Deaf Disempowerment and Today’s Interpreter

December 12, 2012

Originally appeared at Street Leverage. Presentation given at Potomac Chapter of RID, Columbia, MD, November 2012.

In the spirit of being transparent, the stories I’m about to share might be uncomfortable for some of you.  While I would like to speak my truth, I recognize that you have your own truth as well.  I trust that you will evaluate the stories I share and recognize the value in them. I actually was, and am, reluctant about presenting today because like many deaf people who speak out, I’ve had to endure a lot of negative feedback for being a “strong personality,” “angry deaf person,” and so on. My goal today is for you, as interpreters, to be open to possibly uncomfortable topics, uncomfortable truths, and uncomfortable analyses—whether they apply to you or not.

I believe that the best way to become bona fide allies is to embrace difficult ideas, opinions and, yes, facts. At the end of the day, we’re all in this together.

Four weeks ago, my two-year-old son fell and broke his leg. A week later, I took him, along with my one-year-old, to the orthopedic doctor for a check-up. Now, I live in a town where there are 250 to 300 deaf people living among 23,000 people; we have the deaf school, so everyone knows how to sign or how to work with interpreters. After about 45 minutes of waiting in the lobby—very unusual for a town of this size—I asked the receptionist about the severe delay. The receptionist never once looked up from her computer, saying that the doctor was backed up. I asked if we could see the doctor since my children were restless, hungry and my son, in a body cast from chest to toe, needed his medicine—which was at home. She said no. I said, “Could you please speak to the doctor or nurse?” She replied, “Oh, no, I can’t do that,” and I repeated my request. She adamantly refused.  [Read more…]

Filed Under: Business, Culture, Deaf education, Interpreting, Language

Bringing in the Right People

July 5, 2012

It never fails. “Who’s the new teacher?” is a main topic among parents, teachers, staff and students every spring and summer. With new teachers being hired every year, it’s understandably a topic of interest for stakeholders.

This is even truer for state schools for deaf students, given the cohesive Deaf community—and how many people worry about new hires’ language fluency, qualifications, respect for the community and culture, and experience.

Too many state schools for deaf students struggle to stay open because of misguided legislators and administrators who are, yes, hearing. Time after time, we are forced to explain to boards, administrators and governing bodies why it is so crucial that teachers and administrators not be only knowledgeable, but also have a firsthand understanding of what working in the Deaf community requires. Then our words are twisted and mangled beyond recognition in the media (“not deaf enough,” anyone?), and the community at large scoffs at our repeated pleas to be heard, calling us demanding, militant, and unrealistic.

The Minnesota State Academies (MSA)—comprised of the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf (MSAD) and Minnesota State Academy for the Blind, two separate campuses a mile or two apart—board hired a new superintendent. As the parent of four students who attend MSAD and as the wife of a MSAD teacher, I had a keen, vested interest in the process. [Read more…]

Filed Under: Culture, Deaf education, Language, Parenting

A time and place for everything

December 1, 2010

I recently watched Bernard Bragg’s new DVD, Bragg on Bragg, a delightful glimpse into Bragg’s life. Although there are numerous memorable moments on that DVD, one thing Bragg said jumped out at me. In talking about teachers and deaf children, he said that too often teachers prioritize grammar before communication—something that should not happen.

As he said that, I nodded quickly because this is something I have said many times as well. I also remembered a talk I gave to a group of parents who had deaf children. During the question-and-answer session, the participants asked fantastic questions. There was one father who had brought his 14-year-old son, which I talked about in a 2004 article:

A father of a 14-year-old boy went into an explanation of how his “hearing-impaired” son was obviously smart, but he found it frustrating that his son struggled with where to place commas. I glanced over at his son sitting next to him, and the boy was clearly embarrassed. The father ended by asking if commas were found in ASL.

I thanked the father for asking a good question, and explained that there are the equivalent of commas (head pauses, body movement, etc.) in ASL. I also said gently that I, as a deaf person, would be more concerned about whether a deaf child could read Hemingway or communicate his feelings. I added that I preferred to encourage deaf children in expressing themselves, rather than pigeonhole their comma use. The boy smiled at me and nodded in gratitude. The father sat down, deep in thought. After the session, the boy approached me shyly, and I was blown away by how intelligent he was, and how gentle yet beautiful his signing was. [Read more…]

Filed Under: Culture, Deaf education, Language, Parenting

Can we all just get along?

February 3, 2010

Perhaps Rodney King isn’t the best person to quote, but “Can we all just get along?” is what keeps running through my head as I learn of more and more stories of rivalries between deaf schools and programs – especially those in the same state.

I’m not talking about fun athletic rivalries, but rivalries where families and staff go to great lengths to badmouth other schools, criticizing the quality of education, communication levels, and even the students. This blows my mind. What do people think they accomplish by condemning families and students for choosing specific schools?

A few years ago, I watched a teacher’s face twist in disgust as he said to a student attending a rival school, “Why do you go here? It’s a terrible school. Why don’t you come to my school? It’s got better education, better opportunities. Why would you want to lower yourself by staying at this school? You can do better.” This teacher – who I considered an honorable man until that conversation – didn’t realize anyone was watching him. I was floored because I had never seen this side of him, although I had heard stories. The student’s school was actually a great school with a solid enrollment size; on the other hand, the teacher’s school was struggling with enrollment. To this day, I find it sad that the teacher felt an aggressive pressure tactic was the way to recruit students. But what broke my heart was how the student looked defeated, even embarrassed, by the teacher’s words. [Read more…]

Filed Under: Childhood, Culture, Deaf education, Language, Parenting

Deaf Schools: TRUE-BUSINESS DEAF?—10 Years Later

December 12, 2007
Click to see full size.

Click to see full size.

This article originally appeared at i711.com.

