IM SO SORRY! I NEED AN INTERPRETER! AGAIN, I’M SO SORRY!

I’m not the type of person to feel strongly about standing up for my rights. Well, I take that back. I do feel strongly, but I have a hard time insisting on my rights being taking care of. For example, many years ago I met with a therapist. He flat-out told me that he refused to pay for an interpreter and that, if I wanted him to see me, I would need to pay for my own. Instead of explaining the ADA to him and insisting that he accommodate my needs, I shrunk down in my seat and just started saying stuff like, “Oh, that’s OK. I’m sure there are agencies out there who will pay for an interpreter for me. You don’t have to pay a thing. I’ll be fine.” Which, just in case you don’t know, isn’t quite accurate.  It’s the therapist’s legal obligation to provide accommodations for me (an interpreter in my case) for his services. That doctor had me so intimidated that I’ve since found it hard to request accommodations with any doctor or group at any time. Pretty sad, eh?

My kids go to a charter school. I have had a few occasions when I’ve needed an interpreter. When I’ve asked, they have always – ALWAYS – said yes and gotten me an interpreter. Yet, it’s still scary for me to ask. Why is that? It’s not really fair for me to feel scared to ask for something that is rightfully mine. I do though. I shrink down like a little kid and beg for accommodations. One day, I hope to be able to stand up for myself with confidence and explain my needs and demand my rights be met. Until that day, I’ll sill request interpreters. I’ll just be scared doing so. Kind of pathetic, but that’s the way it is.

Goodbye to A Helpful Interpreter

Have you ever noticed how, sooner or later, everybody leaves? I'm serious. Sometimes I feel as if I have a swinging door in my life. For me, I'm talking about professionals--not family. I'm very grateful for that!

I can't even tell you how many therapists I've gone through. Just when we begin to dig into the dirt, they retire...or move out to Timbuktu. It kills me every time. But one set of professionals leave the most frequently--and that's interpreters.

I have to go to my community mental health clinic up to four days a week. Sometimes I see my psychiatrist on Tuesdays, my case manager on Wednesdays, get my bi-weekly injection on Thursdays, and see my therapist on Fridays. Whew! And mental health services depend on confidentiality, so, much to my appreciation, they do their very best to have the same interpreter for all of my visits. And, at least the same interpreter for all of my therapy sessions, so not everyone knows how crazy I am. ..except the 'terp scheduled and the therapist.

But, unfortunately, just when I'm used to seeing the same 'terp week after week, they always seem to find a more steady assignment and leave me. Then a new interpreter comes in and it takes them a little while to get used to the problems I talk about. And they are very shocking, I assure you!

Recently, very recently, I lost another interpreter's devotion. She found herself an assignment that proved more steady and dependable. One day I was in therapy and my therapist ended the session with, "We have something we need to discuss." That's never good. I replied, "Just as long as you don't say you're leaving." I meant the therapist and I was speaking from my heart.

"No, I'm not leaving," was his retort.

"I am," my interpreter chimed in. After a few seconds of confusion I realized I was losing one of my closest interpreters I've ever relied on. It was devastating and I began to cry.

"Why do they always leave me?" I asked. But I knew it was the right thing for her to do. And, after coming down from that devastation, I am very happy for her. But it is rough. Luckily, I have other interpreters with experience with my craziness that I can use and I like them a lot. I'm sure, with time, the trust will be there just as equally as it was with my former 'terp.

But I'll miss my previous interpreter and I'll always appreciate her loyalty to my "cause." Good luck to you and may everything in your life go smoothly from here on out. That includes getting all three cats to use the toilet all the time. (smile)

For me, it's onward and upward. Let's see who next I can suck into my sick world. Don't worry. I'll go easy on them. Maybe.

Five Best Ways to Learn American Sign Language

As a teacher of American Sign Language, I am often approached by family members and friends of Deaf people or by ASL students wanting to know the best way to learn the language of American Sign Language. "Wow," I think. "What a loaded question!" I think it has a lot to do with why you want to learn (Do you have a deaf grandchild you want to communicate with or do you just think it's cool looking?), how serious you are (was this just a last-minute idea or have you been planning this seriously for a while?), and what resources are available to you (Do you have internet access readily available; are there Deaf events in your area, etc.?).

If you're serious and you know you'll be sticking with it, here are five great ways to start your journey...

1. BOOKS WITH DVD's WITH THEM -- This would be for the very beginner or as a refresher for those coming back to ASL after a hiatus. If you're just going for vocabulary at first, I strongly recommend "The Gallaudet University American Sign Language Dictionary." Gallaudet University is by far the top resource for Deaf Americans and their dictionary only proves this. If you want to get started with sentence structure right away, try "The American Sign Language Phrase Book," by Lou Fant and Barbara Berstein Fant. The latest edition has a DVD with it. The pictures aren't the greatest, but it's great to learn basic ASL sentence structure. There are many other good books as well. I recommend going to Harris Communications and looking through their available ASL books.

2. INTERNET COURSES -- If you have the time to sit at your computer and do Facebook, you certainly have time to learn some great ASL lessons off the internet. There are online dictionaries at ASL Pro and Signing Savvy, etc. Both of these have a plethora of vocab words to show you and ASL Pro even has phrases available. ASL pro is based out of Texas and Signing Savvy is based out of Michigan, so you might see slight differences. Truth is, you'll be meeting Deaf people from all over and so it's good to know as many variations of sign concepts as possible. You can also go to YouTube.com and type in "American Sign Language" and you'll get tons of basic sign language or you to learn. If you type in "Intermediate American Sign Language," you'll get some pretty good, more advanced videos. Be wary of who is signing on them. You don't want to learn from another student.

