Some water with that, please?

April 5, 2013

This article originally appeared at i711.com in October 2007, and was updated April 5, 2013. Click here to see the second part of this article. 

As someone who has traveled the nation presenting on a variety of topics, I figured I’d share some words of wisdom and list the top ten things to do when working with presenters. A quick disclaimer: These tips are written for those who coordinate presenters. I also have a list of tips for the actual presenters, but that’s a different article.

1. Have bottled water ready. Have bottled water ready for presenters. This should be a no-brainer, but it apparently isn’t. I arrived at an out-of-state presentation only to find that there was no water, nor a vending machine. The annoyed coordinator went to the sink and got tap water that was muddy in a smeared glass. I didn’t drink it. (After the presentation, he also gave me a crumpled up check that he dug out from his disgustingly tight jeans.) I’ve learned to bring my own water, but when traveling, that isn’t always possible. If you provide the presenter with a reusable water bottle, make sure the water is fresh. [Read more…]

Filed Under: Business, Community resources, i711.com, Workshop

The splendid challenges of giving

February 28, 2008

This article originally appeared at i711.com.

In the February issue of the Discovering Deaf Worlds newsletter, Christy Smith and Dave Justice write about meeting two tremendously inspirational men, including Takeaki Kawamura. Take tells of how he is grateful for every inconvenience in the world.

This giving spirit is also what fellow Minnesotan Cuong Nguyen discusses in his February 17 blog entry. He writes of how he volunteered to design a logo and newsletter template for the Minnesota Association of Deaf Citizens. He and I worked closely on that project, and what his friend said is right on – Cuong’s work would have easily cost MADC thousands of dollars had he not insisted on donating his brilliant services. I remember how, at a MADC board meeting, we all spent a good amount of time discussing Cuong’s amazing generosity. We felt our gift of a six-year membership was so lame, so pitiful compared to the revitalizing design he did for MADC. But as Cuong writes, it’s not about greediness; it’s about giving.

In May 2006, I wrote a piece, Apathy? Not Me! In fact, a friend mentioned it recently at a basketball game; he was appointed to a key board position for a local entity, and he was shocked at how many people declined this opportunity before he took it. As a result, he’s the only deaf person on this that oversees a deaf entity. He has his work cut out for him, but he won’t be alone; I’ll give in every way I can. And I hope others will, too.

A lot of people know is that giving your time or being part of something voluntarily is a lot of work. It’s certainly not easy. People also don’t always have the time, interest nor money (did you know that National Association of the Deaf board members, like many other nonprofits, donate their own flight fares, lodging and/or meals for every meeting?) – which is perfectly understandable. But giving isn’t necessarily about getting something in return such as money, personal gratification, recognition or contacts. Giving is about a sense of duty every individual should have.

Giving or volunteering can be as basic as joining an organization; the more members an organization has, the stronger its credibility and sustainability are. Giving can come in the form of hosting a lemonade stand and donating the money to an organization, like Paul and Suzy Rosen Singleton’s children did (Note: The link to this article is no longer active). Giving can be as basic as running errands for a friend or neighbor. Really, what giving means is the use of time – a precious commodity – to make others’ lives a little better. And the rewards – even if they aren’t the real purpose of giving – are immeasurable.

I want to give more on a local level. Although I already volunteer a bit locally and a lot on the state and national levels, I feel I don’t give enough. Now that I have a daughter who’s going to grow up in Faribault, this has become even more important. That’s one of the reasons this is my last column for i711.com. I’ll still write from time to time (my personal website will be up this spring), but my energy will be devoted to my company, my community and most importantly, my family. Together, these aspects of my life will somehow come together so that I can give more, a splendid challenge for me.

Thank you for allowing me to share my thoughts the past three years, but more importantly, as Take says, “Thank you for the challenges.”

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Filed Under: Community resources, i711.com Tagged With:

A thumbs up for District One Hospital

January 30, 2008

This article originally appeared at i711.com.

