Friday evening, before we eat dinner, as part of our Shabbat celebration, my husband blesses our children with a traditional blessing.
He has always done this going from the oldest child to the youngest. Of course, as the children have migrated away, first leaving for college and then for jobs, the number of children in line for this has dwindled, so most Shabbats the only child is the youngest, as she gets the first and last blessing of the evening.
For now, however, Aaron is home from college and he is the first child in line, this Friday.
My husband starts to bless him, and he has shifted his voice down to a low register. In other words, my husband is making the blessing using the voice of a 250 lb football player.
When he finishes, he asks Aaron if he can hear him better with a deeper voice.
He has been doing this for years, so we are all a little surprised that he is now asking this.
My husband explains that a few years ago, a deaf friend of ours from Cleveland mentioned to him that his voice is hard to hear because it is relatively high.
My son hesitates for a moment and says, “Dad, the reason your friend has trouble hearing your voice is because he is deaf.”
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Story of the Day 11/26/2010
At dinner, I told Aaron that I had an odd experience when I was driving downtown, Tuesday evening, for the Pacer’s basketball game. There was heavy traffic, heavy by Indianapolis standards. And I thought, “This is really light traffic compared to many large cities.” And then I thought about how it had seemed very heavy to me, and the city seemed so large, when we moved here 17 years ago from a small town.
My son told me that he always thought that Indianapolis was a small city, until he went off to college in Muncie, Indiana.
]
Esther added, “It is a small city, witha huge suburb. Like a tumor.”
I am sure this will look good on the promotional materials for the tourism bureau
My son told me that he always thought that Indianapolis was a small city, until he went off to college in Muncie, Indiana.
]
Esther added, “It is a small city, witha huge suburb. Like a tumor.”
I am sure this will look good on the promotional materials for the tourism bureau
Story of the Day 11/ 23/ 2010
Esther is home for the holiday.
She finds it very stressful to be around us, so she usually limits her visits to very short ones.
We all know this. We all admit this. We even admit that the reason is that we annoy her.
A lot.
This morning, we were talking and I told her that maybe she could keep a chart of how much we are annoying her. I told her , “ You could put down that you’ve been home a whole day and we haven’t annoyed you very much , yet!”
Esther replied, “It hasn’t been 24 hours yet, Mom!”
“Well, I was being optimistic, “I explained.
“Don’t count your chickens before they die.”
Maybe the chart was a bad idea…….
She finds it very stressful to be around us, so she usually limits her visits to very short ones.
We all know this. We all admit this. We even admit that the reason is that we annoy her.
A lot.
This morning, we were talking and I told her that maybe she could keep a chart of how much we are annoying her. I told her , “ You could put down that you’ve been home a whole day and we haven’t annoyed you very much , yet!”
Esther replied, “It hasn’t been 24 hours yet, Mom!”
“Well, I was being optimistic, “I explained.
“Don’t count your chickens before they die.”
Maybe the chart was a bad idea…….
Story of the Day 11/18/2010
Sarah’s class had a substitute teacher. Geography class.
And the geography teacher, I mean sub, asked a math question.
How many grams were in an ounce?
A boy who sits near Sarah ‘s hand shot up, and he gave the teacher the correct figure.
The sub was very impressed with the speed and accuracy shown by the young man. “You must be a real math whiz!” he exclaimed.
Sarah was surprised, since this boy usually sits immobile in class with his eyes closed or half closed. She might have accepted the fact that geography wasn’t his “thing” and math was except that sitting behind the interpreter was a girl who said, in a quiet voice- a voice too quiet for the sub, but loud enough for the interpreter to hear and interpret, “That is because he sells drugs. He is really good at anything related to them.”
And the geography teacher, I mean sub, asked a math question.
How many grams were in an ounce?
A boy who sits near Sarah ‘s hand shot up, and he gave the teacher the correct figure.
The sub was very impressed with the speed and accuracy shown by the young man. “You must be a real math whiz!” he exclaimed.
Sarah was surprised, since this boy usually sits immobile in class with his eyes closed or half closed. She might have accepted the fact that geography wasn’t his “thing” and math was except that sitting behind the interpreter was a girl who said, in a quiet voice- a voice too quiet for the sub, but loud enough for the interpreter to hear and interpret, “That is because he sells drugs. He is really good at anything related to them.”
Story of the Day 11/ 16/2010
I had an appointment at the doctor’s today.
Last week, I had an appointment with the audiologist. I am trying to get new hearing aids. This all started about 11 months ago. I had an appointment with the ENT and after the audiologist at his office tested me, it was decided that I definitely needed new hearing aids. Of course, since we are talking about me, it took me 11 months to get around to doing it, and then the audiologist let me know that the audiogram was too old to use, and he needed to do another one. Well, after he tested me, he sat down and explained that he could not fit me for hearing aids. I needed to go back to the doctor, because my audiogram had not only changed, but I now had a spike – a hearing loss- at 1,000 Hz in both ears. This could indicate an actual medical problem…so, he faxed the audiogram over and the ENTs office called me so promptly that I almost hadn’t arrived home yet. This was a new ENT. Okay, that isn’t true, this is an ENT I hadn’t been to in several years, but the one I had been to within the past year was no longer part of our insurance network.
This brings us to my appointment this morning.
You see, last week, the ENT’s office mailed me a packet of papers that I needed to fill out. I did and I brought them with me and arrived at the office more than 15 minutes before my appointment time. This was in adherence to the instructions in the packet.
I gave the receptionist my driver’s license and my insurance card and sat down to wait for my appointment.
After about 10 minutes, the receptionist called me over. She wanted me to fill out a new form. Well, it was the same form I had already filled out at home and given to her; but, as she explained, I had filled out the first one wrong. I did not sign and say that I had received the office’s privacy policy. Instead I had written the word NOT in before signing it.
I explained that I had filled the form out correctly, since they had definitely not given me a copy of the policy.
She explained that she was not the person who sent the packets out and she wasn’t involved with why they hadn’t sent me one. I said that was fine, but they hadn’t, and now I was being asked to sign, again , for something they hadn’t given me. She points down towards the other end of the counter and tells me there are copies in a folder over there. I took one.
Then she asks me to sign the new form. I told her, “No.”
I told her that I was accurate in what I had written on the form- that I was asked to sign, but not given the policy. I told her that if she wanted me to sign another form, I needed a letter on their letterhead that they had first asked me to sign it (twice without giving me the policy. If she wanted to do that, I would be happy to sign a new form that they had given it to me. Otherwise, what I had written and signed was correct.
She told me that she couldn’t do that and she needed to speak with the office manager.
“Alright,” I said, and sat down to wait.
I sat and thought about how this wasn’t nearly as bad as the time I went to the breast center for my mammogram, and they wanted me to sign the form. And I wrote on it that they asked me to sign the form, but hadn’t provided me with the policy.
That time, the woman gave me a second form to sign- she told me she couldn’t’ accept the first form- that I had corrected to reflect reality. I told her “no” because she hadn’t given me a copy of their privacy policy.
“I can’t, we are out of them.”
I told her that it was really weird that they were going to collect $800 to do a mammogram, but couldn’t spend 5 cents to make a Xerox so that they were in compliance with federal law. She ended up just accepting the form I had originally given her. The one saying that no, they had not give me a copy of their policy.
But back to this morning.
About 10 minutes later, the receptionist comes back to the counter and lets me know that the office manager is not in. That took a long time to find out in a relatively small office, but maybe she also had to use the restroom.
I went and sat back down.
A few minutes later, the receptionist gets my attention and tells me that I need to fill to the new form , or the doctor will not see me.
I tell her that if he wants me to fill it out, he needs to give me a letter that I was initially asked to fill it out and not provided with a copy.” The n I added, “If he won’t, and will not honor my appointment, I expect that you will not charge me for cancelling my appointment with less than 24 hours notice, since he will have cancelled it.”
She leaves for a moment and comes back and tells me that the doctor will not provide me with a note.
So, I left. My appointment never happened, and I still don’t’ have new hearing aids.
When I told this story over dinner, this evening, I also explained to my daughter that 9 times out of 10, I have been sent such forms with no copy of the privacy policy. I used t accept the “oh we forgot to include it.” And just sign a new form for the office when they would finally give me a copy of the policy. I stopped doing this a few years ago, because one receptionist said, “oh , we don’t’ want to waste the money on the copying and extra postage” and then I realized that I was not experiencing a situation where all of these offices would include every other paper necessary, but were all managing to forget the same one. Yes, I admit, I was being gullible to keep believing this improbability for so long, but that has always been my nature. That is when I changed my policy for filling out a new form that made it look like they had, all along, offered me the privacy policy sans any “omissions”.
