This last Friday I was at my monthly Deaf Advocacy Committee meeting and noticed something interesting. While one of the hearing people was speaking I found myself watching the sign language interpreter. I do this a lot since I will always pick up some new sign, and I find the choices each interpreter makes to be fascinating.
This particular interpreter is brand new and the poor girl had to work for over two hours straight, signing what ten hearing people were saying and then saying what the deaf people were saying. She did wonderfully and didn't seem to tire. Her word choices were very insightful, choosing to sign the single word "goal" for the entire phrase "heading toward something better". Sure she may have lost a tiny nuance by omitting the word "better" but the meaning remained mostly intact.
What was so different this time is that I actually found myself tuning out the speakers and focusing on the interpreter. I was actually much more precise and clear. English speakers tend to throw in a ton of emotional baggage, judgments, humor and completely useless information into our sentences. The interpreter cuts most of this out and concentrates on the core sentence meaning.
A while ago I met the director of the Cleveland Hearing and Speech Center, Sue Bungard at Spaces Gallery to pick out some artwork for the Center, which since its construction has been virtually art-less. Sue is deaf but can read lips and speak excellently. She faced me and said "hello" and then as I began to tell her how my morning had been going, she turned her back to look at some of the colorful paintings on the gallery wall. I found myself standing there with my mouth open. I wondered for a moment if I should tap her on the shoulder so she could turn toward me and "hear" what I was telling her. Then I realized nothing I was saying was actually important in any way. It was just noise, or to Sue it was just a bunch of lip flapping. My guess is, since much of what people say is filler, she takes in the person's intent and then shuts her active-listening-mind off, essentially turning her back on the person.
I do sometimes wish people would be more succinct in their speech. Time and again I have been plagued with a student asking a 26-part question that requires a telling of personal history in order to "put it into context". Yes, this is an exaggeration, but not by any huge degree.
One can be too succinct. My partner Robert hates to listen to my stories which admittedly can tend to have too much information, asides, commentary and references. However, I like to tell stories in chronological order with the built-up payoff at the end. Robert on the other hand tells the punchline of the story first and then proceeds to fill in all the details afterward. Once I've heard the denouement, there's very little reason to listen to the rest of the story because there's no build-up.
An example of one of my stories may start out with "it was very cold yesterday", meander through "just like the Columbus Day storm of 1964", and finish with "her car slid out of control and hit the embankment!"
Conversely an example of one of Robert's stories may start out with "Did you hear that she was in a terrible accident yesterday?", which leads to, "it was only 19 degrees outside" and finally end with "she had just finished paying off that car too."
I wonder how the interpreter would phrase these stories? I'll bet she'd be very succinct.
Showing posts with label deaf. Show all posts
Showing posts with label deaf. Show all posts
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Monday, March 28, 2011
on Deaf Communication
Robert and I have been taking an intensive class on PSE (Pigeon Signed English) which is like American Sign Language but the sentences are in English word order. It is the way deaf people sign to each other typically. If I do say so myself, we've gotten pretty darned good.
The other day we were at the Coit Farmer's Market for breakfast. It is the oldest operating farmer's market in the city, out near (or in) Collinwood. At one point we both heard the unmistakable sound of a deaf woman's voice; the voice that comes from never having heard the hard consonants, full open vowels or subtle tongue placements of the English language. Although Robert was extremely nervous, he approached the woman and asked in sign if she was deaf. The woman enthusiastically answered in the positive and a short, pleasant conversation commenced. It was just like our teacher Jen Carrick told us, the deaf community is so isolated in a hearing world, they get excited when someone can actually communicate with them. Later, I had my chance to sign with the same woman as we both looked at some baby goats. It was wonderful and I felt two inches taller.
The opening night film for the Cleveland International Film Festival was named "Hamill" and was about a deaf wrestler who went on to become a champion. We had been able to secure a few extra tickets (thank you Marcy, Patrick and the rest of CIFF!!!) and offered them to some of our classmates and a married couple whom I had never met. The wife was an interpreter and the husband was a deaf actor. At the extravagant gala after the film screening, I wanted to meet the couple, but I did not know what they looked like! So, I spent a good portion of the evening walking around the crowded rooms looking for anyone who was signing. Since the film was about a deaf man, there were many, many deaf people in attendance, which made my job difficult. However, each person I tapped on the shoulder was genuinely excited to speak with me and even though they were not the people I was looking for, they were eager to ask me many questions and tell me many things. I tapped the shoulder of one woman and then apologized for the interruption (in sign of course). I went on to ask her if her name was Mary Ellen (the wife in the couple I was searching for). This woman smiled warmly and then as slowly as her fingers could possibly move, she signed "my name is Cindy" and then showed me the deaf-sign for her name which was a "C" hand hovering around her chin. I laughed and told her, "Thank you for going so slow with me". The most delightful thing happened then. She asked me if I was from Cleveland and if I had gone to a local school for the deaf. I was immediately embarrassed and explained I was actually a hearing individual. Instead of being insulted, she was pleased I was learning. Again, I think I grew two more inches. I eventually found Mary Ellen and her husband Michael and we also had a wonderful conversation. By the end of the night my head was pretty darned huge!
The Film Festival has this thing called Film Slam, where local high school students can come by bus (with a teacher) to see short subject films in the morning. I always help out with this event because it is chaotic and difficult and I like the punishment. Imagine literally hundreds of inner city high school students arriving, usually at the same time, into a fairly narrow concourse. You have to guide them quietly to the proper theater and then keep them shushed while the film is going.
