Random Thoughts on Second Language and AI
As a first-generation immigrant, English is not my mother tongue. Although I have lived in the United States for many years and can read and communicate in English at work without difficulty, the joy and naturalness of expressing oneself in one’s mother tongue cannot be fully replaced by a second language. Using a second language feels like eating a dish missing an essential spice—you can enjoy but not relish it, because a crucial flavor is absent.
Over the years, I’ve found myself torn between Chinese and English: my heart yearns to express itself in Chinese, while reality demands English in my work and daily life. During my early days in the U.S., I found solace in Chinese books, as I struggled in an all-English environment where I could neither understand others well nor express myself. Reading and writing in Chinese felt like coming home—the words flowed naturally, capturing the nuances of my thoughts and emotions.
Living in a new country brought countless fascinating experiences and observations that I longed to write about, yet I felt frustrated by the disconnect between my inner world and my limited ability to share it in English. When I was with American classmates, I remained the quiet Chinese girl, and this discomfort lingered. This challenging experience drove me to work hard on improving my English.
As my English improved, I transitioned from Chinese books to English books. Both languages have their own unique beauty - Chinese with its poetic elegance and English with its precise expressiveness. As a mom, I hope my son will grow up appreciating both languages better than I do. Previously, buying Chinese books in the U.S. meant waiting for lengthy overseas shipping, but English books were readily available. Over time, I found myself reading less Chinese books. This wasn’t by choice - I still deeply love Chinese literature and my native language. Chinese books help me stay connected to my culture, but they’re hard to get in the U.S. Between the difficulty of finding Chinese books and my growing English reading list, I’ve been reading less Chinese than I’d like.
While my sense of foreignness has largely faded, the gap between writing in English and Chinese persists—though now it flows both ways. Sometimes I struggle to express Chinese concepts in English, and other times, English ideas resist translation into Chinese. Initially, I attributed this gap purely to language differences and vocabulary limitation but I gradually realized that my inability to express something in either language sometimes stemmed from unclear thinking. Alternating between languages could help clarify thoughts and identifying confusion.
Inspired by this insight, I dreamed of writing everything in both languages. Yet while dreams are boundless, reality is limited. Consistent writing in one language was daunting enough, and my bilingual aspirations faded before they could start.
However, AI’s translation capabilities in recent years surpass anything I could have imagined when I first arrived in the U.S. Even when GPT emerged in 2022, my attempts at Chinese-to-English translation gave mediocre results. Yet AI translation has improved rapidly. While I can’t fully rely on automatic translation, AI serves as an excellent translation assistant. I can refine the initial translation, explain my intended meaning when the translation falls short, request better alternatives, and select the most fitting English expression through iterative dialogue. Sometimes this process even helps crystallize my own thoughts. This writing experience has been great.
While I understand concerns about AI writing - like misinformation and copyright issues - AI is simply another technological tool, similar to the internet and smartphones. Like these tools, it has both advantages and disadvantages.
I think rather than dwelling solely on potential problems, we can focus our energy on finding solutions and adapting to changing circumstances. Like any technological advancement, we must learn to evolve alongside it. I often find comfort in something my mother used to tell me: there are always more solutions than problems.
As I reflect on these, I’m reminded of Dickens’ words: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” And this feeling is nothing new.