After careful deliberation, I have decided that my new title should be: "Rachel Baker, Gallaudet University Plaza Dining Hall Food Comprehension Facilitator."
Let me give you a little background info, so that you can follow along. This fall, I am doing a transfer term at Gallaudet University in Washington, D.C., which is the only liberal arts college for the Deaf in the world. It is the mecca of the Deaf World -- everything and anything is communicated in American Sign Language. Essentially, my beautiful voice is getting a three-month rest, and my hands are taking over.Gallaudet has no Larry James, no DDS and no Homeplate. We must be tough, eating at only one cafeteria and choosing from two entrees, neither of which is ever truly spectacular. And, to add insult to injury, the food's little name cards give no hint as to what the entre actually contains; "Spinach Surprise" and "Yummy Cheesy Bake" make frequent appearances.
Which is where I, one of about 10 undergraduates on campus who can hear, come in. I often feel as though it is my sole purpose on this earth to tell the Gallaudet students what is in their food. Countless times, I have been summoned from my spot in the taco line to the "chef's special" counter, where I will balance my tray and even-though-they-claim-they-wash-them-in-140-degree-water-they-still-look-pretty-freakin'-dirty-to-me silverware in one hand, while I interpret the chef's description of the "Mama Mia Mushroom Bake" with the other -- often adding my own comments: "I think it is the same thing they served last Thursday, but now it has tomato sauce."
Even though these interpretations temporarily postpone my own meal, I really don't mind. I think that every piece of information should be available to all Gallaudet students; it isn't right that at the only college for the Deaf in the world, the students can't even figure out what they are eating. I really think that the kitchen staff should learn ASL; this would solve a lot of problems and expedite the eating process for me personally. Unfortunately, someone forgot to put me in charge.
However, my cafeteria tribulations are merely a small contribution to the experiences and frustrations I have come across in my time in the Deaf World.
This is my first encounter with total language immersion. It is a new and challenging experience to have to think carefully about everything I say. I have told people that I have husbands and wives, tests and economies, chicken pox and championships, all unknowingly. It is frustrating, albeit undoubtedly amusing, to lie constantly every day without even knowing it. I have also had the token experiences of miscommunication, where no matter what I say or do, I just can't be understood. It is this kind of scenario that has garnered me my newest archenemy -- the very, very mean librarian who couldn't understand that I really knew exactly what book I wanted, but just couldn't find it. But as the months pass, I have been able to watch my language skills progress. Randomly, I will be having a conversation and suddenly realize that I am using all sorts of new words and phrases.
But this kind of experience is a common occurrence; anyone who has learned a second language surely understands my agony and amazement. More challenging to grasp and manage have been the cultural differences.
For the first time in my life, I feel like an outsider looking in. Initially, my language abilities were definitely to blame. I didn't have a firm enough grasp of the language to fully express myself and immerse myself in the culture. Yet as my language has improved to the point of comfortable conversation, my acceptance and inclusion into the core of the deaf community has still been minimal. It is a strange phenomenon to feel like such a foreigner in my own nation's capital. My hearing humor does not translate, and deaf humor goes completely over my head. I am, in many ways, an "ESL" student.
I am very much a minority and somewhat of a resented minority at that. For all their lives, the Deaf have felt oppressed at the hands of the hearing. We, as a whole, have belittled their language and stripped them of rights. Now, obviously I am not personally responsible for any of this, and such instances have reduced in number in recent years, but I still feel the repercussions. It is often hard for me to gain the confidence of a Deaf person, and I am discouraged by my lack of success in involving myself in the true Deaf community.
But, for all my frustrations and strange experiences, this is a semester I would never trade. I am getting an experience few middle class white girls get -- to be an outsider. As a result, I think I have gained insight and empathy. Dartmouth, and all of the comfort, merriment and acceptance that comes with it, could never give me that.
And, most importantly, where else, other than Gallaudet, could one sing vulgar songs from "South Park" loudly in the library without fear of offending? That's right, nowhere. All in all, Gallaudet's not treating me too badly.
