I used four letters and just one word: "blah," discovering my own language at just seven years old. Together with my best friend we repeated the single word with varying inflections of our voices, composing incomprehensible dialogues. In this bizarre way, we conveyed the infinite meanings of our language: in "blah"s, we presented the cure to cancer, rehearsed poignant prose, and uncovered innovative secrets. We masqueraded as worldly individuals of intelligence far beyond our second grade minds by conversing in our secret language. We imagined that "blah" allowed us to see the universe from diverse angles, that "blah" contained instructions to change the world.
This first exploration of language felt even more powerful upon learning Spanish: by studying a real, fascinating culture and tongue, I discovered new perspectives that I couldn't have even pretended to understand before. If it weren't for Spanish class, how would I comprehend the significance of El Día de Muertos or the controversy surrounding corridas de toros? As I reveled in the wonders of Spanish class, I wondered about other ways to communicate.
It occurred to me that computer programming was another way to speak, with machines instead of humans. Programming granted me the ability to turn abstract ideas into concrete shape, to explore the freedom of molding "for"s, "if"s and "return"s into creative sculptures of computer programs. Computer languages empowered me to express meaningful messages by commanding machines; this required a new mindset that I found just as captivating as communicating through traditional languages.
Statistics allowed me yet another way to communicate. I gained the assurance needed to understand numbers that characterize and clarify the universe, and the skepticism useful in detecting distortion in mass media and even daily life. When a friend generalizes something substantial based on one example, I occasionally find myself introducing the possibilities open to her with significance tests and sampling design instead of one-sided conclusions from unreliable generalization. I began to see statistics as a shared language centered on contributing analytical interpretations of the quantitative world; just like Spanish and computer languages, it can be applied in day-to-day life, but can also distribute eye-opening views to entire communities.
Languages are immensely powerful on their own; combined, they are unstoppable in encouraging progress. Languages of all types are all naturally embedded in our lives, so I see it as our responsibility to stir them up and bring them together in conversation. As I put up posters for a community event our Web Development club was hosting, I used my limited Spanish vocabulary to introduce the event to a non-English speaking mom and encourage her son to attend. I explained the capabilities of computer languages like Python, using Spanish to break the communication barrier and my appreciation of programming to bridge the technological hurdle. Similarly, when friends needed my help to accurately convey statistics in their journalism assignments, I wrote an interactive computer program in Java that explains and facilitates assumption verification and inference tests. By finding ways to marry languages and create greater depths of understanding, I've been able to create progress in dispersing knowledge and filling in gaps of the world around me. For me, nothing could be more exciting.
Today, I continue learning more languages, new vocabularies—technical, analytical, and cultural—and applying them to improve the environment I live in. While my second grade exploration of "blah" may have been quirky and playful, I now see it as the precursor to my belief in the ability of distinct languages to harmonize and motivate change. Although varied languages may not merge into a simple "blah," combining understandings from different vantage points inspires me to imagine creative solutions to difficult problems. Now, slowly but steadily, I am beginning to translate our make-believe language by unifying the real languages that I learn, unraveling all the secrets that I hoped "blah" contained.