it as I wish, even if he's right next to my mom.
To be honest, now he does find it funny when we mispronounce words he hears us speak with our mom, but I still never use it when I speak with him out of habit and a subtle embarrassment.
Besides that, I speak to everyone at home differently, mostly in a way that suits the vibe you know.
Father: Formal + English
Mother: Casual + 45% Native/ 55% English
Brother: Jokes + English
Sister: Insults + Sarcasm + Punches + English/Native/Korean
Don't ask why my sister is a typhoon.