In 1997, an article published in DeafNation Newspaper examined staff numbers at 21 residential schools in the U.S. Only three schools reported having more than 40 percent of staff—including all levels of employees, such as maintenance, administrators, dorm staff and teachers—who were deaf or hard of hearing, Ten years later, at least five schools report having broken the 50 percent mark; see chart at right.

The residential school has long played a pivotal role in the Deaf community, given its strong, deep roots in Deaf education history. With the 1817 establishment of American School for the Deaf, in Hartford, Conn., residential schools have since served as a social, educational and language source for many. In fact, it is often at such schools that deaf people are given language and meet deaf role models for the first time in their lives.

Effects of Deaf Staff
In the 1997 article, Brian Sipek, then a junior at the Illinois School for the Deaf, said, “The [hearing] staff are usually not familiar with what the student needs, being a deaf person. There are some hearing teachers, I admit, that try to be very helpful to deaf students, but it’s not the same coming from them, since they were never raised as a deaf person. They’re just not as familiar with being deaf as we are.”

Are students and communities better served through a large number of deaf employees at deaf schools? “Without question, a diverse faculty and staff impact positively on students’ motivation to achieve academically and to set their sights high,” says Texas School for the Deaf (TSD) superintendent Claire Bugen, who is hearing. “Deaf role models are part of the fabric of our educational environment.”

The positive effects of having deaf staff at residential schools are unquestionable, but most schools continue to have more hearing employees than deaf. Sipek feels this should be changed. “I still believe that there is a shortage of deaf and hard of hearing role models for these young students at the residential schools. Being a minority, deaf and hard of hearing children need role models, someone who views the world in the same way that they do, to look up to and be inspired by. “

Indiana School for the Deaf (ISD) superintendent David Geeslin, Ph.D., who is deaf, believes having deaf people on staff is a reason for ISD’s enrollment rising dramatically to 377 students within a few years. “Obviously, with deaf staff, we have a greater number of deaf role models for students, and this also leads to increased exposure to bilingualism for the students,” he says. “Deaf people can share knowledge that no college education can provide.”

Language is another benefit to having deaf staff, says Alex Slappey, Wisconsin School for the Deaf (WSD) superintendent. “Language is learned through the interchange of the language, and the richer and more diverse the language models available, the richer and more diverse the language foundation will be. It’s essential that students at WSD, an American Sign Language/English bilingual program, have the language models that both peers and adults provide. It is equally important that we have hearing staff because we are a bilingual program and provide the cultural and language models our students require to develop English language skills and an understanding of the hearing culture.”

Geeslin adds, “Even so, it’s critical that we maintain a bicultural environment where hearing staff are also equally respected and revered, especially if they’re fluent in both American Sign Language (ASL) and English and have the right attitude.”

Obstacles
Among the several reasons cited in the 1997 articles for having such low percentages of deaf staff were widening career choices for deaf professionals, hiring systems, pay levels, and certification procedures. These appear to continue to be challenges today.

“There are so many more professional employment opportunities today for people who are deaf and many more pre-service training and educational opportunities than there used to be. All of this is great, but it means that many capable individuals are seeking and finding challenging employment outside of the education arena,” says Joseph Finnegan, director of Conference of Educational Administrators of Schools and Programs for the Deaf (CEASD). “Also, I think that many individuals don’t see educational administrative employment as very attractive these days, especially with long hours, low pay and many headaches.” CESAD, established in 1868, provides accreditation for deaf schools, and advocacy and program services.

“The state hiring process may inadvertently discriminate against qualified deaf and hard of hearing candidates. This is less true for direct contact staff in Wisconsin, such as teachers, assistants, and dorm staff. We were successful in changing requirements for that in the early 1990s. However, it continues to be true for non-contact staff such as building/grounds and food services staff,” Slappey theorizes. “Bureaucratic certification systems are also impediments to hearing, deaf, or hard of hearing candidates, and can be rather discouraging.”

“I think there are both positives and negatives that contribute to this dilemma of a lack of deaf staff. Clearly, deaf people have many more career choices today than in the past, and with changing technology I suspect that will only continue to be a factor – that’s a good thing,” Bugen adds. “Salaries in education, on the other hand, have not kept pace with the private sector and many young people both want and need to be paid better than most educators are paid. Now with the requirements of highly qualified teaching under various laws, our already shrinking pool of qualified deaf and hearing candidates is compromised even further, which will likely cause more challenges in the years ahead.”

Geeslin is less forgiving. “Even though circumstances for gaining certification have become much stringent, the harsh truth is that we have to roll up our sleeves, whether we’re deaf or hearing or whatever our languages are, and work as much as we can to meet requirements. There’s no way around it at this point. We have to actually try and do what we can to earn our credentials, because we can. After all, we are to serve as models for students. It is time to raise the bar for ourselves and our students.”

Deaf Administrators
Currently, there are at least 14 deaf or hard of hearing superintendents in the nation, a number that fluctuates with time. “I foresee a need for more deaf administrators at deaf schools, but I think the pool of qualified candidates is smaller than it could be,” Slappey says. “Finding good administrators, whether hearing or deaf, is a problem. States are now more aware of and sensitive to the value a good deaf administrator brings to a program.”

Finnegan, a former superintendent, notes that graduate-level or professional-level training for deaf people were nonexistent for years, especially after the closure of the Leadership Training Program at California State University, Northridge, but that this is changing with the establishment of the Gallaudet Leadership Institute (GLI).

Training may be key, Bugen agrees, who also cites GLI. “Given the growing scarcity of young deaf or hearing professionals interested in education, we have to groom and grow our future leaders from within. We have to find ways to give our talented young deaf people opportunities to take on leadership roles and then encourage them to get the proper certification and training to assume administrative positions.”

