Deaf Schools: TRUE-BUSINESS Deaf?—20 Years Later

By Trudy Suggs

Read the 1997 article or the 2007 article. Scroll down to see my thoughts about this year’s results.

For full text, contact the author.

(For a larger version, click on chart.)

A survey sent to 40 schools in the fall of 1997, revealed, to many people’s surprise, that no deaf school had a majority of employees who were deaf. Out of the 21 schools that responded, the highest percentage was 46% (at the Model Secondary School for the Deaf and California School for the Deaf in Fremont) — not even 50%. Following a close second was Maryland School for the Deaf, at 41%.

Ten years later, in the fall of 2007, this same questionnaire was distributed to 57 schools, with 46 responding. The highest percentage was 55% for Maryland School for the Deaf, with Indiana and Washington at 50%. Even so, the numbers remained the same or even lower at many other schools.

In the fall of 2017, this questionnaire was once again distributed, with 27 schools responding. In the past, only residential schools were contacted, but for this year, charter schools were also contacted.

The deaf staff percentages were higher this time around, with the highest percentage going to the Clerc Center (Kendall Demonstration Elementary School and Model Secondary School for the Deaf) at 78% of employees being deaf, and two charter schools following at 69% and 66%. Next were Maryland at 65%, Indiana at 64%, and California (Fremont) at 63%. There has also been an increase in deaf superintendents, with the number growing to 24 in 2017, according to a database compiled by Joey Baer, who is Deaf and works at the California School for the Deaf in Fremont.

However, it is crucial to recognize that the statistics include all levels of employment — from entry-level to administration. If each set of data were isolated by administration only, or teachers only, the numbers would likely paint a different picture. Just take a look at California School for the Deaf in Fremont’s breakdown of its numbers:

For a text version of this chart, please contact the author.

(For a larger version, click on chart.)

A light-skinned man with black-rimmed glasses and a salt-and-pepper goatee smiles into the camera. He is wearing a suit and a PSD pin.

Peter Bailey

Peter Bailey, Head of the Pennsylvania School for the Deaf in Philadelphia and Deaf himself, attributes the increase in the hiring of deaf employees to “the timing of modern changes. People are more aware of what deaf students need, such as full access and seeing adults just like them. In the past, we had limited resources and options, but now they’re more broad.”

Teaching Profession No Longer Top Choice
The low numbers of deaf employees at many deaf schools may be credited to a number of reasons, such as location, student population, and credentials, according to Bailey. “Schools in rural areas may have a harder time recruiting deaf employees, while schools in large cities generally have more choice in application pools. This is true for any job, really.”

A light-skinned, bearded man with brown hair is in a suit, smiling at the camera.

Dr. Bradley Porché

Dr. Bradley Porché, Superintendent at the New York School for the Deaf in White Plains (more commonly known as Fanwood), agrees. “Schools with larger student bodies typically have more applicants than those with smaller bodies, but at the same time, we’re not seeing the same pipeline churning out teachers as we have historically.”

Porché,who has been at Fanwood for nine months, cites increased accessibility and media visibility as possible reasons. “Social media may be a factor, in that younger generations are seeing people like Nyle DiMarco and other deaf people rise to incredible success,” he explains. “There are so many successful deaf people in a variety of fields, and as the media has reported, the teaching field is severely underrated, underpaid, and unappreciated. Teaching is an incredible profession, one that should be celebrated and respected. Yet many deaf people, just like their hearing counterparts, see the drawbacks to teaching and choose to go into other fields because they don’t want all the stress that comes with teaching.”

This echoes an observation by Texas School for the Deaf Superintendent Claire Bugen, who said in the 2007 article, “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. 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.”

In a September 2016 article in The Washington Post, a new study revealed that there was a nationwide shortage of teachers. The article reported, “Although nearly every state has reported teacher shortages to the U.S. Department of Education, the problem is much more pronounced in some states than others. But across the country, the shortages are disproportionately felt in special education, math and science, and in bilingual and English-language education.”

A post by McDaniel College about its Deaf Education program

Dean of Graduate and Professional Studies at McDaniel College J. Michael Tyler wrote in an April 4th Facebook post that the McDaniel deaf education graduate program was facing an uncertain future.