My daughter was still a bit startled, and my husband told her about what happened when she was born. Well, before she was born.
Before the epidural, which my obstetrician had recommended, a nurse came in and asked me to sign a form. I read it and said, “I am not going t sign this.”
She asked me why.
“It says here that the doctor has explained the various risks from the procedure, and I haven’t’ ever even seen this doctor.”
The nurse explained that this was the way they did it. And I let her know that I was not going to sign a paper that was a lie.
Well, after a few minutes, the nurse comes back in, with the doctor, who then explains the risks or f the procedure, and I sign the form.
As Larry explained it to Sarah, “She was just not going to let you be born if it meant signing something that wasn’t true!”
Well, I would have let her be born, obviously I had no control over that, but I would not have signed the form.
Because it wasn’t true.
Meanwhile, I am looking for a different ENT. One who thinks that truth and following the federal law are of some importance. This is a good thing. I think that using any other kind of doctor is really kind of a scary proposition. And I am amazed that other people don’t’ feel the same way.
Last week, I had an appointment with the audiologist. I am trying to get new hearing aids. This all started about 11 months ago. I had an appointment with the ENT and after the audiologist at his office tested me, it was decided that I definitely needed new hearing aids. Of course, since we are talking about me, it took me 11 months to get around to doing it, and then the audiologist let me know that the audiogram was too old to use, and he needed to do another one. Well, after he tested me, he sat down and explained that he could not fit me for hearing aids. I needed to go back to the doctor, because my audiogram had not only changed, but I now had a spike – a hearing loss- at 1,000 Hz in both ears. This could indicate an actual medical problem…so, he faxed the audiogram over and the ENTs office called me so promptly that I almost hadn’t arrived home yet. This was a new ENT. Okay, that isn’t true, this is an ENT I hadn’t been to in several years, but the one I had been to within the past year was no longer part of our insurance network.
This brings us to my appointment this morning.
You see, last week, the ENT’s office mailed me a packet of papers that I needed to fill out. I did and I brought them with me and arrived at the office more than 15 minutes before my appointment time. This was in adherence to the instructions in the packet.
I gave the receptionist my driver’s license and my insurance card and sat down to wait for my appointment.
After about 10 minutes, the receptionist called me over. She wanted me to fill out a new form. Well, it was the same form I had already filled out at home and given to her; but, as she explained, I had filled out the first one wrong. I did not sign and say that I had received the office’s privacy policy. Instead I had written the word NOT in before signing it.
I explained that I had filled the form out correctly, since they had definitely not given me a copy of the policy.
She explained that she was not the person who sent the packets out and she wasn’t involved with why they hadn’t sent me one. I said that was fine, but they hadn’t, and now I was being asked to sign, again , for something they hadn’t given me. She points down towards the other end of the counter and tells me there are copies in a folder over there. I took one.
Then she asks me to sign the new form. I told her, “No.”
I told her that I was accurate in what I had written on the form- that I was asked to sign, but not given the policy. I told her that if she wanted me to sign another form, I needed a letter on their letterhead that they had first asked me to sign it (twice without giving me the policy. If she wanted to do that, I would be happy to sign a new form that they had given it to me. Otherwise, what I had written and signed was correct.
She told me that she couldn’t do that and she needed to speak with the office manager.
“Alright,” I said, and sat down to wait.
I sat and thought about how this wasn’t nearly as bad as the time I went to the breast center for my mammogram, and they wanted me to sign the form. And I wrote on it that they asked me to sign the form, but hadn’t provided me with the policy.
That time, the woman gave me a second form to sign- she told me she couldn’t’ accept the first form- that I had corrected to reflect reality. I told her “no” because she hadn’t given me a copy of their privacy policy.
“I can’t, we are out of them.”
I told her that it was really weird that they were going to collect $800 to do a mammogram, but couldn’t spend 5 cents to make a Xerox so that they were in compliance with federal law. She ended up just accepting the form I had originally given her. The one saying that no, they had not give me a copy of their policy.
But back to this morning.
About 10 minutes later, the receptionist comes back to the counter and lets me know that the office manager is not in. That took a long time to find out in a relatively small office, but maybe she also had to use the restroom.
I went and sat back down.
A few minutes later, the receptionist gets my attention and tells me that I need to fill to the new form , or the doctor will not see me.
I tell her that if he wants me to fill it out, he needs to give me a letter that I was initially asked to fill it out and not provided with a copy.” The n I added, “If he won’t, and will not honor my appointment, I expect that you will not charge me for cancelling my appointment with less than 24 hours notice, since he will have cancelled it.”
She leaves for a moment and comes back and tells me that the doctor will not provide me with a note.
So, I left. My appointment never happened, and I still don’t’ have new hearing aids.
When I told this story over dinner, this evening, I also explained to my daughter that 9 times out of 10, I have been sent such forms with no copy of the privacy policy. I used t accept the “oh we forgot to include it.” And just sign a new form for the office when they would finally give me a copy of the policy. I stopped doing this a few years ago, because one receptionist said, “oh , we don’t’ want to waste the money on the copying and extra postage” and then I realized that I was not experiencing a situation where all of these offices would include every other paper necessary, but were all managing to forget the same one. Yes, I admit, I was being gullible to keep believing this improbability for so long, but that has always been my nature. That is when I changed my policy for filling out a new form that made it look like they had, all along, offered me the privacy policy sans any “omissions”.
My daughter was still a bit startled, and my husband told her about what happened when she was born. Well, before she was born.
Before the epidural, which my obstetrician had recommended, a nurse came in and asked me to sign a form. I read it and said, “I am not going t sign this.”
She asked me why.
“It says here that the doctor has explained the various risks from the procedure, and I haven’t’ ever even seen this doctor.”
The nurse explained that this was the way they did it. And I let her know that I was not going to sign a paper that was a lie.
Well, after a few minutes, the nurse comes back in, with the doctor, who then explains the risks or f the procedure, and I sign the form.
As Larry explained it to Sarah, “She was just not going to let you be born if it meant signing something that wasn’t true!”
Well, I would have let her be born, obviously I had no control over that, but I would not have signed the form.
Because it wasn’t true.
Meanwhile, I am looking for a different ENT. One who thinks that truth and following the federal law are of some importance. This is a good thing. I think that using any other kind of doctor is really kind of a scary proposition. And I am amazed that other people don’t’ feel the same way.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Story of the Day 11/15/2010
Sarah and I attended a cultural event, yesterday.
It was a wedding shower. It was a cultural event for us because it wasn’t Jewish.
I mentioned this to my friend, whose wedding shower it was, and I think I confused him. It wasn’t just because it was a wedding shower, which is very unusual except among very assimilated Jews, but because of all the other details.
Several things made this immediately apparent. We arrived on time, and we were among the last people to arrive. It was organized. After we were told to get food (part way through the 1 ½ shower), and we and the others got our food, the food was put away, well, except for the cake.
It was supposed to end at 3:30, and a few minutes before 3:30 someone said how it would be ending in a few minutes- which it did. That alone was like visiting Mars.
I reminded Sarah of that facet which I learned only a couple of years ago, that Christians actually are in their seats on time for services, and this must be connected to that.
If this had been a Jewish wedding shower it would have started at least 10 minutes late. A few people would have arrived on time and that would only be because Jews have a number of MOTs (members of the Tribe) who are OCD. That cancels out some of the other Jewish genes. Most people would arrive 20-30 minutes late. Nothing would happen before food was thrust on you. “You haven’t got a plate? What is wrong with you? Get a plate and I will introduce you to some people?”
No one would ever put any food away. God forbid! If one of the trays got to be 90% decimated, someone would pick it up and walk around thrusting it under people’s noses and saying, “Come on, you have to eat a little more! God forbid this should go to waste!” If it is the very last piece, they would sound very desperate and probably promise you a backrub if you would only eat it!
If, God forbid, there was a lot of food left over- and there would be, because no self respecting Jew could ever risk there not being enough food,( and the only way to ensure that is to make 3 times what you think you might need,) then you would have it shoved upon you, and could not leave unless you had promised to take some.
Sarah and I went, yesterday. Larry did not go with us because he was on call. In that sort of a situation, at least 8 people would have asked us where Larry was and was he feeling all right. That was assuming that only 2 people had already met him. You can multiply this out on your own, in case there were more. Then, I would have to take at least a 6 day supply of food home for him because , God forbid, he wouldn’t get to try some of everything and , of course “He works so hard!”
