Who gets to make podcasts?
In March, I gave a podcast workshop to kids who are new to the Netherlands. I had no clue what to expect. I just knew that I wanted to give them the real experience of speaking into a microphone and hearing themselves, in good audio, through headphones. It was just one afternoon, but one of those afternoons that leaves a lasting impact.
Usually, when people make podcasts, they are eloquent speakers. They are funny, knowledgeable about a topic, or have a catchy vibe. And first and foremost: they speak the same language. There is nothing wrong with that. We want to create a pleasurable listening experience and keep people engaged.
But what if you do not speak one language fluently? Or if you do not speak each other’s language at all? Or if you have speaking difficulties? I had no idea what would happen going into this workshop, but it turned out to be a great learning experience for both the kids and myself.
The structure of the class was simple: I gave an introduction, then the kids prepared in groups, and finally they recorded a podcast in one take. I chose not to participate in the recordings, letting them do everything themselves. There were two roles: one “interviewer” and two “guests,” each with their own expertise.
In one group of three, two kids had already gotten used to speaking Dutch. One spoke English as a native language, the other Portuguese. The third only spoke Mandarin. The podcast was going to be in Dutch, since one of the goals of these classes was to learn the language. What happened was that one of the boys, who felt most comfortable, started asking questions. Without any instruction, he addressed both “guests,” patiently waiting for a response—one answering in Dutch, the other in Chinese. I saw the smiles on their faces, each of them being heard in their own way.
Another group consisted of three kids with Turkish heritage. The most extroverted of them also struggled with speaking in all the languages he knew. He took the lead in the conversation. Starting in Dutch, the discussion did not flow, it was full of silences. I told them Turkish was also fine, and suddenly a exciting conversation unfolded between the three of them. Now I was the outsider. I could not understand their words, but I could tell they were excited about the topic (Minecraft? Roblox?). That was enough for me. The boy filmed himself during the recording. “For my sister,” he said.
The last group consisted of three kids with different backgrounds: two girls and one boy. At that age, it can be a challenging mix. They all spoke Dutch well enough to keep the conversation going. They ended up talking about football. “Boys always win!” said the boy. “But they play every day, and girls play only sometimes.” replied one of the girls, who played football herself. The boy paused for a moment, then agreed. They found common ground in being fans of Galatasaray. The conversation flowed smoothly, and I noticed that the kid in the interviewer role in this group truly enjoyed the process, the kind of glow that is hard to forget.
These three podcasts were not interesting because of the content of what was being said, or the charisma of the speakers, or how well the speakers can articulate themselves. What mattered most was interactions—the communication and understanding that happened beyond words. Almost like a meta-podcast: where the form and dynamic says more than the content.
Thanks to Operator Radio for kindly lending their podcast setup. Thanks to Tomas Mutsaers for the invitation, and thanks to Stichting Nieuw in Nederland for making it happen.