Miss-Delectable
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http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/12/27/AR2005122700949.html
Inside the classroom, nearly an hour of silence was broken only by an occasional whisper, foot stomp or hand clap.
Communicating with facial expressions, eye contact, finger pointing and intricate hand signs, 27 students seated in a semicircle played a vocabulary-building version of bingo. Through an open door drifted the low hum of a busy public high school. Maya Yamada finally raised her voice.
"All right, you guys," she said. "Good job. Let's put everything back before the bell rings."
Most of the students heard every word. Yamada heard the bell faintly, in her left ear. She is profoundly deaf.
Yamada teaches Beginning American Sign Language, a popular elective for hearing students at Eleanor Roosevelt High School in Greenbelt and an essential course for a few who are deaf or hard of hearing. As the students rearranged desks on a recent day and headed to their next class, 12th-grader Rose Akca said: "There's no sleeping in that class. She creates a lot of interesting games. She's very involved in the way she gets you to practice. It just goes fast. She's a really good teacher."
Akca said Yamada's disability is a catalyst for the class. "You get to interact. You stomp your foot or wave your hand."
What these students know firsthand about Yamada has just been confirmed by an Arlington-based organization that has become the arbiter of excellence for teachers during the past decade: the National Board for Professional Teaching Standards.
Last month, the board certified Yamada and about 200 other Washington area teachers, a recognition that comes with thousands of dollars in bonuses and the prestige of joining their profession's elite. Only 47,500 teachers, out of about 3.5 million nationwide, are board-certified. Few have a life story like Yamada's.
In a news release praising the 20 Prince George's County teachers who received the honor, officials singled out the 37-year-old teacher, who runs one of two programs for the deaf and hard of hearing in the county's mainstream high schools.
"The school system is extremely proud of Ms. Yamada, who is profoundly deaf and achieved National Board Certification despite her disability," the announcement said.
Yamada is bemused by such sentiments. "You must think my life is one obstacle after another," she wrote in an e-mail interview punctuated with a laugh-out-loud exclamation. "It didn't occur to me until I started answering your questions. LOL!"
Yamada, who was born in Toronto, lost most of the hearing in her left ear and all hearing in her right when she was 6, for reasons that remain medically unclear. A device in her left ear amplifies sound, but she cannot distinguish speech. Her own speech remains intact, with little apparent effect from the hearing loss.
Yamada came to Washington at 18 to attend Gallaudet University and landed a job at Roosevelt High in 1996 after receiving a bachelor's degree in psychology and a master's in deaf and special education.
"When I discovered the deaf could teach the deaf, I knew I wanted to become a teacher," she wrote in the e-mail interview. She also answered questions orally during a visit to her classroom with help from a sign-language interpreter.
In spring 2004, urged by colleagues, she embarked on the quest for board certification. For more than a year, the application consumed hundreds of hours outside her regular classroom duties, requiring her to assemble a thick portfolio that included videotapes of her teaching students.
She paired up with Melissa Alfano, another deaf education specialist from Gallaudet who teaches in Prince George's. Alfano, who does not have hearing loss, met with Yamada many Saturdays at a coffee shop in Silver Spring to review their applications. Alfano favored chai lattes; Yamada, green tea.
Yamada's application told of a dance company she founded at Roosevelt High for hearing, deaf and hearing-impaired students; the group has performed in Japan, New Jersey, Florida and elsewhere. It recounted her founding of a hearing-loss support group for parents, students and teachers. It described how Yamada helped train Roosevelt High's general-education faculty on the needs of deaf and hearing-impaired students.
She also cited her ongoing work with Keyna Iwuagwa, a deaf 10th-grader from a Nigerian immigrant family. Yamada said she discovered that Keyna knew British Sign Language, a skill that previous academic assessments had overlooked. "Nobody knew," Yamada said. "That amazed me."
Yamada learned some of the British version -- which is distinct -- to connect with Keyna and begin to teach her American Sign Language.
Yamada and Alfano submitted their portfolios in the spring and then studied for tests a few months later to prove their special-education expertise. The results came last month: Both passed. Yamada called it "the biggest academic challenge I've ever had."
Besides accolades, the certification entitles Yamada to a $1,000 bonus from the school system to augment her salary of about $57,000. She'll also get a $4,000 stipend each year, paid by the county and state, for the 10-year life of the certificate.
