Wouldn't it be wonderful to travel to a foreign country without having to worry about the headache of communicating in a different language?

    In a recent Wall Street Journal article, technology policy expert Alec Ross argued that, within a decade or so, we'll be able to communicate with one another via small earpieces with built-in microphones. That's because technological progress is extremely rapid. It's only a matter of time. Indeed, some parents are so convinced that this technology is imminent that they're wondering if their kids should even learn a second language.

    It's true that an increase in the quantity and accuracy of the data loaded into computers will make them cleverer at translating “No es bueno dormir mucho” as “It's not good to sleep too much.” Replacing a word with its equivalent (同义词) in the target language is actually the “easy part” of a translator's job. But even this seems to be a discouraging task for computers.

    It's so difficult for computers because translation doesn't—or shouldn't—involve simply translating words, sentences or paragraphs. Rather, it's about translating meaning. And in order to infer meaning from a specific expression, humans have to interpret a mass of information at the same time.

Think about all the related clues that go into understanding an expression: volume, gesture, situation, and even your culture. All are likely to convey as much meaning as the words you use.

    Therefore, we should be very skeptical of a machine that is unable to interpret the world around us. If people from different cultures can offend each other without realizing it, how can we expect a machine to do better? Unless engineers actually find a way to breathe a soul into a computer, undoubtedly when it comes to conveying and interpreting meaning using a natural language, a machine will never fully take our place.

    Last summer I sat at a long picnic table near a breathtaking mountain. While the parents were eating dinner, the kids ran up a trail in search of a secret fort. Twenty minutes later one excited little boy, James, interrupted the adult conversation.

    “Mom, Mom, you can't believe what we found!”

    Lovingly, his mother smiled and whispered, “I can't wait to hear, James, but grown-ups are talking, and there will be a pause in the conversation. Please wait for the pause.”

    On my other side, another boy came running up to his mother with equal enthusiasm.

    “Mom, Mom, we had so much fun—”

    “I am talking! Don't interrupt,” she said.

    “But, Mom—”

    “Be quiet! Can't you see that I am talking?”

    “But Mom we found the—”

    “Shut up, Steve!” she yelled.

    My heart sank. I knew what was coming. James, on my right, patiently waited for the pause, enthusiasm still alive and well. Steve, on my left, walked away from the table, looking shamed, carrying with him stories of secret forts never to be shared.

    What markedly different messages to the child! “Wait for the pause” versus “Shut up” gets incorporated (包含)so differently into a child's developing sense of self.

    Harsh(刺耳的) words have bad effects. That's why I want you to promise to delete the phrases “Shame on you” or “You should be ashamed” from your vocabulary. I have seen countless patients whose parents' thoughtless words echoed in their heads and chipped(消除) away at their self-worth, even decades later.

    So we have to discipline ourselves to make our instructions constructive. One great tool is to look for positive behavior to reinforce. Don't ignore the things that your kids are doing right. Thank your children. Tell them that you noticed how they waited patiently or cleared their plate without being asked. Chances are that they will do it again. Let them feel noticed, appreciated, and valued. There's no better way to shape behavior.

    In his research work, Philosophical Investigations（哲学调查）, Ludwig Wittgenstein tries to clarify（澄清）some of the problems in people's thinking about how the mind works.

    Imagine, he says, that everyone has a small box in which they keep a beetle（甲壳虫）. No one is allowed to look in anyone else's box, only in their own. Over time, people talk about what is in their boxes and the word “beetle” comes to stand for what is in everyone's box. Through this example, Wittgenstein point out that the beetle is very much like an individual's（个体的）mind; no one can know exactly what it is like to be another person or experience things from another's point of view—look in someone else's “box”—but it is general considered that the mental working of another person's mind is very similar to that of our own. However, it does not really matter—he argues—what is in the box or whether everyone indeed has a beetle, since there is no way of checking or comparing. In a sense, the word “beetle” simply means “what is in the box”. From this point of view, the mind is simply “what is in the box”, or rather “what is in your head”.

    Wittgenstein considers language to have meaning because of public usage. In other words, when we talk of having a mind—or a beetle—we are using a term that we have learned through conversation. The concept might be perceived（感知）differently in each of our minds, so the word “mind” cannot be used to refer specifically to some entity（本质）outside of our own conception（概念）, since we cannot see into other people's boxes.

    Moksh Jawa, 16, a student at Washington High School in the US, has already become a legend(传奇) among students. “Why not?” might be his favorite question to ask.