And if the party was supposed to end at 3:30, someone, at about 4 PM, might say something like, “Oh, I suppose I should start saying goodbye to people.” And then they would start, which would make everyone else aware that it was a good half hour after the party was slated to end; but the goodbyes would probably take at least 45 minutes, for the people who were in a hurry. And the other people would be saying about them, as they walked out the door, “I don’t’ know why they were in such a hurry to leave?”
Let me get back to the program. We sat in a circle. This was really ideal, since Sarah is deaf and she could see what was happening. I think it is also friendlier, and easier on old farts like me who get tired of standing up. And we went around and introduced ourselves and said how we had met the engaged couple. Most of us had met Darren first, so it was a little lopsided, but, on the other hand, it also meant that Darren got the brunt of the jokes and the teasing.
One friend introduced himself as Nick. Then he added, “And don’t say, ‘Hi Nick!’”
There was a lot of laughter at this remark, although I wasn’t quite sure why. Since I am totally devoid of any knowledge of pop culture, I assumed it was a line from a current TV show or some such.
This evening over dinner, my daughter explained to me that this is how you respond to people when they introduce themselves at AA meetings.
I looked stunned. I think Sarah realized that I’d had no idea, no clue as to this cultural phenomenon. None. And I was the Hearing person who is supposed to be so much worldlier than the deaf kid.
And I am wondering how come my 16 year old daughter knows about this…….and she can’t believe that I don’t. Maybe we are having our own kind of home-based culture shock.
Oh yeah, and I think we created a cultural faux pas by hugging Darren’s fiancé, Frank, before we left….I mean, isn’t that what you do with people you have just met? My multi-cultural manners must have gotten rusty.
It was a wedding shower. It was a cultural event for us because it wasn’t Jewish.
I mentioned this to my friend, whose wedding shower it was, and I think I confused him. It wasn’t just because it was a wedding shower, which is very unusual except among very assimilated Jews, but because of all the other details.
Several things made this immediately apparent. We arrived on time, and we were among the last people to arrive. It was organized. After we were told to get food (part way through the 1 ½ shower), and we and the others got our food, the food was put away, well, except for the cake.
It was supposed to end at 3:30, and a few minutes before 3:30 someone said how it would be ending in a few minutes- which it did. That alone was like visiting Mars.
I reminded Sarah of that facet which I learned only a couple of years ago, that Christians actually are in their seats on time for services, and this must be connected to that.
If this had been a Jewish wedding shower it would have started at least 10 minutes late. A few people would have arrived on time and that would only be because Jews have a number of MOTs (members of the Tribe) who are OCD. That cancels out some of the other Jewish genes. Most people would arrive 20-30 minutes late. Nothing would happen before food was thrust on you. “You haven’t got a plate? What is wrong with you? Get a plate and I will introduce you to some people?”
No one would ever put any food away. God forbid! If one of the trays got to be 90% decimated, someone would pick it up and walk around thrusting it under people’s noses and saying, “Come on, you have to eat a little more! God forbid this should go to waste!” If it is the very last piece, they would sound very desperate and probably promise you a backrub if you would only eat it!
If, God forbid, there was a lot of food left over- and there would be, because no self respecting Jew could ever risk there not being enough food,( and the only way to ensure that is to make 3 times what you think you might need,) then you would have it shoved upon you, and could not leave unless you had promised to take some.
Sarah and I went, yesterday. Larry did not go with us because he was on call. In that sort of a situation, at least 8 people would have asked us where Larry was and was he feeling all right. That was assuming that only 2 people had already met him. You can multiply this out on your own, in case there were more. Then, I would have to take at least a 6 day supply of food home for him because , God forbid, he wouldn’t get to try some of everything and , of course “He works so hard!”
And if the party was supposed to end at 3:30, someone, at about 4 PM, might say something like, “Oh, I suppose I should start saying goodbye to people.” And then they would start, which would make everyone else aware that it was a good half hour after the party was slated to end; but the goodbyes would probably take at least 45 minutes, for the people who were in a hurry. And the other people would be saying about them, as they walked out the door, “I don’t’ know why they were in such a hurry to leave?”
Let me get back to the program. We sat in a circle. This was really ideal, since Sarah is deaf and she could see what was happening. I think it is also friendlier, and easier on old farts like me who get tired of standing up. And we went around and introduced ourselves and said how we had met the engaged couple. Most of us had met Darren first, so it was a little lopsided, but, on the other hand, it also meant that Darren got the brunt of the jokes and the teasing.
One friend introduced himself as Nick. Then he added, “And don’t say, ‘Hi Nick!’”
There was a lot of laughter at this remark, although I wasn’t quite sure why. Since I am totally devoid of any knowledge of pop culture, I assumed it was a line from a current TV show or some such.
This evening over dinner, my daughter explained to me that this is how you respond to people when they introduce themselves at AA meetings.
I looked stunned. I think Sarah realized that I’d had no idea, no clue as to this cultural phenomenon. None. And I was the Hearing person who is supposed to be so much worldlier than the deaf kid.
And I am wondering how come my 16 year old daughter knows about this…….and she can’t believe that I don’t. Maybe we are having our own kind of home-based culture shock.
Oh yeah, and I think we created a cultural faux pas by hugging Darren’s fiancé, Frank, before we left….I mean, isn’t that what you do with people you have just met? My multi-cultural manners must have gotten rusty.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Story of the Day 11/12/2010
Yesterday didn’t end at midnight.
Sarah realized that soon after her first class started, this morning.
Again, there was a substitute teacher- fortunately, not the same one as yesterday, but still an unfamiliar face at the front of the room.
And, again, Sarah sat and waited and the interpreter did not show up.
The sub took attendance.
He said something to Sarah. He paused and then he said it again. It was something like “Are you Sarah Margolis-Greenbaum?”
Of course, since Sarah is deaf, he could have whispered it or screamed it and it would have remained equally unheard by her. And nowhere in her IEP does it say that she can read lips- or that speaking to her is a disability accommodation for her. But at least this was coming from someone who seemed friendly and not in severe need of psychiatric medications.
Sarah nodded her head in acknowledgement, and the sub gave her some papers to work on.
Five minutes passed. No interpreter.
Ten minutes passed. No interpreter.
Finally, the interpreter arrives along with another student.
Since Sarah had finished her paperwork, the interpreter started in on her story.
As the interpreter was on her way to the classroom, this morning, she waylaid by this other student who had to share with her what had happened in the class, yesterday morning. When the sub took the attendance, some of the other students pointed to Sarah, when her name was called, and said “That is her. She is deaf”.
The sub then looked at Sarah and loudly called her name. She did this three or four times. The students again pointed to Sarah and told the sub that she was deaf.
At this, the sub became angry that Sarah had not responded to her.
Much of what followed is exactly as Sarah described it, but apparently, in addition the sub said a few very insulting things about Sarah being deaf that Sarah, being deaf, didn’t hear. And when Sarah had her head down while she was writing, the sub loudly ranted “Why doesn’t she respond to me?!”
Again, the other students told her, “Because she is deaf.”
Then when Sarah gave her the message she had written out, the one that said, “I cannot hear anything. I am deaf. My name is Sarah Margolis-Greenbaum.” The sub screamed to the classroom in a sarcastic voice, “Oh, she is deaf?!” And she continued yelling at Sarah when she gave her the papers to distribute to the other students.
And after Sarah left the room to go find the resource teacher, the sub, in a rage, slammed the door making a loud noise that, of course, Sarah never heard.
Then the sub proceeded to pick on this other student, who was an advanced student dong independent study, and made her do the beginning students’ worksheets. This was accompanied by some loud statements about how she (the sub) was in control. Even though, it was really rather obvious to everyone else that she was actually out of control.
I think I mentioned that Sarah knew the names of a grand total of two of the students. One of these is a boy with whom she has been friendly for many years. Yesterday evening, his mother asked him if anything happened in class and he said no. This was an expected response. He has autism and is often somewhat oblivious to things in the classroom. He is especially oblivious to things concerning people and their interactions. I believe he has been described as needing to work on his communication and social interaction skills.
However, this morning, during class, before the interpreter arrived, but after Sarah had been given her worksheets and was working on them, she felt a tapping on her desk.
Sarah looked up, and there this young man stood, with his notebook held up against his chest for her to see.
On it he had written, “Are you okay, today?”
Sarah nodded and gave him a thumb’s up signal, and he smiled at her and went back to his desk.
Not only could yesterday’s sub learn a lot from him about social skills and communication, so could a lot of other people.
Sarah realized that soon after her first class started, this morning.