This shortage has affected deaf education training programs as well. On April 4, the dean of graduate and professional studies at McDaniel College, J. Michael Tyler wrote in an announcement shared on Facebook, “Due to ongoing enrollment issues in Deaf Education [sic], a decision has been made that we will be unable to start a new class in the fall of 2018. We will start a new class this summer, and all introductory courses will be offered. Graduate and Professional Studies faculty will work in the next 90 days to determine if there is a viable path forward for this program.” McDaniel, formerly Western Maryland College, has been a popular graduate program for those wanting to become teachers in deaf education.

Tyler further wrote, “Enrollment in Deaf Education [sic] has been in decline for a number of years. While low enrollments have created serious revenue issues, ultimately the College’s ability to deliver a strong, vibrant program that meets the needs of students pushed us to this point.”

Credentials
Credentials and certifications continue to be a challenge, as in 1997 and 2007. Testing standards have become so difficult that many choose to become paraprofessionals or teachers in fields that don’t require testing. In an attempt to address this, Minnesota passed a state law permitting deaf teachers to request exemption from the reading and writing portions of the examination process in order to gain licensure. As outlined on the Minnesota Professional Educator Licensing and Standards Board, “…an applicant who is deaf must complete the skills examination in mathematics adopted by the Professional Educator Licensing and Standards Board. The reading and writing skills requirements can be completed by either passing the examinations adopted by the Professional Educator Licensing and Standards Board or by an evaluation completed by board approved colleges and universities of demonstrated proficiency in the expressive and receptive use of alternative communication systems, including sign language and finger spelling as measured by the Sign Communications Proficiency Inventory (SCPI).

Bailey came to PSD after the school experienced numerous challenging years in which it had several heads of the school, community protests over board decisions, and strained community relations.  In under two years, Bailey has managed to repair many strained relationships, and increase the number of applicants by offering incentives for employees to pursue teaching credentials through reimbursed tuition, tutoring, and other options. “Whatever I can do to help encourage the growth of teachers who our students can identify with, the better,” he says.

Meanwhile, Porché points out that he’d like to see teachers be hired based on their work experience and knowledge, rather than testing. “I’ll always ask to see a teacher’s portfolio, because that tells me far more than what a teacher’s test scores do,” he says. “I always tell state legislature that teaching is an art and a skill that is acquired, not something you can just be tested on.”

The Lack of Diversity Among Employees
Another challenge is the lack of diversity among employees at deaf schools. Bailey says that at PSD, “We have about 74% of students of color, yet only 46% staff of color. The challenge for me then becomes: do I hire people who are deaf, or people who are of color? Ideally, we should hire deaf people of color, which I want to do. But we can only make do with what we have in our application pool, and try to reach out to diverse communities as much as possible.”

And this is a step Bailey takes seriously. He attended the National Black Deaf Advocates conference in Baltimore last year, and recalls, “I was surprised to see that only two superintendents were in attendance, and we were both deaf.” The other was Donald Galloway, Superintendent of the Lexington School for the Deaf in New York City. “Why were we the only ones there? How can we ensure that our schools serve underserved and oppressed populations if we don’t reach out? And how can we hire more people of color if we don’t pursue them?” Bailey asks.

Language Deprivation and Outreach Efforts
Yet another obstacle is that many deaf schools have become a last resort, rather than a first resort. Deaf students often come to deaf schools later in their educational years, severely delayed in language, socialization, and world knowledge. As a result, schools invest more time trying to catch these students up before they graduate.

Bailey notes that there are over a thousand students who are deaf or hard of hearing in the Philadelphia area, yet only 200 attend PSD. “Where are they? How do we bring them in earlier in their education, rather than later in their education after they’ve experienced language deprivation and delay, not to mention a lack of socialization or opportunities?”

This is a problem that Porché wrestles with. “A lot of time students are language deprived because of the lack of access to language at an early age. This places a stress on schools to try to address this language deficiency and to ensure that students receive quality education.” He notes that Fanwood shares with the community and parents that “deaf and hard of hearing children should be exposed to American Sign Language at an early age as a safety net regardless of hearing level or communication choices. We need to work with everyone to reach a common dialogue on how to best support deaf children.”

Bailey is also working hard to ensure that PSD becomes attractive not only to families of deaf and hard of hearing children, but also to potential employees and community members. As part of outreach efforts, Bailey has developed a solid relationship with neighboring communities, legislators, and even the Chamber of Commerce.

