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.

I’ve also heard stories of how parents are treated by peers, board members and community members once they decide to send their children to a specific school. It’s not just the parents; the students also get this treatment sometimes. After I was encouraged by teachers at the Illinois School for the Deaf (ISD) to go to a school that could provide for my particular needs, I decided to join my newly remarried mother in the Chicago area, a good four hours north. When word got out about my decision, a classmate’s parent who also worked at the school came up to me and fingerspelled angrily, “Traitor.” I was 10 at the time. I still wonder if he realized that ISD’s teachers – both Deaf and hearing – were the ones who encouraged me to find another program.

So many Deaf schools have seen drastic drops in enrollment numbers over the past few decades, but many are also seeing their numbers climb back up. Many look to Texas, Indiana, Fremont and Maryland as the “best” schools because of their sizeable enrollment numbers, among other reasons. And they certainly are great schools. This does not mean that we have license to criticize or look down at the smaller Deaf schools, charter schools or deaf programs. We must band together instead of dividing ourselves by competing over which school is better or making snooty comments intended to degrade.

Some students flourish in schools with large enrollments, and others prosper in schools with smaller enrollments. Anyone, especially me, knows there is no one-size-fits-all approach for students. After attending a large public elementary school and a moderately sized deaf school and public junior high school, I went to a high school with nearly 2,000 students. Next was Gallaudet University, with about 2,000 students. For graduate school, I went to the University of Illinois-Chicago, with at least 30,000 students. I can safely say that at each school, there were challenges and drawbacks, but there were also benefits. What I was most affected by was not the school’s enrollment size, but the quality of one-on-one and class instruction I received, the Deaf community surrounding the school, and the opportunities I had before me.

We need to encourage, rather than discourage. We want deaf students to grow up surrounded by deaf people who are peers and role models – and not be isolated. The bottom line is we cannot afford to generalize or badmouth a school based on personal motives, recruitment, or even one student. We also cannot base our comments on what the school’s reputation was in the past. Schools have ebbs and flows, and if a school had a poor reputation during the 1980s or 1990s, that doesn’t mean it’s still weak today. Change constantly takes place, especially at many deaf schools.

When a student says what school he or she attends, we should say, “That’s awesome! Tell me more,” rather than, “Isn’t that school mostly hearing people? I’ve heard the education is lousy there,” or “Why don’t you go to so-and-so instead?” Don’t punish, discourage or embarrass the student. This serves absolutely no purpose, and only furthers the bitterness that may already exist.

Deaf education is a precious thing. We must continue nurturing our deaf schools through collaboration, pushing for higher standards, and ensuring that our deaf children grow up with healthy self-esteem levels and identities. It’s not about being “better than you,” nor is it about what school has the highest enrollment numbers. It’s about our future.

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When I went through my father’s things after his death, I found newspaper clippings about Gallaudet. They were mostly about the Deaf President Now (DPN) protest, but one stood out. It was from 1986, when Gallaudet College became Gallaudet University.

I was surprised that my father had even saved the article. My father, who was academically dismissed from Gallaudet in 1972, was not by any means what we would call a remarkable community leader. Rather, he was quite ordinary; he had an entry-level job with the state and rarely went to deaf events outside of town.

Yet he felt that Gallaudet’s accreditation as a university was noteworthy enough to save a clipping about. This, to me, speaks volumes about the influence of Gallaudet.

Alumni and students alike are constantly bombarded with dazzling publicity about the world’s only liberal arts university for deaf students. Recruiting materials highlight carefully selected students and alumni – each with a determined look or a sunny smile – who come from every cranny and nook of the world. It’s easy to get drawn into how great Gallaudet is and not consider the effects that the university’s antics and accomplishments have upon ordinary people like my father.

Gallaudet had such an impact upon me long before I became a student. When the DPN protest took place, I was a freshman in high school; the protest greatly influenced how hearing peers and “teachers of the hearing impaired” at my high school perceived us deaf students. Years later, I am friends with many of the DPN leaders but I still get starry-eyed around them. Although there are so many more opportunities today that we no longer perceive as remarkable like they were decades ago, I continue to be in awe of so many deaf people and their ordinary and not-so-ordinary accomplishments. This sense of awe is something I hope to never let go of ever again.