3. LIFEPRINT.COM -- I'm giving this site it's own number, because if there were a way to learn ASL strictly online, the ASL University is the forerunner in this department. Filled with vocabulary, history, Deaf Culture, numbering/lettering (beginners and advanced), phrases, videos, facts, and more, it's taught by Bill Vicars (a Deaf/HOH ASL user) who is personable and thorough. There's even ways to contact him for information (though you shouldn't need to since it's all on the site) and it gets very advanced as you go -- as slowly or quickly as possible. You can pay and do the curriculum with his help for credit or you can even self-teach yourself the curriculum (if you're highly motivated). Very worth your time to check it out!

4. IN-PERSON/COLLEGE CLASSES -- Sure, some high schools are starting to offer ASL at their facility (Yay!), but most classes worth taking are college or just in-person classes. Every class should be evaluated on its own though. Attend at your own risk. There are some amazing ASL Interpreter Training Programs around the country, but there are also programs that bomb. Before signing up for an ASL class, find out who the teacher is. Are they Deaf/HOH/hearing/certified interpreter/CODA/etc? How much experience does he or she have? Which curriculum do they use? Do they use their voice the entire time or so you get to have some silent signing at times? Be careful and get recommendations. But in-person training is by far the best way to go about learning the basics.

5. DEAF/HOH EVENTS -- After (or while) you learn Basic American Sign Language, it's time to venture out into the Deaf world and get to know some native and skilled signers in your neighborhood. Look in your yellow pages for Deaf service agencies -- they should be able to supply you with local meeting times and activities to whet your appetite. For example, here in West Michigan, there are Deaf nights at two different malls, coffee meet-ups, ASL movies, softball, dances and even galas! If you're looking to work on your receptive skills and practice your expressive skills, there's plenty of opportunities for this! So, don't be shy. Get out there and mingle. It may be the only way to make yourself into an advance American Sign Language user.

An Interpreter to the Rescue!

These past few weeks have been very trying for me. My anti-depressant was taken away and I fell into a deep somberness. Crying for now reason, calling out to God to please help me get through this. And, of course, He did. One of the things I wanted to try was to attend church with my family. They go to church every Sunday, but there’s no interpreter for me. I could go to a different church, but, instead, I had gotten in the habit of just staying home. However, while I was truly struggling with my depression, I decided to do a search to see if anyone would be willing to come to my church and interpret for me. So, I sent the request to the head of the interpreter training program at a local college and found one wonderful student willing to take the bite.

Imagine how she felt…second year ASL student, never interpreted before outside of internships at college. She walks into this rather large church and shakes my hand. It was wonderful that she was willing to do this and I knew in my heart that, no matter what happened, we would forge through this day together.

Linda seemed a bit nervous when I saw her in the lobby, but I, too, was a basket of nerves. Not because I had an interpreter coming to church, but because I hadn’t been to church in years and I remembered no one. If you know me, though, you know that I’m always nervous and I have no short term memory whatsoever (my long-term memory ain’t that great either).

We only did Sunday School that day instead of both SS and church. I felt a little overwhelmed and thought it best to sit back in church and just read along with some of the pastor’s notes. SS was enough though for Linda, I’m sure. Picture an older gentleman, interacting with the class and reading Biblical scripture at the speed of rabbits. Linda basically took the reigns and held on. I was so impressed with her.

Sure, there were parts that were missed (so I was told), but none so much that it lost it’s meaning to me as she translated for me. I was dressed in this stupid pants outfit that made me feel like Liberace and I had forgotten shoes, so I finished off the outfit with some black, fluffy slippers. LOL Not the best church outfit, if you ask me.

Anyway, the point of the post is that Linda did a great job and I was once again reunited with the congregation my family has come to love and be attached to. She’s interpreting again on Easter and I’m very excited about that. Thanks, Linda. This really means the world to me!

Top Five Things You Should Know Before Learning ASL

1. It's not easy as some think it is.

Some people jump in high aspirations and have no real training in using ASL in their everyday things. You must go through school. We recommend at least a bachelors degree minimum. Many people call me up and ask me to do a program for their kids or at schools and these students (children and adults) always think that if they pass my beginning Sign class, they're qualified to work as an interpreter or something using ASL.

2. ASL is not universal.

ASL comes from French Sign Language (FSL) except many assume it's from British Sign Language, since the spoken language there is often English. Truth is most countries have their own sign language, which is full and beautiful and a bona fide language there. Mexican Sign Language, French Sign Language, Italian Sign Language, all legit languages. American Sign Language is used in North America and some of Canada (and sometimes a little of Mexico). And even within America, there are accents and variations. Words such as EARLY, BIRTHDAY, PIZZA, OUTSIDE, etc., are signed differently in West Michigan than, say, Texas. It's all different.

3. Facial expressions are grammatically necessary in ASL.

If you're not making facial expressions as you sign ASL, you're not signing the true language of ASL. There are necessary aspects of signing ASL that involve sticking out your tongue. blowing, lifting or lowering your eyebrows, etc. I've seen some great signing from high school music groups who try to play their music and sign ASL at the same time, but they don't have any expressions. Signing ASL has requirements--especially facially--and signers need to know that. There's more information on my web site about mouth morphemes and other such things. Check it out at www.deafexpressions05@gmail.com.

