There seem to be a lot of advanced grammatical structures occurring here—a few lists of attributes with an Oxford comma, a correct use of parentheses, even a summary sentence. However, there are still a few telltale signs that something here is not quite right. I'm not sure I would use a negative adjective to describe myself, let alone describe the shape of my forehead. Nevertheless, this student's description gives us a clue that while he can make a joke—a huge step in demonstrating facility within a languaculture—his perception of the world outside his window is still clearly influenced by something else.

Looking at my students' work, I decided to give myself an assignment, to try out my experiment in languages that I had enough understanding of to buy hat. Those turned out to be French and Russian. I took five years of French in high school, and I can still move through French texts with a certain amount of ease should I need to, but my writing—like that of many of my students—may be less than stellar. Regardless, do I really know the language?

Je m'appelle Jillian Towery. J'ai habite au Canada pour cinq ans et j'adore cette pays— espécialement parce que ici, les montagnes, ils sont pres le mar. Mon epoux—il s'appelle Micah. Je l'ai connu pour un année avant nous que nous nous sommes mariés. Micah et moi, nous travaillons au université ou nous enseignons la langue d'anglais. Je sais cinq langues d'autre que le langue d'Anglais, mais seulement un peu. Un jour, je voudrais étudier une langue, peut-être le langue de français ou latin, et alors je peux lire les literature en cette langue.

My name is Jillian Towery. I have lived in Canada for five years and I adore this country—especially how the mountains are close to sea. My husband is named Micah. I knew Micah for one year before we married. Micah and I—we work at a university where we teach English. I know five languages besides English, but only a little. One day, I would like to study a language, maybe French or Latin so I can read literature in that language.

Not bad. There was a coherent story here, but without a firm grasp of French, I couldn't give my story the tone I wanted. However, there are a few things I understand about how the French view the world is different than that of my own view. One has to do with the verb “to know.” The French have two verbs for “to know”—savior and connaître. The former has to do with knowing a fact or an object while the latter has to do with knowing or becoming acquainted with a person. This is a small distinction that doesn't say much about my French ability, but one which is evidence of a different view outside my language “window” when I speak French. My relationship to the world I'm seeing is slightly different than when I use English.

Now onto Russian. The last time I tried my Russian, I was on my way to a hotel outside of Moscow when I exclaimed to the taxi driver. “We are going into the woods!” He laughed at me. I had actually said, “We are going into the summer!” Here goes:

Меня зовут Джиллиан. Я живу в Канаде, но Я американка. У меня есть брат. У меня много книг. Я люблю читать книги.

My name is Jillian. I live in Canada, but I am an American. I have a brother. I have many books. I like to read books.

This time around, I just grasped at whatever words I knew. I couldn't even tell you what my hair colour was. But I do know this: unlike French, which actually has a word for possessing something (avoir, to have), Russian simply says, “To me is” (e.g. I literally say “To me is brother;” “To me is many books”). The relationship between having and being is closer than that in English; our “having” in Russian is perhaps a part of our being—our relationship to the world is linked to those things with which we identify ourselves, mine being books and brothers.

Language ties us to the world. We have a verbal reality, and when we learn a new language, that reality widens. But when it does widen, some things change for us. We have to relearn ideas that we used to find familiar. That is why taking on a new language casts us in a temporary darkness, one that can seem disconcerting at first, but when the light emerges, can provide us an even greater understanding of what we knew before.