Retraining Your Mother Tongue

Artificial intelligence models require continuous retraining to improve their accuracy and adaptability. They are refined, updated, and optimized over time. Meanwhile, human intelligence—particularly in the way we use language—is rarely revisited. We go to school, learn the fundamental rules of grammar and communication, and then move on, assuming that our linguistic development is complete. Even with practical skills like driving, we undergo training once and never officially refresh our knowledge—resulting in roads full of inefficient drivers. But why don’t we apply the concept of retraining to our own cognitive abilities, especially our use of language?

We often talk about learning new languages, but we rarely consider our own. In my case, it’s English. A language rich with depth and nuance, yet often confined within the invisible walls of class and cultural expectation—especially in the UK. Our accents, vocabulary, and sentence structures don’t just communicate meaning; they define who we are within a rigid social hierarchy. Moving abroad changes that. It strips away the unconscious layers of cultural conditioning, allowing us to engage with our native language in a clearer, more deliberate way.

When you leave your home country, your language is no longer shaped by a localized or regional framework. It becomes untethered, universally unbound. You no longer hear the latest slang, filler words, or regional expressions that unconsciously shape the way you speak. Without this constant reinforcement, your relationship with language shifts. You begin to choose your words with intention rather than defaulting to what is expected within your social environment. It’s an odd realization that by immersing yourself in a foreign culture, you can actually refine your own language.

One country I had the opportunity to live in was South Korea. During my time there, I had a short stint teaching English, which made me observe my own communication from a third-person perspective. What was interesting was that, in teaching students how to articulate themselves, I found myself examining my own use of English just as much—if not more—than they were. Teaching forced me to slow down, reconsider how I structured my sentences, and rethink the clarity of my speech. It wasn’t just about making English more understandable for them; it was about understanding it more deeply myself.

There’s also something fascinating about meeting fluent English speakers from other countries. They don’t use English the way the British or Americans do; they develop their own distinct styles, blending influences from their native tongues with the framework of English. Some speak with a poetic directness that feels more expressive than the casual, often diluted way English is used in daily life back home. Others use words that feel old-fashioned or formal simply because that’s how they were taught. These differences make you reflect on your own linguistic choices, inspiring you to be more intentional with how you express yourself.

Perhaps the greatest irony is that when we travel, we expect to immerse ourselves in another culture, yet we rarely consider how the experience will change our perception of our own. At home, you see yourself through a cultural mirror, shaped by history, tradition, and societal expectations. Abroad, that mirror disappears. You are no longer tethered to a system that dictates how you should speak, think, or behave. You engage with your own language on your own terms, free from the constraints of familiarity.

This detachment creates a rare sense of clarity. In the UK, language is performative; you adjust the way you speak depending on who you’re with. You downplay your vocabulary in some settings, expand it in others, always aware of how you’re being perceived. But outside that framework, you can communicate consistently, without the pressure to modify your speech to fit into a specific social category. There’s no need to simplify your thoughts to blend in, nor to embellish them to impress. You can just speak.

Leaving the UK hasn’t distanced me from English; it has brought me closer to it. Without the cultural noise, I’ve refined my relationship with the language, shedding the constraints that once shaped it. Fluency isn’t just about knowing words—it’s about knowing how to use them, and more importantly, knowing why.

Just as AI models require retraining to stay relevant, so do we. Language isn’t static, nor should our understanding of it be. The more we engage with it—questioning, refining, and adapting—the more we sharpen not only our communication skills but also our ability to express ourselves with more integrity.