One thing I will definitely address which shouldn't come as a surprise- any anti-CI/deafness talk.
Here's one vlog from YouTube that got me really, really riled and I just couldn't understand why would he put such a video up like this. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-YN5Fdz1En0&feature=player_embedded
I tell you, there is still far too much prejudice in this world against the deaf. Since truly realizing this when I left high school, I had to work very hard at my hearing in order to "blend in" with the society. Otherwise, I was on the fence, or even pushed over to unfamiliar territory (the Deaf community). Unless their hair is cut short, most people with CIs who speak clearly can get away with not having their deafness noticed. It's one of the things that people with CIs are proud of- not having their deafness noticed.
But like the deaf, we strive to be accepted for our abilities. Like them, we still have to work hard to prove ourselves as valuable participants of the society. Unlike them, we still have to take measures and strategize our form of communication and placement to the main speaker.
Since my college graduation, being pushed out in the Real World, I've had to work even harder on my listening and communicate skills. I am blessed to be part of this generation where texting, e-mailing, and other forms of visual communication are the norm. But there's still part of me that craves for telephone conversation because being able to talk on the phone was and probably is still so valued and I want to fully be able to do it. When I used to call 1-800 numbers, I used to use TTY/IP Relay system via AIM. But the relay couldn't move quickly enough and sometimes I've had people hung up on me after the relay operator explained how the relay worked. I was astonished. Embarassed. Humiliated. Shame. Yes, I was ashamed. I wanted to stop this. The real solution I saw was to work on my listening skills. Learn to talk on the phone, regardless of who it was. And so I did, slowly. I wanted to stop wasting my time as well and take care of things on my own. I wanted to be totally independent. I've had my CI for 20 years now and I thought it's long enough. Time to be free of prejudices.
So for my summer research, I had to make phone calls to complete strangers who were elderly, half of them with German accents. I also had to call 1-800 numbers for my airline and SuperShuttle. The conversations went relatively quicker than if I had used the relay system.
I am damn proud. Nobody prejudiced me because I could well talk on the phone to deal with business. I call adults in their homes and offices. I still text with friends because our own lives are very busy and it's just easier to respond when we're free to do so. I am aware of my slight accent but I don't give a damn for most part so as long the person is responding to my inquiries and comments appropriately.
It might not solve the whole deaf-prejudice problem but at least they had an opportunity to meet a deaf person and can see that it's still possible to communciate.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Monkey See, Monkey Do, Learning ASL
I am sitting in ASL 101 at my university. Since the professor required silence for the two whole hours that we were in class, I didn't see the point of wearing my CI. I asked my new friend AG if she wore her CI. She said that she did and just heard all the little sounds like chairs creaking and scratching along the floor and people breathing. I told her that I couldn't do that. I supposed it was from my old days of wearing my Spectra when silence meant something was wrong. (My Freedom now tells me with a beep that there's something going on.) And I liked to hear my own silence that I've created for myself.
It's been quite fun learning ASL but a little frustrating at times because we learn so much over the course of 2 hours. I would guess that we learn probably upwards of 20-40 new signs in each class as well as grammatical structure. I'm learning quickly without much outside studying. Unlike in my spoken foreign language class, I can mimic the teacher as she signs. We've all learned to sign with correct arms and hands. You just learn. Sometimes it's entertaining to watch her act out because she can be a total clown (Outsiders of the Deaf culture would indeed think she's a clown). She's really good at clarifying signs if you can't figure out the hand and finger positions.
Of course, it's a visual language and people like me would pick it up quickly. But I didn't think I could communicate so clearly in front of the entire class. No worries about mispronouciations. No worries about not picking up the accent. But we did have to worry about signing in the right direction and with right finger positions...and of course, using our eyebrows to suggest the meaning of our sentences/questions. I think it's the professor's biggest obsession.
Our class is mostly made up of women with two men in there. The men are actually quite good and somehow I could see them working well with deaf people. So unlike at UMass, we do not have football players. *grins* I was actually afraid of that but neither are in sports, I believe. We do have one girl who I think is on field hockey. I think it does say something about the student-athletes at my school. And half of the class is black. Hm... even more interesting to me.
One of my dumb moments just happened yesterday when she was teaching us family vocabulary. First, she had our male and female students who shared the same first name to be the newlyweds/parents. Then she had them give birth to two daughters. At one point, she signed that the two daughters were together and I missed the sign for "sisters" so my brain was confused, "Lesbians?" I almost chuckled to myself.