4. English Sign Language (ESL) is not the same as American Sign Language.

There are still many people who don't know the lingo. ESL is an English sign system created to help children to learn how to sign and read at the same time. However, ESL isn't a real language and I don't recommend learning that. It can be a bad experience and get you hooked on it. It's a signing system (not language) where students learn to sign every word, every part of a word, exactly as they'd speak in English. It's confusing and it takes a lot longer to express yourself. ASL has a life all its own.

5. Certification.

You will not know enough the first year or two to test for certification. No, I don't mean the first set of classes, I mean "year." It takes about seven years to become fluent in a new language. ASL is the same. You will require lots of practice, attending classes and workshops, reading, etc. To take the test to make you a certified interpreter, you'll have a written test and a signing test (both expressive--you sign what the hearing person is saying, and receptive--you speak what the Deaf person is signing) and they're quite difficult. There is state testing and then, if you want, there's national certification (which is the best option for someone wanting to interpret).

Fake Interpreter Discovered At Nelson Mandela's Memorial

http://www.cnn.com/2013/12/11/world/africa/mandela-memorial-fake-intepreter/index.html

As some of you have surely heard the ruckus about the fake sign language interpreter who interpreted at Nelson Mandela's memorial, above is a link to read more about it. 

It's a shame that these kind of things happen. This is terribly offensive to the Deaf population and swift measures should be taken to have this man barred from interpreting again. Apparently he made up his own signs and the Deaf viewers caught onto that and were furious. I, for one, was! What happens next is anyone's guess, but I hope this man is held accountable for his offensive and just plain stupid actions!

Which Way Do I Look?

For those of you familiar with or living in the Deaf culture, you must already know the rules of eye contact during communication. The basic rules is to keep close eye contact with the person who is signing to you. One look away can cost you an entire conversation or, even worse, a friend.

It’s one of the rules that many hearing people break—usually unknowingly. However, it does happen when the hearing person knows the rules but doesn’t respect them closely enough. And when I first decided to use interpreters practically on a daily basis, it was very confusing to even me.

I mean, I’m suppose to remain my eye contact towards the person signing to me. That would obviously be my interpreter. At the same time, I felt rude to the person doing the talking. So, who do I look at?

I started going back and forth. When the person talking stopped moving his lips, I would watch the interpreter till she was done and then go back to staring at the talker. Is this so wrong? What exactly do you guys do or what do you experience?

I Had The Right To Remain Silent…At Least I Think I Did…

Some things just don’t happen every day: You finding $100 in your wallet, Tom Hanks personally requesting you to co-star with him in his next Oscar-worthy movie, or your being arrested and formally charged with a DUI when you don’t even drink. Sure, a couple of those things would be wonderful to happen, but handcuffs and police stations make watching Joan Rivers’ face more appealing.

A few weeks ago, I started the day like any other. After getting everyone ready for school and forcing them to eat some breakfast whether they were hungry or not, I set off to drop my kids at their wonderful charter school. On my way home, I became parched and decided to stop at a near-by gas station to get one of my guilty pleasures of sweetened iced tea.

However, starting to pull out of the parking lot, I became distracted and very gently bumped the back bumper of the car in front of me.  With absolutely no damage whatsoever, the guy in that car insisted on having the police come to make a report. I think that was because he felt awkward dealing with a deafie and also I was acting slightly inebriated since I can’t lipread and they didn’t even understand that I was Deaf in the first place.

When the police did finally arrive at the scene, I got out of my van and started staggering around. I simply couldn’t stand up straight. I get this way when standing after sitting for a while. But it sure didn’t look like I was experiencing momentary dizziness to everyone around me! In fact, I’m sure I looked completely dead-on drunk!

Then, the officer approached me and started asking me questions. I must have informed him that I was completely deaf a million times. I also told him I couldn’t lipread and had no idea what he was saying. He pondered this for about two seconds, and then continued talking to me in exactly the same manner as before. Ugh!

I took the Breathalyzer test, which showed 0 alcohol in my body, but even that didn’t seem to matter much. I believe he read me my rights as he handcuffed me, put me in his car, and took me to jail, but there’s no way I could have understood him. Nothing was written down for me and no interpreter was present. Is that even legal? Doesn’t the rights he probably read me include a, “Do you understand these rights,” at the end? Because if he did read them to me, I surely didn’t understand. In fact, that entirely morning/experience, left me understanding absolutely nothing!

I could go on and on about what happened that day, but with a case of severe memory loss and the fact that they had me in custody for hours and hours before an interpreter showed up at the jail, (meaning I was confused and completely ignorant to anything anyone said), it wouldn’t be extremely informative.

But here I am, charged with a DUI when I don’t even drink or do drugs. They’ve even informed me that I could be facing thousands of dollars in fines and jail time to serve if convicted!

I arrived at my first court appearance and, again, there was no interpreter scheduled. We all had to wait around for more than an hour, after informing the clerk of my ‘terp needs, for one to even show up. Grrrrr…… And now they’re waiting for my blood labs to be done and reported (they did a blood/alcohol test, which will unquestionably come back as 0). Then they want to see me in court again. My hope, of course, is that they’ll dismiss the charges and leave me alone. And they’d better remember to schedule a ‘terp this time around.

