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Cultural divide exists between hearing and deaf | ShreveportTimes | The Times
Language brings people together, but it can also create isolation. Because there is a disconnect between the hearing and deaf worlds, deaf people have developed their own culture.
In the deaf community, there are sub-categories of deafness called "big D" and "little d." Peggy Gray, a local American Sign Language interpreter, explains, "'Big D' is going to deaf school, my friends are deaf, we attend deaf events and are on a deaf bowling team. And the people who have had that experience consider themselves culturally deaf."
In contrast, Greg Pawlikowski, 54, of Shreveport, said, "I think I'm 'small d' because I can socialize with hearing people like with deaf people. My wife is more drawn to the hearing world. I think I'm more half and half."
Pawlikowski, a civil draftsman for the city of Shreveport, has very limited hearing, went to an oral school and learned sign language in high school. He also speaks as he signs, and if he talks slowly enough he can usually communicate with his co-workers and boss without reverting to writing notes. He and his wife Brenda, who is very hard of hearing but does not use sign language, have hearing friends and their two grown boys are hearing.
However, Pawlikowsi's communication with the hearing world, as is the consensus with others at the Deaf Action Center, is not always a pleasant experience, like recently when someone in downtown flagged him down to ask for directions and sped off after becoming frustrated.
"I'm trying to be a helpful person, but I don't know if they accept me as a deaf person because it's hard to communicate with a deaf person. It just depends on the hearing person, if they can have patience."
Even at home, acceptance, patience and communication are often problems for deaf people. Only one in 10 parents can effectively communicate with their deaf child, said Greg Hebert, director of development for the Deaf Action Center of Louisiana.
Frances Hunter, 57, of Shreveport, whose parents were both hearing, wanted her to learn to speak so they sent her to an oral school, but was deemed an "oral failure" by the school and was thrown out. She was then sent to The Louisiana School for the Deaf in Baton Rouge, and her parents were very disappointed.
Clash of cultures
"My parents didn't want me signing," Hunter said. "They thought signing was very gross."
In the hearing world, the compulsion is to "fix" deafness, whereas deaf people value their deaf experience, Gray said.
Some of the "grossness" may be a simple clash of cultures. In the hearing world, pointing is impolite. In the deaf world, indexing or pointing is essential for communicating.
Also, to express extremes, such as someone angrily stomping out of the room versus walking out quietly, it requires the person to use exaggerated facial features and arm movements. This often seems strange to passersby, said Gray.
Because signing is a visual language, deaf people are often considered brutally honest or rude. When Gray first began interpreting, she remembers deaf people trying to jog another's memory about who she is, and they would fill their mouths with air, like a chubby-cheeked chipmunk, to sign "fat."
"It's not offensive," Gray said, "it's visual identification."
Soon, she was given her sign name. Deaf people usually do not spell out their names when meeting others. Instead, they have a sign, usually given to them by another deaf person, that becomes their name. Gray's sign name is the first letter of her name combined with the sign for the color gray.
Often this sign is a combination of a person's initial or initials and a dominant feature, or if you name is the same as the sign for an already existing word, Gray said.
Spreading the word
Gray often introduces these differences to people when talking about sign language, as she did at Creswell Elementary School's career day Jan. 9.
She's spreading the word about interpreting as a career because there's a shortage, which is especially pronounced in Louisiana. About 60 percent of interpreters relocated to other states after Hurricanes Katrina and Rita hit, Hebert said.
And Gray says a lot of people don't even realize American Sign Language interpreting is a job, and she blames schools. "We're not starting early enough."
The Registry of the Interpreters for the Deaf Inc., the national professional association of sign language interpreters, has declared a "national interpreter crisis in the quantity, quality and qualifications of interpreters."
Despite ASL being recognized as fulfilling the foreign language requirement for Taylor Opportunity Program for Students, sign language is not being taught at any public schools in Shreveport or Bossier City.
"It would foster interest and provide access to deaf people," Gray said.
By access she means that if a hearing person and a deaf person attended the same party, the hearing person might be able to sign a few words to at least tell the deaf person where to find the bathroom or food or even have a short conversation.
To compound this problem, there aren't any local colleges or institutions offering interpreting programs; New Orleans is the only place in-state that offers it. "You have to leave to make that a career choice," Gray said.
As of now, interpreters can graduate through a two- or four-year ASL interpreting program, take a test and become nationally certified.
In 2011, all that will change and nationally certified interpreters must also have a bachelor's degree.
When Gray is hired as an interpreter for a student, she has to do her homework, sometimes literally. "If they have to read six chapters, I have to read six chapters."
She's interpreted everywhere from a doctor's office for appointments to underwater for scuba diving, and must prepare for each by doing research.
"You have to have a broad education to go into these situations," Gray said. "There's no such thing as just an interpreter."
