Silence

Today was the last day of my sign language class. The classes at my school go until level eight and I just finished level seven.

At this high level, most of the grammar and basic concepts are long covered. We spend the class time on vocabulary and deaf culture. One of the reasons sign language vocabulary is harder to learn than most other languages is cause it has only one-way lookup. A dictionary can only tell you the sign for a specific word. If you watch two people signing, you can’t take note of the sign one made and look it up in the dictionary. The only way to learn the meaning of that sign is by asking that deaf person. If you make a note of the sign and ask another deaf person, you’re likely to have missed a subtlety of the sign or the context, which would change the potential meaning of the sign immensely.

Even more frustrating than acquiring vocabulary is understanding deaf culture. There are so many aspects to a hearing person’s life that we take for granted. One of the discussions we had last week in class was about a deaf person going to the emergency room. Imagine your friend bleeding and you’re both deaf and you need help. Trust me when I say that it’s overwhelmingly frustrating. Or imagine being mugged and you approach a police officer. The possibility of getting immediate help is completely nonexistent for deaf people in a hearing world.

My firm hired its first deaf employee a few weeks ago. She is a network specialist. When you enter my firm, there is a four-month training program that is organized to prepare you for your job. After she was given interpreters, the girl insisted that she needed note-takers as well. I know that, initially, the coordinator thought that the girl was being picky and greedy. The fact is we take for granted that we hear with our ears and write using our eyes. We don’t need to look at something to be able to write it down. Deaf people hear with their eyes. If she’s watching the interpreter, she can’t take notes. Any second she takes her eye off the interpreter to write, she’ll be missing words.

Tonight, our teacher took my class to a restaurant after class. She told us that we’re not allowed to speak, so we can have a better understanding of what the world is for her, as she’s deaf. The six of us walked into the restaurant, signing and laughing and we were lucky to have a waitress who had a deaf mother so even though she knew Polish Sign Language, she knew enough to help us out.

The little trip made me realize more and more about what I take for granted. Sitting there, I knew that at any moment, I could speak if I got frustrated enough. I could explain what I really wanted to say with one word. Instead of having to use paper or mime. No matter how hard I try, I will never truly be able to live in the shoes of a deaf person, cause deep down I’ll always know that I have the choice to opt out while real deaf people don’t.

Previously? Intentions and Expectations.