“I think another challenge is that so many deaf administrators try to buck the system head-on instead of working within the system,” Dr. Geeslin states. “What helps me in my current position greatly are my years in outreach. I was out in the field, and I saw how hearing parents often didn’t care about Deaf culture. They simply wanted to find the best options for their children in acquiring spoken and/or written English. I had to come up with different ways of sharing the idea of using ASL to acquire English, and that really helped me understand the reality of working within the system in order to buck it. It’s all about mediating between the two worlds.”

New Challenges
What makes the enrollment boom that some residential schools are experiencing even more remarkable is that a Dec. 4 article in Education Week reported that only 15 percent of 72,000 K-12 deaf students attend deaf schools, down from 33 percent in 1985.

“I think there are two important elements that contribute to this success. The first is a community with a critical mass of Deaf people and a school that offers a high quality educational program. We find an increasingly large number of Deaf families moving to the Austin area so that their children can attend TSD,” Bugen says. “When this happens it not only keeps our enrollment strong, but it brings more Deaf families into the larger business and social community of Austin. Second, I believe the school must be ‘Deaf friendly’ and involve Deaf people in all aspects of the school’s operations so that Deaf people feel respected, valued and empowered.”

Serving a specific niche is another significant boost, Slappey says. “The landscape of deaf education has been changing and continues to change. Deaf schools, especially residential schools, need to decide where their focus is going to be in terms of who they will serve and how they will serve their students. WSD considers itself a niche school that serves children who require a visual language, ASL, to access education. This doesn’t mean we don’t serve the more hard of hearing child who uses English, but we do not sacrifice the needs of the ASL child to meet the needs of the English child. Deaf schools need to show how their uniqueness may make them a better placement option. To a large degree, this is an education and public relations issue. We must educate as to the unique needs, especially the communication and social emotional needs, of our deaf children.”

Even so, schools are struggling with an emergent problem: students with additional disabilities, such as autism or attention deficit disorder. According to Education Weekly, a 2005 survey indicated that 42 percent of 37,000 deaf students reported having additional disabilities. Dr. Geeslin, noting that 52 percent of ISD’s students have other disabilities, says that the lack of deaf teachers specializing in special education is a dilemma. “Now with the proliferation of students with additional needs, it’s even more crucial that deaf teachers pursue certification and experience in working with those students. The students are the ones who need the best language and cultural role models. And who knows? With earlier intervention and clear language models, it may be that those students make greater progress in acquiring both languages improving academic performance.”

Citing changes in federal and state statutes, Slappey says, “It is not a trend limited to teachers of the deaf, but part of the overall trend. To realize a true change in the supply, the teaching profession needs to be made more attractive as a career choice. Such things as better compensation, better working conditions, less bureaucracy, and less paperwork would go a long way to that extent. It’s a huge order to attempt to implement.”

‘Grow Our Own’
Despite the hurdles, Geeslin believes he has the solution to ensuring stronger roots and equality at deaf schools.

“15 years ago, I went to the National Association for the Deaf conference and ran into a friend, Lindsay Dunn. Given that I’ve always tried to look at things from outside of the box even as a teacher, I had been thinking about the lack of diversity at ISD. So I asked Lindsay how we could bring more African-Americans to the school. He said, ‘I have the answer. First, what did you do to recruit them?’ I told him that we had asked many people, but none ever applied. He then asked if we had a strong black deaf community, and I said we did not. He asked if we had any black deaf teachers. I again said we did not. He said, ‘There you have it. You have to grow your own first.'”

Profoundly affected by this revelation, Geeslin’s outlook changed. “Thanks to Lindsay, I have tried to ensure that we grow our own by encouraging staff, students and parents to invest in the community, and making sure that they understand they are investments themselves, too. We have to do this to create a community to which people of all types want to return and continue the work previous generations did. This is one reason ISD has grown so much in such a short time – because we grow our own.”

The fact that more schools have broken the 50 percent mark comes as good news to Sipek, who graduated Gallaudet University in 2004 and now works at the university. “I’m thrilled to know that there are more role models for deaf and hard of hearing children at residential schools. This closes a much-needed gap, but like most things, there is always room for more. I think this increase in staff numbers has been a long time coming.”

My thoughts:

This article first came about in 1997 when Brian Sipek asked me to see how many schools had deaf people employed at deaf schools. I agreed, and set out to collect the data. I was surprised at the amount of resistance from schools in giving me the statistics I asked for—something that was also true this time around. But I was even more surprised at the staggeringly low numbers, and how defensive some schools were about the numbers. My questions were simple: 1. How many students attend your school? 2. How many people do you employ? 3. How many of those staff members are deaf or hard of hearing?

Those who did not try to justify their low percentages were the ones who had outstanding attitudes, were upfront about this being a concern, and worked hard to change the numbers.

I am beyond thrilled to see how the numbers have grown since 1997, even if only a few have broken the 50 percent barrier. I should also point out that the numbers of deaf and hard of hearing teachers and dorm staff at many schools are quite high, and that the low numbers usually stemmed from cafeteria workers, maintenance, and administration. This is in no way an excuse; we should have deaf employees in each of these categories, too.

As Sipek commented, we still have a long way to go. Regardless of changing needs and times, we must continue to promote the increased hiring of qualified deaf people in key positions at every level. After all, paraphrasing Lindsay Dunn, it’s the only way we can grow our own.

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the express written consent of the author.

Filed Under: Deaf education, DeafNation Newspaper, i711.com, Politics

Why Not For Kids, Too?

August 8, 2007

rallyThis article originally appeared at i711.com.

An Alton Telegraph (Illinois) article reads in part:

Springfield, Ill. (AP) – About 100 deaf citizens carried placards and used their hands to talk at a silent rally in the State Capitol aimed at supporting legislation that would affect the deaf.

The demonstrators came from all over the state to…testify before an Illinois House committee and meet with Gov. James R. Thompson.

The Human Resources committee then voted 18 to 1 in favor of a proposal to provide communication devices for the deaf in at least one emergency facility in communities with more than 10,000 residents.