“By becoming more visible, it’s more possible we can reach out to more families,” he says. He also releases a monthly vlog on the PSD website, which has helped strengthen relations between stakeholders and the school board. “It’s my hope that with increased visibility, we’ll have increased student enrollment, which will naturally lead to increased employment opportunities and a greater applicant pool.”

Rising to the Challenges
Porché believes there are many solutions to the long list of challenges facing deaf schools.  “One potential solution is to invest more in early childhood education via an outreach or intervention program that would guarantee success across the spectrum,” he says. “We also need to ensure that key people who are deaf or hard of hearing are more involved in outreach so that parents are exposed to more than just a language. They need to see that there are successful deaf people in every area possible.”

Porché further suggests working at the legislative level to ensure that mandates for academic standards and language access are enacted, such as those supported by the Conference of Educational Administrators of Schools and Programs for the Deaf (CEASD): the Child First, Alice Cogswell, and Macy Sullivan Acts.

Porché also points to the Language Equality and Acquisition for Deaf Kids (LEAD-K), a nonprofit organization that is rapidly gaining momentum. LEAD-K states on its website that it works to “end language deprivation through information to families about language milestones and assessments that measure language milestone achievements, and data collection that holds our current education system accountable.” LEAD-K also works to ensure that all deaf and hard of hearing children, regardless of communication choice, are kindergarten-ready.

Indeed, more and more schools have turned to early hearing detection and intervention programs, ensuring that their schools are included in informational packets given to parents of newborn babies identified as deaf. For example, in Maryland, all parents are automatically referred to the Maryland School for the Deaf when their babies are identified as deaf.  More schools are also offering programs designed to accommodate students with cochlear implants.

Despite all the challenges, it is certainly motivating to note that there are now 23* superintendents of deaf schools or charter schools who are deaf. Porché, who is Deaf and was raised in a mainstreamed setting in Louisiana, says, “I grew up not having [access to] all the features a deaf school provides, such as full communication access, athletics, deaf role models, and much more. I’m now in a position to make sure every deaf or hard of hearing child has these opportunities. My leadership style is a reflection of my upbringing in a flawed deaf education system, and I want to make sure students today experience things I never did, and that I can give them what I didn’t have.”

Special thanks go to Joey Baer for his assistance with superintendent data.

*At the time of this survey last fall, there were 24 deaf superintendents. However, in March 2018, according to The Daily Moth, Nancylynn Ward was relieved of her duties as the Tennessee School for the Deaf superintendent after eight months on the job.


In the time since the 1997 article, I’ve had four kids, all Deaf (all born after the 2007 article). My oldest is now a fourth grader, and we’ve relocated from one state to another. Being the Deaf parent to Deaf children has added to how I experience the deaf education system. I’m also married to a Deaf teacher who has worked at four deaf schools, including a charter school, for 23 years.

An interesting result of this survey was that the first schools to respond were all Deaf. Yet so many schools were reluctant to share data, which isn’t anything new — they’ve been reluctant in the past, too, as I shared in the 2007 article. I suspect this reluctance is because of a few things:

  1. They didn’t want to admit that their numbers were nowhere near where they should be.
  2. In today’s social media age, they were uncomfortable with how this information might backfire and be used against them.
  3. They didn’t want to face that they were possibly perpetuating audism.

I didn’t bother chasing them after the second request for data. Schools should be forthcoming with their data, whether it’s about deaf people, people of color, communication philosophies, or anything else affecting schools — after all, this information is generally public information.

As I read through the data, I was struck by one thing: how many hearing employees continue to work at deaf schools. Mind you, I’m not talking about those who have direct relationships with the Deaf community, such as those with Deaf family members. Rather, I’m talking about those who have no direct relation to the Deaf community, and just work there by chance.

At the previous school my children attended and my husband worked at, there was a good number of Deaf employees. Yet the school was strongly hearing-centric. Many of the hearing employees had worked there for at least 10 years, even 20 or 30 years. Many still couldn’t sign fluently, of course. I often wondered why they stayed for so long, when so many Deaf people were struggling to get jobs at the school. Job security, perhaps. That school was in a very small town, where jobs weren’t as readily available as in a bigger town.

Many hearing employees obviously have the heart and soul for working with Deaf people — but are their intentions misplaced? Are they taking jobs away from Deaf people who already face a 70% underemployment/unemployment rate? I think so, yes; In most cases, they can find employment elsewhere more easily than their Deaf counterparts. They are also taking away opportunities for Deaf people to build the village our deaf children need.