Language brings people together, but it can also create isolation. Because there is a disconnect between the hearing and deaf worlds, deaf people have developed their own culture.
In the deaf community, there are sub-categories of deafness called "big D" and "little d." Peggy Gray, a local American Sign Language interpreter, explains, "'Big D' is going to deaf school, my friends are deaf, we attend deaf events and are on a deaf bowling team. And the people who have had that experience consider themselves culturally deaf."
In contrast, Greg Pawlikowski, 54, of Shreveport, said, "I think I'm 'small d' because I can socialize with hearing people like with deaf people. My wife is more drawn to the hearing world. I think I'm more half and half."
Pawlikowski, a civil draftsman for the city of Shreveport, has very limited hearing, went to an oral school and learned sign language in high school. He also speaks as he signs, and if he talks slowly enough he can usually communicate with his co-workers and boss without reverting to writing notes. He and his wife Brenda, who is very hard of hearing but does not use sign language, have hearing friends and their two grown boys are hearing.
However, Pawlikowsi's communication with the hearing world, as is the consensus with others at the Deaf Action Center, is not always a pleasant experience, like recently when someone in downtown flagged him down to ask for directions and sped off after becoming frustrated.
"I'm trying to be a helpful person, but I don't know if they accept me as a deaf person because it's hard to communicate with a deaf person. It just depends on the hearing person, if they can have patience."
Even at home, acceptance, patience and communication are often problems for deaf people. Only one in 10 parents can effectively communicate with their deaf child, said Greg Hebert, director of development for the Deaf Action Center of Louisiana.
Frances Hunter, 57, of Shreveport, whose parents were both hearing, wanted her to learn to speak so they sent her to an oral school, but was deemed an "oral failure" by the school and was thrown out. She was then sent to The Louisiana School for the Deaf in Baton Rouge, and her parents were very disappointed.
Clash of cultures
"My parents didn't want me signing," Hunter said. "They thought signing was very gross."
In the hearing world, the compulsion is to "fix" deafness, whereas deaf people value their deaf experience, Gray said.
Some of the "grossness" may be a simple clash of cultures. In the hearing world, pointing is impolite. In the deaf world, indexing or pointing is essential for communicating.
Also, to express extremes, such as someone angrily stomping out of the room versus walking out quietly, it requires the person to use exaggerated facial features and arm movements. This often seems strange to passersby, said Gray.
Because signing is a visual language, deaf people are often considered brutally honest or rude. When Gray first began interpreting, she remembers deaf people trying to jog another's memory about who she is, and they would fill their mouths with air, like a chubby-cheeked chipmunk, to sign "fat."
"It's not offensive," Gray said, "it's visual identification."
Soon, she was given her sign name. Deaf people usually do not spell out their names when meeting others. Instead, they have a sign, usually given to them by another deaf person, that becomes their name. Gray's sign name is the first letter of her name combined with the sign for the color gray.
Often this sign is a combination of a person's initial or initials and a dominant feature, or if you name is the same as the sign for an already existing word, Gray said.
Spreading the word
Gray often introduces these differences to people when talking about sign language, as she did at Creswell Elementary School's career day Jan. 9.
She's spreading the word about interpreting as a career because there's a shortage, which is especially pronounced in Louisiana. About 60 percent of interpreters relocated to other states after Hurricanes Katrina and Rita hit, Hebert said.
And Gray says a lot of people don't even realize American Sign Language interpreting is a job, and she blames schools. "We're not starting early enough."
The Registry of the Interpreters for the Deaf Inc., the national professional association of sign language interpreters, has declared a "national interpreter crisis in the quantity, quality and qualifications of interpreters."
Despite ASL being recognized as fulfilling the foreign language requirement for Taylor Opportunity Program for Students, sign language is not being taught at any public schools in Shreveport or Bossier City.
"It would foster interest and provide access to deaf people," Gray said.
By access she means that if a hearing person and a deaf person attended the same party, the hearing person might be able to sign a few words to at least tell the deaf person where to find the bathroom or food or even have a short conversation.
To compound this problem, there aren't any local colleges or institutions offering interpreting programs; New Orleans is the only place in-state that offers it. "You have to leave to make that a career choice," Gray said.
As of now, interpreters can graduate through a two- or four-year ASL interpreting program, take a test and become nationally certified.
In 2011, all that will change and nationally certified interpreters must also have a bachelor's degree.
When Gray is hired as an interpreter for a student, she has to do her homework, sometimes literally. "If they have to read six chapters, I have to read six chapters."
She's interpreted everywhere from a doctor's office for appointments to underwater for scuba diving, and must prepare for each by doing research.
"You have to have a broad education to go into these situations," Gray said. "There's no such thing as just an interpreter."