Again, there was a substitute teacher- fortunately, not the same one as yesterday, but still an unfamiliar face at the front of the room.
And, again, Sarah sat and waited and the interpreter did not show up.
The sub took attendance.
He said something to Sarah. He paused and then he said it again. It was something like “Are you Sarah Margolis-Greenbaum?”
Of course, since Sarah is deaf, he could have whispered it or screamed it and it would have remained equally unheard by her. And nowhere in her IEP does it say that she can read lips- or that speaking to her is a disability accommodation for her. But at least this was coming from someone who seemed friendly and not in severe need of psychiatric medications.
Sarah nodded her head in acknowledgement, and the sub gave her some papers to work on.
Five minutes passed. No interpreter.
Ten minutes passed. No interpreter.
Finally, the interpreter arrives along with another student.
Since Sarah had finished her paperwork, the interpreter started in on her story.
As the interpreter was on her way to the classroom, this morning, she waylaid by this other student who had to share with her what had happened in the class, yesterday morning. When the sub took the attendance, some of the other students pointed to Sarah, when her name was called, and said “That is her. She is deaf”.
The sub then looked at Sarah and loudly called her name. She did this three or four times. The students again pointed to Sarah and told the sub that she was deaf.
At this, the sub became angry that Sarah had not responded to her.
Much of what followed is exactly as Sarah described it, but apparently, in addition the sub said a few very insulting things about Sarah being deaf that Sarah, being deaf, didn’t hear. And when Sarah had her head down while she was writing, the sub loudly ranted “Why doesn’t she respond to me?!”
Again, the other students told her, “Because she is deaf.”
Then when Sarah gave her the message she had written out, the one that said, “I cannot hear anything. I am deaf. My name is Sarah Margolis-Greenbaum.” The sub screamed to the classroom in a sarcastic voice, “Oh, she is deaf?!” And she continued yelling at Sarah when she gave her the papers to distribute to the other students.
And after Sarah left the room to go find the resource teacher, the sub, in a rage, slammed the door making a loud noise that, of course, Sarah never heard.
Then the sub proceeded to pick on this other student, who was an advanced student dong independent study, and made her do the beginning students’ worksheets. This was accompanied by some loud statements about how she (the sub) was in control. Even though, it was really rather obvious to everyone else that she was actually out of control.
I think I mentioned that Sarah knew the names of a grand total of two of the students. One of these is a boy with whom she has been friendly for many years. Yesterday evening, his mother asked him if anything happened in class and he said no. This was an expected response. He has autism and is often somewhat oblivious to things in the classroom. He is especially oblivious to things concerning people and their interactions. I believe he has been described as needing to work on his communication and social interaction skills.
However, this morning, during class, before the interpreter arrived, but after Sarah had been given her worksheets and was working on them, she felt a tapping on her desk.
Sarah looked up, and there this young man stood, with his notebook held up against his chest for her to see.
On it he had written, “Are you okay, today?”
Sarah nodded and gave him a thumb’s up signal, and he smiled at her and went back to his desk.
Not only could yesterday’s sub learn a lot from him about social skills and communication, so could a lot of other people.
Story of the Day 11/11/2010
A Series of Unfortunate Events is a fairly good series of children’s books, and the title of a really delightful and somewhat wacky movie. Unfortunately, when it is the message that you receive on your cell phone , at 10:30 in the morning, from your daughter’s high school Resource teacher, with the added imperative to call her, soon, preferably before 11:30, it is not delightful.
When my cell phone rang, at 10:30, I was driving a friend
I had just picked up at her doctor’s office, to Meijer’s to get her new prescriptions filled. Since I do not talk on the phone, the teacher left me a message, the one described above, which I promptly listened to, right after parking the car outside the store.
And, then like any good and very worried parent, I called her back.
The story started before school, in Carmel.
Carmel, incidentally, is not the same town as the high school is in.
There was a fire at the Dunkin Donuts, and a distracted driver bumped his car into Sarah’s interpreter’s car. Thankfully, there was no real damage to the interpreter, or her car, but the other driver insisted on stopped, pulling over and calling the police. That was the first unfortunate event .
The second event was that Sarah’s Hebrew teacher was absent, so there was a sub- a substitute teacher. This was not unexpected. Mr. Cohen had announced to the class a few days earlier, but it was …unfortunate.
So, when Sarah walked into her first period class, Hebrew, and took her seat expecting the interpreter to show up….the interpreter didn’t. And because it was s sub , the person in charge of eth class was left alone in charge of a class with a Deaf student.
As Sarah sat there, the teacher took attendance. At least, it appeared to Sarah that she did. Her mouth moved, and it appeared that the other students were responding. At some point, having run through whatever it was, the teacher looks very pointedly at Sarah and says several things. Sarah assumed it was her name and a stream of other words. Sarah responded by writing a note for the teacher. She wrote” I cannot hear anything. I am deaf. My name is Sarah Margolis-Greenbaum.”
A couple of minutes after this, the sub walked over to Sarah’s desk, put a stack of papers down in front of her, and preceded to tell her what to do – using Spoken English.
Apparently, this sub was not an especially bright person.
Sarah looked at the papers, and saw there were various student’s names on them and assumed she was supposed ot hand them out. Unfortunately, Sarah has been in this class for most of the semester with an interpreter who was totally incompetent, so Sarah knows the names of exactly two other students. One is a boy she has known for many years, and the other is a girl whose name is Mahlah, or Malah, or Milah , or Mihal- depending on what the interpreter decided to sign that day. The interpreter didn’t’ bother with any of the other names.
So, Sarah , realizing there was no way to complete this task, tried to give the stack of papers back to the sub. The sub responded by getting angry at Sarah, pressing the papers right back on her desk and saying some things with a rather nasty look on her face.
Fortunately, and this was the one fortunate event in the series, another student decided to take it upon herself to take the stack and hand out the papers.
At this point, Sarah was worried about the absence of the interpreter, and rather stressed by being ill-treated by the sub. So, she wrote a note explaining that she wanted to go see the Resource teacher and find out where the interpreter was.
To this, the sub responded “You don’t’ really require an interpreter for my class.”
This was unfortunate event…four…five? Who knows. But it was very unfortunate- for Sarah- but also for the school- since this sub was representing them.
Sarah, of course being substantially more intelligent than the sub responded, “No, my IEP requires having an interpreter for my communication (accessible).”
The sub wrote that she thought Sarah would be fine for this period and could hold her questions for when Mr. Cohen returned….next week.
At this point Sarah realized the sub might have a cognitive disability and thought that using the word please and sorry might help the sub to think more clearly.
This approach, however, met with the sub grabbing the paper away from Sarah while she was writing.
Apparently, Sarah knows a great deal more about polite behavior than the sub.
Again, Sarah tried to explain to the sub that she didn’t just need the interpreter for this one class, but it was an issue for the rest of her classes.
I think I can adequately paraphrase the sub's response as , “Too bad!”
Finally, Sarah wrote a note to the sub saying “ But this is an emergency. So please can I go to her ( the resource teacher’s) room?” To this, the sub rudely turned and walked away.
Sarah’s response was to pick up her backpack and leave.
Now. I lied a little at the beginning of this story.
You see, the very first in the series of unfortunate events actually occurred 8 years ago, to Sarah’s brother.
Sarah’s brother was a student at the middle school, when he was rather poorly treated by a substitute teacher who punished him for being deaf. It was actually a worse situation than what happened to Sarah , today.
As a result, the school developed a policy of attaching a sheet explaining which students in a class needed accommodations to the sub folders ( the folders given to the substitute teachers for each class.)
When it was time for him to move on to the high school, I asked if we needed to readdress this- and I was told that it was a policy in the high school to do this ( following the first unfortunate event/ incident).
So, the very first of the series of unfortunate events occurred 8 years ago, and the second was when, today, no paper was attached to the sub folder- in violation of what I was told was the school’s policy.
And, yes, I asked, so I know that no paper was given to the sub.
The charming detail that is embedded in this is that the school was previously aware that this was an issue and had informed me that they had a policy in place to ensure these things would not happen. But, obviously, they didn’t do what they were supposed to do, so they were the ones who caused that first domino to fall. And it is really and truly an odd thing, in this series, that this happened to the one student whose mother would know there was supposed to be a policy in place and why, and that the school had ample precedent to know this could happen……..
As I drove my husband home, this evening, from the airport, and told him about the day’s events, his response was they really owe her an apology.”
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Story of the Day 11/01/2010
Sarah had a look of disgust on her face.
She held up her piece of bar-b-q ed meat and said, “This is raw!”