I say again because I lost that feeling once, in 2006. The outrage and deep division over the presidential selection in 2006 had been simmering for years. Despite media reports and what some people said, the anger that surfaced wasn’t an overnight thing. In fact, I remember exactly when I began feeling disillusioned about the division at Gallaudet: during my husband’s graduation in 1993.

You see, he was among the wide-eyed freshmen at Gallaudet in 1988 when DPN took place. By 1993, the last of these freshmen had graduated, taking with them the pride and sense of entitlement that DPN had instilled in deaf people everywhere. As I watched the graduation ceremony, I was sad that the DPN veterans wouldn’t be students anymore, because they were the movers and shakers then. They would call the university out on unfair situations, and constantly kept the administration on its toes – but they always made sure everything was done with a positive attitude. I was fortunate to have Mary Malzkuhn – often called the “Mother of DPN” –as my academic adviser and teacher for my government classes, which were filled with many DPN veterans. I learned so much from them and was always excited to be in their presence because they were superstars to me. Watching them march across the stage that day, I wondered if future classes would understand the sparkle that existed immediately after DPN. When I came on campus in 1991, I was blown away by how everyone was so confident about his or her roles at Gallaudet. They had the right to be there and had the right to expect nothing but the very best in communication access, in educational quality, and in respect.

By the time I graduated in 1995, there was a growing black cloud hanging over the university, a cloud of fear. The division between students and the administration was deepening at an alarming rate. I frequently saw faculty and staff being pulled in two directions. People quit or were fired. There was a lot of underground talk about the administration’s intimidation tactics. Still, I was no longer a student so I figured I didn’t need to pay much attention.

A few years later, I finally understood this intimidation firsthand. When I was the editor at Silent News, Ryan Commerson told me that the university was closing the television and film program. I assigned a writer to the story, and she contacted the administration for a statement. She got a response that essentially freaked her out, and she forwarded it to me in a panic. I read the e-mail and was astonished by the contents.

The e-mail threatened Silent News with a lawsuit if we proceeded with the story. The writer hadn’t even asked any hard-hitting questions. What had started as a somewhat dull news story was now a controversy. This was a signal that something was terribly wrong at the university, that this was a politically fueled approach by the administration. I responded and said that this was Gallaudet’s opportunity to clear up misunderstandings about the program’s closure (or as they called it, merger with another program). The administration’s response remained unchanged: that a lawsuit would be filed if we went ahead with the story.

Not one who easily backs down, I gave the go-ahead to run the story. Just as I had predicted, the lawsuit was an empty threat. But that e-mail exchange was the perfect indicator of what was to come, especially considering how an administrator involved in that e-mail exchange was at the center of the storm in 2006.

Regardless of what people felt about the 2006 protest, it was a catalyst for change, one that was and is desperately needed. Although bitterness is rampant in the blogsphere/vlogsphere, I sense that most people are ready for positive change. At least, I know I am. This positive change is part of why President Davila has been so warmly welcomed and so successful in taking care of business. More importantly, he has brought back something that was missing for too long: integrity.

Whoever the new president is – at the time of this writing, the president hadn’t been announced yet – he or she must strengthen this integrity immediately. The new president must ensure that the faculty, staff, students and alumni can see this integrity in action.  These groups must be inspired to carry the same integrity and pride in our identity, our language, and our culture.

I’m optimistic that any one of the four candidates will help dissolve the black cloud that has hung over Gallaudet for at least a decade. Having said that, it is crucial that the new president be a mover and shaker, unafraid to create an ideological change that brings back the pride we once had. For me, what will affirm that the new president is doing the job is when ordinary citizens begin saving clippings about Gallaudet’s accomplishments once again.

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A question was asked: “What do you think about teaching babies sign language? Is it worth the time and trouble?” As the Deaf mother to two Deaf children, I eagerly read on to see how Dr. Cohen responded. He wrote:

Teaching your baby signs before he can talk is a fun thing for some parents to do, but I think its benefits are limited in scope. What’s more, it may even have some drawbacks.

