First Encounters with Academic Writing
My introduction to academic writing came more than fourteen years ago, when, as a language instructor, I was first asked to proofread the papers of Korean professors. At the start, it seemed an easy enough task, but it quickly became something more like copy-editing than proofreading. The challenge stemmed from the fact that the papers were originally written in Korean and then translated into English, often disregarding syntax and cultural context.
The Trouble with Translation
Early translation methods tended toward word-for-word substitution. The results could be baffling: sentences without subjects, relationships between variables left undefined, and conclusions that appeared unmoored from the studies themselves. Things did not improve with the first iterations of computer translators—Babelfish among them—which produced English words in vaguely correct order but with little sense.
“Just Put It in English”
My requests for clarification were often met with the weary suggestion: “Just put it in English.” However, what did “in English” mean? For some, it seemed to mean little more than recognizable English words written in the Roman alphabet. It could mean recognizable words in the Roman alphabet, publishable prose for an international journal, or simply a string of vague order words from a machine translation. For me, though, English was not merely about form—it was about meaning. If the ideas and claims were not being properly conveyed, then why translate them at all?
This seeming dichotomy brings to mind the experience of a friend of mine tasked with proofreading a technical manual from a large corporation. The translated draft was 12,000 words; after careful revision, it became 9,000 words. Korean can be much more repetitive than English ( a topic for a later post). However, the corporation and the translation service were distressed by the ‘missing 3,000 words, as though quantity equaled quality.
What initially amused me led to the belief that proofreading is not a simple mechanical task. It demanded deeper engagement, not only with words beyond words, but with meaning.
Toward Immersive Proofreading
The realization that meaning is what should be coveted turned a seemingly simple task into something of a mission. I began practicing what I thought of as “immersive proofreading”: digging into the context of each paper, researching key concepts, and working to understand the variables involved in the pursuit of communicating the intended meanings accurately. Fortunately, unlike in my university days, the internet proved indispensable, sending me down various rabbit holes, decoding technical jargon, and eventually collecting enough to piece together the ideas and earnings I wanted to convey. This hunt of sorts proved enjoyable and instructive as I not only found answers, but also new ways of looking for them. Little did I know that this pursuit of meaning and information in individual papers actually spilled over into a deep interest in the academic research process, particularly in how one goes about deciding on topics, presenting methodology, and supporting conclusions.
What I Learned About Communication
Looking back, I realize that these initial struggles with translation and proofreading were more than just technical challenges. They sparked a more profound curiosity about how ideas travel across languages and cultures, particularly in my early struggles to understand and learn Korean. I was also intrigued about what it really means to communicate clearly in an academic context. In a way, those early proofreading assignments were my first lessons in cultural translation as much as linguistic translation. They forced me to think not only about the mechanics of English, but also about the responsibility of conveying meaning faithfully.
That awareness still shapes how I write and teach, and also raises new questions. What effects does crossing linguistic and cultural barriers have on knowledge? What is lost in translation when local research is reshaped to meet global publishing standards? I cannot claim to have the answers, but I do know that true communication begins with the recognition that meaning is not accurately captured when we ‘just put it in English.’