The Forgotten Learners: Why It’s Never Too Late to Learn English

Every evening in Hyderabad, as the call to prayer echoes through the narrow lanes of the old city, Meera Begum walks into a small community hall with a worn notebook tucked under her arm. She is 45 years old—a mother of four, a widow, and a tailor who stitches clothes from sunrise to sunset. By night, she trades her needle for a pencil.

Meera is learning English.

She never finished school. As a girl, she was pulled out in fifth grade to care for her younger siblings. For decades, she was told she was “too old” to go back. “What use is English for someone like you?” people said.

But here she is—sitting among a circle of women and men just like her, their faces lined with life, their eyes full of quiet determination. She’s learning how to read a medicine label. How to ask for help at the hospital. How to understand the instructions on a job application. How to speak to her daughter’s teacher without shame.

For Meera, English isn’t just a language.It’s dignity.It’s safety.It’s freedom.

Meera is one of thousands of adult learners with Hope Through English (HTE)—an organization once known for teaching children, but now quietly transforming lives through a growing adult education program that meets people where they are—on footpaths, in slums, in tea stalls, and in community halls lit by a single bulb.

The Hidden Half of Education

Right now, over 280 million adults in India cannot read or write. Even in a country of 22 official languages, not knowing English can lock you out of jobs, healthcare, government services, and even justice.

Yet adult education is treated like an afterthought.

Children are seen as the future. Adults? They’re called “too old,” “too busy,” “too far behind.” But HTE believes that’s not just short-sighted—it’s unjust.

“Adults are the backbone of India,” says Anjali Mehra, HTE’s Program Director for South Asia. “They raise families, run street stalls, care for elders, stitch clothes, drive rickshaws, and keep the country moving. If we want real change, we cannot leave them behind.”

Why Adults Decide to Learn—and Why It Matters

The reasons adults enroll in English class are written in the fabric of their lives.

There’s Ramesh, 52, a security guard in Mumbai who came from Bihar decades ago. He speaks Hindi and Bhojpuri, but when his son had a seizure at home, he couldn’t explain it to the ambulance staff. “I just pointed and cried,” he says. “I promised myself I’d learn enough English to speak for my family.”

Then there’s Sunita, a domestic worker in Delhi, who cleans homes for families who speak only English. She understood only fragments—“laundry,” “dinner,” “clean”—but never enough to ask for her rights. “I was invisible in their homes,” she says. “Now I can say, ‘I need a day off.’ I can ask for my salary.”

And then there are those who learn for deeper reasons—for pride, for healing, for proof that they are seen.

Many adult learners spent years being labeled “slow,” “uneducated,” “worthless.” When they return to the classroom, it’s not just learning—it’s courage.

The Emotional Weight of Starting Over

Learning English as an adult in India is not just about grammar or pronunciation.It’s about emotion.

When adults walk into class, many carry shame—memories of failing school, of being scolded, of being told they weren’t smart enough. Some were beaten for not understanding. Others were pulled out to work, marry, or care for others.

That’s why HTE trains teachers to do more than teach.They are taught to listen, to see, to care.

“Adult learners aren’t empty vessels,” says Jane Powell, HTE’s Global Curriculum Lead. “They come with life, with loss, with responsibility, and with incredible strength. We’re not just teaching words—we’re rebuilding confidence.”

Lessons are rooted in real life:

• How do you tell a doctor your child has a fever?

• How do you read a job contract?

• How do you text your landlord about a broken fan?

• How do you fill out an Aadhaar form?

One woman in Rajasthan learned how to say, “My child is sick” in English. When she used it at a clinic, she burst into tears. “I’ve been here before,” she said, “and I couldn’t say a single word.”

For adults, language isn’t just communication.It’s power.

HTE also creates trauma-informed classrooms—safe spaces where no one is rushed, judged, or shamed. Many learners are survivors of domestic violence, displacement, or caste-based discrimination. When asked to speak, some tremble. But with patience, they find their voice.

Learning That Fits Real Life

Adults in India don’t have the luxury of full-time school.

They work. They care for children and elders. They travel for hours on overcrowded buses. They may arrive late or miss class—not because they don’t care, but because life is hard.

So HTE doesn’t force learning into a rigid mold.We bend the mold to fit life.

Classes are short—under 90 minutes—and held in the evenings or early mornings. Lessons are bilingual, using Hindi, Telugu, Tamil, or Urdu, paired with pictures, gestures, and real-life role-plays.

In rural areas, HTE broadcasts lessons over community radio. In urban slums, we use WhatsApp voice notes and phone trees so even those without internet can learn. In Ahmedabad, we run pop-up classes during lunch breaks at garment factories. In Kolkata, we teach on the rooftops of tenements where women gather to wash clothes.

“We meet people where they are,” says Mehra. “Literally. Emotionally. And with respect.”

And when someone disappears from class? We don’t send warnings.We make phone calls.We ask, “Are you okay?”We listen.We bring them back.

Breaking Down the Barriers

Despite the need, adult education in India faces huge obstacles.

Funding is scarce. Most donors focus on children. Government schemes exist, but often lack reach or quality. Many adult learners are invisible in national education plans.

HTE is changing that.

We offer free, donation-supported classes—no fees, no exams, no shame. In some locations, we provide on-site childcare so parents can attend. We cover transport costs and partner with local clinics for mental health check-ins.

“It’s not just about convenience,” says Mehra. “It’s about justice.”

HTE is also pushing for change at the policy level. We’re working with state education departments, NGOs, and international agencies to include adult language learning in digital literacy programs, skill development schemes, and urban health initiatives.

“Adults are rarely considered in digital India,” says Powell. “We’re designing tools for non-literate users—simple voice apps, picture-based lessons, audio guides—because they deserve access too.”

A Future That Includes Everyone

HTE’s goal is bold: expand adult programs to 20 more districts across India by 2030 and train 5,000 adult-specific instructors. But the real mission is cultural.

We want India to stop seeing adult learners as “left behind” and start seeing them as essential.

These are the people who wake before dawn to sell vegetables. Who stitch our clothes, clean our homes, drive our children to school. They are not failures.They are survivors.And when they learn, they change everything.

When Meera reads a prescription for the first time,When Ramesh speaks to a nurse without fear,When Sunita signs her name in English on a job form—

They’re not just learning words.They’re reclaiming their voice.

They’re proving that growth doesn’t stop at 18.That dignity isn’t earned only in youth.That it’s never too late to start.

And every time an adult walks into a classroom, they send a powerful message to their children, their neighbors, their communities:

You can change.You can grow.You still matter.

Education isn’t just for the young.It’s for anyone who dares to believe in a better tomorrow.

And in that belief—spoken one new word at a time—

lies the most powerful kind of hope.