Proponents say teaching a baby to sign helps him communicate before he can talk and that this prevents frustration and resulting tantrums. But I believe that signing may actually delay a child’s ability to deal with frustration. Basically, a baby will naturally begin to talk when he becomes irritated enough by not being able to speak. Learning sign language may act as a distraction but will not get at the root of frustration. Also, once a baby is able to sign, he is actually able to speak, too - so why not let him go directly to speaking?

In my practice, I also see delays in talking among some babies whose parents practice signing with them. The parents’ enthusiasm actually reinforces the babies’ not talking. This is not a very big deal, however-eventually, they all learn to talk.

The bottom line, in my opinion: If signing with your baby is a fun activity for both of you, do it. But think of it as a game-that’s its main value. It won’t do any real harm, but it won’t work any miracles, either.

I was so disappointed to see his nonchalant, almost negative, response to this. In particular, what bothered me were these words: “…think of it as a game” and “…delay a child’s ability to deal with frustration.”

My daughter, now 20 months old, had a vocabulary of over 100 words by the time she was 12 months old. Today, her vocabulary is well over 200 words – actually, we’ve stopped counting because it’s not about numbers for us, and because there are simply too many words she knows. Rather, it’s about what she says and her ability to express complex, abstract thoughts. She also started signing in sentences well before she was one year old. This is important, because children generally can’t speak (as in vocally) full sentences at that age. In fact, many publications state that the average spoken vocabulary of a one-year-old is between one and three words. See why I swear by the value of sign language?

Let me share an example of my daily interactions with my daughter (my son is only three months old, so he’s not quite signing yet). Yesterday, I bought her a Sesame Street “Look and Find” book. One of the pages had a picture of a wolf and a pumpkin. I showed my daughter the sign for “wolf” (she already knew “pumpkin”) then moved onto the other pages without further ado.

This morning, when I greeted her in her crib, she excitedly signed, “WOLF PUMPKIN WOLF PUMPKIN!” Once out of the crib, she ran to the book, pointed to the wolf, and signed, “DREAM WOLF PUMPKIN DREAM.” She was saying she’d dreamed about that wolf. I’m not sure she fully understands what “dream” means, but she knows the word because she saw a picture of the Cookie Monster dreaming about cookies.  (Think maybe she’s a fan of Sesame Street? Yeah.)

That, to me, shows how babies and toddlers can use sign language to express abstract thoughts. We don’t always realize children have the ability to understand abstract concepts – because they usually can’t tell us. I tire of how people think children who sign have no language, and that the children are simply making “cute” gestures or pictures. Sit with my daughter for 30 minutes, and you will walk away happily exhausted because she talks non-stop, just like her mama, grandmother and great-grandmother. I dare anyone to say that sign language for my children is a “distraction,” like Dr. Cohen claims.

Simply put: sign language is not an obstacle to speech or language development. In fact, the opposite has been found to be true. American Sign Language (ASL) is a stand-alone language, and studies consistently show that ASL actually helps the development of speech and English. Research also shows that babies begin to express themselves in gestures early on, babbling, and that it reduces frustration. That’s probably why baby sign language has become so popular – not because it’s a trend, not because it’s a cute thing to learn, and not because it’s “a game.”  Rather, it’s popular because it works for so many families and children.

“But Dr. Cohen is talking about hearing children,” you may say. True. Still, once again, studies have shown that babies who learn sign language prior to speech development generally use signs to accelerate their English acquisition. Just ask hearing people who have deaf parents and learned ASL before they learned to speak. More often than not, their language skills are superior – and they speak just fine. ASL is hardly a game to the millions of families who use it for daily communication, and to call it such not only promotes a negative attitude, but is offensive to families like mine.

Even with Dr. Cohen’s disclaimer that he was merely sharing his opinion, he should have read up on existent literature showing the enormous benefits of children learning sign language, deaf or hearing. As a medical professional, his opinion carries weight, and so he has an obligation to share accurate, well-researched information. It disheartens me to think of the impact of Dr. Cohen’s opinion on the magazine’s 500,000 readers.

