Gabriela Cevallos manipulated her fingers to form a sentence, and then a story.
She couldn’t really talk to her parents when she was growing up. They didn’t know sign language, and she didn’t speak Spanish.
"I always felt alone," Cevallos said, her hands moving quickly as an interperter kept pace. "It was so upsetting."
Her family, immigrants from Ecuador, settled in Newark in 2001 for a better life and to help their daughter. She was a 6-year-old drowning in silence and grasping at ways to hear and be heard.
But Letta Cartwright, a teacher’s aide, could hear the shy little girl in need of a friend. Cartwright is deaf, too.
At Newark’s Bruce Street School for the Deaf, Cartwright became the bridge between the young girl and her family, a big sister who showed that life could be wonderful for people like them.
"Her innocent eyes met mine and we hit it off," Cartwright said. "It is like Gabriela and I are made for each other."
The Big Brothers Big Sisters State Association of New Jersey thinks they’re special, too. Cartwright, 42, was recently named the group’s Big Sister of the Year for a one-of-a-kind relationship that illustrates how mentoring has no boundaries.
Cevallos finally had someone who could understand her, and Cartwright never let her down. She took her little sister to Deaf Fests, where there were balloons rides and mud wrestling. They talked away at Deaf Chats, which were social gatherings. There were camping trips in the woods and states Cevallos had never visited.
A DIFFICULT PAST
Today, the once-timid child who never smiled is now an outgoing 17-year-old sophomore at the same high school Cartwright had attended — the Model Secondary School for the Deaf in Washington.
Gabriela Cevallos, left, and Letta Cartwright meet in Newark to have lunch. Cartwright and Cevallos have the relationship that Big Brothers Big Sister organizations strive to promote.
Patti Sapone/The Star-Ledger
"She showed me that just because you’re deaf you don’t have to let your disability stop you," Cevallos said.
The state association submitted its story to the national organization, hoping they would be won over, too.
It doesn’t matter to Carlos Lejnieks, executive director of Big Brothers Big Sisters of Essex, Hudson and Union counties. Lejnieks said the connection between Cevallos and Cartwright, even after they joined his chapter in 2006, showed how adults can change the lives of children, regardless of the challenges.
"The power of mentoring can still be felt as Letta and Gabriela have exhibited through signing and the bond they have been able to have," he said.
Before Cartwright appeared, life for Cevallos was a series of gestures punctuated with frustration.
She pointed at things when she wanted to let her family know what she wanted. Sometimes it worked, other times it didn’t. Her mother, Janeth Sarmiento, said Cevallos stayed in her room and shunned family gatherings because she couldn’t hear the conversation. She didn’t play outside, either. What was the use when the other kids didn’t know sign language?
Things had become so bad that when Cevallos was 8 she packed her clothes after school one day and ran away.
"I wanted to get out," she said. "I didn’t know what to do."
As a young teenager, Cevallos rebelled even more, talking back to her parents.
Cartwright, who is single and childless, wondered at times what she had gotten herself into.
"I kept reassuring her, I’m your big sister, I’m here for you," she said.
Cartwright remembered how she leaned on her own mother for support while growing up, and she wanted to be the backbone for Cevallos.
Using bilingual interpreters versed in sign language, Cartwright told Cevallos’ parents to be patient on those bad days. She encouraged them — as she does with all parents of deaf children — to learn sign language. Too often families ignore their kids instead of embracing the disability, she said.
EVERYTHING'S 'ALRIGHT'
For Cevallos and her mother, the dog days are gone. They are much closer, and they can hear each other now.
Cartwright counted on this happening one day, but she never thought anyone would honor her for the time she spent with a young person.
At at luncheon in Newark for Cevallos and Cartwright, the young girl smiled about the recognition.
Cartwright expressed herself another way. She held her hands just above her head, then crossed her pointer and index fingers.
"Alright,’’ she signed, holding her fingers tightly. "Alright.’’
