Occupy ASL: The Planets vlog

This video was created mostly for entertainment purposes, but I'd love to see it start a revolution! Too often we Deaf people aren't fully empowered to occupy, play with, and use ASL. In this video, I use the process of name-signing our solar system's planets (all 8, plus Pluto!) and hope to see others beginning to get more creative with ASL. The video's not perfect - you'll see some weird artifacts - but it's fun, and sometimes that's more important!

Why start with the planets? They're always there and always have been. We see them in the night sky, slipping by, but we don't have name signs for the worlds. As a lover of astronomy, this has always bothered me.

Language Learning While Deaf

Many Deaf people I know are like me and grew up in a multilingual family which was told to speak only one language - English - in the home, in order to make me speak English. In my case, I began to learn Spanish and Arabic as a small child, then my family changed - and as a result, I learned no ASL or other foreign languages for a while.

In school Spanish, French and German were offered. Until my last year in a hearing school, however, none of these were available to me. Instead, I was taken out of classes for speech 'lessons' - and I learned to speak English as well as read and write it. I also learned some signing, because audiology's dirty secret is that a little ASL goes a long way towards making English comprehensible. We're used to working with very little, we Deaf children. In the end they let me take some French classes - one of the languages I had no family connection to!

So when my friends introduced me to Duolingo, an app for iPad and iPhone, I had reservations - but was quickly overjoyed. The app is designed to help people learn six languages, mostly European (I'm hoping they add more in the future, but it's a start.) Users play decoding games where you're forced to figure out how words work together. It's a strategizing process that makes you learn and remember not only new vocabulary but declensions, grammar and phrases. You have the option of using a microphone or speaker if you like, or turning them off, and questions and types of questions will adapt themselves to your needs. And it's ENTIRELY FREE. I am now able to read and decipher many articles in El Diario, a popular New York newspaper. (In any language, the news is depressing, but at least I'm learning!) I hope to one day go to Puerto Rico and be able to converse with my relatives, who are an interesting mix. Best way, people say, is to go there and learn–but a foundation won't hurt.

Compare this to Rosetta Stone, which is a commercial program costing anywhere from $100-$500, depending on what elements you purchase. . I have tried this program and found it unusable. Other writers, like Louise Sattler, have tried to simulate using the program "from the Deaf perspective" and found it usable; maybe I should give it a second try. Sattler says there's continual text and captioning, but hearing people are often able to fill in blanks which we Deaf people don't even know exist, so I'm hesitant to take her word for it.

I still have some issues; I am Puerto Rican, not Spanish, so some of the words, grammar etc. are different. Like many Puerto Ricans, I am part Taino, and their language has blended somewhat with Spanish to create a new hybrid, so I am going online to make up for these gaps and differences.

How do you learn foreign languages?

Reclaim Deaf Power: Interpreters

I saw a post on facebook through Facundo Element; they suggest a fantastic idea: a website to evaluate ASL interpreters and interpreting agencies.

I think this is a fantastic idea because, unfortunately, when it comes to interpreters, we aren't the consumers. The consumers are the colleges or employer who pays for the interpreter. The agency creates a contract with those employers, and interpreters show up to work with the Deaf client. But how much say do Deaf clients have in who they work with? What happens when the interpreter isn't doing too well?

Theoretically, a student ought to be able to complain and tell their college or employer the interpreter's not qualified. Theoretically, you ought to be able to change that interpreter. Practically, however, agencies etc. create contracts with specific services. Often they look for the cheapest possible, and don't want to give this cheapness up.

I remember in college earning my BA I was called into a provost's office and asked to teach other students fingerspelling. They were having problems finding interpreters for chemistry. I protested, successfully, but I was so amazed they'd stoop so low to save a few bucks. (Imagine taking organic chemistry and having lectures.... spelled.)

Another time, ten years or so later while getting my Master's in New York, two interpreters I worked with sadly told me they'd have to stop. They were amazing, highly qualified, but their agency hadn't paid them for two solid months. I complained to the administration, but the hiring of those interpreters was subject to contract with the specific agency. I might have been able to steer them to a reputable agency who treated both clients and interpreters well, but we both lost that opportunity.

The point is there's a missing link in the consumer chain. I think it's time for Deaf people to reclaim their power: we need some medium for evaluating interpreters and especially their agencies. A professional website with professional, polite but honest reviews could make this happen, and go some way to repairing the missing link.