It was a question that lingered in many people’s minds, including ours. We all wondered, given that my husband is a third-generation deaf person and I second-generation, whether our new baby would be deaf or hearing. My husband and I threw out the obligatory “The important thing is our baby’s healthy” to anyone who asked. We had sent in our blood to Gallaudet’s genetics program for testing in the fourth month of my pregnancy, but knew the results would arrive after our child’s birth. Either way, it wouldn’t have made a difference for us if the baby was deaf or hearing. Even so, we couldn’t help but wonder in the back of our heads. All we could do was wait.

Meanwhile, I worked with area agencies to enact legislation a statewide early hearing detection and intervention program (EHDI), knowing it’d have an impact upon thousands of lives, including mine. I also made sure I stayed in good physical shape, and counted down the days.

The day after Eavan was born, we asked about her hearing test as mandated by the EHDI law. The nurse said unconcernedly that Eavan had tested as deaf earlier that morning, but had also been fussy so the test would be redone. My husband and I nodded, then we moved onto other topics.

Distracted by a million things, we didn’t give the test another thought until the following morning when the nurse came into our room. When asked, the nurse smiled with an enthusiastic nod, giving us a thumbs up. That threw us off momentarily—what did the thumbs up mean? After a short pause, I asked, “She’s deaf?” The nurse nodded and went to check my blood pressure. Nothing more was said, and we busied ourselves getting ready to go home.

Our own mothers and countless people had told us horror stories of how nurses were sad, uncomfortable, or even domineering in sharing hearing test results – which then affected the parents’ reactions. We were astounded—and encouraged—by the optimistic “it’s no big deal” attitude at District One Hospital. In fact, a couple of times throughout my pregnancy, we were asked about genetic ‘defects’ in our families. Whenever we mentioned our deaf families, the nurses always said, “No, that doesn’t count as a genetic defect.” Our doctor was equally nonchalant about the hearing issue.

Of course, this is very different for hearing parents with no prior history. But think about it: what if medical folks everywhere were as laid-back and optimistic? What if they were empathetic with parents faced with the often-overwhelming news of their child testing as deaf? What if nurses and doctors didn’t rush to engulf parents with so-called solutions or doomsday predictions? Would this make a difference in how parents initially react? I think so, although I can never put myself in those parents’ shoes.

If doctors were neutral but encouraging, perhaps parents wouldn’t respond with the same amount of shock or negativity that they typically do; human nature is hard to predict. All too often, how we react to something is fueled by the amount of negativity involved, or the lack of.

Maybe my husband and I shouldn’t have been so surprised by District One Hospital’s matter-of-fact approach. After all, this is a town with a large deaf population and the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf. The hospital has had hundreds, if not thousands, of deaf patients over the years. The staff there knows being deaf isn’t a death sentence, and they were prepared in what resources to offer.

Even so, it was a relief to us to not have to deal with uninvited negativity upon learning Eavan’s hearing status. We were simply more concerned about her jaundice, whether she was pooping enough, and if she was warm enough. The hospital provided all the right resources, support and information for us – without a trace of pity or sorrow. That was exactly how we wanted our birth experience to be, especially with such a healthy baby who delights us every single day.

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Filed Under: Community resources, Culture, i711.com, Language, Parenting

Biting the hand that feeds them

January 9, 2008

This article originally appeared at i711.com.

Last summer, a colleague at a video relay services (VRS) provider contacted me to get names of local key contacts, because the company was looking to set up camp in the Twin Cities. Since I often use this VRS provider – let’s call it ABC VRS – I happily provided names.

Fast-forward to a few weeks ago. I read, with surprise, on an interpreter e-mail list that ABC VRS was hosting an open house. I thought perhaps I simply hadn’t heard about it, because I knew ABC VRS wouldn’t host such an event without involving deaf people. They had been working with a local deaf organization, so I figured I was just out of the loop. But after talking with board members of this deaf organization, I learned that ABC VRS had not reached out to the local deaf community at all. I e-mailed my contact at ABC VRS to ask why. The response:

This event will be strictly an interpreter recruitment event- deaf interpreters are welcome to attend to apply for jobs…

However, for such an event, where interpreters will be asking about salaries, benefits, personal information in terms of employment recruitment- we think it would be appropriate that this event stays the same, that it is for interpreters interested in working with [ABC VRS] – deaf or hearing.