Perhaps I should send Dr. Cohen a tape of my daughter signing and see if he thinks signing is really a game rather than a bona fide language. Heck, my daughter can even tell him about her dreams starring Count von Count, Cookie Monster, Elmo and Oscar.

If you disagree with Dr. Cohen’s perspectives, drop him a line at babybasics@fitpregnancy.com.

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In the changing face of higher education, a student body composed mainly of new high school graduates is being replaced by students of all ages and experiences.

Stepping onto a new campus with hundreds – or even thousands – of other students is frequently a daunting experience for students attending their first day of college. When different ages are added to the mix, their apprehension may increase: Can they relate to a student body made up of younger or older students who may be light years apart in interests and life experience? Will they be accepted or find themselves in isolation on the fringe of the campus social scene?

Fortunately, these first-day jitters are becoming a thing of the past. “Non-traditional students,” as they are often called, are growing in numbers; in fact, they are steadily becoming part of the norm for the student body at colleges and universities.

Although the average age of a college student is 18 to 25, the number of students over age 25 has skyrocketed at colleges and universities everywhere. According to Back to College, an online resource for adults returning to college, 28 percent of all college students were 25 years old or older in 1970; in 1998, this increased to 41 percent. The National Center for Education Statistics states that students 35 years or older soared from 823,000 in 1970 to an estimated 2.9 million in 2001 – an increase of 19.2 percent. Current estimates put the number of students who are over 25 at 47 percent of the college student population.

An early start
Very little research exists on college students who are younger than 17 years old, but one study by the University of Washington found that young students – specifically, those between the ages of 12 and 14 – “don’t fit the stereotype of unhappy ‘nerds’ who are humorless, isolated misfits,” but rather, “extremely versatile, interested, interesting, and sociable.”

Tom Holcomb, ‘80, a professor in the Interpreter Preparation Program, Center for Deaf Studies and Special Services at Ohlone College in California, came to Gallaudet at the age of 16. “Although I had family nearby, which was a huge help, I often felt left out and almost disconnected from the other students,” he said. “But in retrospect, I realize it was mostly a self-inflicted perception.” He also noted that there was more attention given to four of his fellow freshmen – who were all female and all 16 years old. “Most of the campus community was focused on them instead of me, which I consider a blessing in disguise because I was able to blend into the scene a bit more than they could.”

David Kurs, ‘98, a filmmaker and scriptwriter in Hollywood, Calif., also enrolled at the age of 16. Like others who were younger than the typical freshman, Kurs did not want to call attention to his age. “I tried to make my age a secret upon arriving on campus – and failed miserably,” he said. “The kids I had gone to camp with knew how old I was and told everyone else. As is probably the norm, I never made an issue out of my age, but everyone else did.” There were advantages to being young, though, he said with a chuckle. “I loved that because I was younger than the others, everyone thought I was a genius. Rumors spread about my photographic memory, that I had received a job offer from NASA, and that I had memorized the dictionary – none of which were true. Instead of denying these queries, I would just smile, vaguely affirming the truth of these rumors.”

Both Holcomb and Kurs credit extracurricular activities such as sports and student government with helping them fit in. Holcomb added that when he joined a fraternity, he “finally felt accepted, even though I realize I was accepted all along. It was simply a confirmation for me that I really did belong there.” Kurs said, “I was probably more suspectible to influences. I think the only difference, if any, between myself and the other students was that I sought ut role models with more effort. I was more eager to participate in the rituals and traditions of the freshman class, probably because I didn’t bother to question the point of these activities. I wanted to be able to say that I took part in everything.”

Timothy Jaech, ‘61, a retired school administrator, stepped on campus in 1957 when he was 15 years old. Although he had an older sister who kept an eye on him, he had his share of humbling experiences, particularly one evening as a freshman watching a lively discussion in the Men’s Reading Room of College Hall. “I loved those bull sessions, and it was fascinating to watch the upperclassmen match wits. After watching much intellectual ‘bull’ going back and forth, I raised my hand to toss in my two cents’ worth,” he chuckles. “One of the upperclassmen looked at me and remarked, ‘What does a little kid like you think you can add to this discussion?’ Miffed, I shot back, ‘I’m not a kid! I’m 15 1/2 years old!’ I think the whole room broke out laughing, and I was sorry the minute I said it.”