I did have my frustrations when I have to communicate with someone so close to me. I realized this when we got up to question each other about our housing and transportation situations. I signed with a girl who's probably like 4'11" but our area was getting a little crowded so she was literally a foot away from me. I totally, totally missed almost everything that she said because her hands were in my blind spots. I got really scared and I realized that either A) I need to step back, or B) use the opportunity for tactile signing. I chose to take 2 or 3 steps back to have at least 3 feet between the two of us. That was much better. It wouldn't matter where I sit in the class- I could see my teacher from all around the room, but if I was in one-on-one conversation, I needed room. I also noticed that I couldn't even sign with someone next to me because they're just too close. Sometimes, I also missed the fingerspelling when it's done just too quickly. I was beginning to think about sitting with AG and take her right hand with my left and following the fingerspelling. She knew about my blindness but nobody else in the class did. They will find out when I give a lecture at the end of the semester about deafblindness.
Nevertheless, I enjoy going to this class. It's meaningful to me personally. It's not really much of a break from my masters program because it's still work. And I actually have a real purpose of being here. So much of studying actually happens in class, not necessarily outside of it. I am excited to show off my knowledge to one of my very best friends from home. I think I will run into her mother first though and you know what happens.
You know when your brain gets a really good exercise when you have a headache after class? Sometimes I got that when I studied Hebrew or Yiddish in my intensive courses, but I never thought two hours of ASL could wreck havoc on my ability to think straight or absorb new material for the next few hours. And it's only twice a week. (But I have to cut my Thursday an hour short due to overlapping time with my graduate seminar, darn it!) I guess I must really be getting more information than I'm used to in my other language classes. And that's a good sign.
It's been quite fun learning ASL but a little frustrating at times because we learn so much over the course of 2 hours. I would guess that we learn probably upwards of 20-40 new signs in each class as well as grammatical structure. I'm learning quickly without much outside studying. Unlike in my spoken foreign language class, I can mimic the teacher as she signs. We've all learned to sign with correct arms and hands. You just learn. Sometimes it's entertaining to watch her act out because she can be a total clown (Outsiders of the Deaf culture would indeed think she's a clown). She's really good at clarifying signs if you can't figure out the hand and finger positions.
Of course, it's a visual language and people like me would pick it up quickly. But I didn't think I could communicate so clearly in front of the entire class. No worries about mispronouciations. No worries about not picking up the accent. But we did have to worry about signing in the right direction and with right finger positions...and of course, using our eyebrows to suggest the meaning of our sentences/questions. I think it's the professor's biggest obsession.
Our class is mostly made up of women with two men in there. The men are actually quite good and somehow I could see them working well with deaf people. So unlike at UMass, we do not have football players. *grins* I was actually afraid of that but neither are in sports, I believe. We do have one girl who I think is on field hockey. I think it does say something about the student-athletes at my school. And half of the class is black. Hm... even more interesting to me.
One of my dumb moments just happened yesterday when she was teaching us family vocabulary. First, she had our male and female students who shared the same first name to be the newlyweds/parents. Then she had them give birth to two daughters. At one point, she signed that the two daughters were together and I missed the sign for "sisters" so my brain was confused, "Lesbians?" I almost chuckled to myself.
I did have my frustrations when I have to communicate with someone so close to me. I realized this when we got up to question each other about our housing and transportation situations. I signed with a girl who's probably like 4'11" but our area was getting a little crowded so she was literally a foot away from me. I totally, totally missed almost everything that she said because her hands were in my blind spots. I got really scared and I realized that either A) I need to step back, or B) use the opportunity for tactile signing. I chose to take 2 or 3 steps back to have at least 3 feet between the two of us. That was much better. It wouldn't matter where I sit in the class- I could see my teacher from all around the room, but if I was in one-on-one conversation, I needed room. I also noticed that I couldn't even sign with someone next to me because they're just too close. Sometimes, I also missed the fingerspelling when it's done just too quickly. I was beginning to think about sitting with AG and take her right hand with my left and following the fingerspelling. She knew about my blindness but nobody else in the class did. They will find out when I give a lecture at the end of the semester about deafblindness.
Nevertheless, I enjoy going to this class. It's meaningful to me personally. It's not really much of a break from my masters program because it's still work. And I actually have a real purpose of being here. So much of studying actually happens in class, not necessarily outside of it. I am excited to show off my knowledge to one of my very best friends from home. I think I will run into her mother first though and you know what happens.
You know when your brain gets a really good exercise when you have a headache after class? Sometimes I got that when I studied Hebrew or Yiddish in my intensive courses, but I never thought two hours of ASL could wreck havoc on my ability to think straight or absorb new material for the next few hours. And it's only twice a week. (But I have to cut my Thursday an hour short due to overlapping time with my graduate seminar, darn it!) I guess I must really be getting more information than I'm used to in my other language classes. And that's a good sign.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Welcome!