I don’t quite remember my first rally, but I do remember Mom sitting me down and talking with me about how we could make our home safer in the event of a fire or other emergencies. Back then, we were too poor to own a TTY, so we had to rely on alternate methods. The next day, a group of deaf people gathered to make signs and flyers; I colored the fireman’s hat on my sign a bright red. Then we went to the state capitol. I remember meeting with Governor Thompson in his office and being in awe of how tall and friendly he was. I was only three years old; Mom was 25. The rally and governor’s meeting were crucial lessons for me.

Today, nearly 30 years later, I continue to believe in the value of children participating in peaceful rallies and demonstrations. As a result of that early exposure – and many other rallies or demonstrations – I developed a lifelong interest in advocacy. I stay active with both state-level and national-level associations serving deaf people not because it’s a “cool” thing to do, but because it’s the only way we can ensure our rights.

There was recently some discussion recently among bloggers and vloggers about whether children should be involved in demonstrations or protests. This dialogue emerged from an incident during the A.G. Bell conference in Virginia last July. A group of people, including an A.G. Bell member, passed out flyers at the conference site promoting the teaching of sign language to deaf babies. The Marriott hotel manager, Jenny Botero, was captured on video trying to take flyers away from one of the people. Botero also grabbed paper from a frightened deaf eight-year-old daughter of a deaf woman, though this wasn’t captured on video. The girl’s mother was understandably furious. One blogger questioned the mother’s judgment and integrity in having her daughter participate, yet never once questioned Botero’s integrity. Regardless of the circumstances, no adult should ever try to intimidate an eight-year-old – or any child – into doing anything to further a cause.

When I read the blogger’s article and people’s comments agreeing that children shouldn’t be involved in events like this, I was saddened. The deaf community is now beginning to associate the word “protest” – or other forms of activism – as aggressive, dangerous and harmful. And this association has serious consequences.

I certainly don’t support dangerous tactics, regardless of results. Not all activism include dramatic events like what sometimes happened during the Gallaudet protests or even the civil rights movement of the 1960s. I should, however, point out that many of the children who were involved with the Deaf President Now protest are now adults, even parents, who have become even more cognizant of the importance of advocating for issues important to them. Many of them have become outstanding community leaders in individual ways. I was 13 when DPN happened, and the protest certainly left its mark on me. It didn’t teach me that we had to resort to violent methods. The protest taught me that deaf people like me were just like anyone else who deserved equal respect and access, and that we could play smart in order to get what we wanted, or rather, needed. It’s still that simple today.

So, to bring the kids or not? Again, it’s simple: the parent has the responsibility of gauging the safety level of each event, whether a rally, demonstration or a protest. The parent also has a responsibility in developing a safety plan should things go terribly wrong – whether at the hands of the protestors or the police or management. And the parent also has the right to decide if a child should be involved or not. Let’s be real: there’s a degree of risk in everything we do, from carrying signs at an event to riding a car (anyone want to compare the likelihood of dying in a car accident to being hurt during a demonstration?).

Besides, any responsible parent would do what my mother did: sit with the children, talk about the issues at hand in as neutral and factual a manner as possible, and then explain why the event is taking place. Then the parent could ask if the children want to be involved or not. Safety should always be a priority, but so should education and awareness.

Even though my first rally was three decades ago, I find myself advocating for the same issues we did back then, which was pre-Americans with Disabilities Act, pre-captioning, pre-Internet, and pre-everything: equality. And if it takes another 30 years of peaceful demonstrations and rallies to achieve equality, so be it. Our children should not face inequality at any time, so what better way to educate them than to include them?

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the express written consent of the author.

Filed Under: Childhood, Community resources, Culture, Deaf education, Media, Politics

A Year Later: “Deeply Disappointed” But Optimistic (Part II)

September 21, 2006

This article originally appeared at www.deafprofessional.net.

An exclusive interview with Dr. Glenn Anderson

This is the second installment of a two-part article. The first installment appeared on September 7, 2006.

When Dr. Anderson stepped down as Gallaudet University board chair in November 2005 in order to apply for the university presidency, his interim replacement was Celia May Baldwin, a 1970 Gallaudet graduate. However, facing the wrath and scrutiny of thousands of people infuriated by the presidential search process and selection was too much for Baldwin, who resigned on May 9. “My heart goes out to her,” Dr. Anderson says, noting that their friendship dates back to their days as Gallaudet undergraduates. “She did not deserve to have her tenure as interim chair of the board cut short due to threats and duress related to the search process.”

Baldwin’s replacement was acting board president, Dr. Brenda Jo Brueggemann, who seemed an unusual choice, given her mediocre (or some claim, utter lack of) sign language skills. Yet, in what seems to be a twist of irony, Dr. Brueggemann chairs the American Sign Language (ASL) department at Ohio State University. Dr. Anderson is philosophical about her appointment. “Dr. Brueggemann is in an unenviable position. I doubt she imagined herself suddenly being thrust into position of chair at this point in her tenure of service on the board.” He adds that a new chair will likely be chosen soon; board guidelines dictate that the permanent chair be someone who is fluent in ASL and preferably deaf.

Today, more than a year after President Jordan’s predictable announcement, Dr. Anderson has had time to reflect. Would he have made the same choices as the board had he stayed in his position as chair? His answer may surprise people who think Dr. Anderson was “Gallaudetized”—that is, constantly going along with the university’s status quo.

“Your question calls for speculation and that is always a risky type of venture,” he answers. “Evidently, I would not have been happy with the announcement of the three finalists. I would have expected more and I would not have supported going forward with the three finalists selected by the search committee at the time they did. My preference would have been to ask the board to support requesting the search committee to extend the search. I would have preferred closer adherence to searching for a pool of candidates who possessed the desired qualifications listed in the position announcement—e.g., significant experience in higher education and possessing an earned terminal degree. And at this time in our history, I would also have preferred more intense efforts be made to ensure diversity was adequately reflected among the candidates.”