So, as you can see, being Deaf and working with the police, especially if they don’t comprehend what special needs a Deaf person might have, is nothing but a big pain in the butt! Maybe this all has a reason though. Didn’t someone once say that everything happens for a reason? Maybe this is all a way of insisting I stop drinking copious amounts of sweetened tea. When you think about it, if I’d never stopped for my guilty pleasure, I would have simply gone home and enjoyed the rest of the day.

Let’s just hope that all of this takes care of itself as quickly as possible. I don’t experience worry and stress all that well. 

I WANT TO BE AN INTERPRETER…TOMORROW!

As a sign language teacher, I get contacted by many people who want to learn ASL as quickly as possible. Some want to learn just for the fun of it; others, so they can cuss out the people who make them mad without it resulting in them getting their face smashed in; still others are homeschoolers looking for a foreign language credit. But one of the most popular reasons for coming to Deaf Expressions to learn to sign is so they can become a professional interpreter.

This is a very admirable reason. The world would be a much brighter place if there were more certified sign language interpreters out there. But what most potential ‘terps don’t realize is that being an interpreter takes serious study and a good amount of time. Oh, sure—I’ve had my share of interpreters who went from knowing nothing about ASL and the Deaf Culture to trying to interpret in such places as the church service at my church in a matter of weeks or a couple of months. But trust me, these were scary experiences.

There are a lot of people who also don’t realize the difference between church interpreting—where anyone can get up there and wiggle their hands around—and professional interpreting—where you actually have to take a few challenging and in-depth exams (written and performance) and become certified before you can go out and wiggle those hands around for pay. NOTE: This blog post is not to encourage any old person to get out there and start signing sermons. The whole purpose of doing so is to attract deaf people to attend the service, not to confuse them and create a large amount of reluctance and hesitance to attend.

The thing you gotta remember is that ASL is not simply “English on the hands,” and learning ASL is not about being good at charades or mime. ASL is a foreign language—a complete language just like German or French—and is by no means easy to learn.

It’s also important to realize that, even if you do learn to sign and become pretty darn good at it, signing is by no means the same as interpreting. If you don’t quite understand my point, turn on your TV set to the local news and attempt to sign what the newscasters are saying as they are saying it. Be sure to keep up. Sign as they’re speaking and don’t fall behind. Sound easy to you? Show me. I have serious doubts, unless you’ve been signing for a long time, that this task is conquerable.

So, when people ask me if they’ll be certified to sign after my eight-week class (or even my 28-week course), it can become a little tedious to explain the path a wanna-be professional interpreter must take. I mean, really: Do you think if you took one semester of Japanese in college, you could go out and become a professional translator? Of course not.

But don’t let this stop you if ‘terping is what you want to do. We want you—we need you—but expect the road to be a bit bumpy and even winding. Expect to take your time. Expect to study for years. If you do that and you push yourself through the ups and downs, expect your career to be rewarding and fun. Adventurous even. It’s worth it. Just don’t be in such a hurry.

BEING INCLUDED ON A NIGHT AT THE THEATRE—WHAT A TREAT!

Every so often I try to make it a point to go out on a one-on-one date with each of my girls. I figure, if I don’t screw them up enough just on our daily interaction, a little quality time alone with me should do the trick to screw them up sufficiently that way as well.

The other night was date night with my 15-year-old, Mollie. I took her to see the stage show: “Addam’s Family—The Musical” at a fancy-schmancy performance hall.

A month ago, Kenny went to the hall to purchase two tickets. After he bought 2 balcony seats (‘cause that’s all us ‘po folk can afford, see), he decided to have a little chat with the guy in charge there. He told them all about his poor, little, old, deaf, wife and how I was gonna be bringing my dear, sweet daughter to the show. He asked if they ever offered any accessibility to their deaf and hard of hearing patrons. Not only do they, but he said that if I brought my tickets to the box office the night of the show, they’d trade them for two orchestra seats in the “interpreter’s section”! I had no idea they would have interpreters that night. In fact, I believe they made special arrangements to provide ‘terps that night just for me because Kenny asked. Cool, eh?

When Mollie and I arrived at the theatre the night of the performance, they were all ready and knowing at the box office. What a relief! She just let them know what was up and whom we needed to speak with. I handed the contact person our original tickets and he had the trade-ins all ready and waiting for us.

When they started seating, she and I walked into the theatre and there stood the two interpreters. I expected one specific woman, because she’s very well known in our area as a ‘terp for live theatre. With her was another ‘terp I know well—one I’ve worked with in the past and who had, in fact, just interpreted for me three weeks ago. We all greeted and hugged, and then Mollie and I went and sat to wait for the show to start.

Right before the show started, we moved over in front of the interpreters, so I didn’t have to keep turning my head to the right to see them and then back up front to see the stage. That’s just awkward and uncomfortable. Ironically, I was the only Deaf person there that night! Two talented ‘terps all for me. It was quite the treat.

But the bigger treat was the performance itself. Oh, the actors/singers/dancers were great and the props/sets were wonderful, but I hardly wanted to look at them at all. My gosh! These two interpreters were INCREDIBLE!!! Animated, fluid, funny, expressive, perfect. There was barely a need to even look at the stage. In fact, if the ‘terps had broken out in the show’s dance routines, I never would have looked at the stage at all.


Another really neat part was that during the curtain call, the character Gomez did the "deaf applause" and then motioned to the interpreters. Then, as the other actors "deaf applauded," he actually signed something (Mollie and I didn't catch what he said though, because we were too busy cheering the 'terps on, too). 