The difference between a school that has a majority of Deaf employees and a school that has a majority of hearing employees is day and night. I should know; I’ve experienced both environments. My children are products of deaf schools, and I have seen firsthand the major difference a Deaf-centric school, staffed by mostly Deaf people, has made. Don’t get me wrong; hearing people absolutely should work at Deaf schools, but not as a majority. The hearing people who do work at my children’s school almost all have direct connections to the Deaf community, which is reassuring.

I’ve also seen how many schools have seen their enrollment numbers dwindle. We left the previous school for many reasons, one being that one of my children had no peers in his grade. He was four and performing well above his grade level, yet he was placed in a preschool classroom with two-year-olds because the school simply didn’t have anywhere else to put him. The school wasn’t willing to accommodate his academic needs, so we saw no option but to move.

At my children’s current school, each child has 15 students, give or take, in each grade, with plenty of peers, resources, and role models. With this critical mass comes an amazing array of opportunities in academics, athletics, and socialization. I’ve seen my children blossom at their school in ways they wouldn’t have at the old school simply because of this much-needed critical mass.

Yet I feel guilty for having left the old school. That school lost as many as 20 students within a three-year period to other, bigger schools. If the school dwindles in enrollment, that means job opportunities for Deaf people dwindle, students at that school are provided with fewer Deaf role models, and so on — a domino effect.

This is the classic “who came first” question: the chicken or the egg? Did we need to stay to help maintain the school’s enrollment numbers, or did we need to go where there was already a critical mass? We struggled with this decision, and chose the latter. The school we left has seen its enrollment dwindle from 130 to about 100 in just a few years. If that school should ever close, is it partly our fault? Or is it the school’s fault for not meeting our children’s needs? Which comes first?

There, of course, are other obstacles to employability among deaf people at deaf schools: teaching credentials, wanting to work in different fields, and job availability. Still, I think the numbers could certainly be as high as they are at the top schools listed in this survey. So why don’t we work toward that? After all, the numbers have steadily increased at many schools over the past 20 years — which I see as wonderful news.

What will the numbers be like in 2027? Your guess is as good as mine…that year, I’ll have three children still in high school. So I’ll see you then.

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My letter, 26 years later

Video description: Trudy Suggs, a white woman with brown shoulder-length hair, is wearing a purple v-necked sweater that ties at the neckline.  She is seated in a corner with brown bookshelves on her right and a sea blue wall on her left.

One of my favorite teachers, Barbara Turner, found an October 1990 letter I wrote to Silent News, a newspaper I later served as editor of for two years. As I re-read the letter (found at the end of this article), I was struck by what I wrote back then, especially given that I was only 15 years old.

My letter to Silent News, October 1990In 1990, I was deep in the trenches of what was then a deeply emotional discussion taking place everywhere. I remember sitting down in frustration after reading a few articles in Silent News, and pecking away on my electric typewriter. My perspectives stemmed from what I saw on a day-in, day-out basis. Today, I have mixed feelings about what I wrote (especially some of my word choices), although I do staunchly believe, as I did 26 years ago, that “a student’s best educational setting can only be determined by the individual — the child.”

I’ve also come to understand so much more about the mainstreaming versus deaf school controversy, and I’ve watched the pendulum swing back and forth. I’ve recognized that one of the challenges is ensuring that each family has full awareness of all the consequences of either choice. Most importantly, I’ve become a mother to four deaf children.

Looking back, I realize now just how oppressive many of the teachers were towards us Deaf students, except for Ms. Turner, in terms of audism, linguicism, and the most basic of respect. To be fair, that was the norm back then and still is the norm at so many schools today. This oppressive attitude spilled over into our daily perspectives of ourselves; I’ve written extensively about how I struggled with my self-esteem and identity because of these teachers. It’s bittersweet to think of how Deaf students, including me, thought we were “lucky” to be mainstreamed when in reality, this was dysconscious audism at its finest. We simply were indoctrinated to believe that hearing was better.

With that said, I was so fortunate to have had access to a Deaf family, the Deaf community, publications like Silent News and Deaf Life, and most importantly, Deaf friends and role models. My classmates didn’t necessarily have this same access, except through the three deaf families at my school. After all, the nearest deaf school was about four to five hours away. The school we attended didn’t really expose us to deaf role models on a consistent basis, although we did have guest speakers and attended a very few events with deaf students from other schools.

