ASL

State of the State Testing

Oh, joy, the time for state-mandated testing is upon us.

For my school, the brunt of it happened last week. We made a patchwork quilt of our schedule so testing would always be in the morning, but the kids wouldn’t miss just their morning classes all week. The kids who had to take it (those in their second or third year of high school) were divvied up into groups and teachers were assigned to administer certain portions of the test.

I only had to miss one class for my test administration. Not bad. But giving these tests to deaf kids is always a big-time drain on the brainpower.

Most of the kids have a testing accommodation on their IEP stating that any test material (other than in the Reading section) can be signed to them. No problem. I handle math stuff in ASL all day.

Except this is totally different.

First, I don’t get to see the test until the day of. Second, some math signs are so iconic, they may give away too much information. So I have to read each question, decide what’s being tested, and determine which words should be spelled rather than signed.

For example (and these examples are completely made-up and unrelated to any I saw in the test), if a test question said, “What is the numerator of the fraction 4/5?” I couldn’t sign “numerator.” Why? The sign for it is one hand held flat like a fraction bar and the other making the N-handshape above it. (Guess what denominator is. Yeah, same thing, D-handshape below.)

Another example is “parallel.” If a question asked, “Which lines are parallel?” I couldn’t use the sign. It’s too visual. On the other hand, if a more complex problem relied on the fact that two lines are parallel and some information needed to be derived from that, I could sign “parallel.”

It makes my head hurt.

It’s a test to gauge mathematical ability, so the accommodation is there to make sure English reading ability doesn’t get in the way of the kids showing what they know. But it’s such a delicate balancing act between that and giving an unfair advantage.

Anyone else have brain-busting balancing acts going on in their lives right now?

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Why Everyone Should Learn Sign Language

Seriously.

I’ve thought this before, but it hit me again this morning. Every Tuesday this summer, I’ve been helping my dad work on their backyard. Today, we cut big landscape blocks in half. (BTW, 12-inch concrete saw with diamond blade? Awesome.) Being good little workers, we wore safety glasses and earplugs.

Have you ever tried to talk to someone while you’re both wearing earplugs? Better yet, while a power saw is running? How much easier would it be if my dad knew sign language?

And that’s not the only situation where it would be handy. Other times, my dad’s been down in the walkout from the basement while I’m above in the backyard, and the A/C is running nearby. Very hard to hear what he’s saying.

Then there’s my favorite: restaurants. I love going out with deaf friends and colleagues. Doesn’t matter how noisy it gets, conversation is still just as easy to follow. One time, there was a full mariachi band in the room, but we kept chatting away. No problem.

When I’m out with non-signers and the restaurant’s noisy/the acoustics are lousy? All I can think is, “If only!”

Oh, and if you make the acquaintance of a deaf person (who signs)? Bonus! Easy communication.

To my international friends, though, sorry. Your sign language isn’t my sign language, unless you’re in Canada (but not Quebec). Yes, different countries have different sign languages. (I know this is a shocker to some.)

Can you guys think of any situations where it’d be nice if everyone involved knew sign language?

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Boundaries of Bashing

My perfectionism makes me a little critical. (For evidence, see my opinion on eBook formatting or my breakdown of e-reader apps.) This extends pretty much to all areas of my life.

In my day job, I spend a lot of time around ASL interpreters. I frequently find myself feeling conflicted. On one side, I’ve known some seriously awesome interpreters, and I know without a doubt I can’t do their job. In fact, I’ve had to in a pinch once or twice. One of those occasions sparked a near panic-attack. (There’s a reason interpreters usually work in pairs and switch off every 20-30 minutes. When I got to around 45 minutes, I went into vapor lock.)

On the other side, mistakes drive me nuts. Or worse, when I see a completely unqualified interpreter botching up everything. When I’m in a position where I’m signing and an interpreter is voicing for me, I pray to have earplugs. For one thing, it’s just hard to concentrate. For another, any little pause or minor misinterpretation convinces me my signing skills are really that terrible.

And I admit, sometimes after enduring something with a really poor interpreter, I have to vent a little to one of my colleagues.

Even then, I try to remind myself at all times that it’s an extremely difficult job—one I cannot do. I try to keep my venting to appropriate venues. When I’m in a position to help an interpreter improve, I do what I can. At the end of the day, I respect their effort, their training, and the difficulty of their job. And by and large, the interpreters I’ve dealt with fall into the Camp of Awesome.

What’s my point? Oh, look, here comes a writing connection!

It’s likewise easy from the writer’s side of things to criticize how others in the industry do their jobs. Gripe about agents’ long response times. Claim editors are out-of-touch. Rant about the stupidity of anyone and everyone in the publishing business.

There are certainly valid criticisms and discussions to be had on many publishing topics. When it crosses into agent/editor/publisher-bashing, I get a yucky feeling. It just ain’t pretty, and it’s definitely not professional.

Yes, I’m sure they make mistakes. I’m sure there are things they could (and maybe should) do better. Everyone on this planet has room to improve, even (especially) in our areas of expertise. But respect the job, respect the effort, respect the experience and training. Bashing is never the result of respect.

And for more on handling ourselves professionally, check out this post. Yeah, I’m even critical about responding to criticism.

Where do you draw that line between criticism/accountability and straight-up bashing?

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Speaking Up

When you’re part of the majority, you don’t generally think about your culture until you find yourself in a situation where you’re surrounded by someone else’s.  I imagine most of the people reading this listen to music and watch TV with the sound turned up—that is, we’re hearing.

Did you ever think of using that word to describe yourself?  Maybe not, unless you happen to be a hearing person with connections to the Deaf world.

Yes, I capitalized it.  That wasn’t a mistake.

There are a lot of differences between Deaf culture and the hearing majority, probably enough for another blog post or two sometime.  A central feature is sign language.  That doesn’t mean there aren’t people within the community who can and do speak.  This can be a sticky issue, though—again, plenty I could ramble on about.

My point right now is that there are individuals who feel caught in the middle, who enjoy being part of the Deaf community, but also feel a connection to the hearing world.  They listen to music and express themselves most comfortably in spoken English.  This doesn’t always go over well with others.

Tomorrow, there’s a public “speaking” competition at school.  Entrants have the choice of signing or speaking.  This year, only a few students have entered … but they’ve all chosen to speak, and we’ll have an interpreter present.  I’m interested to see the kinds of reactions they get.  Will everyone focus on the content of the messages and whether they were effective in getting their points across?  Will some complain that they should have signed, even though doing so would limit the eloquence of these particular students?

I’m proud of them for having the guts to get up in front of their peers and make a formal presentation—whether in speech or sign, it’s not easy.  If anyone gives them a hard time, it might be my turn to speak up.

 

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