What a night! And I’m sure theatrical interpreting is extremely challenging. I’ve almost always been blessed with very skilled interpreters—and I use them a lot. Oh, I’ve had my fair share of scary ‘terps—‘terps who never should have been given any kind of certification. But the more I use interpreters in this area, the more skilled interps are sent for me. I’ve been very blessed in that sense.

Date night this time around turned out swell for both of us. Mollie had a blast with the show and, especially, the music and costumes. But the fact that I enjoyed the performance every bit as much as the hearing audience members thrills me to no end! That just doesn’t happen much in life. Maybe things are starting to change and look up!

UH-HUH. OH-I-SEE. SURE.

There is a certain give and take in the Deaf community regarding how the deaf work with the interpreters. One of the ways that a Deaf signer can acknowledge that he or she understands what was just said is the old-fashioned head nod.  This doesn’t just take place with interpreters, but whenever conversing in sign. It’s kind of like the equivalent of  the “Uh-huh,” “Sure,” and “Oh,” used in verbal conversations.

When I’m out chatting with a fellow deafie, that comes natural to me. But it’s never really come natural to me with interpreters. Well, I guess it depends on what’s being talked about.

Just as some hearing people have a hard time keeping their eyes open in a long church service, I often have a difficult time nodding incessantly during the sermon. Yes, I understand. Yes, I understand. Yes, I understand. AAAAHHHH!!!!! It drives me crazy!

Yesterday, I was at an appointment for my daughter. It was her, my hubby, and me, and then there was an interpreter. I’ve worked several times with this particular interpreter, so she kind of knows that I tend to just sit there sometimes (usually when my brain is fried from too much external stimuli). However, the professional we were with had never used an interpreter before. At least I’m assuming.

Not only did she stop quite often to explain to the interpreter things she didn’t need to know, but, after virtually every one of her sentences she would stop and look at the interpreter. Then, when the ‘terp was done signing, the pro would turn and stare at me. She was looking for…you guessed it…a head nod.

So basically, yesterday I was forced to nod my head more than I usually do. I’m very sore. I think I need a chiropractor. I don’t know which was more painful, nodding my head every 45 seconds or pretending I was listening when I really wanted to take a nap. (Some of us deaf folk are pretty darn good at sleeping with our eyes open.)

AND.....CUE!

The Whitman’s were due for dinner and, knowing I would be the only deaf person here and that they don’t use sign language, I tried my best to brace myself for what was to come. As Dr. Phil would say, “This wasn’t my first rodeo.” I had my paper and pen, but, because my husband, Kenny, was going to be there, he was planning on interpreting. That was nice of him, wasn’t it?

As the guests arrived, Kenny and I stood at the door to welcome them. What I found myself face-to-face with was an elderly woman with blood-red lipstick that seemed to follow the wrinkles in the skin above her upper lip (making it seem she had a bright red mustache) and a man with a Frito-catcher around his face that would rival even Old St. Nick himself. Wow! If I were ever going to need a pen and paper or an interpreter, tonight would be the night!

We said our hellos, hugged, hung up their coats and got them a drink. I should have gotten me a stiff one, too. While all of that was taking place, Kenny engaged in a nice conversation with them, making sure to sign his part. But, honestly, I was not all that interested, so I busied myself in preparing the dinner table.

After I was done, all four of us sat down at the table to eat. This can be looked at as gross or upsetting on so many levels. First and foremost, there’s the fact that here sat at least two people who don’t understand why talking with their mouth full bothers me more than it seems to bother other people. What planet did they come from? Where in the Solar System does it say that it’s considered polite and OK to spit out their mashed potatoes at the same time they’re spitting out their consonants? Ew! That has always been a pet peeve of mine and it doesn’t necessarily have to do with being deaf and paying more attention to their faces and lips. Besides, what lips?

The bulk of the frustration I was dealing with was our chitchat. As the four of us sat around, Kenny would interpret what they were saying and he would be sure to sign what he was saying. The problem I ran into is the pattern it left:

They speak.

Kenny turns to me and signs what they said.

All people in the room watch me for my reaction to what was said.

All night long, they would talk and, when Kenny went to include me, everyone got a expectant face and wanted to know what I thought. I despise being the center of attention. I mean, make me some wallpaper that kind of blends into the paint and I’d be very happy. But when we have people over who don’t sign, this is what happens.

Sure, I could ask them to write to me instead of having Kenny interpret, but it seems a little odd to say, “You know, I hate it when my husband signs to me. Can you write that down?”

Perhaps it’s just me, but it seems redundant when he could have just as easily told me what was being said. It just bugs the bejeebas out of me when everyone wants to look at me for a reaction. I mean, sometimes I don’t have a reaction. I’m not going to look all excited and responsive with every single sentence. Just let me hang out. Don’t put me on cue. It’s just too much pressure. You know? I feel like it’s almost a, “Let’s see how the Deaf woman reacts,” kind of thing.

Kenny (signing and speaking): How many children do you have?

Guest (speaking only): I have three kids.

Kenny (interprets): Three children.

Everyone looks at me to see my response.

Me (signing and sometimes speaking): Wow! Three kids? That’s great!

But, really, what’s so great about it? I have three kids. I’d gladly give away one or two sometimes. But I don’t think me having three warrants a “great” response.

So, I tried another scenario:

Kenny (signing and speaking): Where do your kids go to school?

Guest (speaking only): They attend Grandville Middle School.

Kenny (interprets): Grandville Middle School.

Everyone looks at me to see my response.