Other notable young alumni include Astrid (Amann) Goodstein, ‘65, and her husband, Board of Trustees member Harvey Goodstein, ‘65, both of whom retired from Gallaudet after long and distinguished careers and reside in Scottsdale, Ariz. They both began their years at Gallaudet as 16-year-old preparatory students. It is interesting to note that Harvey’s sister, Roslyn Rosen, ‘62, and Astrid’s brother, Franklyn Amann, ‘64, also attended at a young age. Astrid, who graduated from the California School for the Deaf in Berkeley (CSD), said, “I was probably more or less a prima donna at CSD. Upon arrival at Gallaudet, I wasn’t used to competition in and outside of class, so I felt humbled and even insecure. Besides, there were no summer programs like Youth Leadership Camp or Junior NAD back then, so leadership skills in those days were developed by trial and error. Even so, I’m forever grateful for my unique, non-stop and holistic education at Gallaudet.”

The Goodsteins noted that they would probably have different experiences if they were students at modern-day Gallaudet. “Back then, the campus was so small that everyone knew everyone,” Astrid explained. “We were really like a family, and people were always watching out for and supporting us. We also had a curfew and study halls. I don’t know how I’d handle it today, in such a different culture and world,” she said, adding that the university has organizations and programs implemented to support student success.

Never too late
On the opposite end of the spectrum are students who decide to either start or return to college after their adult lives are well underway. A commonly cited reason for enrolling at college at this stage of life is to improve employability. This was the case for Catherine Garbacz, ‘97, of Sacramento, Calif. A single mother of two daughters, Garbacz was laid off from her job in 1993 and decided to complete her college degree at age 43 by coming to Gallaudet. An active member and president of the Never Too Late Club, Garbacz found her experiences as an older student double-majoring in government and English to be unique.

“The biggest challenge for me was competing with younger minds, and sharing a room with kids who did not have the life experiences that I had already attained,” she remembers. “But I dealt with it by receiving support from other older students, especially the Never Too Late Club, and becoming a resident assistant.” To stay informed about campus life issues, she became even more active with organizations such as the Student Body Government.

Tom Benziger, ‘94, of Woodridge, Ill., originally attended Gallaudet in the 1960s, but left before completing his degree. Benziger was working as a deaf services advocate at Access Living in Chicago, Ill., an independent living center, supervising several staff members who held master’s degrees. Some of them felt Benziger, despite his experience, should have at least a bachelor’s degree.

After many hours of discussion with his wife, Benziger made the decision to return to Gallaudet. “It wasn’t easy, because I knew I’d have to maintain a long-distance relationship with my wife,” he explained. “You have to remember that in the early 1990s, we only had the TTY for live conversation, and that was cumbersome. It was harder than anything I’ve ever had to do,” he said, adding that it was well worth it. The Never Too Late Club, he said, gave him unparalleled support when he missed his family.

On campus, Benziger quickly became a strong advocate for non-traditional students, but sometimes found it awkward when his teachers were younger than him, not to mention the realization that his classmates were the children of people he had attended Gallaudet with in the 1960s. “As a government major, it was always strange being in classes with students who had no idea of how real-life advocacy or governmental matters worked,” he recalled. “They also complained about so much, even though they had access to computers and other modern-day technology. Back in the 1960s, I had to do everything by hand or on a typewriter.” Even so, Benziger found the experience enriching. “I learned a lot from my classmates, regardless of age, and from professors such as the incomparable Dr. Mary Malzkuhn, a wonderful teacher.”

Both Garbacz and Benziger agree that their personal sacrifices have paid off. Benziger was promoted as soon as he returned to Access Living; Garbacz attended graduate school at Gallaudet and San Diego State University, and is now a rehabilitation counselor for deaf, hard of hearing and deaf-blind individuals with the California Department of Rehabilitation.

Until recently, the majority of non-traditional students did not have services catering to their unique needs. Benziger recalls how difficult circumstances could be for older students living off-campus: “There was a fellow student in her 70s, and she lived off-campus. She often had no place to go in between classes, so she had to wait hours and hours wandering the campus. It was physically difficult for her to lug around so many textbooks.” Benziger provided the use of his dorm room so that she could have a place to go in between classes.