Thoughts?

How about BOTH marriage AND the right to vote? *gasp*

I know it's important to defeat DOMA and Prop 8. But a huge percentage of the gay community are racially or ethnically not white, meaning that when the VRA was shot the other day, what basically happened was rights were traded. Some people both gained the right to marry AND found their right to vote jeopardized. This is a patently ridiculous situation - but also makes me wonder, because a big part of the Tea Party Agenda has been to create situations forcing their opponents against each other - such as the National Organization for Marriage, which sought "to drive a wedge between gays and blacks" by promoting "African American spokespeople for marriage", and to "interrupt the assimilation" of Latinos by making the stance against same-sex marriage "a key badge of Latino identity."

But some of us are both or all or many of these things. Quite a few of us, in fact. I wonder how many people are concerned we've just traded one right for another. We ought to be fighting for BOTH marriage and the protection of the right to vote. The one doesn't make sense without the other, and in many ways right-wing proponents have created this subtext of "robbing Patricia to pay Pilar"–but there are not a finite amount of "rights" out there, that we have to portion them out bit by bit. Deaf rights and gay rights and Latino rights and women's rights aren't pieces of a limited pie and don't need to come at the expense of each other–unless we allow that narrative to drive us.

All of which isn't a shout out to make anyone feel guilty: but it's a reminder the fight isn't yet done, and while we may be winning on one front we can easily lose on another. The worst thing we can do is to allow ourselves to forget where the real fronts are. That kind of misdirection is deadly.

Final thoughts on Gallaudet/McCaskill: Alternate Worlds

In my alternate Universe, when McCaskill's signature was discovered (and not because of any far-fetched conspiracy, but simply because McCaskill had published successful research and her name became a victim of Googling) and a complaint brought to the administration, things went initially much the same. McCaskill was put on leave (and rightly so: marriage went from a guaranteed right being drafted by the government to a question decided by the people, much like equal pay for women, and in a public venue published online: it needed to be looked at.) When McCaskill finally came forward to make a statement, confused and angry as everyone else was and looking for the right thing to do, Gallaudet held an impressive press conference. President Hurwitz lauded the University for its amazing diversity. "Where else can this happen in America? Five, ten years from now, every American college will be struggling with these issues. I'm proud our University is among the first. We're going to lead." He invited McCaskill back, with a raise, and stated his investigation found no fault anywhere, and thanked her for her patience as they necessarily looked into the issue.

The next day a campus-wide convocation was held. Students were asked to comment on the apparent disparity. How could a Diversity Officer who holds views deemed to be oppressive maintain their office? Students had incredible suggestions. We'll never know them; they were made in another universe. Teachers had incredible suggestions. And so did faculty members. A chef from the alterna-Marketplace pointed out it was like doctors prescribing birth control when it's against their religion–and that laws require they do so anyway. Every fascinating layer was explored, and a three hour video resulted. When captioned, Americans all over watched true Democracy on their computers. Nobody had to decide what anything meant.

And in that Universe, after all that, Alternate President Hurwitz stuck McCaskill and other University researchers into a nice office. Keurig coffee. Snacks and water. Couple of iPads. "You have ten hours," he said. "Come up with a paper on professional conduct in handling cultural contact in the postmodern era. We're publishing tomorrow. And I want to see drafts. We're going to be building the model for the rest of the country to follow." Close door.

There was none of this ridiculous race-baiting on Facebook groups that we are seeing here. There was none of this rumormongering, none of the silly "Oh look! Scandalous!" crap. No turning this into the WWF, saying this means gays are against deaf people, or sim-com users are against black people. In my alternate Universe, people focused on the problem and tried to develop real solutions. In my alternate Universe, people are mature and not binary, and recognize that in one of the most diverse Universities in the world, we're going to occasionally have these concerns arise, and the mature thing is to deal with it, not try to shock people and build your website ratings. We do not have to allow the hegemony to turn us against each other. This situation challenged 'the way things are,' and when that happens there's always a backlash. All you can do is try to make something out of it.

At this point as a member of many of the communities involved I'm more than a little sad at the missed opportunities for dialogue and hope we choose better paths in the future–both on- and off-campus.