Me: I nod my head with no real expression on my face. (Thinking: OK. Let’s move on.)

I mean, who cares? He’s just being polite. Why must I have a polite and positive reaction to every single thing we talk about? It’s exhausting!

I just want to be another face in the crowd. I want to socialize with people who are involved in my hearing kids’ lives, but I can’t be expected to do cartwheels and the Victory Dance after every tidbit of information.

Yes, I used to do theatre and such, and yes, I know what being on cue means. But No, I don’t like being in the spotlight and on cue all the time.

The question is (besides asking them to write something down), how do I get involved in the conversations with hearing folk (like in a group) who are standing around gabbing? Kenny interprets and that helps break the barrier down, but then everyone wants to see him sign to me and my reaction to that and that’s just annoying. That’s the word. Annoyed.

I’m a friendly person. I enjoy other people’s company, but I find socializing with hearing people who don’t sign to be just too tricky. Hey, people! Talk to me, involve me, but, please, don’t place such a huge expectation on me. I am not on cue.

TELL ME YOUR SECRETS -- A Deaf Person's Lack of Privacy

The Deaf Community is a tight-knit group in which deaf and hearing alike can get together and socialize. The hearies in this group consist of many different people, not the least of which are the interpreters in any given area. 

As a member of the Deaf Community, I often find myself friends with the very people who provide interpretation for my appointments, entertainment, education, etc. That, in and of itself, is great! Any person I can get to tolerate me enough to have a conversation, is more than welcome to come my way! And there are some awesome interpreters around here. Oh, don’t get me wrong; there are a few doozies….

I once went to see a doctor and the interpreter couldn’t understand my signing or keep up with the doctor’s speaking. The doc and me ended up writing back and forth while the ‘terp sat there and watched/read. Wow! And she got paid for that?? But that’s another blog entry all together….

Anyway, it seems to me a little unfair and awkward that interpreters in my area know so much about my private life via ‘terping for my appointments. And, believe me, my private life is frightening at times. Heck, I’m frightening at times.

But there’s one particular aspect of my life that I don’t really want to share. But, because this is a blog of my experiences, I’m just going to open myself up here to say that I am disabled because of a severe mental illness. Yes, I’m stone deaf, too, but that doesn’t strike me as a disability when compared to what I have to go through because of a brain disorder.

So, this morning, I wasn’t doing very well. OK. I was doing terribly! I had an emergency appointment to see my psychiatrist and there was, of course, an interpreter scheduled. I definitely have a first choice in interpreters, but sometimes that person isn’t available and, today, that was the case.

One of the effects of my condition is that it becomes difficult for me to show expression in my face. My voice becomes monotone and quiet (so I’m told), too. It’s a total 180 from what people usually see in me. Usually I’m full of zest and friendly and chatty. I usually take care of my appearance, wear clean clothes, and put on make up when I have an appointment. But, because I’m relapsing, I did none of that today—well, this week, in fact.

I shuffled (literally) into the office lobby, registered, and sat down.  My interpreter arrived about two minutes after I did and I could tell she was in a good mood and ready to talk about our latest adventures. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even look at her. I just sat there, husband beside me, staring into space. Barbie (the ‘terp) was a little put back. However, I will say she was totally professional and kind about the situation.

When it came time for me to talk with my doctor for a medicine change, I had to relay information about my condition and recent experiences to him. This is something very personal and that holds a great amount of stigma. I haven’t shared my disorder with anyone except my immediate family (husband and children). And I certainly didn’t want someone whom I love hanging out with at Deaf events, finding out how sick I am by listening to me ramble on to my doctor.

It just doesn’t seem right for an interpreter to know everything personal about me, because they’ve been at the appointments; and yet I only know what they’ve felt comfortable opening up and telling me about them. Why do they get to know it all?

I guess it’s a dilemma that will go on forever. We deafies need interpreters and, in order to understand, someone has to sit in and listen to our private thoughts and problems. Professionally, I have yet to meet an interpreter who has taken that knowledge and done something disrespectful (that I know of). Actually, that’s not true. But I’ll save that for another post, too.

However, interpreters are only human. You sit in and listen to someone talk psychotically and it’s going to affect you. You’re going to have feelings about what you’re hearing. I’m not saying everyone will harbor those feelings, but everyone will have some. ‘Terps included.

So, here I sit in my living room. After spilling my beans, my life, and my secrets, I sit here naked (metaphorically—the other option is just plain old creepy), knowing that Barbie knows my soul is warped. I’m not afraid she’ll go off and tell people. I know she won’t. But I hate the fact that she knows now and there weren’t a lot of options to stop her (or someone who was called to interpret) from knowing.

Perhaps video interpreting will become popular and I’ll have ‘terps from around the country—not people down the street that have a potluck on Memorial Day. But until then, I need to figure out how to accept that my secrets won’t always be my secrets. If I get an STD (I won’t—don’t worry), there’s going to be at least one person out there in the Deaf Community who knows, because they interpreted the appointment. And if I’m crazy, there’s going to be someone out there who knows that, too.  Check.

INACCESSIBLE LIVE THEATRE -- EVEN WITH AN INTERPRETER!

Many of you know that, in the past I did professional theatre. Moving to Grand Rapids, MI, and losing all of my residual hearing has changed that, however, as the opportunities simply aren’t there. But that hasn’t stopped my love for watching live theatre—both musicals (which were my specialty) and straight plays.

