Month: January 2026

Statement 1: [03:05] Spatial Cognition

In my experience, the languages I speak primarily (Chinese and English) use left and right to describe space. Although ancient Chinese often used north and south as reference points, this way of thinking is rarely used in modern daily life. As a result, my sense of cardinal direction is quite vague. When I try to identify direction, I often need external cues such as the position of the sun or the time of day. This aligns with Dr. Boroditsky’s explanation that language does not simply describe space, but actively trains speakers to attend to different spatial features, shaping the habitual awareness of the environment.

Statement 2: [06:10] Time

In my own experience, when I recall historical events related to Chinese history or think in Chinese, they tend to unfold as images (maps), concepts, or layered narratives, like turning pages in a book. This may be because Chinese history is often taught through storytelling and contextual relationships rather than through a single linear timeline. It is difficult to explain Chinese history as a single straight line, since expansion, coexistence, and conflict across multiple regions occurred simultaneously. In contrast, when I think about Western history, especially U.S. history, which I learned in English, events tend to appear in a clear linear sequence. This reflects Dr. Boroditsky’s idea that language and cultural framing influence how time is mentally organized.

Statement 3: [07:15] Memory, Law, and Action

As a multilingual learner who has recently begun studying Japanese, I have become more aware of how different languages describe actions and responsibility. Learning about passive sentence structures in Japanese has helped me notice how some languages reduce emphasis on the agent and focus more on the event itself. This has made me more attentive to how language shapes memory, especially in legal or testimonial contexts. With this point in mind, I now can consciously observe how linguistic habits may influence what is remembered and how responsibility is interpreted.

Statement 4: [41:30] Cognitive Flexibility

I think this is important because learning multiple languages increases cognitive flexibility. Speaking both Chinese and English allows me to shift between different ways of organizing ideas and interpreting situations. As I learn Japanese, I hope to develope an additional perspective that emphasizes context, social awareness, and relational thinking. This supports Dr. Boroditsky’s claim that learning new languages expands the ways people can think, rather than simply adding new vocabulary. I am eager to explore how learning the additional language affect my ways of thinking. 

Statement 5: [22:40] Social Attitudes

As a multilingual learner, I have noticed that language strongly reflects social values and cultural norms. In Japanese, specific words and sentence forms are used depending on social status and relationships. Similarly, in Chinese, different forms of “you” are used when speaking to elders or in formal situations. In contrast, English uses a single form of “you” in most contexts. When I switch languages, I also shift into different social expectations and cultural systems, which shows how language shapes social attitudes and communication.

Statement 6: [58:40] Learning and Cognitive Thought

I think this is important because learning new languages introduces specific ways of organizing thought, not just new words. For example, when learning Japanese, I must constantly consider sentence structure, levels of politeness, and implied meaning, which requires me to think more carefully about context and relationships. In contrast, English encourages more direct and explicit expression, while Chinese often relies on shared understanding and situational context. These differences show that language learning actively shapes how I plan, explain, and interpret ideas, supporting Dr. Boroditsky’s claim that language influences cognitive processes involved in learning.

I posted a photo of a bag I carry whenever I go out for errands. The items are simple and practical: a wallet with cards, some cash, and a small temple charm from Japan; a pen; a small notebook; loose paper for practicing Japanese; AirPods; a comb; a solid perfume; makeup; mouth freshener; a mask; Band-Aids; and a pair of Pilates socks. None of these items feels especially meaningful on its own. But they show how I move through everyday life and how I try to stay prepared and adaptable.

Most of the items in my bag support daily needs. I carry them so I can write thoughts down, take care of myself, and move comfortably between different spaces. I always carry a notebook and a pen. When I have a short break, even for half an hour, I often find a coffee shop to take notes on readings or practice my handwriting. The loose paper is there for practicing Japanese, a language I recently began to learn. Although I use digital tools alongside paper, especially when reading course materials or books too heavy to carry around. I prefer to think and write on paper, and writing by hand slows me down. It helps me focus and gives my thoughts a physical form. For me, the notebook and pen are important text technologies because they shape how I engage with language and learning.

Some of the items in my bag also connect to larger cultural and technological systems. The temple charm comes from Japan, where I will be moving for family reasons. It carries cultural meaning, even if I do not actively think about it each day. The loose paper used for practicing Japanese reflects learning as an ongoing process rather than an achievement. Other items, such as AirPods and cards, connect to digital systems of communication, identification, and access that are part of everyday life but often stay invisible.

The contents of my bag reflect many forms of literacy. These include handwritten literacy, digital listening and communication, and language learning. These literacies are not always visible from the outside. Outwardly, the bag may appear organized and composed. Privately, its contents reflect someone still forming an identity. I hold many roles: mother, wife, daughter, and someone preparing for future academic work. Yet I am still trying to understand what identity belongs to me alone. At times, I am unsure whether my bag represents a clear identity at all, or whether it simply reflects this in-between stage of becoming.

What stands out to me is how little my bag has changed over time. I have carried similar items since I was in high school, even though I cannot clearly remember what my bag looked like. This continuity shows that while my roles and responsibilities have shifted, the tools I rely on to think, learn, and care for myself have remained mostly the same.

If someone were to study this bag in the future, they might see it as evidence of a transitional moment (although I cannot imagine a world without handwritten texts). It reflects a period when people still relied on handwritten notes alongside digital and wireless systems, and when learning and daily life were supported by small, portable objects. In this way, my bag tells a quiet story: not who I want to be, but who I am slowly becoming through ordinary, everyday practices.