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.

"YOU SMELL LIKE A DEAF SKUNK!!!"

I was dreaming of the Deaf performer, Peter Cook. We were doing an ASL comedy sketch together. At first, the audience thought it was hilarious. Well, with Peter Cook, that kind of goes without saying. But as I got deeper and deeper into the dream, the audience started to leave. This wretched scent was filling the air and even I began to gag…

“Wake up,” Kenny jostled me from my sleep. I struggled to open my eyes in order to read his signs. But, at 2:30 AM, that wasn’t an easy feat. “The dog got sprayed with a skunk!! You have to get up and start giving her a bath. I’m late for work!”

“Where is she?” I got my fingers to begin to work.

“I put her in the bathroom.”

Stumbling to the bathroom, still half awake, I opened the door and was hit full blast with a smell that would make my Uncle Quimby proud. He was always saying that the bathroom was meant to smell that way. Well, Uncle Quimby, you must be smiling from that golden commode in the sky right about now.

I’d never encountered a skunk before in my life and hadn’t the faintest clue what to do. I picked up a bottle of the kids’ shampoo and poured it over my dog, Maggie’s, head. While I scrubbed as hard as I humanly could, my eyes glazed over from the fumes. Maggie, too, was temporarily blinded by the spray, so we were just two beings, alone in the dark, with a smell that could make even those with the strongest of flatulence cry. And the shampoo did nothing!

I decided that the best bet was to get the dog out of the house. Why was she there to begin with?? Why in the world would my husband let a freshly-sprayed-by-a-skunked dog immediately into the house, through the dining and living room, up the stairs, down the hall, and into the bathroom? But the point was moot. We all stunk… and the house was a disaster.

After getting my dog back outside, I needed to get to the store to buy the magic concoction to use when your dog has been sprayed. All you have to do is mix hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, and Dawn dish soap together and it works miracles! Forget the tomato juice, folks! That just makes your dog smell like a skunked tomato. But in order to use this miracle solution, I had to go back outside (where the smell still lingered), get in the van (yet another place to add fumes), and venture into a 24 hour supermarket.

I made it to the market OK. I only lost 29 brain cells and the feeling in my right leg. I got out of the van and sniffed myself. Maybe no one will notice, I thought.

As I entered the front of the store, the ten people there scattered like cattle. Screams seemed to ricochet off the walls and made my body vibrate. People were ducking behind counters and running for the chips to hide themselves. NO! Please don’t come near me! What have I ever done to you??? I could hear them clearly…and I’m Deaf…

Never before had I had such a clearing through a store to get to where I needed to be. I was like Moses and the customers were the Red Sea. But instead of a stick, all I needed was to move in their general direction. It was powerful. I liked it. Until I arrived at the check out counter and no one would help me.

I got what I needed, I did indeed get back home in the van, and I cleaned up that dog. But the house is another matter entirely. The damage has been done—to the house itself and everyone in it. But don’t worry about us. We will again walk upright…eventually. And, if I ever do get to do a skit with Peter Cook? I’ll have plenty of material with work with.