Second Day of Grad School.

Today is Tuesday. That means the day after yesterday. So after my second round of reception, comprehension, discussion, learning, experiencing, eating, walking, and story telling in ASL; I'm feeling more comfortable with myself and with the school, and more confident in my class participation. 

No tears today. 

Nearly all my classes are Monday and Tuesday, with the exception of a 2.5 hours seminar every Friday morning. Not bad, right? Except for the fact that my meal breaks are few and short. Now I understand why grad students always carry food with them wherever they go. You never know if you have to work/learn through lunch, and dinner, and into the night, and onward through breakfast. 

For several of my classes we have to pick a topic, subject matter, or idea in connection with a presentation, project, or paper. So far, I've been able to find relating ideas about multi-cultural, race & ethnicity, and literacy. Those topics are so interesting to me. I have no idea what I'm doing, but so far I'm having fun and have found some inspiration. 

Thanks to Labor Day, I don't have class until Tuesday... that's 6 days off! Don't worry, I'm burying my nose in my books. 

After next week, it will be in depth learning, involvement, immersion, and dedication. I have to retain a 3.0 GPA to graduate and a 3.5 GPA to keep my scholarship. 

Happy Labor Day!!

I'm Deaf and It's Okay, A Book Review

I'm Deaf and It's Okay

Written by: Lorraine Aselitine, Evelyn Mueller, & Nancy Tait

Illustrated by Helen Cogancherry

Published in 1986 this children’s tale of a young deaf (or hard-of-hearing, it is hard to tell) boy exploring the world with and without his hearing aides, mentions social and cultural anecdotes which are now relatively taboo. It is most clearly illustrated on the pages discussing story time in the library. (I would cite page numbers except it hasn’t any.) The  very talented illustrator shows a smiling friendly teacher sitting on a chair in front of a handful of deaf/hoh children, most of which with that cringe-inducing vest of a hearing aide. She smiles big and signs ‘big’ while a picture of an elephant and the letters ‘B-I-G’ sit besides her. She, too, wears a device across her chest, except hers is a microphone. The little boy’s hearing aid fails and he is sent to the office to get a new cable. 

The author continues to tell the story from the young boy’s perspective, a perspective of isolation with the yearn to hear. The boy has hearing parents, a sister, and a grandmother who all sign. His school friends ‘know to look at him’ while they talk so he can read their lips. Waitresses over enunciate and yell while taking his order, which obviously aggravate and annoy him. He becomes frustrated with life and wishes he could hear. 

Immediately after he pushes his sister and throws his hearing aids on the the floor at school, a 17-year-old deaf man enters the scene, depicting how cool it is to be deaf. After exclaiming his college plans, he says, “Deaf people can do most things hearing people can do.” Smiling, the young boy soon realizes that it is okay to grow up and be a deaf man. Maybe some day he can help a little deaf boy, too.

Well.

First of all, I hate that he had to miss story time and go get a new cable. Why couldn’t he just stay and see the story in ASL? 

Second, they mentioned that Mom spoke while she signed and he placed his hand over her throat to feel the vibrations of her voice, which comforted him. How is that comforting him? 

Next, I agree it is important to have good deaf role models for young deaf children. I like that she incorporated a cool teenager who is college bound. But I dislike the fact that she chose the word most in the quote above. I thought Deaf people could do everything hearing people can except... hear. 

Finally, I am pleased the boy become happy with himself and looks forward to his future, embracing his culture. But this short story is clearly showcasing the norms of an outdated theory of how to raise deaf children.

Suppose this story was published today in 2011:

1. No vest hearing aids. 
2. Mom would not be speaking while she signed. In fact, the young boy might not even wear hearing aids. 
3. Perhaps the deaf child would have a deaf neighbor or grandparent.
4. The Story Time illustration would show a teacher expressively using ASL to explain and paint the picture of the big elephant, while deaf and hard-of-hearing children watch in anticipation. 

Would I share this story with deaf children now? 

Would I show the pictures as I tell/sign the story? 

My immediate response is: NO! There are too many labels, stereotypes, and signs of constraint in this short story. However, perhaps to older children who are more comfortable with themselves, have created their own self-identity and are now developing a cultural identity, whose minds are now developing thoughts about the world and how people interact within it; perhaps these children could look at this story and compare/contrast what the differences were of growing up deaf in 1986, than it was/is presently. (Just like how I was asked in school to think back to “pioneer days” and develop critical thinking skills by imagining how my experiences relates and differs from my ancestors’ experiences.)

Train Go Sorry; a Reflection

I just finished reading "Train Go Sorry" for the second time. Well, really I want to say I sincerely read it for the first time, as my previous attempt was for assigned college reading during undergrad at Sacramento State University, California. Ms. Leah Hager Cohen's artistic tapestry weaving in and out of anecdote and biographical memoir created such a multi-faceted array of enlightenment, information, perspective, and impetus for further ponder. She has a knack for educating the reader in a way which is not patronizing, nor is it tedious in explanation. Her stories are clear, concise, and conclude in parable and metaphor congruous with the implicit message at hand.

I really feel like I know Sophia and her long hair and warbling Russian accent. I really feel like I know James and would congenially greet him on the street, admiring his gold jewelry. I really feel like I could shake Oscar Cohen's hand and agree with the arduous labor of his job, inadvertently sneaking a peep at his Bronx teeth. I could sense what it is like to grow up around a world painted in ASL and then struggle through the rite of passage into adulthood as a hearing woman, then back into the Deaf  W O R L D.

I am looking forward to finding more books by Ms. Cohen. Thus far, I have unearthed her blog. Not all of her writing in its entirety is about the ASL and Deaf experience. Regardless I still find it intriguing and captivating.

It is helpful to read about the experiences of another woman in her efforts to become an interpreter. She poignantly discussed the same things I worry about, have encountered, have heard professors warn my class about, and analyzed myself during conversations with my Deaf friends. This makes me feel validated and also comforted that I am not the only one with these thoughts and reactions.

I wish there was a Part II to this story, to find out the post-high school lives of these Lexington School alumni.