Let’s take a quick look at some of what I wrote.

“Some deaf students, in my opinion, will perform at their best abilities in mainstreamed settings, such as I do.”

Actually, I sucked at school. I was never a great student, and I never felt as if I was academically or even personally smart. I would struggle in class, trying to understand why I couldn’t follow along. I had to put up with teachers’ scorn, because they had higher expectations of me given that my papers said I was gifted and had skipped two grades at another public school. Today I realize I struggled because the interpreters weren’t qualified for the most part, and I didn’t have direct communication access. I had attended a deaf school for a year, but it wasn’t the best option at the time; also, my mother got remarried and we relocated to the Chicago area. Even though I was one of those students who participated in a million extracurricular activities and had a lot of hearing friends and even a hearing boyfriend, I never felt as if I really fit in. In between classes and after school, I would always run to my deaf friends and drink up every minute with them.

If I could do it all over again, I would probably have requested better interpreters, or perhaps homeschooling — or found a way to go to a deaf school again. Even with the best interpreters, the access still would not be equivalent to the access at deaf schools.

“I think all the controversy over whether to mainstream or to put a child in a residential school is overly absurd. . .

But I think it is totally ridiculous that people battle endlessly . . . Come on, let’s stop whining about this issue and concentrate on other things such as bringing deaf awareness into the hearing world and promoting deaf rights.”

Yikes. “Absurd,” “ridiculous,” and “whining” aren’t words I’d use nowadays. The controversy, which persists to this day especially in light of so many deaf schools closing, is a very serious topic — especially given the dramatic increase in solitary mainstreaming of deaf children. Even so, I thought, and still believe, that this controversy is putting the horse before the cart. The more pressing issue is ensuring that every child has access in the form of sign language along with whatever other communication mode(s) are accessible, and that every family has full information and is fully educated and aware of the importance of cultural and linguistic access in all aspects of the child’s life. Only when this has been achieved can we focus on educational options.

“Going back to my statement that a child can succeed in a setting that he feels most comfortable in, I can say that I know of many people who are thought of as role models today that come from both types of school. . .I do have a lot of hearing peers. So do a lot of the other deaf students in my school. But those deaf students and I socialize with deaf people outside of school — which counteracts with the often-found misconception that students who are mainstreamed are not proud of their deafness, do not socialize with other deaf people, and are sheltered from the deaf world.”

I still agree, but I also recognize that even with the oppression students at my school faced, we still had access to resources that are not available to many deaf mainstreamed students, such as direct instruction in ASL, Deaf-centric extracurricular activities, and even books and publications about ASL and Deaf people. Unfortunately, it’s even more of a fact today that so many mainstreamed students do not have access to or awareness of the Deaf community.

My high school also had a critical mass of deaf students — about 80 — as opposed to only 5 or 10 students. This was imperative, because it enabled us to have our own sub-groups, our own culture, and even our own vocabulary (just ask me how we signed “fump” or “gross”). The most important thing is that we developed a network among ourselves, and through the deaf families and extracurricular activities at school found other deaf people. Even so, this critical mass is nothing like the one I see at my children’s school nowadays, and I now fully realize just how much I missed out on.

“And I also know that residential schools are very remarkable in producing people that achieve so much for the deaf world. This does not need to be even said because it is almost a granted fact.”

Unfortunately, we do have to say this, because residential — or rather, Deaf schools — have gotten such a bad rap especially in the past 50 years. We need to go back to basics, and recognize that many people’s ideas of what deaf schools offer are often outdated and rooted in the outdated concept of “institutionalization.” Many Deaf schools offer a variety of programs and services, including audiology and spoken language, and offer comprehensive education. It’s also imperative to recognize that most of the community leaders in our storied Deaf history came from deaf schools, and that many community leaders also come from deaf schools. For example, the receptionist at the White House, Leah Katz-Hernandez, attended a deaf school. Claudia Gordon, a White House lawyer, attended a deaf school. Nyle DiMarco, the hottest star to hit Hollywood, graduated from a deaf school. The recent chair of the FCC disability office, who left the position a few weeks ago, Greg Hlibok, also comes from a deaf school. The list goes on and on.