Rest assured… an open invite will go out to…deaf organizations when we have our grand opening… It is our new model about having a meet/greet event for interpreters being separated from an opening event after getting comments from interpreters afraid to ask personal questions during opening events and it seem to work better in interpreter recruitment. It is not a deaf/hearing issue, but rather an employment recruitment effort.

Okaaaaay. While I understand the ‘recruitment’ concept, this exclusion is a slap in local deaf people’s faces. For any new call center, it’s critical to first drum up support from the very core of the VRS industry: deaf people themselves.

A few years ago, another VRS provider, XYZ VRS, came into town and established a call center. The interpreter shortage was severe at the time, and many were caught off-guard by XYZ VRS swooping in and snatching up the few interpreters left. The provider insisted that local interpreters asked the company to come to the Twin Cities. Yet, in a newspaper article, the center manager said that the VRS company had “wooed” local interpreters into establishing the call center. Either way, many locals were unhappy.

The affiliation with the XYZ VRS center got so bad that at a workshop I attended, a participant introduced herself saying, “In addition to being a freelance interpreter, I confess I also work for XYZ VRS.” I was taken aback; had it really gotten that bad – to the point where interpreters were ashamed to admit they worked for this particular company?

This backlash is easily understood, though: you cannot establish a service or company primarily for deaf consumers without involving them. Any company knows that to reach its target market, consumers are to be surveyed, pursued, and included. Interpreters are not the consumers nor the target market when it comes to VRS; deaf people are. We are the ones who utilize the service, relying upon it for everything from personal to professional matters, even life-or-death matters. For interpreters, VRS is an employment option. Deaf people and interpreters are valuable allies with very different goals and needs when it comes to VRS. Besides, without deaf people, there would be no need for VRS.

What ABC VRS and XYZ VRS should have done was involve deaf people at every level – especially locals. Furthermore, any interpreter uncomfortable asking questions in front of the company’s consumers shouldn’t be asking them at an open house; this should be saved for the actual hiring process. Transparency is key, especially with federally funded programs like VRS.

Any event, activity, or venture involving a very specific aspect of a community must involve the community’s core members, regardless of circumstances. It’s not an either-or issue. Involve local deaf people and interpreters when trying to establish a new call center in a particular location.

ABC VRS has shot itself in the foot by not drumming up support among deaf people, even if it’s managed to recruit some of the best interpreters in the state. This has left a bad taste in local deaf people’s mouths – the few who actually know about ABC’s plans, that is. Most of the local deaf people are still in the dark about ABC VRS coming to town, because ABC VRS hasn’t really involved them.

VRS companies must stop biting the hand that feeds them – especially when this hand belongs to the local deaf community.

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Filed Under: i711.com

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

December 12, 2007
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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

Mobilizing T-Mobile

November 21, 2007

This article originally appeared at i711.com

For years, I faithfully defended myself.

“Hey, I like what it provides. I’m not going to give up a good thing,” I’d protest without caring what others thought of me. I was called naïve, behind the times, and a fool.

Today, I am admitting defeat.

I’m giving up on T-Mobile. Over the past few weeks, T-Mobile Sidekick users have been dealing with an onslaught of horrible services – being in full coverage but not sending/receiving, and seeing its “fetch e-mail” feature disabled, to name two. (And I know it’s actually Danger who provides the service for Sidekicks. Doesn’t matter to me.)

A bit about the feature I like the most on my Sidekick 3: users can set up POP accounts on your Sidekick to be “retrieved from” their e-mail servers every 20 to 30 minutes or so. In the past, because this 20-minute interval was too slow, I manually retrieved my e-mail by pressing MENU + U. About two months ago, I suddenly couldn’t do this anymore, so I called T-Mobile. They said it was a server issue on their end, and it would be fixed within a week. That was two months ago.

Last Saturday, I called again. Without this feature, it’s difficult for me to run my company when I’m away from the computer. Every customer representative I spoke with did not understand what this feature was, then denied it was down and insisted it was a coverage issue, and then claimed it was limited to my house only when I mentioned that my husband was unable to access his Gmail account on his pager like he had in the past. Never mind that every out-of-state friend who uses this feature is having the same problem.

