"Radin, who lives in Western Mass and is the director of citizenship and immigration services at social service agency, writes of teaching adult learners from Iraq, Eritrea, Bhutan, and the Democratic Republic of Congo, people who have fled violence and upheaval to make new lives in the U.S. His lessons, on kitchen tools, laundry, driving, serve as scaffolding for exploring larger questions of language and meaning. “Words are tools, not the indications of the ultimate nature of reality.” We are introduced to his students, their specific triumphs and hardships, their moments of joy and fear, and he writes with candor of his own Jewish upbringing and gestures with grace and specificity at painful moments and memories in his own history. The book braids philosophic inquiry and intimate personal narrative examining what it means to teach, to learn, to speak, to read, the power language, and its limits.“—Nina MacLaughlin, The Boston Globe, 25.03.2021

"Radin, who lives in Western Mass and is the director of citizenship and immigration services at social service agency, writes of teaching adult learners from Iraq, Eritrea, Bhutan, and the Democratic Republic of Congo, people who have fled violence and upheaval to make new lives in the U.S. His lessons, on kitchen tools, laundry, driving, serve as scaffolding for exploring larger questions of language and meaning. “Words are tools, not the indications of the ultimate nature of reality.” We are introduced to his students, their specific triumphs and hardships, their moments of joy and fear, and he writes with candor of his own Jewish upbringing and gestures with grace and specificity at painful moments and memories in his own history. The book braids philosophic inquiry and intimate personal narrative examining what it means to teach, to learn, to speak, to read, the power language, and its limits.“—Nina MacLaughlin, The Boston Globe, 25.03.2021

"Radin, who lives in Western Mass and is the director of citizenship and immigration services at social service agency, writes of teaching adult learners from Iraq, Eritrea, Bhutan, and the Democratic Republic of Congo, people who have fled violence and upheaval to make new lives in the U.S. His lessons, on kitchen tools, laundry, driving, serve as scaffolding for exploring larger questions of language and meaning. “Words are tools, not the indications of the ultimate nature of reality.” We are introduced to his students, their specific triumphs and hardships, their moments of joy and fear, and he writes with candor of his own Jewish upbringing and gestures with grace and specificity at painful moments and memories in his own history. The book braids philosophic inquiry and intimate personal narrative examining what it means to teach, to learn, to speak, to read, the power language, and its limits.“—Nina MacLaughlin, The Boston Globe, 25.03.2021