MSI Press Blog

  When speaking a foreign language, there are always opportunities for errors—sometimes embarrassing ones. These can even occur in one’s first language, especially when an expression is unfamiliar. For example, at age twelve, I was the master (senior leader) of our local Junior Grange. That year, our group was selected to perform the degree ceremony at the State Grange. During the event, there was a moment when senior Grange leaders were invited to say a few words. The matron (our adult advisor) leaned over and whispered, “Ask if there are any big whigs here who would like to speak.” Not knowing the term “big whigs,” and unaware that I should have said something like “senior leaders,” I blurted out, “Do any of you big whigs out there want to say something?” Suffice it to say, no one volunteered. The matron turned bright red—on my behalf. Years later, while presenting at a conference in the UK, I spoke about teacher preparation in the United States. Someone asked if there we...

  I have been to Armenia only once, many decades ago, but Armenia has played an outsized role in my life. Erevan and Mount Arafat In the mid-1980s, Erevan, now spelled Yerevan, was a city of paradoxes and poetry. The capital of the Armenian SSR stood apart from European Russia in both tone and temperament, offering visitors a glimpse into a republic shaped by ancient heritage and Soviet modernity—and a city that glowed pink. Erevan’s signature glow came from Armenian tuff, a volcanic stone quarried from the surrounding highlands. Rich in iron and minerals, the stone oxidized to hues of rose and coral, giving the city its nickname: the “pink city.” Buildings blushed in the morning light and gleamed at dusk, their color a quiet rebellion against Soviet gray. On clear days, Mount Ararat loomed in the distance—tall, dark, and solemn. Though politically inaccessible across the Turkish border, it remained a spiritual and visual anchor. The contrast was striking: the radiant pink ...

  People often ask, “Do you translate into English when you’re listening to or speaking another language?” The short answer is no. Maybe I did once—back when I was still learning to trust the foreign language to carry meaning on its own. But now? No. Not even subconsciously. I know this because interpretation—real-time, oral translation—is not my strength. My brain doesn’t want to rock between two languages. It wants to stay rooted in one. And when I’m in that language, I’m all in. A potent example: years ago, I traveled with a group of U.S. Senators’ wives to the Soviet Union, serving as their liaison to the USSR government—particularly to the republic peace committees and the national women’s committee. I also helped informally as an interpreter when needed, though interpretation was never my forte. During a tour of Leningrad (now St. Petersburg), the group stood before a monument to World War II. The guide explained the history of the Nazi blockade of the city. I turned to...

Aging is not a footnote in my linguistic life—it’s the headline. In my seventh decade, I’ve noticed the shifts: slower retrieval, occasional delays, the need to kick out inappropriate words from other languages before the right one surfaces. But I’ve also noticed something else: the scaffolding holds . The foundation of more than a dozen languages, decades of professional memory work, and a lifetime of linguistic adaptation still supports new acquisition—even when the brain is 73 years old. 🧠 Memory Challenges and Multilingual Compensation Yes, recall is harder now. I feel the delay when I’m not in the right cultural context. I sometimes reach for a word and find three others from unrelated languages elbowing their way forward. But I also know how to filter, sort, and retrieve , because I’ve done it for decades. My memory banks are full—not just with vocabulary, but with patterns, structures, and strategies . That’s what makes new learning possible. 🌍 The Indonesian Challenge Lat...