Of course, I am a bad cook, and unskilled in the art of microwaving , and it was undercooked , but , as I said to her, “Sarah, this is Morningstar, some raw soybean will not kill you!”
She held up her piece of bar-b-q ed meat and said, “This is raw!”
Of course, I am a bad cook, and unskilled in the art of microwaving , and it was undercooked , but , as I said to her, “Sarah, this is Morningstar, some raw soybean will not kill you!”
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Story of the Day 10/26/2010
There was a storm with winds of 50 mph. When I went out to pick up Harriet, three trucks were removing the remains of a tree that had fallen. I was surprised at how quickly they were getting to it, until I was told that when it fell, it fell onto the power lines- not knocking them down, but weighing them down as it hung there- so the electric company had made it a priority removal.
Some large branches were lying against Harriet’s roof, but her home was basically unscathed, as was mine. Since the tornado sirens had gone off twice, this morning, I figured we were very lucky.
At the high school, when the tornado alert went off and the sirens stayed on a while, the students were all crowded into the lower level hallways, away from any place that had windows. Sarah looked hard to find a place, and ended up sitting next to the soda machine, which vibrated against her, the entire time.
Across from her sat a boy she had never seen before and he looked at her and signed, “I…” In a moment of telepathic clarity, Sarah knew what he was going to say.
And then the lights went off.
A few minutes later, the lights came back on and this unknown boy again started to sign to her, and in the strange way that disasters make people grow closer, this boy suddenly decided to declare his love for her.
He signed, roughly, “I love (heart) you” with what may or may not have been great sincerity.
Sarah was able to control herself and not flee back to an area with windows by reminding herself that these were probably three of the only 4 signs he knew, the other one being “Bye-bye”.
I just want to know how she knew what he was going to say……
Some large branches were lying against Harriet’s roof, but her home was basically unscathed, as was mine. Since the tornado sirens had gone off twice, this morning, I figured we were very lucky.
At the high school, when the tornado alert went off and the sirens stayed on a while, the students were all crowded into the lower level hallways, away from any place that had windows. Sarah looked hard to find a place, and ended up sitting next to the soda machine, which vibrated against her, the entire time.
Across from her sat a boy she had never seen before and he looked at her and signed, “I…” In a moment of telepathic clarity, Sarah knew what he was going to say.
And then the lights went off.
A few minutes later, the lights came back on and this unknown boy again started to sign to her, and in the strange way that disasters make people grow closer, this boy suddenly decided to declare his love for her.
He signed, roughly, “I love (heart) you” with what may or may not have been great sincerity.
Sarah was able to control herself and not flee back to an area with windows by reminding herself that these were probably three of the only 4 signs he knew, the other one being “Bye-bye”.
I just want to know how she knew what he was going to say……
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Story of the Day 10/22/2010
When Sarah’s English teacher is absent, he always arranges for Mrs. Bowman to be his sub. She is an older woman who just loves substitute teaching and just loves the students. She is always telling them what beautiful young men and women they are. She says, “You are all such beautiful young men and women.” Only she doesn’t limit it to that one sentence, she goes on and on about it.
“You are all beautiful and wonderful young men and women. You are all the best and most wonderful students because you always bring your best attitudes to this class!” And wait, it doesn’t stop there- but just by saying these few lines, an entire generation of North Central High School students know exactly whom I am writing about. I have heard this dialogue repeated over the years, by Esther and Aaron and Kara and a few other kids who had her.
But, today, Mr. Coleman was out, unexpectedly, and there was a different sub waiting for the class. This was a young man with a pair of dark rimmed glasses and a rather nervous and excited air about him.
Sarah’s English class is third period and third period is when announcements are made.
When I was in school, announcements were broadcast over the PA system. Someone in the principal’s office would read off what was for lunch and if the football team had miraculously won and a variety of other important items. Nowadays, it is all high tech. Announcements are made on a television set up in each classroom. It isn’t even “live” , but is a collection of video clips, ads, musical numbers and the like meant to get the students to come to the football game or join some interesting club.
After being reminded by Sarah’s interpreter to turn on the television for the announcements, the sub and the class listened and didn’t watch (the apathy level being too high for this) until they were done. Then the sub emphatically flicked off the television monitor and said “Bye!” That was his most restrained moment of the morning, or at least of the class.
The students were supposed to have a test. And he passed it out, or did something that looked a bit more like flinging the papers like Frisbees, according to Sarah’s description. It was a short test, and when it was over, he turned to the interpreter and asked, “Can I go to the bathroom?” The interpreter was a bit stunned and said, “It is your decision.”
When he returned from the bathroom, he called his girlfriend up and had a conversation with her that lasted several minutes and was about having chicken for dinner. This conversation was loud and engaging for many of the students, even though they really were not all that interested in the chicken.
When he finally hung up, and had dramatically (and with lot of arm flapping) replaced the phone in his man purse, he looked down at his pants and noticed a stain. He then made a big point of explaining to the class that the stain was from that morning’s coffee, and not from anything else they might think. He said this as he pointed to the stain that was on the inside of his pants leg. Of course, the stain was yellowish.
Then he asked the students if they wanted to hear his music from IHome. It was Rap. And please don’t’ ask me what IHome is.
While he was sitting at the computer trying to set this up, the secretary came in and asked him for the report cards that hadn’t been handed out to the students who were absent… He waved over towards the desk and told her to get them herself. The secretary acted a bit stunned.
And when he got his music to play….the words were…well, he quickly realized that maybe he should Not be playing his music for the class. He said as much, “No, no, no, that is not very appropriate! No, no, no I can’t play that!”
He did have some sensibilities, though. Before class was over, he asked the entire class to please not gossip about what went on it the classroom.
At any rate, the next time that Mrs. Bowman is the sub, I have a feeling that the students will really appreciate her. Sarah has assured me that she will.
“You are all beautiful and wonderful young men and women. You are all the best and most wonderful students because you always bring your best attitudes to this class!” And wait, it doesn’t stop there- but just by saying these few lines, an entire generation of North Central High School students know exactly whom I am writing about. I have heard this dialogue repeated over the years, by Esther and Aaron and Kara and a few other kids who had her.
But, today, Mr. Coleman was out, unexpectedly, and there was a different sub waiting for the class. This was a young man with a pair of dark rimmed glasses and a rather nervous and excited air about him.
Sarah’s English class is third period and third period is when announcements are made.
When I was in school, announcements were broadcast over the PA system. Someone in the principal’s office would read off what was for lunch and if the football team had miraculously won and a variety of other important items. Nowadays, it is all high tech. Announcements are made on a television set up in each classroom. It isn’t even “live” , but is a collection of video clips, ads, musical numbers and the like meant to get the students to come to the football game or join some interesting club.
After being reminded by Sarah’s interpreter to turn on the television for the announcements, the sub and the class listened and didn’t watch (the apathy level being too high for this) until they were done. Then the sub emphatically flicked off the television monitor and said “Bye!” That was his most restrained moment of the morning, or at least of the class.
The students were supposed to have a test. And he passed it out, or did something that looked a bit more like flinging the papers like Frisbees, according to Sarah’s description. It was a short test, and when it was over, he turned to the interpreter and asked, “Can I go to the bathroom?” The interpreter was a bit stunned and said, “It is your decision.”
When he returned from the bathroom, he called his girlfriend up and had a conversation with her that lasted several minutes and was about having chicken for dinner. This conversation was loud and engaging for many of the students, even though they really were not all that interested in the chicken.
When he finally hung up, and had dramatically (and with lot of arm flapping) replaced the phone in his man purse, he looked down at his pants and noticed a stain. He then made a big point of explaining to the class that the stain was from that morning’s coffee, and not from anything else they might think. He said this as he pointed to the stain that was on the inside of his pants leg. Of course, the stain was yellowish.
Then he asked the students if they wanted to hear his music from IHome. It was Rap. And please don’t’ ask me what IHome is.
While he was sitting at the computer trying to set this up, the secretary came in and asked him for the report cards that hadn’t been handed out to the students who were absent… He waved over towards the desk and told her to get them herself. The secretary acted a bit stunned.
And when he got his music to play….the words were…well, he quickly realized that maybe he should Not be playing his music for the class. He said as much, “No, no, no, that is not very appropriate! No, no, no I can’t play that!”
He did have some sensibilities, though. Before class was over, he asked the entire class to please not gossip about what went on it the classroom.
At any rate, the next time that Mrs. Bowman is the sub, I have a feeling that the students will really appreciate her. Sarah has assured me that she will.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Story of the Day 10/19/2010
Sarah has lunch, most days, with the same two girls. They are Hearing, and they communicate by writing notes back and forth and by the girls using a few signs that they have picked up- eat, go, thank you and the all important “bathroom”.