She said she plans to use the bonus to buy a new hearing aid.
Inside the classroom, nearly an hour of silence was broken only by an occasional whisper, foot stomp or hand clap.
Communicating with facial expressions, eye contact, finger pointing and intricate hand signs, 27 students seated in a semicircle played a vocabulary-building version of bingo. Through an open door drifted the low hum of a busy public high school. Maya Yamada finally raised her voice.
"All right, you guys," she said. "Good job. Let's put everything back before the bell rings."
Most of the students heard every word. Yamada heard the bell faintly, in her left ear. She is profoundly deaf.
Yamada teaches Beginning American Sign Language, a popular elective for hearing students at Eleanor Roosevelt High School in Greenbelt and an essential course for a few who are deaf or hard of hearing. As the students rearranged desks on a recent day and headed to their next class, 12th-grader Rose Akca said: "There's no sleeping in that class. She creates a lot of interesting games. She's very involved in the way she gets you to practice. It just goes fast. She's a really good teacher."
Akca said Yamada's disability is a catalyst for the class. "You get to interact. You stomp your foot or wave your hand."
What these students know firsthand about Yamada has just been confirmed by an Arlington-based organization that has become the arbiter of excellence for teachers during the past decade: the National Board for Professional Teaching Standards.
Last month, the board certified Yamada and about 200 other Washington area teachers, a recognition that comes with thousands of dollars in bonuses and the prestige of joining their profession's elite. Only 47,500 teachers, out of about 3.5 million nationwide, are board-certified. Few have a life story like Yamada's.
In a news release praising the 20 Prince George's County teachers who received the honor, officials singled out the 37-year-old teacher, who runs one of two programs for the deaf and hard of hearing in the county's mainstream high schools.
"The school system is extremely proud of Ms. Yamada, who is profoundly deaf and achieved National Board Certification despite her disability," the announcement said.
Yamada is bemused by such sentiments. "You must think my life is one obstacle after another," she wrote in an e-mail interview punctuated with a laugh-out-loud exclamation. "It didn't occur to me until I started answering your questions. LOL!"
Yamada, who was born in Toronto, lost most of the hearing in her left ear and all hearing in her right when she was 6, for reasons that remain medically unclear. A device in her left ear amplifies sound, but she cannot distinguish speech. Her own speech remains intact, with little apparent effect from the hearing loss.
Yamada came to Washington at 18 to attend Gallaudet University and landed a job at Roosevelt High in 1996 after receiving a bachelor's degree in psychology and a master's in deaf and special education.
"When I discovered the deaf could teach the deaf, I knew I wanted to become a teacher," she wrote in the e-mail interview. She also answered questions orally during a visit to her classroom with help from a sign-language interpreter.
In spring 2004, urged by colleagues, she embarked on the quest for board certification. For more than a year, the application consumed hundreds of hours outside her regular classroom duties, requiring her to assemble a thick portfolio that included videotapes of her teaching students.
She paired up with Melissa Alfano, another deaf education specialist from Gallaudet who teaches in Prince George's. Alfano, who does not have hearing loss, met with Yamada many Saturdays at a coffee shop in Silver Spring to review their applications. Alfano favored chai lattes; Yamada, green tea.
Yamada's application told of a dance company she founded at Roosevelt High for hearing, deaf and hearing-impaired students; the group has performed in Japan, New Jersey, Florida and elsewhere. It recounted her founding of a hearing-loss support group for parents, students and teachers. It described how Yamada helped train Roosevelt High's general-education faculty on the needs of deaf and hearing-impaired students.
She also cited her ongoing work with Keyna Iwuagwa, a deaf 10th-grader from a Nigerian immigrant family. Yamada said she discovered that Keyna knew British Sign Language, a skill that previous academic assessments had overlooked. "Nobody knew," Yamada said. "That amazed me."
Yamada learned some of the British version -- which is distinct -- to connect with Keyna and begin to teach her American Sign Language.
Yamada and Alfano submitted their portfolios in the spring and then studied for tests a few months later to prove their special-education expertise. The results came last month: Both passed. Yamada called it "the biggest academic challenge I've ever had."
Besides accolades, the certification entitles Yamada to a $1,000 bonus from the school system to augment her salary of about $57,000. She'll also get a $4,000 stipend each year, paid by the county and state, for the 10-year life of the certificate.
She said she plans to use the bonus to buy a new hearing aid.