Nowadays, that demographic may be changing — through no fault of our own. With mainstreaming forced upon more deaf students as a result of an increased reliance on technology, the closing of Deaf schools, dissemination of naccurate information, and a general lack of resources in many parts of the country, more and more community leaders will come from mainstreamed settings. Some of them have or will become successful leaders if they have tremendous resources and support at home; others will probably struggle with all the same issues of fitting in, self-esteem, language barriers, trying to do what others expect of them —on top of normal development challenges such as puberty and socialization. So it’s important for us to continue identifying successful people who have happily embraced the Deaf community and its culture, heritage, and language.

“If we could get more people to be aware of deafness and its glorious culture, then we could get parents to make the best and RIGHT decision about where to put their child for the best possible education. We do, after all, have to realize that each child is an individual and each has his own way of learning.”

Even as passionate as I am about the importance of Deaf schools and reviving the critical masses that once existed at every Deaf school, I still believe that each child has to have choices. If we could bring Deaf school numbers back to what exists at schools like Maryland, Texas, and Indiana, we’d have choices at each and every Deaf school instead of “resorting” to mainstreaming as a choice. By choices, I mean choices in educational methods, communication modes, services, courses, social circles, and so much more. Every child should have access to these choices without having to sacrifice full, complete, direct access to education and every aspect of school — especially socialization and world knowledge.

I will say this, though, as a final statement: many of my fellow Deaf students at Hinsdale South High School went on to have Deaf children. The majority of us, including me, have chosen to enroll our children at deaf schools. This alone speaks volumes.

Letter to Silent News Editor, October 1990

Dear Editor:

In response to all the letters about whether to put a deaf child in a mainstreamed setting or a residential setting, I would like to add some of my own comments, if I may.

I am a 15-year-old senior at Hinsdale South High School in Darien, Illinois. Yes, I am mainstreamed for all of my classes with the use of an interpreter, but I am also a former residential school student. So I can safely say I have an idea of what both worlds are like. And regardless of all the arguments I have absorbed about which school gives a student a higher reading/writing level, I strongly believe that a student’s best educational setting can only be determined by the individual — the child.

Some deaf students, in my opinion, will perform at their best abilities in mainstreamed settings, such as I do. Others will find mainstreamed settings too difficult or too easy and lean toward the residential school. I think all the controversy over whether to mainstream or to put a child in a residential school is overly absurd. If one scoffs at mainstreaming and says that deaf schools are the only way to go, or vice versa, then I believe that is a very subtle kind of discrimination. Who is one to say what another can do? This is a free country, and every one of us is an individual. I believe that a child can succeed anywhere he feels like he fits in the most.

My most vivid memory of leaving the residential school I attended was a staff member coming up to me and calling me a “traitor” to my face — simply because I was transferring to a public school with a program for deaf students. I will never forget the disgust and fury in his face as he spelled out that word to me. I was only 10 at the time. I think that’s exactly the type of picture that someone would NOT want a child to have.

Going back to my statement that a child can succeed in a setting that he feels most comfortable in, I can say that I know of many people who are thought of as role models today that come from both types of school. I come from a deaf family; so I know a lot of deaf adults who are very successful individuals and many of them come from public schools with a program for the deaf; and yet others tell me of their residential school experiences. I do not have an outstanding and superior level of speech — I firmly believe in the use of sign language, so do not think that I am a deaf person who marches around in life being oral. But I do have a lot of hearing peers. So do a lot of the other deaf students in my school. But those deaf students and I socialize with deaf people outside of school — which counteracts with the often-found misconception that students who are mainstreamed are not proud of their deafness, do not socialize with other deaf people, and are sheltered from the deaf world.

True, many mainstreamed people do need to be educated about the deaf world, but we are fortunate to have very many teachers at Hinsdale South who are knowledgeable about this. And there are students who have participated in all kinds of sports, such as soccer, basketball, baseball, and so on. And I am one of the editors of the school paper. And there are countless clubs that our deaf students have participated in. The program at Hinsdale South is living proof that NOT all mainstreaming programs are total failures.

And I also know that residential schools are very remarkable in producing people that achieve so much for the deaf world. This does not need to be even said because it is almost a granted fact.

But I think it is totally ridiculous that people battle endlessly about whether mainstreaming or residential schools are the best way to educate our deaf children. Come on, let’s stop whining about this issue and concentrate on other things such as bringing deaf awareness into the hearing world and promoting deaf rights. If we could get more people to be aware of deafness and its glorious culture, then we could get parents to make the best and RIGHT decision about where to put their child for the best possible education. We do, after all, have to realize that each child is an individual and each has his own way of learning.