Author's Note: My first and second draft went in the garbage, and finally I thought, maybe it's best just to share the world I want to see. As a Deaf man, queer man, and person of color, the way this issue has played out has shocked me. I don't have facebook, so I have only seen the racism and homophobia there through the facebook accounts of others, but it's out there, and it's horrifying. Worse, there are people who, by how and what they write, sign and speak, are clearly trying to exacerbate the issue. I hate seeing McCaskill and the University used by those idiotic commercials on TV, for example–Gallaudet and McCaskill have both asked for their images to be removed, and both have had their requests denied. I wish them both the best and hope maturity wins out. I think that's all I can write on the subject. Peace. 

37: Teaching While Deaf: Choosing Texts

Three simple principles: accessibility, contextualization, inclusiveness. It's not easy to apply these principles when designing a unit for Deaf kids. I wanted to teach US History and make sure my Deaf students knew that Deaf people had a place in making America–and that, like my students, there were many kinds of Deaf people. Many tribes, if you will. What texts would be helpful and show Deaf people's place in American history?

What do those three terms mean? Not what you think. Accessibility, to me, means that you can approach the topic in many ways–physical, visual, verbal, interpersonal, intrapersonal, all those intelligences and minds that educators discuss. I have observed that in many classrooms when a teacher works with a Deaf student or a minority student, the tendency is to start with verbal English then "go downwards"–i.e. make the explanation easier and easier, and then ending by repeating verbal structures. The emphasis is on the primacy of English. When teachers work with students who are hearing, or like the teacher, the emphasis is on discovering the student's strength in learning and addressing that strength with a teaching of equal complexity. It's not easier ways, it's different ways, and there's no primacy given to one way over another.

Contextualization means to provide the outside story of whatever you're talking about. A challenge for Deaf kids is they have access to less information than hearing kids. Less movies have captions. Radio isn't captioned at all. Hearing parents are sometimes unavailable. These blocks close a door in the mind, the door of inquiry, the door essential for learning. Teachers have to find the door of inquiry and shove it open, then feed context into the child's brain until the door stays open and the kid starts asking questions themselves. Otherwise education will be unsuccessful. (This is true for all kids, not just for Deaf kids, and the deep bone-down reason why you can't use testing to decide how good a teacher is. You have to see how many doors they've tried to open, and nobody can see that, except the teacher themselves.) The more context you provide, the more the child will understand.

Inclusiveness means to place the Deaf kid in the context of the story. Many other writers have addressed how history departments fail to reach kids, how textbooks fail to reach kids, by dehumanizing and de-diversifying (is that a word?) history. We rarely, if ever, see Deaf people in history classes, except Helen Keller–and even she is circumcised, cut off at age 4 with her hand in running water. We never see her 13 books on socialism, and sadly, many of those books no longer survive, it seems. It also means recognizing all the different ways Deaf people live and have lived, because the stories we include need to reflect our own stories.

The American Revolution was a challenge. In addition to information about the causes of that war and its resultant laws–particularly the Constitution, of course–I wanted to provide information about how Deaf people lived. John Brewster, Jr., made it in–and let me make connections to Goya, and how there were some spaces a little more fluid, a little easier to move in for artists. John Lamberton, slave-ship owner and one of the founding fathers of Martha's Vineyard. Rebecca Nurse, burned as a witch for her blunt declaration, basically, that witchburning is stupid (it is.) These stories don't directly connect to the war, but they embroider it, giving the glitter of reality to the cross-stitch of plain facts. (Sometimes you need a tempting glitter, to open that door.) Add to that the fact that Adams and Franklin were interested in what l'Epee was doing in his school in France–but most of this is text, so while this gives me context and inclusion, it doesn't necessarily give me accessibility. I plan some skits and acting out to help impress the information on students in a variety of ways. We have vocabulary lists also, and these I teach in ASL and English.

The War of 1812–also a challenge. There's rumors and bits, of course. The origin of oral education, and maybe the war between oral Deaf Americans and sign-using Deaf Americans, in the story of John Braidwood, ne'er-do-well scion of the Braidwood family, collapser of two Deaf schools and enemy of Thomas Gallaudet, safe in America from arrest by the British thanks to the war. There's pictures now, of most of these things, so I can at last satisfy more easily the need for accessibility as well as contextualization and inclusion. Deaf Heritage was my friend there, and the Deaf History Reader, and a little booklet written by Alexander Graham Bell, interestingly enough. Maps and pictures of weapons and buildings and paintings... visual and tactile as well as verbal and other methods.