After an hour and half and countless “Please hold while I check on that” responses, the (supposedly) top-tier supervisor said, “We do not guarantee the POP e-mail feature. We only guarantee the tmail address, the AIM program, and the other buttons on your screen. But for additional accounts you set up on your own, we do not guarantee this.” When I asked to have the contract termination fee removed ($200, folks), given that T-Mobile was not performing to the level I was paying for, the supervisor repeated, “We do not guarantee…”

When I talked with other Sidekick users, they had the same problem. “But we’re stuck in our contracts,” they said, “and we just have to wait it out.” I thought I’d do the same, even though my contract doesn’t expire until August 2008.

But then I got to thinking. Didn’t T-Mobile cater to deaf people in the past, given that we were their largest specialized customer base? There used to be T-Mobile representatives at every deaf event. When I was living in Chicago, there was even a local T-Mobile representative exclusive to the deaf community. Where are they these days? And why aren’t we doing anything about this terrible service from T-Mobile? Why are we simply calling T-Mobile (in a few cases) and asking for credit, sometimes without success? Why aren’t we mobilizing a letter-writing or some kind of e-mail campaign? Are we simply too lazy or do we think we’re too unimportant?

I did a Google search to see if I was the only one having frustrations. I found quite a few websites, but what amazed me was that T-Mobile has “catapulted to the top of J.D. Power’s rankings of customer care in the wireless industry. It has now won the biannual title six times in a row,” says this article.

Sure, T-Mobile representatives are obviously well-trained in customer service – they always say, “Can I call you Trudy? How are you today, Trudy?” But that means diddly-squat to me when they don’t know what they’re talking about. Case in point: last Saturday’s call, when I went through four or five representatives who had no clue, even though the ‘fetch e-mail’ feature is in the instructions, on the Internet and listed in the menu on the pager itself. Besides, I know I’m not the only one who has called about their ridiculously slow service the past few months. So why hasn’t anything changed? Why is this still happening? Why hasn’t anything been posted on DeafRead or on blogs in order to try and get this fixed?

Deaf people are among T-Mobile’s most valuable customers, and T-Mobile must realize that pagers for deaf people are crucial.For me, my Sidekick is quite literally is a lifeline, given that I have my first child due in the next three weeks. Because of T-Mobile’s unreliable service, my husband and I have had to set up alternate communication methods in case we’re not together when labor starts.

T-Mobile needs to get its act together for its Sidekick users, but first, we Sidekick users need to get our act together in mobilizing some kind of campaign demanding better services. Otherwise, we have no right to complain about shelling out money every month for sub-par performance.

So, who wants to start?

How to send a letter or e-mail to T-Mobile:

Customer Relations
PO Box 37380
Albuquerque, NM 87176-7380
E-mail: (now invalid)

They also list a TTY number and other contact methods.

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

Filed Under: i711.com

Psssst! Come here!

October 10, 2007

This article originally appeared at i711.com.

There seems to be a little secret at many deaf schools across the nation.

Apparently, if you want to work at a deaf school, you have to be either a local hearing person or have someone on the inside to pull you in. Okay, maybe this isn’t such a secret after all. It’s frustrating, though, in so many ways.

Time after time, I learn of people, deaf or hearing, hired at deaf schools only because they had friends in the personnel office or knew someone who had influence within human resources. I also constantly learn of people who were passed over simply because the job was never posted publicly, or because the school decided to hire from within.

Sure, this happens at schools and companies everywhere. That’s why so many employment trainers emphasize the importance of networking. Still, for state-funded deaf schools, we gotta be reasonable. Shouldn’t it be the school’s responsibility to create opportunities for deaf people in an environment where deaf people are the pillars of the school? If deaf folks can’t even get jobs at deaf schools, what message does this send?

The problem with this common practice is that most of the people who work within human resources or personnel aren’t deaf. At the majority of deaf schools I’ve visited or met people from, the human resources folks can barely sign. They’re not quite in the know about how to really reach out to the deaf community, nor do they really care. They don’t quite realize – although they may have a vague understanding – how critical jobs at deaf schools are to a lot of deaf folks.