A while ago, one of the girls told Sarah that she was excited because Sarah would help her to improve her English by this note writing. Sarah was horrified- since her English skills are still emerging.
Today, at lunch, this girl took a long time carefully writing a note to Sarah. She said, “You know, Sarah, I lived here for two years now and I couldn’t speak no English. How can I speak English? Help me!”
Sarah reads this and thinks “I can’t speak English, at all, why is she asking me?”
Sarah suggests “speech therapy.” After all that is what Deaf people do to learn to speak English and says that she will ask her (resource) teacher. She is also wondering, now, what people do learn in those ESL classes…
A while ago, one of the girls told Sarah that she was excited because Sarah would help her to improve her English by this note writing. Sarah was horrified- since her English skills are still emerging.
Today, at lunch, this girl took a long time carefully writing a note to Sarah. She said, “You know, Sarah, I lived here for two years now and I couldn’t speak no English. How can I speak English? Help me!”
Sarah reads this and thinks “I can’t speak English, at all, why is she asking me?”
Sarah suggests “speech therapy.” After all that is what Deaf people do to learn to speak English and says that she will ask her (resource) teacher. She is also wondering, now, what people do learn in those ESL classes…
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Story of the Day 10/17/2010
This afternoon, Aaron showed me the long , long list of voice messages that people have left for him on his cell phone. None of which he has bothered to listen to. After all, he is deaf.
He said, “I tell them I am deaf , so why do they do this?”
I suggested that he be very direct, and I printed him up some business cards to and out for the next time( s) he is asked for his number. They say:
Aaron M-G
Don’t call me, just text.
I am Deaf!
cell phone: (317) xxx-xxxx
He said, “I tell them I am deaf , so why do they do this?”
I suggested that he be very direct, and I printed him up some business cards to and out for the next time( s) he is asked for his number. They say:
Aaron M-G
Don’t call me, just text.
I am Deaf!
cell phone: (317) xxx-xxxx
Story of the Day 10/15/2010
Aaron came home for the weekend.
That is because it is Family Weekend and everyone’s family has been invited to campus for a series of programs that are largely on Shabbat. Or that feature very non-kosher items like ham.
He decided it was better to come home.
Safer.
Because this way his friends won’t actually have to meet us.
Smart boy.
Before he left, his roommate asked him to please remove the flyer on their door. After all, his grandparents are coming.
The flyer is apparently plastered in numerous places on campus, but as long as it is not on their door, his grandparents may not guess that the guy on the flyer is his roommate.
And he was embarrassed to have us go visit him!
Monday, September 27, 2010
Story of the Day 9/27/2010
My daughters have made it their policy to never use the bathrooms at school Esther was very proud of managing to attend her many years in public school without ever once using the school’s toilets, and Sarah is trying very hard to emulate her record.
As a result, the very first thing that both my daughters have done and do, when arriving home on the bus is to throw off their backpacks and make a run for the bathroom.
Don’t get in their way and try to say hello or anything, you are likely to be mowed down in their rush.
At any rate, after arriving home and making her first stop, Sarah came over and said to me, “I don’t’ want to discuss liquids, I want to discuss solids.”
I got a rather, “What!” look on my face, something that could be described as between incredulity and discomfort; and Sarah , with dawning comprehension of what I was thinking, said, “Wait, wait , wait, I mean F-O-O-D!”
Much better.
After all, the second thing both girls do is eat.
As a result, the very first thing that both my daughters have done and do, when arriving home on the bus is to throw off their backpacks and make a run for the bathroom.
Don’t get in their way and try to say hello or anything, you are likely to be mowed down in their rush.
At any rate, after arriving home and making her first stop, Sarah came over and said to me, “I don’t’ want to discuss liquids, I want to discuss solids.”
I got a rather, “What!” look on my face, something that could be described as between incredulity and discomfort; and Sarah , with dawning comprehension of what I was thinking, said, “Wait, wait , wait, I mean F-O-O-D!”
Much better.
After all, the second thing both girls do is eat.
Story of the Day 9/21/2010
Please don’t tell Esther.
I mailed Aaron a present, today.
She will not be jealous, that is not the problem.
You see, Aaron lost his cell phone.
Again.
At least, this time, he didn’t lose his wallet. But it is hard to keep track of your cell phone ( and your wallet) if you wear shorts whose pockets gape open overtime you sit down.
There were a few possible solutions to this.
We could buy him another cell phone, get him another driver’s license, cancel the credit cards, kiss the cash good-bye. But having just done that, last month, I thought we should investigate the other solutions.
He could wear other shorts. You know, cargo shorts that have pockets that do not allow things to easily slide out every time you sit down or stand up.
But Aaron is rather attached to his multicolored patchwork , and his Hawaiian themed shorts.
A purse. Aaron could carry a purse. Well, we could call it a messenger bag or something like that.
Maybe one of those cool woven Guatemalan ones?
Or a fanny pack!
And I just happened to have a brand new one of those- well, brand new from Goodwill, sitting in my closet.
So , I boxed it up and mailed it to him.
And texted him.
And , Aaron being Aaron, texted and thanked me for sending it to him.
But when Esther finds out, she is going to kill me!
She would have preferred I sent him a purse.
I mailed Aaron a present, today.
She will not be jealous, that is not the problem.
You see, Aaron lost his cell phone.
Again.
At least, this time, he didn’t lose his wallet. But it is hard to keep track of your cell phone ( and your wallet) if you wear shorts whose pockets gape open overtime you sit down.
There were a few possible solutions to this.
We could buy him another cell phone, get him another driver’s license, cancel the credit cards, kiss the cash good-bye. But having just done that, last month, I thought we should investigate the other solutions.
He could wear other shorts. You know, cargo shorts that have pockets that do not allow things to easily slide out every time you sit down or stand up.
But Aaron is rather attached to his multicolored patchwork , and his Hawaiian themed shorts.
A purse. Aaron could carry a purse. Well, we could call it a messenger bag or something like that.
Maybe one of those cool woven Guatemalan ones?
Or a fanny pack!
And I just happened to have a brand new one of those- well, brand new from Goodwill, sitting in my closet.
So , I boxed it up and mailed it to him.
And texted him.
And , Aaron being Aaron, texted and thanked me for sending it to him.
But when Esther finds out, she is going to kill me!
She would have preferred I sent him a purse.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Story of The Day 9/7/2010
Another day, another story.
Sarah came home from school today, I bet you knew that this story would start that way, didn’t you?
Sarah came home from school today, and told me that today was the day the interpreter was evaluated. The evaluator, a woman, sat through three of Sarah’s classes: English, Geography and Geometry.
The interpreter made several errors, although, she was not heavily taxed because there were no complicated lectures, today.
Sarah said that the highlight of the day was when the interpreter signed “vertical angle”. Sarah looks at me and says” What is the sign for vertical angle?”
I thought and said, “I don’t’ know of a sign for it.”
She said, “That is right, it is finger spelled,” which she knows because she was taught about vertical angles when she attended the Deaf School.
“Well, M----- ( the interpreter) made up a sign. “
Sarah showed it to me.
“ And it is rude and has something to do with sex, although, I am not sure exactly what .”
Thank God!
Addendum - okay, I lied, at the very end of the story. Sarah does know what that sign means. But I didn’t’ teach it to her!
Sarah came home from school today, I bet you knew that this story would start that way, didn’t you?
Sarah came home from school today, and told me that today was the day the interpreter was evaluated. The evaluator, a woman, sat through three of Sarah’s classes: English, Geography and Geometry.
The interpreter made several errors, although, she was not heavily taxed because there were no complicated lectures, today.
Sarah said that the highlight of the day was when the interpreter signed “vertical angle”. Sarah looks at me and says” What is the sign for vertical angle?”
I thought and said, “I don’t’ know of a sign for it.”
She said, “That is right, it is finger spelled,” which she knows because she was taught about vertical angles when she attended the Deaf School.
“Well, M----- ( the interpreter) made up a sign. “
Sarah showed it to me.
“ And it is rude and has something to do with sex, although, I am not sure exactly what .”
Thank God!
Addendum - okay, I lied, at the very end of the story. Sarah does know what that sign means. But I didn’t’ teach it to her!
Story of the Day 8/29/2010
I am a woman of many talents, unfortunately, one of them is puking.