Throughout all this, Dr. Fernandes has continued to be a chief source of discontent for FSSA, who continued to meet throughout the summer and presented two workshops at the National Association of the Deaf conference. Members of FSSA insist that President Jordan ignored many of their requests and pleas over the years, especially after Dr. Fernandes became provost of the university. Blog after blog states specific examples of how Dr. Fernandes created a great divide among students and faculty and the administration while President Jordan turned a blind eye. Dr. Anderson is hesitant to speculate yet once again. “I believe one has to be on campus on a daily basis to have insight into this. Dr. Jordan’s legacy was already well established as a result of the success of Deaf President Now and his phenomenal achievements during his nearly 18 years as president. However, as he nears the end of his tenure at Gallaudet, it is regretful that the university finds itself mired in divisiveness over the selection of a successor.”

Even so, this division is why Dr. Anderson and 1988-1994 board chair Phil Bravin wrote an open letter to the board last May. Parts of the letter read:

As former chairs of the Gallaudet Board of Trustees, we are looking at the present situation with a heavy heart, knowing how the Board needs to show its resolve and at the same time act in the best interests of the University… (The full letter may be read here).

In any event, we are leaning towards the position that this is not a deafness or cultural issue, but is emerging as a leadership issue and more importantly, the ability to maintain leadership over time in the next weeks, months and years to come.

The events of the past week and a half has caused great concern on our part of the long term bridges that Gallaudet has to maintain with its constituencies. These bridges have been weakened, and the current state of affairs, if not changed, will cause these bridges to weaken further, and to rebuild these would require more energy and effort that could otherwise be used to make Gallaudet the great University it deserves to be.

…we urge you to do your very best to resolve the current stalemate and reach resolutions that are in the best interests of the University. The time is now to begin a process of healing.

“I believe the message that Phil and I attempted to convey in our letter to the board last May remains timely and relevant today,” Dr. Anderson states. “I would much rather the final months of Jordan’s tenure be a time for reflection and celebration of his long and illustrious career as the university transitions to a new era of presidential leadership.”

Bonded by their Gallaudet ties and love of sports, Dr. Anderson and President Jordan were often seen together at events around the country. Now that Dr. Anderson is no longer a member of the Board of Trustees, he admits he misses the regular interactions he had with President Jordan. “My years of working closely with him on behalf of our alma mater were special and I will always treasure that,” he says thoughtfully. “I know Dr. Jordan is deeply committed to Gallaudet and it is commendable that he plans to continue to serve the university long after he retires. Since we have known each other since our college days, I am not inclined to presume my friendship with Dr. Jordan has been adversely affected by the outcome of the search process. I simply wish the search process had resulted in a more celebratory type of outcome that united rather than divided Gallaudet and its constituencies.”

Dr. Anderson also wants to believe President Jordan’s claim that he had no involvement in the selection of the finalists. “I think the real issue has more to do with what occurred after the three finalists were announced and forums were held on campus. I am aware there has been a persistent barrage of comments, on the Internet for example, in which people wondered about his neutrality,” Dr. Anderson says. “Some feel he was not sufficiently neutral during the search process. Whether he was or not, I do not know. However, these concerns continue to persist and have yet to subside. As a result, I think these concerns are additional factors that contributed to the lack of broad unanimity regarding the search process.”

Today, although still perplexed about the search process, Dr. Anderson is content with his contributions to Gallaudet. “I was pleased to work with Dr. Jordan, the Development Office, the Board of Trustees, the Board of Associates, and numerous Gallaudet stakeholders in support of the first and most successful capital campaign that resulted in over $39 million in contributions.” He adds that another accomplishment was forming a board ad hoc committee that resulted in the development of a board statement on diversity. “I also take pride in the fact that during my tenure, Dr. Jordan gave high priority to recruiting outstanding students and faculty as well as to enhancing and ensuring the attractiveness of the university’s campus as new buildings and renovation projects were undertaken.”

In spite of the developments over the past year, Dr. Anderson continues to be upbeat about what the future holds. “I will remain busy as ever. Most certainly, I will continue my work at the University of Arkansas. We have submitted new federal funding applications and I am excited about the new projects we have proposed,” he says. “I also will continue to serve as vice-chair of the National Council on Disability as well as remain actively involved as a board member with NBDA and the Arkansas Association of the Deaf.” He notes that both he and his wife, Karen, are eager about attending University of Arkansas football games, where their son, Jamaal, is a junior and a starting defensive end. He also looks forward to having more time to spend with their daughter, Danielle and 10-year-old granddaughter Nia, who reside in Virginia.

Optimistic that Gallaudet can heal from this search process, Dr. Anderson is still somewhat cautious. “As Phil and I mentioned in our letter, it will take much hard work, good faith, and give and take from all concerned parties,” he says. “The question is how quickly Gallaudet can heal. That I do not know, but I do hope it happens soon.”

Note: National Black Deaf Advocates was contacted for this article; they did not return our requests. NBDA’s open letters and position papers regarding the presidential search process may be found at their website.

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Filed Under: Culture, Deaf education, Gallaudet, Notable People

A Year Later: “Deeply Disappointed” But Optimistic (Part I)

September 7, 2006

This article originally appeared at www.deafprofessional.net.

An exclusive interview with Dr. Glenn Anderson

This is the first installment of a two-part article. The second installment appeared on September 21, 2006.

Hardly anybody batted an eyelash when Gallaudet University president Dr. I. King Jordan took the stage on September 1, 2005 to announce his December 2006 retirement, nearly two decades after suddenly being thrust into the international spotlight as the university’s first deaf president after the historical Deaf President Now protest. Even though this announcement didn’t come as a shocker, people across the nation began gossiping about whom the replacement would be. Hopeful applicants began preparing their resumes, including Dr. Glenn Anderson—who would potentially become the university’s first president of color in its 142-year history.

