It was the day of the fourth grade Culture Fair. Â Mexico and Japan were in one room. Â India was across the hall with Britain. There were tamales and wasabe and soy beans in a pod. Â And hot chai.
The kids were organized into small groups of 6-10 boys and girls, and every 18 minutes they’d rotate from one country to another.
My country wasn’t a country at all. Â I had some pads and rugs set out in front of a table where the kids could sit, and I recited a poem in three languages. Â On the map on the wall that showed what countries were in what rooms, my country was Jabberwocky.
‘Twas brillig…
Il briligue…
Es brillig war…
The first group of kids were rolling in laughter during the French.  And they all were wide-eyed at the German. We talked about words in different languages and where they go in our brains and how the same words can sound so different.  We talked about translating from one language to another and how it seems like it should be so straightforward until you try to do it …say… with poetry. And we talked about the sound of The Jabberwocky.
The kids agreed that the sound of the German fit the story better. Â “It kind of sounds more like yelling,” I suggested, “where the French sounds more like singing.” Â A short-haired boy raised his hand. Â “And I think the English sounds more like … like making a statement.”
Not yelling. Â Not singing. Â Making a statement. Â Perhaps that’s just about as accurate a description of English as anyone might have come up with. Â … Â Or on second thought, maybe my English rendition of the poem needs some work.