    As a seventh-grader, he taught himself coding(编程) by studying on the Internet.

    As a high school freshman, he passed the AP Computer Science A exam with a 5, the highest score possible.

    As a sophomore (高中二年级学生), he developed his own online course and helped his classmates get through it because his high school didn't teach coding.

    Everything he did came from his own interest. His father sent him a link to Codeacademy, an online coding training program, in middle school. He learned a programming(编程) language all by himself after signing up to the website.

    “I just fell in love with computer science,”Jawa said. Along the way, he lit a fire of curiosity and passion among classmates to learn coding too.

    “All of my friends, especially the girls, were really, really afraid of computer science,” he said. But the subject and exam weren't things to be feared, he said, “Computer science is all about logic(逻辑), not about how smart you are. ”

    To make his knowledge available online, Jawa set about creating his own online course, with easy-to-follow lessons. He included quizzes and tests too.

    The course has so far attracted 3, 200 students across the US and in 120 countries and regions, including China, Ukraine and Algeria.  It shows, Jawa said, the huge need for coding lessons.

    When video lecturing, “I deliver it like I'm talking from one high school student to another,”Jawa said. “It's always great to make it as clear and fun as possible, and to try to keep my voice as energetic as possible. ”

    He also does that, when teaching members of the computer science club he founded at his high school.

    “His tutorials(辅导) were great, ”said Taj Shaik, the club's co-president, who took the whole course last year. “I'm definitely one of the early adopters(使用者) of Moksh. ”

    “He's pretty amazing, ”said Bob Moran, principal of Washington High School, who saw him lead the club. “He was just a fantastic teacher—clear, organized and entertaining. When a student got the right answer, he would throw him a candy. ”

    Almost every day we come across situations in which we have to make decisions one way or another. Choice, we are given to believe, is a right. But for a good many people in the world, in rich and poor countries, choice is a luxury, something wonderful but hard to get, not a right. And for those who think they are exercising their right to make choices, the whole system is merely an illusion, a false idea created by companies and advertisers, hoping to sell their products.

    'The endless choice gives birth to anxiety in people's lives. Buying something as basic as a coffee pot is not exactly simple. Easy access to a wide range of everyday goods leads to a sense of powerlessness in many people, ending in the shopper giving up and walking away, or just buying an unsuitable item that is not really wanted. Recent studies in England have shown that many electrical goods bought in almost every family are not really needed. More difficult decision-making is then either avoided or trusted into the hands of the professionals, lifestyle instructors, or advisors.

    It is not just the availability of the goods that is the problem, but the speed with which new types of products come on the market. Advances in design and production help quicken the process. Products also need to have a short lifespan so that the public can be persuaded to replace them within a short time. The typical example is computers, which are almost out-of-date once they are bought. This indeed makes selection a problem. Gone are the days when one could just walk with ease into a shop and buy one thing; no choice, no anxiety.

    When young, I loved going on trail(小路) runs. It was my favorite way to escape stress. So, when I was back in my hometown after a tough first year of my Ph. D. program, I thought a trail run was just what I needed. But instead of helping me relax, the run did just the opposite.

    After I moved to the city for college, where my runs were on flat concrete paths instead of winding dirt trails, I used a GPS watch. When I went on trail runs again in the country, it constantly reminded me of the fact that I wasn't keeping up with my usual pace. I turned my watch off, thinking that would allow me to enjoy my surroundings and find the peace I expected, but I worried I was underperforming. "Why can't I let go and just enjoy myself?" I wondered. But after some introspection(反省), I realized why I was struggling­both on trail runs and in graduate school.

    Going into my Ph. D. , I had thought that my solid undergraduate track record would set me up for instant success. To my surprise, I was wrong. I lacked confidence in my research abilities which I thought stopped me performing well and I constantly felt my progress was too slow. Other students'self-confidence and their excellent results made me feel insecure. Finally, one day I broke down in tears in my adviser's office.

    Then came my visit home: I was having trouble because I hadn't properly adjusted my expectations to the differences between an urban run and a trail run.

    A Ph. D. is like a trail run: Sometimes you can run fast. Sometimes you might find yourself climbing up a steep, winding trail at a snail's pace. And that's OK. Barriers are unavoidable, and success looks and feels different on a challenging trail than it does on a smooth, flat path. Sometimes it's best to take a deep breath and do your best to meet the challenge.