Where are you? I can't see your shadow! Sorry, I don't have my cochlear implant on. I don't feel you yet... I can't see where your voice is coming from... I'm putting my hand out... find it? Oh, yeah, there we go. Now we're not alone. We're together. Oh, wait, you're not the right person, you just spelled your name and you're not who I'm looking for... Wait, you're sure? Oh okay.
I use my voice. My voice is my saving grace. Most deafblind people do not really speak well because they grew up as deaf before losing their vision so they learned American Sign Language in order to communicate. I'm different. I have a cochlear implant that allowed me to learn how to speak from the time I was implanted when I was four.
Yet, sometimes I wonder if I'm overplaying this "saving grace" part now that I have had a chance to explore some aspects of the deafblind world in the past two months. I will talk more about it and my feelings towards sign language and cochlear implants.
The mission of this blog is to have a space for me to write about my thoughts towards deaf, deafblind, cochlear implant, and disability issues. I want to make people aware of the disease that I am living with- Usher's Syndrome- and how it affects my life in ways that normal people don't think about. I welcome your input.
I would like to say that I'm pretty liberal when it comes to all this and don't care as long you are who you are, and you can do whatever is comfortable for you. People will change only when they are comfortable with the new concept. Otherwise, they won't. At the same time, I mean well when my position appear to be hard-core. I've learned a lot from my experience growing up in mainstream with little contact with the Deaf community until my junior and senior years of high school. I also have extremely strong identity with my "CI" (cochlear implant) because it is so much part of who I am. It's like my cojoined twin. I just cannot imagine my life without it and you will learn over time why.
At the same time, you will notice that even though I am very confident of myself when it comes to my CI identity, I appear to be unsure when I discuss my vision loss. I only found out in December 2003 that I have retinitis pigmentosa, another component to Ushers Syndrome. I am moving on because I have been living with this all my life. But, it is only that I now have a heightened awareness of my limitations with my current visual field.
I am currently taking American Sign Language at my university in hopes of being able to connect with the deafblind and "respectful" Deaf (again, you will later see why I quote that). I will chronicle some of that in my posts. I mean, here I am, celebrating my 20th year with my CI and voice, I am finally learning ASL, the language of the Deaf and deafblind.
Enjoy. Feel free to post comments.
*hand-squeeze*
I use my voice. My voice is my saving grace. Most deafblind people do not really speak well because they grew up as deaf before losing their vision so they learned American Sign Language in order to communicate. I'm different. I have a cochlear implant that allowed me to learn how to speak from the time I was implanted when I was four.
Yet, sometimes I wonder if I'm overplaying this "saving grace" part now that I have had a chance to explore some aspects of the deafblind world in the past two months. I will talk more about it and my feelings towards sign language and cochlear implants.
The mission of this blog is to have a space for me to write about my thoughts towards deaf, deafblind, cochlear implant, and disability issues. I want to make people aware of the disease that I am living with- Usher's Syndrome- and how it affects my life in ways that normal people don't think about. I welcome your input.
I would like to say that I'm pretty liberal when it comes to all this and don't care as long you are who you are, and you can do whatever is comfortable for you. People will change only when they are comfortable with the new concept. Otherwise, they won't. At the same time, I mean well when my position appear to be hard-core. I've learned a lot from my experience growing up in mainstream with little contact with the Deaf community until my junior and senior years of high school. I also have extremely strong identity with my "CI" (cochlear implant) because it is so much part of who I am. It's like my cojoined twin. I just cannot imagine my life without it and you will learn over time why.
At the same time, you will notice that even though I am very confident of myself when it comes to my CI identity, I appear to be unsure when I discuss my vision loss. I only found out in December 2003 that I have retinitis pigmentosa, another component to Ushers Syndrome. I am moving on because I have been living with this all my life. But, it is only that I now have a heightened awareness of my limitations with my current visual field.
I am currently taking American Sign Language at my university in hopes of being able to connect with the deafblind and "respectful" Deaf (again, you will later see why I quote that). I will chronicle some of that in my posts. I mean, here I am, celebrating my 20th year with my CI and voice, I am finally learning ASL, the language of the Deaf and deafblind.
Enjoy. Feel free to post comments.
*hand-squeeze*
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Circle Time!
I'm squirming in my seat, looking out to the darkening sky and beginning to wonder when we can do "bridge time." I want to get back to my cabin and be safe for the rest of the night (aside from carefully walking to the outdoor bathroom area). I look back to our camp activity, may it be a talent show, dance, or skits. I am enjoying watching other campers and staff playing and I am having fun as well. But I can't help myself. I just want to go and get under my covers.