Dr. Anderson, who served as the Gallaudet Board of Trustees chair for 11 years, saw a glimmer of hope in his quest to become the nation’s first Black deaf college president. He was a finalist for the highest position at the National Technical Institute for the Deaf at the Rochester Institute of Technology in New York, but wasn’t selected. Now another golden opportunity presented itself, one that was too good to pass up. Dr. Anderson was optimistic about his chances.

Once the board chose one of its own members, 1974 Gallaudet graduate Pamela Holmes, to lead its presidential search committee on Oct. 6, Dr. Anderson began considering the possibility of resigning from the board in order to become a potential candidate. Tension ran high among community members, who wildly guessed the potential candidates. Names were thrown around: Roz Rosen, Robert Davila, Jamie Tucker. Dr. Anderson’s name came up often. There was a person who everyone knew was applying: Dr. Jane K. Fernandes, who was often called Jordan’s personal puppet throughout her term as university provost. Students and faculty didn’t appreciate her. Nobody wanted to believe she would be taken seriously as a candidate; in fact, many doubted she would make it into the final round. Even if she did make it in, they said, it was only because of her everlasting loyalty to President Jordan.

When the 17-member presidential search committee was revealed on Nov. 9, people learned that the committee was comprised of six board members, in addition to two students, two alumni, two staff, four faculty members, and one Clerc Center employee. People were perplexed at the composition of the committee; many committee members were labeled President Jordan’s cronies. Approximately a week before the committee membership was announced, Dr. Anderson did what everyone was waiting for: he submitted his resignation as chair in order to become a candidate for the presidency.

The anticipation in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Rumors continued to be thrown around casually with as much power as a sledgehammer hitting the crumbling structures at Gallaudet. Names of applicants began to leak, much to people’s delight. Gallaudet watchers began mudslinging anonymously on blogs. Even Fernandes’ husband didn’t hesitate to jump on the bandwagon and wrote comments in support of his wife, much to the amusement of many.

In early April, Dr. Anderson learned that he had survived the first round, along with five other candidates: Dr. Fernandes, Dr. William Marshall, Ron Stern, Dr. Bobbie Beth Scoggins, and Dr. Steve Weiner. It was pretty much a given that Dr. Anderson would make it to the final round; after all, he been on the board for 16 years, 11 as chair—and he was the only applicant of color. Gallaudet had battled cries of discrimination for years; the university wouldn’t dare shoot itself in the foot by having an all-white line-up—or would it?

Yes, it would. After weeks of water cooler and kitchen conversations everywhere, the announcement came. On April 13, the names rolled off people’s hands as they excitedly fingerspelled to each other, “Weiner, Stern and Fernandes.” Although the focus was mostly on Dr. Fernandes, an underlying issue was that none of the finalists was persons of color—specifically, Dr. Anderson.

Angry people and organizations began crying foul. How could Gallaudet, located in a predominantly Black neighborhood, not choose any qualified candidates who were persons of color? And how did a finalist without a doctoral degree make it through to the final round? Questions began flying around out of astonishment and dismay. Students and staff who had experienced working with Dr. Fernandes began talking about the unimaginable: what if Dr. Fernandes was indeed hired? That couldn’t happen. . .or could it? Some went as far as claiming that the process was fixed, recalling that Dr. Jordan had unintentionally referred to Dr. Fernandes as “. . .the president—uh, the provost. . .” at his retirement announcement. This indicated, they said, that Dr. Fernandes already had the inside track as the next president.

Whether this was true or not, this wasn’t of importance to many. What National Black Deaf Advocates (NBDA) and many diversity supporters were more concerned about was the pressing question of why Dr. Anderson wasn’t in the final round. People began speculating about how Dr. Anderson must have felt, given his extensive involvement with the university and his qualifications. NBDA issued a position paper on April 24 “describing our concerns regarding the issue of diversity and again reiterating our support for Dr. Glenn Anderson, based not on color but on his credentials and proven record of service to Gallaudet University.” Still, Dr. Anderson chose to remain silent throughout the ensuing months—until now.

“The reasons I was not selected as a finalist were not provided to me by the search committee. I know there were numerous rumors on blogs and Internet postings about me, ranging from comments such as my supposedly having health problems to my apparently ‘bombing’ the interview,” Dr. Anderson says.

Lest people think Dr. Anderson isn’t qualified, take a look at his experience. A Chicago native, he has an impressive background, having worked in higher education settings for over 30 years: 24 at the University of Arkansas, 7 at LaGuardia Community College of the City University of New York, and 3 at New York University. Dr. Anderson earned a bachelor’s degree at Gallaudet in 1968, then a master’s degree from the University of Arizona in 1970 followed by a doctorate from New York University in 1982.

Besides, Dr. Anderson points to the position description. “When taking all of the areas of desired qualifications into consideration from a more holistic rather than a ‘micro’ perspective, I believe I met most of them. I also presume one must expect that in any search process, candidates will be strong in some areas and not so strong in other areas. Search committees are thus challenged to use their best judgments in identifying and choosing the top candidates.”

With a sturdy background and a broad understanding of the deaf or hard of hearing and Gallaudet communities, how could Dr. Anderson have been eliminated from the final round? Didn’t his being the chair of the university board of trustees count for anything? People wanted to know, but no answer was given, not even to Dr. Anderson. Dr. Anderson was “deeply disappointed” when he learned he was not a finalist, and even more so when he learned who the three finalists were.

“My disappointment was not just for me personally, but also for the larger constituency of deaf people of color. I had hoped that by ‘stepping up to the plate,’ my successful progression through the search process would help open up more doors of opportunity for deaf people of color,” he explains. “When the announcement of the three finalists was made, I could not help but sense that the message being communicated to deaf people of color was that the door was not yet fully open. It seemed to reaffirm, at least from my perspective, that the glass ceiling to the upper echelons of leadership in higher education still remained to be overcome.”