Today, Gallaudet offers many other services to accommodate its changing student body, including non-traditional students who live on campus. The Commuter Lounge, where lockers and computers are available, is one example; it serves as an ideal place for them to stay between classes.

Identifying needs
The Hobson electronic communication system, used by over 1,000 colleges and universities – including Gallaudet – tracks student participation and ensures that students don’t fall through cracks. It has given invaluable insights in meeting students’ needs, said Associate Provost for Enrollment Catherine Andersen. Hobson has provided useful information for non-traditional students regardless of age, Andersen said; the university can send out communications tailored to students who are in specific age brackets, have children, or possess other unique characteristics. Additionally, incoming freshmen are required to take a first-year course as part of the general studies requirement, which assists in determining areas of interest for study, first-year concerns and challenges, and more. “When we did a research study of persistence, we found that those who took this course had a 11 percent higher persistent rate into the second year,” Andersen said.

Retain is another web-based system that helps Gallaudet communicate with current students in ways that encourage them to stay focused on their academic pursuits. “We can connect them to areas of interest, or communicate with them in areas of concern,” said Andersen. “Faculty can report attendance patterns, and coaches can interact with faculty and students so that everyone is supporting the persistence of students.”

In all, the Gallaudet experience provides to be unique for each student, regardless of age. “I don’t look back and evaluate whether entering Gallaudet at such a young age was a mistake,” Kurs said. “My development adjusted around that event. It made the way I am. Looking back, I had the opportunity to take the time to develop personally and professionally after graduation a bit longer than others did. For the first time in my life, I had the luxury of time – I traveled a lot, and hopped from job to job.”

He added, “I think that all of us who entered Gallaudet at earlier ages realize that there are no absolute rules. We can adapt to the situation, or not. We all have it in us to prosper on campus at any age.”

The author: Trudy Suggs, ‘95, owns T.S. Writing Services and came to Gallaudet as a 16-year-old freshman.

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So, I figured I’d help start 2009 with hope, and get the word out about some of the charities/nonprofit organizations that I think are just great. In no particular order, I’m keeping a close eye on five causes this year, and I hope to support each in some way. Maybe you can do the same.

Discovering Deaf Worlds: I’ve worked with Discovering Deaf Worlds (www.discoveringdeafworlds.com) the past year on their newsletter, and I have been nothing but astounded by the incredible stories from this non-profit organization. Discovering Deaf Worlds founders Dave Justice and Christy Smith have gone off – way off – the beaten path and discovered so many unexplored corners of the world. By doing so, they’re bringing about awareness not only for people like me, but also for people in those corners who have no idea of their opportunities as deaf individuals. Justice and Smith are giving us all hope for a future.

Domestic violence programs: As a childhood domestic violence survivor, I really wish programs like Abused Deaf Women Advocacy Services (www.adwas.org) and Deaf Hope (www.deaf-hope.org) existed when I was a little girl. It’s only by sheer determination that Mom and I got out of the situation we were in. Two years after we left, at the age of 10, I watched The Burning Bed starring Farrah Fawcett, sobbing because it was the first time I had ever understood  the hell we went through. The movie also made me realize, for the first time in my life, that everything that had happened wasn’t our fault and that we weren’t alone.

Even today, 25 years later, thousands of deaf women and men find themselves in dangerous situations – and not so many are as lucky as Mom and I were. We got out. And so many don’t. Domestic violence survivors – and victims – are often the most ordinary people – like me – who you’d never guess were in such situations. Even today, people gasp when they learn what my mother and I had to live with for a decade.

Support  domestic violence agencies, locally and nationally, that serve deaf people. You might just help spare a child’s life.

Global Reach Out Initiative: A young organization, Global Reach Out (GRO) is going places – figuratively and literally. As its website (www.globalreachout.org) states, GRO “seeks to serve as a launching pad for the world’s young deaf role models to work together, learn from one another, and inspire others.” GRO accomplishes this by encouraging deaf youth to come together in a delegation and address social issues limiting deaf populations’ opportunities to grow.

