Mykhailo
Khokhlovych

Where did your English come from?

I grew up splitting time between Cincinnati and Kyiv. English came first through school in the States, Ukrainian at home, Russian with my grandmother. By the time I understood what was happening, all three were already running in the same place. I never had to study any of them — they were just there.

What actually happens when you interpret?

You stop being a person with opinions and become something closer to a relay. The meaning arrives, gets routed, and leaves. The strange part is that you remember almost nothing afterward. You've been completely present and completely absent at the same time.

What's the most significant room you've been in?

Prague, 2025. I was in the booth for the keynote address by First Lady Olena Zelenska. What I remember most is the silence before she spoke. My job was to be invisible in that moment. I think I managed it.

You also teach. Why?

Because I kept seeing the same problem. Interpreters with no system for improving. They'd work, forget, work again. Nobody had shown them how to listen to themselves — and I mean really listen, not just cringe and close the tab. I've been teaching languages for fifteen years. It felt like the obvious next thing.

What do interpreters get wrong about getting better?

They avoid their own recordings. Hearing yourself interpret is uncomfortable. But that discomfort is information. My course exists for that one moment: when you press play, and instead of stopping after thirty seconds, you keep going.

What does working with you look like?

You write to me, we talk about what you need. For interpretation: simultaneous, consecutive, whisper — English, Ukrainian, Russian. For the course: the next cohort starts when there are enough people in the room.