If we are outside, I will find myself inching closer to the nearest person until I can feel their breathing and warmth. Sometimes I'll grab a friend's or a counselor's hand to be sure that I wouldn't be consumed by the dark. I can hear laughter, shouting, and feet stomping on the ground from all the running. Here I am. Standing or sitting very still. I can't see. I can't see. Someone comes to me and says something but I can't see the face. It's a black shadow. Where's the flashlight? I search around me with my hand to find the flashlight and find it. I switch it on. The light bursts dimly. I hold it up to the speaker's face. The speaker repeats what s/he just said. Lipreading under these heavy shadows is still difficult. Yeah, I'm okay, I lied. But the brain doesn't lie. It fire neurons for my hand to grab the speaker's arm and search for his or her hand.
Suddenly, I hear several campers calling "circle time!" Still holding onto the person's hand, the person helps me off the ground and takes me to where everyone is forming a circle. Someone takes my other hand. I recognize the hand, somewhat. I ask, "Who are you?" Oh. Okay, cool. I can make out the scuffling shadows, looking to create a nice, big circle. Immediately, I felt less alone and very much part of the company.
Then we burst into singing "One Little Candle" that lifts my spirits as everyone moved, swayed, stamped feet, all together. I savor the rhythm. (It took me a very long time to learn all the lyrics by heart because sometimes we sang them in the dark. Once I learned them, I felt much more comforted.) The first song's especially touching. Here are the lyrics:
It is better to light just one little candle
Than to stumble in the dark.
Better far that you light just one little candle,
All you need is a tiny spark.
If we'd all say a prayer that the world would be free,
A wonderful dawn of a new day we'd see...
And if everyone lit just one little candle,
What a bright world this would be.
When the day is dark and dreary
And we know not where to go;
Don't let your heart go weary,
Just keep this thought in mind...
It is better to light just one little candle
Than to stumble in the dark.
Better far that you light just one little candle,
All you need is a tiny spark.
If we'd all say a prayer that the world would be free,
A wonderful dawn of a new day we'd see...
And if everyone lit just one little candle,
What a bright world this would be.
Then we moved to sing, "The Day is Done":
When the day is done
Down to earth then sinks the sun
Along with everything that was lost and won
When the day is done.
When the day is done
Hope so much your race will be all run
Then you find you jumped the gun
Have to go back where you began
When the day is done.
When the night is cold
Some get by but some get old
Just to show lifes not made of gold
When the night is cold.
When the bird has flown
Got no-one to call your own
Got no place to call your home
When the bird has flown.
When the games been fought
You speed the ball across the court
Lost much sooner than you would have thought
Now the games been fought.
When the partys through
Seems so very sad for you
Didnt do the things you meant to do
Now theres no time to start anew
Now the partys through.
When the day is done
Down to earth then sinks the sun
Along with everything that was lost and won
When the day is done.
And finally, we end our singing with, "Run Along Home":
Now run along home (we run in place) and jump (we all jump) into bed
Say your prayers, don't cover your head
The very last thing I say unto you
Is "you dream of me, and I'll dream of you.
When we are done, we stand in silence to mediate, still holding hands. Countless times, I look around in the darkness, imagining faces, and think how lucky I am that I have a moment in the darkness where everyone's around me. It gives me an opportunity to study the sky, the land, the lake, and other features of the camp setting. I look up to the sky, searching for the stars. I can never find them, at least I'm sure those "stars" are just plane lights. But I focus on the moon, shining brillantly, giving me a small piece of light. I quietly ask the moon to shine even brighter so I can see my way back to the cabin. I want to see who I am walking with. I want to be able to walk and talk. I don't want to use my flashlight or depend on somebody with a flashlight.
Suddenly, I feel a squeeze. Instantly, I passed the squeeze into the next person. Then everyone cheers and breaks up and heads over to the bridge, while calling for "bridge time." I sigh. I walk out with everyone, following the shadows around me. I feel for the gravel of the road and walk on the edge of the gravel, or away from the grass. I look ahead to see where everyone is going to avoid falling into the small creek below. I succeed in making to the bridge and walking in the center over it. Then I am greeted by good-night hugs. Soon, people begin moving towards the hill, back to the cabin. I search around for my cabinmates or my counselor to walk me back. Sometimes the hill mom will find me and help me back. I never feel secure walking on this road, with pine trees' branches hanging high over my head. I feel spooked. Like it's Sleepy Hollow or something. But the warmth that I felt from "Circle Time" lingers with me.