There’s a person I know (actually, I know a lot of people in similar situations) who has an outstanding resume, excellent references and amazing experience. Yet because this person doesn’t have any direct ties to the deaf school in the state he lives in, he’s constantly passed over for jobs for one reason. He simply never is told of the jobs, even though an application is on file and he has often contacted the (hearing) superintendent and human resources office. I keep thinking after I hear about every job he’s passed over for, “My goodness, what are they missing out on?” I’ve seen this individual at work, and he’s ethical, a graduate of the school, fluent in American Sign Language and English, and well-deserving of any job he wants.

Every time I hear of yet another job being filled without appropriate advertisement, I feel almost stabbed in the heart. Although I have never applied for nor worked at a deaf school – aside from substitute teaching a few years ago – I know firsthand the impact and importance of having qualified deaf folks working at deaf schools. I also know the importance of reaching out to the deaf community for any vacant position.

Typically, state-funded positions, like those at deaf schools, are required to meet specific criteria and then submit the position to the state employment agency. People are then expected to check the state agency’s website or job database on a regular basis to see if a job opens up. Some states even allow applications to be put on file and will alert the applicants when their desired position(s) are available.

We won’t even get into how many job announcements are never physically posted on bulletin boards or passed around. And of course, state employment websites aren’t updated regularly. Bureaucracy aside, this simply isn’t right.

Given the vast geographical diversity within the deaf community, so many deaf people live in various states and want to relocate to be closer to (or farther away from) family. Or maybe they’ve met someone new in another state and want to begin a new life. If they don’t know anyone at the deaf school, or aren’t perceived as high priority because they’re not in-state, they’re pretty much screwed. Unless, of course, they have a contact in the personnel office, or went to college with an employee at that school who can rush their applications through.

Say a deaf applicant doesn’t have access to the web, and lives in another state. How does he find out about job opportunities? Maybe he calls the human resources office, but he can’t do that every week – the office would get annoyed of his calls. Or maybe he does have access to the Internet, but the website doesn’t update its information. Or maybe he gets the information, but his application is lost in the shuffle The list goes on forever. Yet the solution is so simple: be fair and as far-reaching as possible when announcing job vacancies.

This is fairly easy to accomplish. Post job announcements outside of the school by posting them on websites or in mainstream publications and e-zines. Physically post job announcements on bulletin boards and leave copies with various school offices and deaf organization offices. Place neutral people on interview committees who are open-minded and have minimal biases. Don’t get stuck in the “local is better” thinking; there might just be that ideal, out-of-state employee who brings nothing but good things to the school.

The real secret is that a school’s hiring practices send a loud message about what type of school it is.

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Filed Under: i711.com

Welcome Addition, Indeed.

September 19, 2007

This article originally appeared at i711.com.

I received a coupon booklet in the mail recently from Similac, a company that produces infant formula milk. Typically, I put junk mail in the recycle bin, but I opened this one – and I’m glad I did. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have seen this on the included flashcard:

photo of baby signing "drink alcohol"Yup, that’s a baby signing DRINK, as in “drink alcohol.” At first, I laughed at the picture because of its sheer silliness. I thought maybe Similac had the world’s worst illustrator, because many of the other signs were also inaccurately drawn. Then I thought, Obviously a hearing illustrator working with a hearing consultant.

But then I remembered how I had been at Babies R Us, trying not to feel greedy about registering for everything in the store. There, I walked by the books section and saw a whole bunch of baby signs books. I skimmed through them, and not surprisingly, the majority of signs in the books were incorrect, or at least not part of any sign language I knew.

This isn’t about the controversy of teaching sign language to hearing babies but not deaf babies. Amy Cohen Efron’s The Greatest Irony has become one of the most referenced commentaries on this issue, so, I won’t even get into that; we must teach signs to both deaf and hearing babies. I began signing when I was six months old, thanks to my parents having signed to me from day one. That alone shows me the benefits of teaching babies sign language.

The real issue here, for me, is something I’ve mulled over for quite a while. Should we worry about correct sign production, or should we simply try to get babies and toddlers to communicate in whatever ways they can? I used to think that it maybe didn’t matter, as long as babies were being taught signs at least. Now, I think otherwise.