So, when I saw that a theatre close-by was showing a world premier of the production, “Sleepy Hollow—A Musical Tale,” AND I found out it was going to be interpreted, I quickly bought out five seats in the interpreter’s section and announced to my husband and children that we were in for a treat!

Our tickets arrived in the mail a couple of days later (the theatre was close, but still not close enough to drive just to pick up tickets). I was so hyped!! I was ready to enjoy an afternoon of live theatre and be included as well. We’d seen “The Miracle Worker” a few months prior, but it wasn’t interpreted. Although I did know the story and could follow the story line, I admit it was a bit boring to sit there and watch people talk to each other in silence. I got enough of that hanging out with hearing people, anyway.

The afternoon of the play, we arrived a little early. We’d never been to this theatre and didn’t know just how large it would be…or if it would be difficult to find our seats. There was no need to worry, however, as the theatre was relatively small and finding the spot at the front of the stage, where two people stood all in black, didn’t take a rocket scientist.

When we got to our row and found our seats, I was a little surprised to find that we got the very first five seats. I’m not sure why I was surprised though. It’s not like there’s usually a large crowd of deaf and hard of hearing theatre patrons at the shows. But seeing as this was the only interpreted performance, I guess I thought we wouldn’t have been first. Usually, that would be a good thing. This time? Not so much.

I was seated at the very far left of the stage. My 10-year-old daughter desperately wanted to sit next to me during the performance. So, the two of us are waaaay over on the side and the two interpreters were right smack dab in front of us. Not like in central view. Oh, no. They were practically standing in our laps. Not only was it very difficult to watch them sign so close up, but my daughter (nor I) could see nothing but them. We couldn’t see the stage at all. I felt so sorry for her and tried to get her to trade places with my husband, but she didn’t want to, and, quite honestly, neither did my husband. I didn’t blame him.

After the first act, we had a short intermission. One of the interpreters asked if we could see OK. When I explained that I couldn’t see a thing but big, black shirts and waving hands, she suggested we move up a row (which was empty) and sit in the middle, in front of the stage. This would put us in the very front row. I didn’t want to, but my daughter did (and she didn’t want to do it alone), so, like a good mother, I obliged.

The second half of the show was worse than the first! Oh, the performance and singing and show itself were quite amusing and entertaining (so, I was told), but I had to rely on secondhand comments for that information.

As we sat in the front row, I had to turn my head completely to the side to see the interpreters, leaving it impossible to watch both them and the show at the same time. And, as if the theatre were taunting us and trying to get back at us for suggesting they’d done a poor job of seating, the end of the show involved a huge smoke sequence, where tons of smoke was pumped out into the audience. And, being in the center of the very first row, all I can say is I couldn’t breathe for a good minute and a half. My face turned as blue as my shirt and I think my eyeballs began to protrude from their sockets. It wasn’t pretty, or enjoyable. And I didn’t know why the smoke was coming, because I couldn’t see the interpreters to explain what was happening in the show!

But I survived. I survived it all. The interpreters. The show itself. The seating. The smoke. The complaints from everyone in the family about the bad seats. I survived it. But would I do it again? I’m not so sure.

It seems to me that it would be much easier on everyone if theatres were built with the intention on accommodating everyone. Of course, that’s not always going to happen. Not to mention that I’m quite certain this theatre was built long before the ADA came around.

Next month, there’s an interpreted production of, “Annie.” A musical I adored as a child and adore even to this day. However, it’s at that same theatre. I know what I would be getting myself into. Seems the balcony’s first row seats would be much better to watch the interpreters, but I don’t think that’s how it works. Do I brave the weather and attend a musical I know will be less than enjoyable for me because of the seating? Or do I stay home and rent the movie, pointing out the differences between that and the actual play? Oh, I guess it’s a moot question. With Christmas coming and being poor anyway, it’s not like we can even afford the seating. But the question still remains…. What can we do to provide appropriate and comfortable seating and accommodations for the deaf and hard of hearing live theatre patrons?

TO DARE TO TRUST

Yesterday, I was as prepared as I’ve ever been to present a beginner’s Deaf Culture/Sign Language workshop. I had my notes, I had my handouts and I was prepared to present the material in a witty and fascinating way.

The workshop was to be presented in American Sign Language with two interpreters voicing for me. I was ready. So, I turned on my wit; I turned on my charm; and I was prepared to dazzle and delight the audience with my terrifically sarcastic personality. (I was prepared to be humble, too.)

Then it hit me. “What if…..?”

It wasn’t too long ago that I did a similar presentation. I was just as prepared and had asked an interpreter to attend and voice for me. When she arrived, I gave her a copy of my outline and explained to her that I wanted the workshop to be light and relaxing. Since she already knew me pretty well, I told her to keep in mind my personality and try to be a little silly and fun in her voicing. She nodded and signed that it would be no problem and that I shouldn’t worry.

So, I decided to just go up there and have fun!

I began my workshop with the usual information about who I am, what Deaf Expressions is, what we will be doing….you know, ordinary stuff. As I introduced my husband, Kenny, and myself, I joked around. I teased him about his “creative” signing when he doesn’t know a sign, and I poked fun at myself as well. I was funny, darn it! But the audience just sat there. Their eyes were glazed over and a few even placed their chins into the cup of their palms and started to drool. Laughter? Smiles? Zilch.

I continued on with my presentation. Perhaps the audience simply didn’t think I was as much of a hoot as I thought I was. I began talking about Deaf Culture and telling some hilarious anecdotes about my experiences and the experiences of my Deaf and Hard of Hearing friends. Nothing. No reaction from the audience whatsoever.