The Mexican-American war gives me a nice little goose-egg: the story of Deaf Smith, Smith the Mumbler, Smith the war-leader, who like Lamberton spoke little and did that strange motion with the ear. He's the perfect frontiersman, the guy who can give me the opening to explain the independent Texas spirit, that short-lived but glorious Texas Republic, and the slotting-into-place as Texas–on its own terms–became part of America. He's also a strange amalgam: in descriptions of him I recognize many types of Deaf people, and it's clear Deaf Smith, like Jean-Jacques Massieu, was an independent icon.

And my students make the connections themselves. "Blunt like me," signs one Deaf girl, about Rebecca Nurse. "I like to stand by the side watching my friends sometimes," says another Deaf boy, with mostly hearing friends, thinking about Deaf Smith. "Why do hearing people use the same word for "impress" (she signs with her thumb in a palm, meaning to astonish, entertain, or gain credit) and "impress" (she signs the sign used also for "recruit," and she's talking about the habit of impressment of Americans by the British in the war of 1812)?" I try to explain, and point out that in ASL we also sometimes use the same sign for different concepts. In tests they are improving steadily, but after two weeks we already have 75 vocabulary words, and they're starting to complain.

To which I reply, reasonably, that it's their own fault; they picked the words themselves.

Feel free to suggest texts and topics!

33: Dirty Words: Deaf Wages and Smutty ASL

Should we be fighting against someone publishing an ASL book with smutty words? This can of worms has expanded to a petition on change.org claiming that just such a book, compiled by a non-Deaf novice signer, exploits the Deaf community and American Sign Language, and beseeching St. Martin's Press to cancel publication of the book.

First of all, I do think that the outrage is appropriately placed. It makes me think of the Deaf Wage discussion in the UK, where their Deaf community is beginning to realize how many hearing people earn a wage from the Deaf community. Hearing people throughout American history have taken advantage of Deaf Americans and American Sign Language to make money. How many ASL dictionaries, for example, have been composed by hearing people with little or no ties to the community? I can point to many examples of online dictionaries with very little if any Deaf input. How much of the profit goes back into the Deaf community? How many Baby ASL books have been produced? How many millions have been created by leeches who latch onto the fact that ASL, even half-assed ASL, is so fucking beautiful that it'll make money no matter what?

The Deaf Wage is everywhere. How many schools for Deaf people or programs are run by people who don't know anything about Deaf people or work with our community? How many people prefer to hire interpreters than hire Deaf workers? How many people work in Deaf schools and programs but give nothing back? Meanwhile, there's Deaf people fighting just to gain a toehold in employment.

Kristen Hensen is making a Deaf Wage. She's been profiting from attention to her YouTube videos (which by the way aren't captioned... effectively cutting off the Deaf community from the opportunity to give her real criticism, perhaps on purpose) and now a book... But.

(You know me, there's always a but.)

Maybe a better response, instead of censorship, is to produce a better, more accurate book, created by Deaf people with a Deaf focus. Not because I think that's more fair–money will still be sucked away from our community. We do need a clear example of what differences would arise in a Deaf-centric publication.

For example, "Fuck you, you fucking fuck" should not be translated into ASL as "Middle finger you, sex fuck!" I mean it comes across as a psychotic individual saying "Fuck you, let's have sex!" We just don't have that expression in ASL. (We have others.)

It's like translating "ça me fait chier" as "please do pee on me" instead of "that pisses me off." (The French wouldn't be amused, either.)

I invite everybody to find interesting Hensenizations of ASL on her youtube (google, I won't link to that stuff)! And: go sign the petition.

22: Deafhood and Reflection: My Experiences as an ELA Student

My earliest memory of an English teacher is Ms. Finley, from 6th grade. I remember some other teachers before this, but vaguely. When you're a Deaf student you look at an interpreter most of the time. The teacher is a vague voice lurking static-filled in the background. Ms. Finley was one of those small but powerful Italian women; she taught English Language Arts, and I was infatuated with her and her energy. One day at the end of class I tried to go up to her and share poetry I'd written. Instead of looking her response was "You shouldn't write that in front of other people."

Oh well. I tried to connect. My interpreter thought the poem was nice.