GRO also says, “We believe in the domino effect: if one delegate is inspired to work towards social change, many more will follow. Inspiration is contagious!” Indeed.

National Association of the Deaf:  I’ve been a long-time member – and yes, a long-time critic – of the National Association of the Deaf (www.nad.org). But it wasn’t until I served on the board for just over a year that I appreciated fully how much work is put into the NAD. As the oldest civil rights organization for deaf people in the United States, the NAD is a powerful advocacy and lobbying machine, despite what naysayers have said and will say. Give the NAD a couple of dollars. Even a buck goes a long way. Better yet, join as a member.

Rescue programs or shelters caring for deaf animals: Having had two deaf dogs, I can’t emphasize enough how crucial it is to rescue deaf animals, whether dogs, cats or others. Thousands of deaf animals are abandoned and killed each year simply because they’re deaf – and this tugs at my heart in so many ways. Their experiences, and fate, are so similar to our experiences as a deaf community. Besides, who better to understand deaf pets than deaf people?

One such program is at Deaf Animal Row (deafanimalrow.blogspot.com). Contact your local shelter or rescue program and see if they have deaf animals needing homes or support. Then share what you can, whether it’s a blanket, treats, money, or best of all, a home.

We have a new president elected on a platform of change and hope. Let’s be part of his platform and help change this world a little at a time and give  people – or animals –  hope.

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Yeah, you’d think.

Instead, I’ve been given the runaround for over a year (yup, you read that right) trying to get someone, anyone, at the university to take my money.

Since 2007, I’ve been traveling the nation on a speaking tour, sharing for the first time the documents involved with the expose I did on Holly Daniel. At each of the presentations, I announced that a portion of my earnings would be donated to Gallaudet University. Specifically, I wanted to donate it to the Deaf Studies program.

Prior to the tour, I contacted the appropriate individuals at the university. They were each very interested, and the development office asked me to fill out a donation form. Another individual and I planned a videophone meeting; that never took place because of delays on her part. After continued attempts to get this scholarship set up for over a year with almost no results, I decided that I would stop expending my energy on what seemed a fruitless endeavor.

Around the same time I made this decision, I attended the Gallaudet University Alumni Association Charter Day festivities. I happened to informally meet with a new development office representative. I expressed interest in perhaps redirecting my donation to the university’s new museum fund. She reassured me she would look into this right away. That was last April.

Today, I’m still waiting for somebody, anyone, to take my donation. I wrote a letter to Gallaudet and sent a copy to President Bob Davila’s office. To date, I have not received a response or acknowledgment.

Gallaudet University has expressed concerns both privately and publicly about its dwindling number of donations; some people have pointed to the 2006 protests as a possible cause. Based on my struggles in trying to give my money to the university, it seems to me that the cause is painfully clear: they don’t respond to actual donation offers from people they consider unimportant – like me.

Maybe they think the amount I want to donate is too small. It’s not $20,000, but it’s not $500, either. Yet beggars can’t be choosers. Take a story my friend shared. He worked for a museum in the development office, and there was a woman who donated “only” $10 each year for many years. One year, she suddenly decided to donate $25,000. The lesson here is it doesn’t matter what the amount is. Each donor must be treated equally, whether it’s $10, $1,000 or millions of dollars.

I’ve been asked why I don’t donate the money to the National Association of the Deaf (NAD). Here’s why: when I wrote the Daniel story in 1997, NAD was steadfast in its refusal to lend my story any support. I asked the organization time after time for a comment or support, but never succeeded. After the story hit the national media – it was the focus of a popular Chicago Tribune column twice, appeared in the New York Times, and had a front-page mention in Advertising Age – NAD suddenly expressed interest. Perhaps it’s because NAD didn’t want to alienate potential advertisement income. Whatever the reason, it wouldn’t be right for me to donate this specific money to them. Never mind that NAD is near and dear to my heart today.

So, I’m trying to figure out what to do with this money. Perhaps my company should set up a one-time scholarship fund so I can give away this money. Or perhaps I should simply donate it to a local deaf organization. I don’t know.