With this flashcard and the books on the market, I am even more convinced that the correct American Sign Language signs must be used, regardless of whether the child or parents are deaf or hearing. While I am aware of how babies and toddlers (including me when I was a tot) often cannot produce “full” signs – i.e., using one finger to sign EAT instead of the whole hand – this doesn’t mean we now have leeway to teach them whatever we think is easier.

After all, ASL has its own grammar, signs/words, and rules. I don’t know how many times I’ll say this for the rest of my life, but people have to learn that. They can’t just make up words and expect the nation to accept the new words, especially if they don’t know the language. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had parents say to me, “Oh! My kid knows sign language!” and then proceed to show me all the wrong signs while I nod with a polite smile.

We, deaf or hearing, should at least try to use correct signs with babies while getting them to communicate in any way possible. This has nothing but positive benefits: they grow up already knowing ASL, even if rudimentarily, and this eventually leads to a more cohesive ASL community for both deaf and hearing people. And we certainly don’t want to mislead people into thinking they can simply invent signs at any time.

A friend, expecting her second child, pointed out that the overused “I Love You” sign is also harder for babies to produce than simply signing “love.”

I thought about all this as I chuckled at the flashcard. I e-mailed Similac and explained what this particular version of the DRINK sign meant. I also mentioned that they would probably benefit from having a fluent, even native, Deaf person involved in this flashcard project, which I thought was a great tool. I also ignored the recommendation that the parent “say the word while signing to emphasize…”; obviously they don’t think deaf children are included in the “baby” category.

I, of course, did not get a response other than a form e-mail. Meanwhile, they’re going to make money off showing a baby how to drink alcohol.

But hey, anything to bring about awareness of sign language for babies, right?

UPDATE (September 21, 2007): I typically get a lot of e-mail after each column, but this one took the cake! Thanks to the group of teachers and deaf people who contacted Similac about the pictures/signs. I was just notified, and I confirmed this by looking at the website itself, that Similac has removed the file from its website.

It’s my hopes that this will lead to more work for deaf ASL teachers who are truly fluent in the language and the techniques of teaching babies (regardless of if they’re deaf or hearing) ASL. And of course, it’s my hopes that this will lead to increased ASL awareness. But I didn’t expect this outstanding response rate, so I must thank each and every one of you who contacted Similac or e-mailed me.

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Filed Under: Business, Childhood, Community resources, Culture, i711.com, Language, Parenting

True Allies

August 9, 2006

This article originally appeared at i711.com.

I’ve never felt as deaf and alone as I did a few weekends ago.

That’s because I was at the Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf (RID) Region III conference in Milwaukee. The conference itself was fabulous and the workshops were terrific. The committee must be applauded for pulling off such a well-coordinated conference.

There were signs everywhere reminding people that they should use American Sign Language (ASL) (which I think is perplexing — shouldn’t this be automatically the case in any situation involving deaf people or ASL? But that’s another article). The majority of attendees, of course, were hearing interpreters, although there were quite a few deaf people in attendance — like me, a Certified Deaf Interpreter (CDI), and others who were supporters/allies of the interpreting community.

I’ve been to many RID events, sometimes as a presenter and sometimes as a participant. They’re an enjoyable way to see how far the interpreting profession has come, and a terrific place for me to learn new things about ASL and English. But this one was where I felt the loneliest in my life.

I arrived in Milwaukee on Thursday afternoon, and made my way into a workshop room. As I sat at the end of a row by the doors, five people — I counted — began to sit in the seats next to me. As they squeezed their way by me, they each spoke, “Excuse me.” None of them signed.

Later I walked the hallways browsing exhibits and looking for people I knew. I saw not one single person signing, except for deaf people. I sat down and watched all the conversations from afar. I couldn’t understand a thing because nobody was signing. It was the same on Friday. On Saturday, when I was again in the hallway, one of the exhibitors bumped into me and spoke , “I’m sorry!….blahblahblah.” I looked at his lips, analyzing how they looked while moving. When he had finished speaking a full minute later, I signed, “Maybe you’d like to sign that? I’m deaf.” His eyes widened, and his mouth formed a small “o” before he signed, “I’m so sorry!” I smiled, nodded and walked on.