When I see the light of my cabin and open the door, I feel safe as I can ever be.
If we are outside, I will find myself inching closer to the nearest person until I can feel their breathing and warmth. Sometimes I'll grab a friend's or a counselor's hand to be sure that I wouldn't be consumed by the dark. I can hear laughter, shouting, and feet stomping on the ground from all the running. Here I am. Standing or sitting very still. I can't see. I can't see. Someone comes to me and says something but I can't see the face. It's a black shadow. Where's the flashlight? I search around me with my hand to find the flashlight and find it. I switch it on. The light bursts dimly. I hold it up to the speaker's face. The speaker repeats what s/he just said. Lipreading under these heavy shadows is still difficult. Yeah, I'm okay, I lied. But the brain doesn't lie. It fire neurons for my hand to grab the speaker's arm and search for his or her hand.
Suddenly, I hear several campers calling "circle time!" Still holding onto the person's hand, the person helps me off the ground and takes me to where everyone is forming a circle. Someone takes my other hand. I recognize the hand, somewhat. I ask, "Who are you?" Oh. Okay, cool. I can make out the scuffling shadows, looking to create a nice, big circle. Immediately, I felt less alone and very much part of the company.
Then we burst into singing "One Little Candle" that lifts my spirits as everyone moved, swayed, stamped feet, all together. I savor the rhythm. (It took me a very long time to learn all the lyrics by heart because sometimes we sang them in the dark. Once I learned them, I felt much more comforted.) The first song's especially touching. Here are the lyrics:
It is better to light just one little candle
Than to stumble in the dark.
Better far that you light just one little candle,
All you need is a tiny spark.
If we'd all say a prayer that the world would be free,
A wonderful dawn of a new day we'd see...
And if everyone lit just one little candle,
What a bright world this would be.
When the day is dark and dreary
And we know not where to go;
Don't let your heart go weary,
Just keep this thought in mind...
It is better to light just one little candle
Than to stumble in the dark.
Better far that you light just one little candle,
All you need is a tiny spark.
If we'd all say a prayer that the world would be free,
A wonderful dawn of a new day we'd see...
And if everyone lit just one little candle,
What a bright world this would be.
Then we moved to sing, "The Day is Done":
When the day is done
Down to earth then sinks the sun
Along with everything that was lost and won
When the day is done.
When the day is done
Hope so much your race will be all run
Then you find you jumped the gun
Have to go back where you began
When the day is done.
When the night is cold
Some get by but some get old
Just to show lifes not made of gold
When the night is cold.
When the bird has flown
Got no-one to call your own
Got no place to call your home
When the bird has flown.
When the games been fought
You speed the ball across the court
Lost much sooner than you would have thought
Now the games been fought.
When the partys through
Seems so very sad for you
Didnt do the things you meant to do
Now theres no time to start anew
Now the partys through.
When the day is done
Down to earth then sinks the sun
Along with everything that was lost and won
When the day is done.
And finally, we end our singing with, "Run Along Home":
Now run along home (we run in place) and jump (we all jump) into bed
Say your prayers, don't cover your head
The very last thing I say unto you
Is "you dream of me, and I'll dream of you.
When we are done, we stand in silence to mediate, still holding hands. Countless times, I look around in the darkness, imagining faces, and think how lucky I am that I have a moment in the darkness where everyone's around me. It gives me an opportunity to study the sky, the land, the lake, and other features of the camp setting. I look up to the sky, searching for the stars. I can never find them, at least I'm sure those "stars" are just plane lights. But I focus on the moon, shining brillantly, giving me a small piece of light. I quietly ask the moon to shine even brighter so I can see my way back to the cabin. I want to see who I am walking with. I want to be able to walk and talk. I don't want to use my flashlight or depend on somebody with a flashlight.
Suddenly, I feel a squeeze. Instantly, I passed the squeeze into the next person. Then everyone cheers and breaks up and heads over to the bridge, while calling for "bridge time." I sigh. I walk out with everyone, following the shadows around me. I feel for the gravel of the road and walk on the edge of the gravel, or away from the grass. I look ahead to see where everyone is going to avoid falling into the small creek below. I succeed in making to the bridge and walking in the center over it. Then I am greeted by good-night hugs. Soon, people begin moving towards the hill, back to the cabin. I search around for my cabinmates or my counselor to walk me back. Sometimes the hill mom will find me and help me back. I never feel secure walking on this road, with pine trees' branches hanging high over my head. I feel spooked. Like it's Sleepy Hollow or something. But the warmth that I felt from "Circle Time" lingers with me.
When I see the light of my cabin and open the door, I feel safe as I can ever be.
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