Anyone need some change?

Update (Sept. 26)
I am truly impressed. Only hours after this entry was published, I received a call from Paul Drehoff, the vice president of institutional advancement at Gallaudet University. He’s new to the university, and among his responsibilities is the oversight of the development office.  He left a sincere apology on my videomail, and I e-mailed him in response.

He replied with another apology, and we set up a time to talk on the phone today at noon. Today, he called at noon sharp, and accompanying him was the development office’s Doris Parent. After some small talk, we quickly and easily worked out the arrangements for my donation to the university’s new museum fund.

I was quite pleased with Mr. Drehoff’s sincerity and eagerness to get things done. What impressed me even more was that Mr. Drehoff didn’t try to excuse anyone’s behavior. He said what happened should have not happened, and he’s right.

There’s hope yet for the university.

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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 (click here to see chart).

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 Dr. David Geeslin, 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.”

Dr. 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.”

Dr. 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, Dr. 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, Dr. 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 even though I hadn’t said a word. 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.

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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:

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 good (bad) example in the flashcard is the HELP-ME illustration.

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?

The flashcard may be downloaded by clicking Baby Sign Language at http://welcomeaddition.com/keepsake.aspx.

UPDATE (Friday, 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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If there’s one thing that bugs me, it’s when companies that become successful by selling to the deaf community don’t support the community. By that, I mean when they don’t hire deaf people, sponsor deaf events, donate to deaf organizations, or try to become involved in the community somehow.

Back in high school, there was a local business that specialized in visual alert systems, TTYs, and so on. The owner, a hearing woman, was upset when she learned her son and I “liked” each other. I initially had no idea of the son’s ties to this company; I simply knew he was a guy from my gym class. His mother told him not to date a deaf girl, and she was cold toward me the two times I came to their house.

Anyway, this business was notorious for hiring deaf employees then firing them for whatever convenient reason. Mind you, the employees weren’t “problem employees” – they were high-caliber, extremely qualified folks. The owner just didn’t like them, probably because she couldn’t sign very well, and because the deaf employees had a better standing in the deaf community.

The business quickly gained a reputation for being “anti-deaf.” My stepdad told me of how he stopped by once to pick up a phone signaler. He walked in, and none of the employees could communicate with him. At this point, the employees were all hearing, unless you count the owner’s husband who became deaf later in life. My stepdad never went back; I didn’t, either. The company received hefty recognition from local businesses inspired by how the company “helped deaf people have a chance at life.” Still, area deaf folks knew how hypocritical the company was.

Today the company is a huge success, thanks to a shift in focus from deaf-related products to disability-related products. And the employees? Beats me, but I’d bet none of the employees are deaf or have disabilities.

Companies like this are a dime a dozen. Business opportunists see the millions of deaf and hard of hearing Americans, and think, “Heeeey, easy money!” They come up with all sorts of strategies and schemes to sell things to us. And that’s perfectly fine; this is a capitalist nation, after all.

Yet these companies don’t hire deaf folks. Apparently we’re good enough to sell to, but not good enough to hire.

Whenever I check a vendor out, I see if the owner is deaf or at least has direct ties to the deaf community. If not, then I look at how many deaf employees are at the company. I even call and ask: “How many people do you have working for you who are deaf?” I always get a kick out of their spin-doctored responses: “Well, uh, may I ask who’s calling? I see, well…we don’t have any currently, but we make attempts to reach out to…” Et cetera.

I also check to see if the organization has sponsored events, organizations or services in the community. After all, being socially responsible business owners is a big deal nowadays. If companies work with ethnic groups, they hire ethnic individuals. They want to qualify for specific contracts or to be a ‘feel-good’ company, they hire people with disabilities. If they work with deaf people, they hire hearing people who can barely sign. Waiiiiitamin… what’s wrong with this picture?

All sarcasm aside, to be a company that’s socially responsible within the deaf community, have at least an equal number of deaf and hearing employees, or even a majority of deaf employees.

I don’t care if companies make money off us deaf folks, as long as they hire deaf employees, sponsor community events, and do as much as they can to empower us. Take from us if they must, but they gotta give back to us, too.

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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?

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