I have this hereditary condition- it comes with tinnitus (ringing in the ears), uneven hearing loss (one ear hears better than the other), poor balance, and this nasty little thing called vertigo ( yep, just like the Alfred Hitchcock film) . One of the nice little details about vertigo is that it means that I get car sick easily, plane sick, Ferris wheel sick, escalator sick, and sometimes just having my husband roll over in bed will get me sick. And, believe me, puking is not attractive. It is not attractive to the person doing it and it is not attractive to anyone else in the vicinity.
Although, it does have its benefits.
Yes, benefits.
You see, my children know how much I truly love them. Years ago, they were desperate to ride the rides at the state fair and I , not wanting y children to ride alone, got on with them. Of course, the end result was me puking off to the side of the ride- fortunately, after getting off of it. But to this day, Esther still remembers that I loved her enough t puke for her.
And there is the fact that I was willing to let them learn to drive.
You see, part of getting your driver’s license is the part where you have a learner’s permit, which means a licensed adult needs to be in the car with you. And, of course, you want to give your child every opportunity to practice those driving skills. Esther still remembers that very first time she drove up to Target. And I made it all the way there and even got my car door open before puking in their parking lot. Twice.
Of course, with Aaron, I think the very first time he tried to drive, in the parking lot of the school nearby, I managed to puke about 5 minutes into the lesson. Hey, don’t blame me- it is those standard transmission cars that lurch every time they stall out.
And, on some occasions, I even manage to get car sick when I am driving.
Like, this evening. I made the mistake of glancing at my friend. We were on our way to watch the Fever- our local WNBA team, play. And I was chatting with my friend Susan. And I glanced over one too many times.
And, luckily, there was a plastic bag in the side pocket of my door. Well, I should not say “luckily”, I usually have at least two handy in the car. And, even luckier, I managed to not need it. We got to the parking garage, and I took my time getting out of the car and regaining my sense of balance- and then we went into the field house. And I was smart enough not to use the escalator- but even the steps bothered me, and well, luckily the guy at the ticket office had a plastic bag.
Lynne, is this sounding familiar? Lynne knows to bring one with her when picking me up from the bus station.
I made it past the ticket takers, and into the women’s bathroom before puking a second time. Although, some of it hit the floor because the trash can was just a few feet too far.
And then, I thought I was doing really well, until before half time. But this time I made it all the way to the toilet.
Eventually, my vertigo pretty much subsided.
Of course, by the time it was the 4th quarter, all I could think of was eating- or, at least drinking some hot chocolate with whipped cream. Well, how do you think I manage to stay fat?
Do you think this might be why no one ever takes me anywhere?
I have this hereditary condition- it comes with tinnitus (ringing in the ears), uneven hearing loss (one ear hears better than the other), poor balance, and this nasty little thing called vertigo ( yep, just like the Alfred Hitchcock film) . One of the nice little details about vertigo is that it means that I get car sick easily, plane sick, Ferris wheel sick, escalator sick, and sometimes just having my husband roll over in bed will get me sick. And, believe me, puking is not attractive. It is not attractive to the person doing it and it is not attractive to anyone else in the vicinity.
Although, it does have its benefits.
Yes, benefits.
You see, my children know how much I truly love them. Years ago, they were desperate to ride the rides at the state fair and I , not wanting y children to ride alone, got on with them. Of course, the end result was me puking off to the side of the ride- fortunately, after getting off of it. But to this day, Esther still remembers that I loved her enough t puke for her.
And there is the fact that I was willing to let them learn to drive.
You see, part of getting your driver’s license is the part where you have a learner’s permit, which means a licensed adult needs to be in the car with you. And, of course, you want to give your child every opportunity to practice those driving skills. Esther still remembers that very first time she drove up to Target. And I made it all the way there and even got my car door open before puking in their parking lot. Twice.
Of course, with Aaron, I think the very first time he tried to drive, in the parking lot of the school nearby, I managed to puke about 5 minutes into the lesson. Hey, don’t blame me- it is those standard transmission cars that lurch every time they stall out.
And, on some occasions, I even manage to get car sick when I am driving.
Like, this evening. I made the mistake of glancing at my friend. We were on our way to watch the Fever- our local WNBA team, play. And I was chatting with my friend Susan. And I glanced over one too many times.
And, luckily, there was a plastic bag in the side pocket of my door. Well, I should not say “luckily”, I usually have at least two handy in the car. And, even luckier, I managed to not need it. We got to the parking garage, and I took my time getting out of the car and regaining my sense of balance- and then we went into the field house. And I was smart enough not to use the escalator- but even the steps bothered me, and well, luckily the guy at the ticket office had a plastic bag.
Lynne, is this sounding familiar? Lynne knows to bring one with her when picking me up from the bus station.
I made it past the ticket takers, and into the women’s bathroom before puking a second time. Although, some of it hit the floor because the trash can was just a few feet too far.
And then, I thought I was doing really well, until before half time. But this time I made it all the way to the toilet.
Eventually, my vertigo pretty much subsided.
Of course, by the time it was the 4th quarter, all I could think of was eating- or, at least drinking some hot chocolate with whipped cream. Well, how do you think I manage to stay fat?
Do you think this might be why no one ever takes me anywhere?
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Story of the Day 8/25/2010
I didn’t’ know there was a litmus test for friends, but apparently there is. However, it only works if you are Deaf.
Sarah told me that it is not 100% foolproof, but almost.
In Sarah’s Biology class, the textbook noted how something that is scientific can be tested. Well, this is definitely science because it is being tested repeatedly.
Many times, people will come over to Sarah and start speaking to her.
Sarah’s response to this is to pull out a notepad and to write them a note that says, “I am deaf. I cannot hear you. What did you want to say to me?”
If the person then says, “I am so sorry!” That person will not become a friend. Period.
Sarah has also noticed second interesting scientifically testable point.
If the person then exaggeratedly says to her “Can you read my lips?” Sarah will respond by shaking her head and mouthing the word, “No.”
At this point, without exception, the person asking this question looks disappointed, says, in a dejected voice, “Oh”, and turns and walks away.
Obviously, this has tested their intelligence, or lack thereof.
Despite the fact that Sarah now knows what to expect as a result of this second test, she is always amazed. Amazed that there are so many stupid Hearing people.
Sarah told me that it is not 100% foolproof, but almost.
In Sarah’s Biology class, the textbook noted how something that is scientific can be tested. Well, this is definitely science because it is being tested repeatedly.
Many times, people will come over to Sarah and start speaking to her.
Sarah’s response to this is to pull out a notepad and to write them a note that says, “I am deaf. I cannot hear you. What did you want to say to me?”
If the person then says, “I am so sorry!” That person will not become a friend. Period.
Sarah has also noticed second interesting scientifically testable point.
If the person then exaggeratedly says to her “Can you read my lips?” Sarah will respond by shaking her head and mouthing the word, “No.”
At this point, without exception, the person asking this question looks disappointed, says, in a dejected voice, “Oh”, and turns and walks away.
Obviously, this has tested their intelligence, or lack thereof.
Despite the fact that Sarah now knows what to expect as a result of this second test, she is always amazed. Amazed that there are so many stupid Hearing people.
Story of the Day 8/24/2010
Today seems to be an addendum to the story from yesterday…..
Again, we find ourselves in Biology class answering questions with our lab partner- or, at least this is where Sarah finds herself.
And Sarah is signing the answer to the question about the lizard.
And the interpreter gives her a blank look. She doesn’t even try to interpret what Sarah is signing- the entire long sentence of about 7 words.
So Sarah starts over again, even slower.
And again, even slower.
And Sarah is signing this very and spelling the word out very slowly like you would to a very young child.
She does this 5 times, and then a sixth.
And when that is not working she explains what the word means, because maybe the interpreter doesn’t know the word in English, either
And this is happening while Sarah ‘s lab partner is patiently waiting to find out this one sentence that Sarah is trying to share with her- a sentence that answers the question on the worksheet.
But we should be thankful for small favors.
And, I am feeling grateful that whatever her weak areas are, the interpreter actually used the correct word when she signed “sex”, yesterday.
Again, we find ourselves in Biology class answering questions with our lab partner- or, at least this is where Sarah finds herself.
And Sarah is signing the answer to the question about the lizard.
And the interpreter gives her a blank look. She doesn’t even try to interpret what Sarah is signing- the entire long sentence of about 7 words.
So Sarah starts over again, even slower.
And again, even slower.
And Sarah is signing this very and spelling the word out very slowly like you would to a very young child.
She does this 5 times, and then a sixth.
And when that is not working she explains what the word means, because maybe the interpreter doesn’t know the word in English, either
And this is happening while Sarah ‘s lab partner is patiently waiting to find out this one sentence that Sarah is trying to share with her- a sentence that answers the question on the worksheet.