Dr. Anderson isn’t capable only in terms of credentials; he’s also an active community member who has long been involved with NBDA, National Association of the Deaf, and Arkansas Association for the Deaf, along with an induction into the American Athletic Association of the Deaf Hall of Fame for basketball. He’s a role model for many, regardless of race, age or cultural affiliation.

Still, some people cite Dr. Anderson’s lack of university administration experience, apart from being a faculty member at various universities and serving as board chair, as a potential reason. Dr. Anderson nods as he says, “I was clearly aware that I had never had an opportunity to work on a day-to-day basis as a senior level executive in a university setting. In addition, I had not worked in positions that required me to assume direct responsibility for major fundraising campaigns. Nevertheless, my 36-year record of leadership and professional accomplishments was strong. I had a successful and productive career.”

Meanwhile, the three final candidates prepared for their campus-wide presentations. Dr. Weiner was given only a weekend, Stern a week, and Dr. Fernandes two weeks—which many said was a sign of bias in the process. Blogs reported on how Dr. Fernandes’ staff attended Dr. Weiner’s and Stern’s presentations, allegedly taking notes as the candidates spoke. As students, faculty/staff, alumni and friends of Gallaudet regularly checked blogs and Web sites, Dr. Anderson’s supporters began to try and draw attention to what they claimed was blatant discrimination. Their efforts were essentially overshadowed by the attention given to the final three candidates.

For weeks after the final three were announced, and then ultimately the selection of Dr. Fernandes as the university’s ninth president, protests took place on campus demanding the reopening of the presidential selection process. Rallies were held. Students set up a makeshift “Tent City” on the front grassy knoll of the university, shutting down the main entrance to campus. Students, faculty and alumni came together to express their outrage at the seemingly biased selection process; national media reported that the faculty gave a no-confidence vote to Fernandes as provost and as president on May 8, among other resolutions. The Faculty/Staff/Students/Alumni (FSSA) group was formed, with one goal in common among its members: the immediate reopening of the presidential search process. Time after time, in forums such as the GallyNet e-mail discussion group, the seemingly rushed selection of Dr. Fernandes was debated. Supporters on both sides of the issue bickered, throwing around conspiracy theories. Yet, Dr. Anderson remained in the background, declining comment, as did Dr. Weiner and Stern. Life resumed to normalcy—or what passed as normal, anyway. This didn’t mean Dr. Anderson didn’t identify with the protestors’ puzzlement and discontent, though.

“Although a decision has been made regarding selection of the ninth president of Gallaudet, I am empathic to the concerns expressed by FSSA and other stakeholders. The search process did occur over a rather ‘truncated’ period of time. In general, many presidential searches tend to transpire over longer and more engaged periods of time. The consequence of Gallaudet’s rather ‘truncated’ search process is that, unfortunately, it did not result in broad unanimity regarding the three finalists nor the final choice,” Dr. Anderson reflects. “However, I did not envision the outcome would result in the establishment of Tent City on campus.”

Buried deep in the outrage about Dr. Fernandes’ appointment were assertions that Dr. Anderson’s elimination was because of his skin color. Dr. Anderson is pensive about this. “One will never know if race was or was not a factor. Given Gallaudet’s rather public announcements about its commitment to diversity and its inclusion of diversity among its eight strategic goals, I would be extremely disappointed if race indeed was a factor in why I was not selected as a finalist. As I understand, the search committee was seeking candidates who fit a certain profile. My guess is that I apparently I did not completely fit the search committee’s ‘profile’ for the top candidates.”

A student during the 1960s civil rights era, Dr. Anderson experienced numerous incidents at Gallaudet that he rarely discusses openly. One such incident occurred with the class of 1968, in which Dr. Anderson actively participated through class meetings. He even paid membership dues used for outings at the end of the school year. “During my junior and senior years in 1967 and 1968, I did not go with my class on the spring outings,” he remembers. “I do not know exactly where they went for the outings, but I presume it was a place that had a private lake and other recreational opportunities. Members of my class had to inform me that the places they selected for the outings did not welcome Black people.”

Dr. Anderson was refunded half of his dues, which were used to go out to a restaurant with another Black student. “Over the years, I often wondered why the class was not willing to find a different place that would have allowed me to come with them,” he says. “Does discrimination and racism still exist today? I would say, yes, unfortunately it still exists. Perhaps it does not exist to the same extent or as overtly as during the time I was a student at Gallaudet, which was when the civil rights era was at its pinnacle and also during the time that Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated and riots occurred all over the U.S.” He is quick to note that although prejudice still exists, “progress is going to be incremental. I am sure we’d agree that changing attitudes, feelings, and perceptions are not things that change overnight.”

Note: National Black Deaf Advocates was contacted for this article; they did not return our requests. NBDA’s open letters and position papers regarding the presidential search process may be found at its website.

Read more about Dr. Anderson’s perspectives on the presidential search process, the board composition and the future of Gallaudet in the next installment on September 21, only at Deaf Professional Network!

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Filed Under: Culture, Deaf education, Gallaudet, Notable People

Land of Opportunity

June 8, 2006

This article originally appeared at i711.com.

The buzz those days is about how many people around the nation are moving to Indianapolis in order for their children to attend the Indiana School for the Deaf. Numbers being churned through the rumor mill range from 25 new students to over 100 for the 2006-2007 school year. It’s not just Indiana, though; there are other families moving to areas near the Maryland School for the Deaf, California, even Iowa. And this trend across the nation fascinates me.