Well, that’s not completely true. A few looked a little confused and glanced at each other. A few tried to stifle a yawn. A few more continued to drool and struggled to keep their eyes open.

As I was signing, I looked over at the interpreter and was shocked to find that she wasn’t even talking. I’m signing like crazy, making jokes, having fun, and the voice interpreter is struggling to understand and barely getting by.

It was about then that I decided we needed to call a break. While people were waking up and discussing things they found more interesting than my material (like the life of Justus von Liebig—Father of biochemistry, who recorded minerals in plant ash and proposed the law of minimum), I approached my husband and asked him what was happening.

Apparently, the interpreter, who I had entrusted with my voice, not only was struggling to keep up, but also had absolutely no personality whatsoever. All of my jokes and witty retorts were bombing, because no one was hearing them! What a nightmare!!

You know, when a Deaf person goes somewhere where they need an interpreter to voice for them, there is a lot of trust they have to give. Interpreters are trained to read ASL and express it with their voice in the manner that it is signed. If I’m mad, my interpreter had better sound mad as well. If I’m confused, I expect my interpreter to show that with their voice. And if I’m being light and funny and joking around, my interpreter should be highlighting that with her voice…especially if I’d taken the time before the presentation to specifically let her know that that is what I planned to do and that was what I needed from them.

And this interpreter knew me. She’s been around me a lot and knew how unserious I usually was. She knew how much I liked to have fun and involve my audience. She’d been to plenty of my workshops. She knew my style. At least I thought she did. And she had said it was going to be no problem. Yet, because of her, my presentation lacked the sense of humor that I wanted so adamantly to express.

Think about how difficult it is. It’s hard! If I go to an appointment and am immensely offended about something that is said to me, and I feel very strongly that I should stand up for myself, yet the hired interpreter is a timid person and afraid to sound “rude” or “mean,” what can I do? Chances are pretty good, that I’m not even going to know if she expressed it like I meant it. I have to sit there and live with whatever she says or does. If she doesn’t voice for me in an authoritative way, I get walked on and no one but me ever knows just how ticked off I was about it.

Trust. That’s what we have to do with our interpreters. Sure, we can request specific ‘terps who we feel comfortable with. But you have to start somewhere. You have to work with the people before you can start to feel comfortable with them. Not to mention that who we request isn’t always available. We are bound to deal with whoever is sent our way at some point in life. And that total stranger, we have to trust deeply. It’s downright scary!

Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate interpreters. (Most of them, anyway.) But I have found very, very few, who have been able to voice for me in the manner I intend for my signing to be taken. And it stinks!

If you’re an interpreter, you go to school, you practice, you take the exam, you get certified, but don’t stop there! With each and every appointment you are sent to, to act as a go-between between the Deaf or HOH person and whomever the meeting is with, it is vitally important that you get to know that individual and respect them and their personality. Don’t just voice however you would say things. Don’t just think, “Well, I got the idea across for the most part.” You have to BE that person’s voice.

Can you even imagine how scary and difficult it is to have someone else that you don’t know well express your ideas with their voice? If you don’t think it’s a big deal, try it. The next time your kid’s teacher wants to have a meeting to discuss your child’s shortcomings, hire a fellow interpreter (who you have not yet met) to voice for you. How confident can you be with this new person? Would you entrust a stranger to speak for you? Probably not. Yet, we deafies have to at times.

Be careful! Be courteous! And be clear. If you’re not sure what the Deaf person wants to convey…if you’re not 100% sure of their attitude about the information…ask!!! Because what you think you need to express and how you actually express it could make all the difference in the world to that person.

My Interpreter From Hell

It was a regular appointment. Well, regular to me. I'd been seeing this doctor on a regular basis since 2001 and he'd always been very good at making sure there was an interpreter present. Or maybe I should say that his nurse had been good about that.

Anyway, I went into the appointment without knowing who would be interpreting. This happens often in the Deaf world. As I entered the room, I saw an older woman sitting in a chair and she smiled and signed, "I'm Candy." (a pseudonym) I responded and we sat and waited for the doctor to arrive.

As we sat, we started chatting and I noticed that she looked quite confused when I tried to interact with her. I asked if she was OK and she nodded yes, so I didn't really worry about it.

When the doctor finally came in with his nurse, they both proceeded to ask me questions and my interpreter stumbled. She continuously asked them to repeat or slow down. And when I say "continuously," I don't mean five times. I mean almost every sentence! What's worse is when I signed back to them, she couldn't understand me. I watched her lips and, from what I could tell, they were not flapping in the right direction, if you know what I mean. I got so bad that, finally, we had to resort to actually writing back and forth with the interpreter just sitting there! I was so upset! I couldn't believe that this woman not only was certified, but that she, a QA 1, was sent to this kind of appointment to begin with!

Oh, my gosh! It was truly hell. And as we closed the appointment, I was quick to write the nurse to make sure to tell the interpreting agency to never schedule that woman to interpret for me again! Awful! Awful, awful, awful! I'm still traumatized by this and may never heal. I am victim of bad interpreting. And anyone who knows anything about the Deaf community, knows that this could very well end in years and years of laying on my back on a couch, talking about my childhood to a man who sits in a chair, smoking a pipe. My life has now been drastically changed and I will forever live in it's doom. Melodramatic? Maybe. But doesn't it make the story that much more interesting?