Trudy Suggs
Westmont, IL

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

Full, unfiltered access to ASL and the world

whyisign(Reposted from my Facebook page, February 13, 2016)

My (deaf) daughters and I went out for dinner, and my four-year-old asked me why it rained. My oldest, eight years old, started explaining, but the younger interrupted and said, “My friend says it’s because God cries.” I said, “That could be true, too.” We all laughed and came up with different reasons (God sneezing, birds spitting, etc.) — all very silly and cute.

That led to a conversation about why it was cold outside, and how countries below the equator had opposite seasons. I described how the earth rotates daily and around the sun (thank goodness for ASL, because it helped them understand immediately) and how this related to why we count 24 hours and 365 days. I also showed them a few videos off the Internet showing the solar system and all that stuff. 

At that moment, it hit me: how lucky are we?! My girls and I have full access to communication at home and at school/work. I had that growing up, too. I can’t imagine how it would be if we didn’t have this full, unfiltered access to ASL, and subsequently, the world. We *never* have frustrations in communication with each other — not even for the most complex of topics.

That’s why it’s so important for parents like Cam (see previous post) to share their stories. I’m so grateful to Stacey Abrams for creating the Why I Sign page, and even more grateful to all the parents and family members who have responded overwhelmingly to that page. Teach deaf children to speak if it’s really important to you, but never, ever, ever at the expense of sign language or the child. I speak from experience, and so do my children. ‪#‎whyisign‬

The Power of the Written Word

My oldest, six years old, has started to understand how powerful the written word can be. I’ve been marveling at her acquisition of English as a second language and remembering my own acquisition. Still, when I saw a piece of paper on my table last summer, I was stunned. My grandmother, 91 years old at the time, was visiting us from Illinois. She and I have always had a very special relationship growing up; I stayed at her house so often that she was like a mother to me. Actually, she still is like a mother to me. She doesn’t sign other than homemade signs, although she says she wishes she did. She’s tried to learn many times, but has never really succeeded.

DSC00379 - Version 2Grandmother learned my mother was deaf when Mom was three. Like so many others back then, she was told to teach my mother to speak instead of sign. I don’t think she ever imagined she’d be the lone hearing person in my family, my children being fourth-generation deaf on their father’s side.   Whenever she’s at my house, she has never once complained when we all sign without including her—although I often feel guilty about that, and always try to have her know what we’re talking about. I remember asking her once at a restaurant when she was the only hearing person in a group of 11 how she felt being the only hearing person. She said, “I think it’s great.”

My children absolutely adore her for so many reasons, and they especially love her “spin” game where she spins the kids around by their legs on any smooth floor. It’s a sight you have to see to believe. The kids clamor for this game the very minute she enters the house, even as big as they are now.

So, last summer, I was cleaning and picking up random pieces of paper from tables and shelves and countertops. I took a second look at the blue piece of paper in front of me, because I recognized Grandmother’s handwriting. I also thought I recognized my writing, from when I was a child. I thought it was from my childhood. It wasn’t. IMG_4158

My heart warmed as I read it more carefully. It was a conversation my oldest had with Grandmother. I immediately reminisced about when I was six years old. My grandparents lived two hours away from me, and I spent practically every weekend and every break with them. I loved being at their house; it was the only stable home I had until I was much older. My best friend lived across the street from my grandparents’ house, and we made up all sorts of creative schemes. And Maid Rite! The best place to eat in Quincy, hands down.

Since my grandparents didn’t sign, and I didn’t speak, we had to find a way to communicate—especially when my mom wasn’t around to interpret. The answer was easy: we wrote back and forth. My granddad was a man of a few words, but full of mischief, which could be seen in how he wrote. My grandmother was always a wordsmith, the poet in the family. She and I would talk for hours. We’d watch THE PRICE IS RIGHT (which wasn’t captioned back then) when she was home from work, and she’d patiently explain the rules to me, or tell me what Bob Barker was saying. In fact, I credit this for much of my English acquisition, along with having ASL as a first language and reading.