I talked with several interpreters about this lack of access to communication. Most of them said, “Yeah, that’s what always happens at RID, although it’s usually not this bad.” I had a healthy dialogue with several of them, discussing about when it was necessary to sign and when it wasn’t. I don’t think it’s necessary for people to sign at all times if deaf people aren’t present. But how do they know if a deaf person is there? If you didn’t know me, you likely would not have known I was deaf at that conference. Yet, I didn’t sign because I didn’t know who signed other than the deaf people there. It was almost a catch-22 situation.

At a forum during the conference, deaf people were asked how we felt about the conference. I said I felt absolutely left out, and one of the few hearing interpreters in attendance looked guilty and shocked. Another deaf person said, “In this room, I’m normal. In that hallway, I have no arms because nobody is signing.” The shocked interpreter teared up as she said, “I’m so sorry. When I’m at these conferences, I see old friends and forget immediately about signing. I feel so awful.” An hour later, I saw her speaking to another interpreter without signing, even though a deaf person was within five feet.

A week later, I went to a five-day, intensive legal interpreting workshop. Again, the presenter, and the workshop coordination were fabulous. When the sponsoring agency let me know that this workshop was taking place, I immediately signed up. I then asked about interpreters. “You don’t need an interpreter; the workshop is going to be conducted in ASL only,” I was told.

I was thrilled. Upon arrival, I was disappointed to learn that the other CDI had backed out, making me the only deaf person out of about 30 interpreters. The presenter announced the communication policy, saying that in small groups, people could speak if there was no need to sign (translation: if I wasn’t in the group, they could speak). That was fair enough. I didn’t really want people to sign all the time just for the sake of signing if nobody deaf was there. One of the participants — a long-time community interpreter notorious for habitually signing and speaking at the same time — raised his hand and signed-spoke, “Can we sign and speak at the same time?”

The presenter said to him, “When you tell people that you interpret two languages — ASL and English — and that they’re separate languages, yet you sim-com, you’re contradicting yourself and not giving full credit to the languages.” I stood up and said, “I literally can’t understand when people sign and speak at the same time. I prefer one language at a time. If you prefer to speak, that’s fine, we can work with an interpreter.”

A few days later, one of the participants, a CODA who always signed in my presence — which made me gain so much respect for him — notified me that several interpreters were complaining about how I “demanded” that ASL be used at all times. They thought it was unfair that the entire workshop revolved around my communication needs. I was hurt, because this rule was established by the presenter before I signed up. Besides, as the presenter said, if they wanted to work in legal settings, they’d better be ready to use sign language for days on end.

I also, uncomfortably, had to often politely remind people not to use their voices during small groups, or I had to ask someone to interpret for me. I felt frustrated that I had to ask interpreters, of all people, to accommodate my communication needs when a policy had already been established by the organizers. They had the option of using one or the other language; I did not. Some of them asked me to join them at lunch or after the workshop for drinks, but I always declined, because I knew I’d be the factor that messed up their communication styles. It’s similar to when deaf people go out; it’s just easier for us to be together without having a person not fluent at our language be part of our group.

When I was told of the interpreters’ comments, I realized just how far we have not come in the interpreting profession. There is still that level of disrespect towards deaf people, and this realization is heartbreaking. Interpreters are such valuable allies, such assets to our community.

Even though I felt left out and even ostracized, there were some good things that evolved from these experiences. At both events, I learned who the true allies of our community were. They were interpreters who respected my experiences, my language needs, and my position as a deaf person. They went out of their way to accommodate my communication needs, knowing that I would work around theirs as well. It was a marvelous feeling to see these interpreters who had the right attitudes and levels of respect for such a fragile yet strong community, culture and language.

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Filed Under: Culture, i711.com, Interpreting, Language

Sharing Our Good News – The Right Way

July 17, 2006

This article originally appeared at i711.com.

