Challenge #2 The Sign Language Class

Listen to me read the story here or read the text below:

As I peered around the corner into the room, my heart sank a little. The classrooms at the adult education centers often remind me of the asylums you see in the movies: white floors, white walls, white tables, white chairs. The only things missing are the padding and the jackets. As I walked to my seat, I tried to push this thought out of my mind and was thankful for the colorful strangers who surrounded the room, bringing this whitewashed space to life. At the front of the room was our somewhat shy and handsome teacher “Alex” who I excitedly greeted with a wave of the hand and a mouthed “hello”.

After taking my seat and settling in, I quickly looked around the class to see with whom I would be spending time over the next few days. At the front sat a woman with dark brown hair that stood out strongly against her pale skin. Just as I had asked myself why she was sitting so close to the front, almost next to the teacher, she suddenly looked at me and asked my full name. I told her slowly with a furrowed brow that surely communicated confusion. The sign language translator, who I had mistaken for a participant, promptly communicated my full name in sign language to the teacher. “Oh,” I thought, my shoulders lightening. “So that is how this will work. He will explain the grammar, and she will translate.”

For weeks, after booking the class, I had wondered how we beginners would communicate with our teacher and how we would come to an understanding about such complex topics as grammar and syntax and all those wonderful things that belong to a language. Any good language teacher teaches directly in that language, only cheating here or there, so that the student can become used to the language. Although reassuring, having a sign language translator seemed almost too easy.

And it was. Any relief I had felt at learning of her presence quickly disappeared. To my astonishment, once all participants had arrived and class slowly began, Alex explained to us in sign language that the translator would soon depart and we would be left to our own devices. In the meantime we could use the opportunity to ask any manner of question regarding deaf culture.

When I first came to Germany, it was difficult to communicate because I did not know the language, and although I was learning, everything seemed to pass by so quickly. It was a comfort to know that it was just a process and that I would soon, with lots of hard work, master the language. My initial frustration and seclusion made me wonder what it must be like for deaf persons who could not simply comfort themselves with the knowledge that they would soon speak the language. Their native language is German but “spoken” differently and only by a small percentage of the population.

So when Alex invited us to ask questions, I raised my hand and asked what the hearing population could do to encourage more inclusion. I was not surprised by his first response in which he explained the importance of closed captions or hard of hearing subtitles for television. Subtitling is not yet regulated in Germany as it is for example in the USA or the UK. Although German public channels offer now almost 100% of their programs with subtitles, the private channels offer very little to none. Still, there is hope that this will soon change.

His second answer referred to interactions he had had with groups of hearing people. He explained that there were times when he felt left out of discussions because of the language barrier. Alex spoke about how uncomfortable it is to be in a group and to not know what people are saying. He encouraged us to make an effort to include everyone in the conversation. Little did any of us know, we would all soon be put together in this exact situation.

Shortly after our talk, the translator left the room and the language portion of the class began. We started with the finger alphabet, spelling our names and introducing ourselves using this “new” form of communication. Eventually, we went on to create basic sentences, practicing in pairs. We spent days together learning and enjoying this new language.

After class I was often spent. The language required me to use a part of my brain that I had not used to that extent before. Sign language is very visual. We had to focus on the hands and the face, and all were moving constantly. We had to be quick and present in order to keep up with what our partner was communicating.

On one particular evening, after an exciting but taxing class, we all filed out of the classroom and made our way to the subway station. We stood somewhat together in that awkward, silent way that new acquaintances sometimes will do. Shortly after the subway drove into the station, our teacher appeared. He jumped into the train just before the doors closed. We greeted him cheerfully and sat down all together in the train. The group discussion that had been taking place immediately dissolved. Many of my classmates began to talk amongst themselves. Only a few of us sat there uncomfortable, glancing at our teacher who was becoming more and more engrossed in his smartphone. I am sure those few of us, who sat there fidgeting, all had Alex’s words of inclusion ringing in our ears.

So, although we hadn’t covered transit vocabulary yet, I leaned forward and asked Alex in my most broken sign language: “You drive with…” The “…” should represent a crazy wave of the hand that should mean subway or tram. He smiled at my effort and signed that he would take the subway home. I signed, as best as I could, that I had to transfer to the tram. My neighbor joined in and asked the teacher to sign the words for tram and subway again. One by one each of my classmates joined in and began asking all kinds of questions, helping each other when they were unsure of the sign for a particular word. Even a few strangers on the subway joined in and learned a few words in sign language. My stop came, so I quickly said goodbye and jumped out of the train.

That evening I understood the biggest lesson that this course would teach me: Exclusion sometimes has more to do with insecurity and inhibitions than with bigotry. On the subway, when many of my classmates began talking amongst themselves, ignoring our teacher, one could have been upset and judged them for their insensitivity. However, considering the excited conversation that immediately ensued once the ice was broken, I am convinced they were simply unsure of how to include Alex in the conversation. At that moment I promised myself to remember this in moments when exclusion is taking place. It is not judgement that is needed in difficult, social situations. Sometimes people just need compassion and a gentle push in the right direction.