ASL

I think I might have found my passion.

I have always wanted to learn American Sign Language. I don't know what it is about it; maybe the fact that you don't speak, or that you can communicate with people that the majority of other people cannot; whatever it is, I love ASL. I remember the first time I wanted to take ASL. I was at the Point Guard College basketball camp, eating lunch in the cafeteria. I saw in the corner a girl trying to buy something at the school store. She was deaf, and the cashier didn't speak ASL. I remember the confusion and awkwardness I saw them feel when they couldn't understand each other but wanted to. At that moment, I decided I wanted to learn sign language. I haven't thought about that moment in 3 years.

FWC offered a sign language class, and I desperately wanted to take it, but my schedule didn't work out. So since my junior year (when the FWC class started), I've tried to learn ASL through a classroom setting. One day a few weeks ago, I randomly had the desire to learn ASL again, so I emailed Laura Waldron, the teacher of the ASL class and a sponsor on the Thailand trip, and asked her what the best way to learn the language would be. She responded that books are good, but that cities normally have classes for ASL 1, so I should look around. I checked online and found that Abilene was offering an ASL course! So after a voicemail and a returned phone call, I decided that I would check it out, because it looked like I could do it.

The class meets six times at the Chavez South Park Recreation Center on Cherry and 8th. I was reading "Follow Me To Freedom" this afternoon, and I got to a section where Shane Claiborne discusses carbon awareness. I thought what the hell, I've got time, I can ride my bike there. So I grabbed my backpack and an extra shirt (us sweaters have to be prepared) and headed into the sunset.

The ride down was easy, and I got to see the streets of Abilene from a closer and slower perspective. I rode through a few neighborhoods until I found the Chavez Center, which is tucked in a neighborhood like an elementary school. I locked my bike to the bike rack and walked inside. There was a gym where middle-aged men were playing volleyball, several classrooms, and an office--a modest building. I stopped by the office after changing shirts, signed up for the class, and walked down the hall to the classroom. The receptionist in the office told me we had to have at least 3 people in the class for it to exist, and only one person was signed up. I hoped more people would go as I grabbed "Freedom" and began to read.

People began to trickle in: a boy and a girl who looked my age, an older woman, and a family of an elderly couple, a teenage girl, two young boys, a tiny girl, and a handicapped boy in a wheel chair. I immediately realized that the family was taking the class so everyone will be able to communicate with the young boy in the wheelchair, and my heart went out to them. The teacher came in and began to speak, and it was apparent she was deaf. She signed everything she said, I assume out of habit, a practice that will help me, if not learn the language faster, empathize with people who are deaf.

The class was short, because we didn't have text books and it seemed like Kat, the teacher, was a little overwhelmed. So we learned our sign language A,B,Cs and how to say "My name is ____." As I walked outside to my bike, I found that the back tire was completely deflated. I didn't understand at the time how severe it was and thought I could ride home on it, when Kat offered me a ride home. She had a Dodge Ram, so I threw it in the bed and hopped in.

Kat and I talked the whole way to Mabee. As we talked, I tried to speak slower and enunciate better, so she could read my lips. When I spoke, Kat would have to take her eyes of the road and focus on my lips. But she did most of the talking. She told me she has taught the class for 8 or 9 years, that she works for the Deaf Action Center and has worked there for 19 years. She has 3 kids, all deaf, which sucks, she said, because when they wander away she has to run and chase them down instead of calling their name (which she said she does anyway). She told me that there are only 50 or so deaf people in Abilene (I don't know how she knows that), and that they are mostly older. She has one friend her age who's deaf, but they never have time to hang out because she has to be with her kids. No social life, she said. She told me about a clinic in Florida that provides its own translator for deaf people, which is a big help. She said that going to doctors is hard because you have to higher your own translator, which is expensive.

I told her a little about myself, and by that time we were on Campus Court. I hopped out, grabbed my bike, said thanks, and locked up the bike. The whole time I was in class and then on the car ride home, I was thinking about sign language. My interest in it is high. But more than that, the deaf community is marginalized. Think about it. If a deaf person goes to ACU, they are screwed because teachers, speakers, anyone who is presenting anything don't have interpreters. Their only hope is to sit close and read the speaker's lips. Furthermore, I can't even imagine being deaf. You miss out on so much, on the sound of, well, everything. If I couldn't hear Julian Casablancas' voice, I don't know what I would do.

So what I'm thinking is that I can get involved with the deaf community here. If that means finding a school for deaf kids and tutoring, or baby-sitting Kat's kids, or something else, I would be fine with it. For some reason, I like the idea of being able to talk to people that others can't. They are the outcasts of society, ones overlooked because of something that wasn't their fault. Maybe this is how I can follow Jesus.