As I sat in a hotel room a few weeks ago, I saw a commercial for Aleve, which is used primarily to ease arthritis pain. Interpreter Andrea Heisler of Tempe, Ariz., signed and spoke onscreen. The written transcript for this commercial on Aleve’s Web site reads:

“Andrea Heisler: I facilitate communication between two people who can’t normally communicate. A few years ago I started having joint pain in my wrist and in my elbow. I would avoid certain signs, like ‘last night’ would hurt my wrist.

I took some Aleve. That really took away my joint pain. Aleve helped me keep working.”

However, the words actually spoken are:

“My name is Andrea Heisler, and this is my story.

I facilitate communication between two people who can’t normally communicate. I started having joint pain in my wrist. I would avoid certain signs, like ‘last night’ would hurt my wrist.

I took some Aleve. I could actually move my wrist. The one cool thing about my job is that everyone is always happy to see me. Aleve worked great.”

My first reaction was about the choice to speak while signing. Her signing was choppy because she chose to try and use two languages at once; I became fixated on lipreading the unsigned words. Had there been a voice-over or even captions, Heisler could have done a better job with her signing.

But what bothered me more was this particular part of the commercial: “…between two people who can’t normally communicate.” (Emphasis mine.)

What is normal communication? Who decides what is “normal”? In my house, people who speak aren’t normal, given that we’re all deaf. In your house, it might be people who don’t speak Spanish. In another household, it might be people who don’t speak English. Did Heisler say this because, regardless of all the advances deaf people have made, we’re still viewed as abnormal communicators?

In search of possible answers, I conducted an informal poll; readers of my columns know that my polls are hardly scientific. Still, the responses give me a good idea of what people across the country — deaf, hard of hearing and hearing people from all walks of life — think. The majority agreed that it was a wonderful step that Aleve had taken in being inclusive and reaching out to ASL users. After all, the more exposure ASL gets, the more the language becomes accepted among non-users.

With that said, almost all of the people I surveyed also agreed that the words, “can’t normally communicate” was a biased and inappropriate comment, no matter how the sentence was presented. Even if it’s just semantics, commercials have a powerful effect upon viewers. People who watch this advertisement will subconsciously register that interpreters work with people who “can’t normally communicate.”

When I contacted Heisler, her response was, “I visited i711.com and have to reconsider consenting to an interview. I am unable to contribute comments that would appear as content designed to attract people to a competing relay provider. In addition, due to my contract with Bayer, I would need official word from the marketing agent before providing comment.”

Fine. I e-mailed Aleve through its Web site, and got a response from the public relations agency handling Aleve’s “Good News” campaign. “Andrea came to us through market research that was being conducted in the Phoenix area,” Rebecca Zeitler of HealthSTAR Public Relations said in an e-mail. “We were searching for people with arthritis and joint pain to talk about their experience. Andrea answered that ‘call’ if you will and it was through interviews and the submission of her story that we selected her for the ad campaign.”

Zeitler also responded to my inquiry of whether Aleve or Heisler had written the script, writing, “The words [Heisler] uses in the commercial are her own.”

I then sent e-mail to Heisler asking for the reasoning behind the “cannot normally communicate” line. She didn’t respond before this article went to print.

I was disappointed to learn that the script had been written by Heisler herself. Here’s why. Companies are usually quick to capitalize upon the “deaf” or “ASL” angle, thinking it’s a fun, innovative approach. In doing so, their ignorance often emerges — which is understandable (but not excusable). However, that wasn’t the case with this commercial. Many of my friends in the Phoenix area say Heisler is one of the best interpreters around; I believe that, given my friends’ high standards. And that’s why Heisler’s choice of words disappoints me so much.

The bottom line is, when someone chooses to do a commercial, that person inevitably becomes a spokesperson for the community s/he portrays, like it or not. That’s where the right attitude comes in — especially as an interpreter facilitating communication.

It’s too bad that Heisler chose to portray her career in an overly altruistic sense. Heisler, who is certified with the Registry of Interpreters of the Deaf, could have used better wording, such as “I facilitate communication between two people who use different languages,” or something along these lines. I think this commercial was a cute idea, but it could have — and should have — been more positive.

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Filed Under: Culture, i711.com, Media, Politics
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