Sure, this isn’t a new phenomenon. Both deaf and hearing parents have been moving for decades to wherever the best school is for their kids, although deaf parents have considerably fewer choices in terms of American Sign Language environments. Back when I was younger, it wasn’t uncommon for deaf children to go to the next state for school. For instance, during the 1980s and 1990s, many kids in the Chicago area attended the Wisconsin School for the Deaf simply because it was geographically closer than the Illinois School for the Deaf. Even my husband’s parents moved from Chicago to Wisconsin, so that both my husband and his brother could attend the Wisconsin School for the Deaf; the school experienced a surge in students from the Chicago area after St. John’s School for the Deaf in Milwaukee closed in the early 1980s.

Parents – in particular, deaf parents – nowadays are much more empowered about language choice and educational quality. Many move to send their children to ASL-English schools. Or they move because they like the superintendent, such as at New Mexico and Maryland Schools for the Deaf. Parents may also move because at these new schools, jobs are aplenty for them – dormitory staff, teachers, administration-level jobs. Family and friends being concentrated in largely “deaf-populated” areas is yet another reason for moving to those areas; social events have always been a major part of the Deaf community. And let’s not forget athletics. Sports is yet another valuable commodity at deaf schools and within the community. In fact, when renowned football coach Andy Bonheyo left the Model Secondary School for the Deaf to take a job at Texas School for the Deaf, a cluster of his players followed him to Texas.

Are there drawbacks to this trend? Sure. Elitism among deaf families at certain schools has proliferated to the point where there are wild stories of great divisions at these schools. I remember a deaf friend – who is from a large deaf family –being furious when a birthday party was listed as “for deaf children only.” His children were hearing and had always socialized with these same deaf kids at community events, yet they were suddenly ostracized because they weren’t deaf. There also seems to exist a level of trying to always better each other at certain schools across the nation. Of course, this isn’t just a ‘deaf school thing’; hearing parents do it too.

It’s also interesting that when a deaf family leaves a deaf school for another, there’s also a degree of resentment by the people left behind who say, “What, they think they’re too good for our school? Wait and see, the kid’s going to turn out bad.” But this isn’t a new thing, either. That was what people said about me when I left the Illinois School for the Deaf in order to move with my mom to Chicago; I like to think I’ve turned out okay.

Even so, this desire to give our children better decisions comes with a amount of agony. I’ve been watching many parents who have deaf children wrestle with their decisions. Since I’m at that age in life where almost all of my friends are new parents, many of them are suddenly rudely awakened that the plan they’ve laid out for their children has to be discarded in favor of the best situation possible for their children simply because they’re deaf. They have the best advice available: their own experiences. My husband and I come from similar family backgrounds but very different educational experiences. We’ve had many discussions about what we’ll do if our children happen to be deaf. For us, and many others, it boils down to key factors such as who the peers in our children’s classes are, who and how good the teachers and support staff are, our children’s needs, and what the educational philosophy of the school is.

As I look at this trend happening across the nation, it impresses me how more and more families are willing to uproot their entire lives, sacrifice good-paying jobs for sometimes lower-paying jobs, postpone or give up their own dreams and goals and move so that their children can attend a deaf school with a top-notch quality. Never mind all these drawbacks; the families are doing this willingly, all so that their children can have better opportunities than they did.

That, to me, is parenting at its best.

Copyrighted material, used by permission. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Filed Under: Childhood, Culture, Deaf education, i711.com, Language

ON HAND: HELLO My name is Trudy Suggs!

March 20, 2004

This originally appeared in The Tactile Mind Weekly in Trudy’s ON HAND column.

hellomynameis

When I was at my grandmother’s a few weeks ago, she made me take some of my old school papers and toys home with me. I went through the papers, laughing at my horrible handwriting, marveling at how poor my artistic skills were, and studying my English development.

Buried in the pile was a “HELLO my name is” badge from when I was maybe in the second or fourth grade. Scribbled on it was, “Trudy Suggs. I am deaf.” Underneath that, I had written, then crossed out, “I can’t hear.”

I was astonished at how I identified myself at such a young age. As I drove back home, I thought about that badge and how we discover our identities.

I know exactly when I found out I was Deaf. I was 14.

I had always identified myself as deaf growing up, and at school, “hearing impaired.” But I also have scores of journal pages where I pour my anguish out: “Why can’t I be hearing? Why don’t people accept that I’m deaf? I wish I could be hearing so I could have a boyfriend! Everyone hates me because I can’t hear! I wish I could be popular. I hate my deafness so much.”

It’s still very painful for me to read these entries, primarily because I know the environment I was in and the people I was around shaped my perception of myself. The “hearing impaired program” teachers constantly criticized me, even though I wasn’t in any of their classes. I was mainstreamed – sometimes with other deaf students but usually by myself – and I always hated sitting in front of the classroom waiting for the interpreter to arrive. Sure, I had hearing friends, but it wasn’t the same, of course.

The other deaf kids and I had awkward friendships; I was often an outcast, different from them. I realize today it’s probably because I wasn’t in classes with them (the deaf classrooms were in an out-of-the-way annex area, out of reach of my classrooms). I simply wasn’t physically around these students enough to develop solid friendships. It also probably was because I was “more deaf” than they were, which is almost ironic. Only when I was among my parents, who always made sure I knew being deaf was a gift, or deaf adults, did I feel at home, using my natural language and not worrying about what hearing people would think.

This inner struggle of wanting to be hearing disappeared the very first day I arrived at Gallaudet’s Young Scholars Program in July 1989, held at the same time as Deaf Way. It was at YSP that I bonded with kids that were like me. It was there and at Deaf Way that I discovered that there were thousands like me. It was that summer that I found out something I had always known but wasn’t allowed to be at school: culturally Deaf.

I came back refreshed, and more importantly, happy. My journal entries after that summer show nothing but pure acceptance of my identity. Reading them, I can see a marked change in my self-esteem in these entries; my grades improved; and I finally found friends who I felt comfortable with. Instead of, “I’m deaf and can’t hear,” I was able to become me.

Today, I would write on the badge: HELLO my name is Trudy Suggs!

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Filed Under: Childhood, Culture, Deaf education
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