It is actually a lot of fun! This morning there was a contingent of deaf students from Max Hayes High School. Again I was able to put my signing into use! I leaped to action and started signing with the teacher. Again I was able to carry on a great conversation. He told me that I was really good at signing and was so thankful I was there. He told me most people in the world refuse to communicate with deaf people. I didn't bother to give my opinion that most people simply don't know the language, but I got his point well enough. God my head swelled up.
Then the teacher went to the restroom and one of the students started talking to me. His hands flew so fast I could barely even see them. My brain recognized some of the signs, but I couldn't put them into a flowing sentence. I think he said something like, "Film you ____ got _____last_____day_____not_____do you____question____over_____yesterday______" and on and on. I told him to please go very slow and perhaps he did by some slight percentage. He smiled but I could tell I was frustrating him a bit. He used a handful of signs I've never seen before and punctuated them with a question mark. He finger-spelled, but the letters weren't the perfect finger-positions of a teacher, they were the "lazy" fingers of a teenager, still done at breakneck speed. I continued to show the signs for "slow", "puzzled", "what?", and "missed it", and he continued to try to talk to me. Finally I shrugged, apologized and said, "I am stupid, sorry". He smiled and walked away.
My head probably shrunk down to the size of a pea. This was the real trial by fire and I flunked. Reading the sign of a teacher, or even an adult at a party who can recognize I'm slow is quite a different thing to trying to talk to a teenager. Of course I can take a little solace in the fact that hearing teenagers can be very difficult to understand too. Very little solace.
The other day we were at the Coit Farmer's Market for breakfast. It is the oldest operating farmer's market in the city, out near (or in) Collinwood. At one point we both heard the unmistakable sound of a deaf woman's voice; the voice that comes from never having heard the hard consonants, full open vowels or subtle tongue placements of the English language. Although Robert was extremely nervous, he approached the woman and asked in sign if she was deaf. The woman enthusiastically answered in the positive and a short, pleasant conversation commenced. It was just like our teacher Jen Carrick told us, the deaf community is so isolated in a hearing world, they get excited when someone can actually communicate with them. Later, I had my chance to sign with the same woman as we both looked at some baby goats. It was wonderful and I felt two inches taller.
The opening night film for the Cleveland International Film Festival was named "Hamill" and was about a deaf wrestler who went on to become a champion. We had been able to secure a few extra tickets (thank you Marcy, Patrick and the rest of CIFF!!!) and offered them to some of our classmates and a married couple whom I had never met. The wife was an interpreter and the husband was a deaf actor. At the extravagant gala after the film screening, I wanted to meet the couple, but I did not know what they looked like! So, I spent a good portion of the evening walking around the crowded rooms looking for anyone who was signing. Since the film was about a deaf man, there were many, many deaf people in attendance, which made my job difficult. However, each person I tapped on the shoulder was genuinely excited to speak with me and even though they were not the people I was looking for, they were eager to ask me many questions and tell me many things. I tapped the shoulder of one woman and then apologized for the interruption (in sign of course). I went on to ask her if her name was Mary Ellen (the wife in the couple I was searching for). This woman smiled warmly and then as slowly as her fingers could possibly move, she signed "my name is Cindy" and then showed me the deaf-sign for her name which was a "C" hand hovering around her chin. I laughed and told her, "Thank you for going so slow with me". The most delightful thing happened then. She asked me if I was from Cleveland and if I had gone to a local school for the deaf. I was immediately embarrassed and explained I was actually a hearing individual. Instead of being insulted, she was pleased I was learning. Again, I think I grew two more inches. I eventually found Mary Ellen and her husband Michael and we also had a wonderful conversation. By the end of the night my head was pretty darned huge!
The Film Festival has this thing called Film Slam, where local high school students can come by bus (with a teacher) to see short subject films in the morning. I always help out with this event because it is chaotic and difficult and I like the punishment. Imagine literally hundreds of inner city high school students arriving, usually at the same time, into a fairly narrow concourse. You have to guide them quietly to the proper theater and then keep them shushed while the film is going.
It is actually a lot of fun! This morning there was a contingent of deaf students from Max Hayes High School. Again I was able to put my signing into use! I leaped to action and started signing with the teacher. Again I was able to carry on a great conversation. He told me that I was really good at signing and was so thankful I was there. He told me most people in the world refuse to communicate with deaf people. I didn't bother to give my opinion that most people simply don't know the language, but I got his point well enough. God my head swelled up.
Then the teacher went to the restroom and one of the students started talking to me. His hands flew so fast I could barely even see them. My brain recognized some of the signs, but I couldn't put them into a flowing sentence. I think he said something like, "Film you ____ got _____last_____day_____not_____do you____question____over_____yesterday______" and on and on. I told him to please go very slow and perhaps he did by some slight percentage. He smiled but I could tell I was frustrating him a bit. He used a handful of signs I've never seen before and punctuated them with a question mark. He finger-spelled, but the letters weren't the perfect finger-positions of a teacher, they were the "lazy" fingers of a teenager, still done at breakneck speed. I continued to show the signs for "slow", "puzzled", "what?", and "missed it", and he continued to try to talk to me. Finally I shrugged, apologized and said, "I am stupid, sorry". He smiled and walked away.
My head probably shrunk down to the size of a pea. This was the real trial by fire and I flunked. Reading the sign of a teacher, or even an adult at a party who can recognize I'm slow is quite a different thing to trying to talk to a teenager. Of course I can take a little solace in the fact that hearing teenagers can be very difficult to understand too. Very little solace.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)