My whole life, I’ve talked with my hands. I point directly at objects, wave fingers loosely in directions of people, stab the air with gusto when caught up in the midst of a particularly passionate rant. All of this accompanied, of course, by my rapid rate of speech, peppered with distinctive mispronunciations and sheer butchering of spoken English – which, ironically, is not due to my hearing loss but to a wicked Boston accent, its existence which I have repeatedly denied.
I count myself among the fortunate that I am able to still understand – and be understood – through the use of spoken words. My hearing has been decreasing at unpredictable levels over the years, but while my ears are descending into silence my verbal channel is holding strong – much to everyone’s delight and dismay. However, reality took hold at my most recent audiology appointment, where I was gently, firmly and directly informed, “It’s time.”
It’s time for me – and eventually those around me – to start learning American Sign Language (ASL). I have reached the point of no return on the audiogram chart – there are not many lines left on the page, which foretells that the day is coming where hearing aids will no longer be a benefit, and I will likely need ASL as a “backup” to spoken word.
I knew this day was coming – but in what is both my greatest strength and weakness – I laughed at it all, blissfully joking it away and figuring I’d just deal with it “someday”, but never really believing that “someday” would arrive.
And here it is, that dependable Someday.
My experience with ASL has been limited – I took a class in high school and another in college, and over the years I dabbled here and there with books and video clips as it struck my fancy. I have a basic grasp of the fingerspelling alphabet and can recall and produce a smattering of signs, but my ability to converse and interpret ASL is close to nonexistent.
ASL requires quiet study.
I am not quiet.
Luckily, I turned to the quietest person I know for advice – and fortunately/unfortunately, he has a vested interest in learning ASL, too. As always, everyone’s favorite DHH BFF, and technology librarian, Brad, came to the rescue! Of course, he had a plan prepared before I finished my tirade about how I need to learn ASL for real this time – and set us both up on an app named MANGO.
MANGO consists of multiple learning modules that build upon one another, the teachers are fluent signers, there is a “mirror feature” where you can watch yourself making the signs, and all kinds of other cool things that Brad covers in his blog post this week, so I will skip the technical stuff and send you over to read his post instead.
I was very much onboard with learning ASL in a format that was self-guided and self-paced. I am extraordinarily busy and it would have been impossible to add another item to an already packed calendar. I knew that I needed to commit to this practice and take it seriously, so I made it a personal goal to work through each module, schedule practice times with Brad, and place high value on the opportunity we had to work together to acquire, internalize and use this language. I also knew that I wanted to get a strong enough handle on ASL so when I ask my family and friends to begin their studies, I could then support their learning and be an effective practice partner.
(And let’s be honest – it would be a lot for anyone to have loud, hand gesturing Italians all trying to learn a silent, gesture-based language at the same time. We’re doing this in stages for a reason!)
Brad set everything up (patiently) on my phone, complete with directions of how to use the app, navigate around the settings, etc. The next day I (impatiently) went into the app, saw that I was logged into Brad’s account, and decided that the technological wizard didn’t know what he was doing and logged myself out, determined to have my own account.
(I think we all know who was wrong here (me) and that there was a reason why someone (Brad) set up a shared account…I have now learned to not touch anything pertinent or mysterious on any of the technology we share…)
As usual, Brad cleaned up the mess I made of things (again) and I was poised to begin Module 1, Lesson 1! I was thrilled at how quickly I picked up the signs from the first lesson – and did remind myself on more than one occasion that it was because I had a working familiarity with most of the signs in this lesson based on past courses – but, undeterred, I continued on with the practicing feeling like I was well on my way to be a fluent ASL speaker.
I buzzed through Module 1 in less than a week, and decided to get a jump on Module 2! I popped open the first lesson for Module 2 and became instantly confused, overwhelmed and more than a little aggravated – because we’ve somehow made the leap from “Hello, my name is…” to “The garbage is in the garage” and “Stop by and see my new kitchen”.
As usual, I decided that I obviously knew better than this app and began ranting that this is not a logical order and the app is trash and this is ridiculous…of course, Brad – once again – has to clean up the mess I made… when he softly pointed out that each Module has multiple lessons nested within them.
I had somehow made the leap from Basic Introductions to This Old House.
I backtracked. I started Module 1, Lesson 2.
Let’s see how this goes…
We will be back to update all of you in future blog posts of our learning styles, how we are practicing together, if I am able to take this seriously, and if Brad is still speaking to me in any language!
Deaf, But Not Really: My Story 