IMG_4156When Grandmother tucked me into bed, she would sit next to me and write in a notebook. She’d ask, using rudimentary gestures, “TRUDY TODAY WHAT?” (“What did Trudy do today?”) I’d tell her what I did, and she’d make me fingerspell the words one by one, or she’d write the sentences out and make me read them. It was my all-time favorite activity with my grandmother. Today, the notebooks are my most cherished documentation of my relationship with her. She was the best at doodling next to the sentences, even though she scoffs when I tell her that her drawing skills are awesome. She still doodles on her cards and letters to me, which I get such a kick out of.

Happy 92nd birthday, Grandmother. Thank you for the loving and lasting impact you’ve left not only on me, but on your great-grandchildren as well.

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

Better Does Not Always Lead to Best

Better opportunities is a phrase I see thrown around casually, sometimes defiantly. It often comes from parents of deaf children who reject certain educational settings or American Sign Language (ASL) for their children, saying, “I want better opportunities for my children.”

Yet this phrase often unintentionally serves as subtle oppression. Several years ago, an expectant parent told my husband, “I really hope the child is hearing, because it’ll mean better opportunities for her/him.” This parent had two other children—one hearing, one deaf. Why would this parent belittle the deaf child by saying that having another hearing child would be better? Why in the world would being deaf equate to less desirable opportunities? [Read more…]

An Epilogue: Can I Speak Now?

This is a follow-up to an article I was invited to write for the NAD Monograph in 1997. To read the original piece, click here.

“A year to the day I was born, PL 94-142 was created. That’s when bureaucrats began to speak for me.”


– From the 1997 “Can I Speak Now?” article 

My Can I Speak Now? piece, written over 15 years ago, is one of my most popular articles. People often tell me that what I shared resonated with them because they, too, had similar experiences and frustrations. As I reread it today, I find it interesting how my perspectives have changed only slightly. The biggest change in my perspectives—at least until 2026—is that I will speak for my deaf children, but nobody else. It fascinates me how my children’s educational experiences are already so different from mine, and yet so similar.

I have chosen to enroll my four children—the oldest being five and the youngest being one—at a deaf school, because it’s clearly the best environment for them at this point in their lives. I also love the close-knit community here. But what I am most grateful for is my children’s unfettered access to communication 24 hours a day in school and at home. This comes from a Deaf-centric—and child-centric—educational environment and home environment.

With that said, one comment I got in response to the 1997 article stands out. Back in 1998, I shared the article with a mother of a deaf six-year-old; I was her supervisor at my then-job at a nonprofit agency serving the deaf community. She was still somewhat coming to terms with her child being deaf, and had chosen an ASL environment for her child’s education.

After she read the article, I asked for her thoughts. Her response was that I “sounded so angry like most deaf people.” This was the last thing I expected her to say, especially given our shared views on deaf education and communication options. Now, in retrospective, I realize it was because she was still new to the community and didn’t yet fully understand that this article and my experiences weren’t written in anger. Rather, it was a honest look at how the educational system has been for so many deaf people. Interestingly enough, later that year during a meeting with me, she got upset at not receiving a pay raise. As I looked away at the end of the meeting, she grabbed my jaw and turned my face so I’d look at her. Looking back at that incident, I realize now she was the one dealing with anger and I happened to be the nearest outlet for her.  I’d love to talk with her today and see if she still has the same perspectives she did back then. Her child is now college-aged, and doing very well from what I understand.

Back to the point: I continue to speak only for myself, because we each have such different experiences, perspectives and needs. I only hope that my children will grow up to become the best experts on what they need—not school professionals, not my husband or me, not anyone else. When they can speak for themselves, that’s when I’ll know I’ve done my job as a parent.

Bringing in the Right People

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

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

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

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

A time and place for everything

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

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

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

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

If it ain’t broken…

This article originally appeared in American Society for Deaf Children’s The Endeavor, Fall 2010.

I saw a post on Facebook recently that made me pause. A friend wrote that she had told her two-year-old son, “Mommy’s ears are broken, cannot hear…can’t hear, I use my hands to talk.” Her son then looked inside her ears to “see” what was wrong.

As the parent of three Deaf children under the age of two, I thought this was a cute anecdote. I also liked how she said, “I use my hands to talk.” But what made me pause was the mention of “broken.”

Let me go off in another, but relevant, direction. In recent issues of Reader’s Digest, which I have read faithfully since I was yea high, there were letters from parents of deaf children who proudly proclaimed that their children never let being deaf stop them. While I understood where the parents were coming from, I thought to myself, “Why in the world would they think in that framework?” [Read more…]

Can we all just get along?

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

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

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

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