I'd always done exceptionally well as a reader and writer. In Elementary School I was mainstreamed, on the strength of my native intelligence, with no interpreter in the classroom. I had the natural ability to put sentences together without thinking too much about it. My writing flowed cleanly and clearly, and I was able to well reproduce tone and rhythm. I expect my teachers thought this was enough, especially when I was compared to other, more troublesome students; I was often left alone and unchallenged in the classroom. I'd be given assignments that were simple for me; I wrote quickly and neatly, read speedily, finished whatever, and spent the rest of my class with a book hidden beneath the desk, in my own world.

In Middle School the state was finally kind enough to give me a "resource room" period and an interpreter. I was unique; the only student both in Advanced classes and Special Education. The school had to invent a new code just for me. The interpreter, Denise was, unfortunately, terrible. The state has much more stringent standards for interpreters now, with all types of certificates and experience required, but back then the only requirement was that you breathe - the first interpreter they'd hired, if you can believe it, was actually Italian, and translated my French class into Italian at me. (I am, to this day, grateful for the wide lenses of my glasses; his moustache blocked NADA. Nothing's fair in sixth grade.) Denise at least knew some American Sign Language, but her interpretation consisted of listening then saying, "Okay, you know, he's saying something about writing an essay, it's not important." Then she'd tell me stories about her children, which I found more interesting than a class I couldn't understand.

During this time my grades and motivation slipped severely. I understood nothing that was going on in class, the material was getting more complicated in every class and, as another teacher later told me, it was starting to reach the level where modelling was required, and when the student is looking at the interpreter, not the teacher, modelling doesn't work. I could no longer rely on my reading skills to catch me up, because I had to look at an interpreter ALL THE TIME instead of just reading the textbook, and nobody had taken into account the exhausting nature of staring at a single person eight hours a day. It was all new to me, and so was sign language, and I was learning several things at once, from a woman barely competent in the language. I had to unlearn several linguistic skills from that time, years later.

My fellow 6th, 7th and 8th grade students began exploring the concept of writing as a process. Reading as a process I certainly understood; I'd come to enjoy the concept of re-reading. But re-writing? Remember, my responses up till now had been hurriedly written, facile answers to facile questions. The questions were more complicated now. I do not think, in retrospect, that I did very well; as I said, my grades slipped somewhat, although I continued to do work. (Now, being a teacher, I know that simply getting students to finish work is a challenge, and I wonder how much of my good grades were due simply to compliance, or even pity.)

As a result my challenge in life has been developing the skills to meet challenge. When I want to write a story, my struggle isn't coming up with things to say; I have plenty. My struggle is obtaining stick-to-itiveness, in following a process where I have to do things step by step, after a life where all the assignments have been clear and the answers have been relatively easy. It's difficult to Get Things Done. This became exceptionally clear in 9th grade, when I had Ms. Rae Johnson in AP English. I'd made the conscious decision to attend a school for Deaf people in Washington, D.C. I left my family in the process, but I think the exchange was fair, if somewhat depressing.

Like Ms. Finley, Rae Johnson was a small woman, but Irish and English where Ms. Finley was Italian, calm where she was energetic, considering and private when others were public and thoughtless. I'd been put into the Senior AP English class, on the strength of my excellent test scores. I was emotionally unready for the class material, but intellectually I could deal with it - a weird combination. Now I go back and read texts I'd read at that time and see all the sexual innuendo I missed. Life experience is a big part of reading. Numbers make it easy to forget that.

Anyway, Rae (she bade us call her by her first name, the first teacher in my life to do so) challenged me on every level. She was a Deaf woman, with high competence in both languages, and criticized my ASL skills as well as my English skills, and was the first person in my life to ever offer me constructive criticism on signing. I may have learned the bones of writing from public schools in New York: I learned the meat and flesh of it from Rae. Everything after that class was just icing. The continual writing - being forced to achieve certain levels of work and maintain certain levels of communication - I was challenged in a way I'd never been challenged before. As I said I didn't understand everything. I didn't understand King Lear, or insanity. But writing as a process, the firming of my reading skills, exposure to challenging literature - yes. I learned.

And (he says, wryly, returning to the beginning, as all good essays are supposed to) it was the first time in my life I'd had a teacher who spoke directly to me, in her own words, and saw mine. She was still my friend at graduation, and I saw her a few years later when I returned to the school for a visit. I do not know where she is now, though I wish I did. When you're young you're flippant about such things. Only after you've grown enough to see a bit do you realize how rare such connections are, after years and years of not seeing and not being seen.