But we should be thankful for small favors.
And, I am feeling grateful that whatever her weak areas are, the interpreter actually used the correct word when she signed “sex”, yesterday.
Story of the Day 8/23/2010
This is a story about Biology class.
I hope you are sitting down.
It is about tarantulas.
Of course, it is kind of connected to the story from yesterday. That is the story that I never wrote. It was also about Biology class and the interpreter, and the funny look Sarah got after she made a comment to her lab partner - the sort of funny look that told her that her words had been mistranslated. But that story was not about tarantulas. And sex.
Yesterday, when the teacher asked her if she wanted to have a lab partner or to work alone, Sarah told the teacher that she wanted to work alone. It is much safer than having her words misinterpreted to another student who will then think that Sarah is either weird or retarded. But the Biology teacher was, apparently unfamiliar with the wonderful jobs the interpreters have done with these situations in the past and gave Sarah a lab partner.
Sarah should have known better than to think that she could give any input and rely on it to correctly interpreted, but she must have been feeling lucky, or maybe just like taking a risk and she actually ventured to try to say something to her lab partner.
But as we could have predicted, it just earned Sarah one of many strange looks she has gotten as a result of some of these interpreting gaffes.
Yesterday, when she told me about it, I asked her if she had tried to get the situation corrected, and she told me, “No.”
I asked her if she was going to tell her TOR (teacher) about this, but she told me, “No, I am too tired of all of these problems with the interpreter. These things happen every day, over and over. And it s hard to remember to tell her these things because they happen over and over all day long.”
And I sighed.
That was yesterday.
Today, she came home, puzzled.
She was, once again, working with her lab partner. They were answering a series of questions about tarantulas and other creatures.
Tarantulas. You know those big, ugly, furry spiders that only sociopaths keep as pets. Well, them and some of my least favorite relatives - the same relatives that I would also have to describe as big, furry and ugly.
One of the questions was, “Why is this organism covered in fur?”
Sarah was digging in her memory. She knew she had learned something about this back in 5th grade. Then her partner very excited said, “Oh, I know this one! They are covered in fur for sex!”
Sarah was writing down the answers. She carefully controlled herself and did not raise her eyebrows. But she looked at her partner and didn’t write the answer down. She was sure that was NOT the right answer.
Sarah’s partner started writing down the answer on the paper.
And the interpreter’s face turned red.
And the interpreter said she had made a mistake and misheard. The word was “feeling.” The tarantula had fur for “feeling.”
Sarah came home and wanted to know how the interpreter could mishear the word feeling and think she had heard sex.
Now, this interpreter is not a very good interpreter for expressive or receptive high school level things, but she is also not a psychologically disturbed person who would think she was hearing words connected to sexual things when she was not. Seriously, based on the selection of interpreters that Sarah has been exposed to at the high school, this interpreter is not spooky, scary nor someone who should not work with kids. So, I thought a moment.
“Sarah she meant ‘sense’ or ‘sensitivity’ and she misheard that to be ‘sex’ or ‘sex activity’.”
And then I had to explain to the deaf kid that sex and sense sound almost the same- even though they are not spelled at all the same- no “same ending” – which is the only way Sarah has to easily recognize that two words might rhyme or sound similar.
And Sarah is now worried because all she put down for the answer was “ feeling” not ”sense of feeling” and the teacher may mark it wrong- but this is all the interpreter told her- , and I am feeling slightly mischievous and sort of wish she had put down “ sex” , so the teacher would get some idea of what is going wrong in that corner of the room.
I hope you are sitting down.
It is about tarantulas.
Of course, it is kind of connected to the story from yesterday. That is the story that I never wrote. It was also about Biology class and the interpreter, and the funny look Sarah got after she made a comment to her lab partner - the sort of funny look that told her that her words had been mistranslated. But that story was not about tarantulas. And sex.
Yesterday, when the teacher asked her if she wanted to have a lab partner or to work alone, Sarah told the teacher that she wanted to work alone. It is much safer than having her words misinterpreted to another student who will then think that Sarah is either weird or retarded. But the Biology teacher was, apparently unfamiliar with the wonderful jobs the interpreters have done with these situations in the past and gave Sarah a lab partner.
Sarah should have known better than to think that she could give any input and rely on it to correctly interpreted, but she must have been feeling lucky, or maybe just like taking a risk and she actually ventured to try to say something to her lab partner.
But as we could have predicted, it just earned Sarah one of many strange looks she has gotten as a result of some of these interpreting gaffes.
Yesterday, when she told me about it, I asked her if she had tried to get the situation corrected, and she told me, “No.”
I asked her if she was going to tell her TOR (teacher) about this, but she told me, “No, I am too tired of all of these problems with the interpreter. These things happen every day, over and over. And it s hard to remember to tell her these things because they happen over and over all day long.”
And I sighed.
That was yesterday.
Today, she came home, puzzled.
She was, once again, working with her lab partner. They were answering a series of questions about tarantulas and other creatures.
Tarantulas. You know those big, ugly, furry spiders that only sociopaths keep as pets. Well, them and some of my least favorite relatives - the same relatives that I would also have to describe as big, furry and ugly.
One of the questions was, “Why is this organism covered in fur?”
Sarah was digging in her memory. She knew she had learned something about this back in 5th grade. Then her partner very excited said, “Oh, I know this one! They are covered in fur for sex!”
Sarah was writing down the answers. She carefully controlled herself and did not raise her eyebrows. But she looked at her partner and didn’t write the answer down. She was sure that was NOT the right answer.
Sarah’s partner started writing down the answer on the paper.
And the interpreter’s face turned red.
And the interpreter said she had made a mistake and misheard. The word was “feeling.” The tarantula had fur for “feeling.”
Sarah came home and wanted to know how the interpreter could mishear the word feeling and think she had heard sex.
Now, this interpreter is not a very good interpreter for expressive or receptive high school level things, but she is also not a psychologically disturbed person who would think she was hearing words connected to sexual things when she was not. Seriously, based on the selection of interpreters that Sarah has been exposed to at the high school, this interpreter is not spooky, scary nor someone who should not work with kids. So, I thought a moment.
“Sarah she meant ‘sense’ or ‘sensitivity’ and she misheard that to be ‘sex’ or ‘sex activity’.”
And then I had to explain to the deaf kid that sex and sense sound almost the same- even though they are not spelled at all the same- no “same ending” – which is the only way Sarah has to easily recognize that two words might rhyme or sound similar.
And Sarah is now worried because all she put down for the answer was “ feeling” not ”sense of feeling” and the teacher may mark it wrong- but this is all the interpreter told her- , and I am feeling slightly mischievous and sort of wish she had put down “ sex” , so the teacher would get some idea of what is going wrong in that corner of the room.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Story of the Day 8/ 22/ 2010
The student asked Sarah if she heard voices. In her head.
Sarah didn’t know what she meant.
This was last spring.
So when another student asked her the same question, “Do you hear voices in your head?” Sarah knew how to respond.
“No.”
Now, normally, we would worry about the mental and emotional state of the person being asked this question, but in this situation, the student who asked then became very confused.
“Well, then, how do you think?”
Because, of course, only people who can hear …voices can think.
Even if, as these students have demonstrated, not very well.
Sarah didn’t know what she meant.
This was last spring.
So when another student asked her the same question, “Do you hear voices in your head?” Sarah knew how to respond.
“No.”
Now, normally, we would worry about the mental and emotional state of the person being asked this question, but in this situation, the student who asked then became very confused.
“Well, then, how do you think?”
Because, of course, only people who can hear …voices can think.
Even if, as these students have demonstrated, not very well.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Story of the Day 8/ 13/ 2010 #2
I referred to my younger sister as an old fart, which she is when we are referring to a number of technological things that the 14 year old is doing with great ease- like texting.
Of course, my words were repeated back to my sister buy her 7 year old, who told her “Aunt Cassia called you a big fart.”
This created quite a bit of laughter on my end. And, as I later explained to my older niece, it is very hard to pee while you are laughing. I wasn't in the bathroom when I heard this being repeated to my sister, it is just that it kept me laughing at odd intervals for quite a while.
Meanwhile, I have decided that this will make a new and wonderful nickname for this sister, but I think I will also suggest it as an alternative name for the Native American character Aaron has in his script.
Don't assume this is an out of place recommendation. You haven't yet read the script.
Of course, my words were repeated back to my sister buy her 7 year old, who told her “Aunt Cassia called you a big fart.”
This created quite a bit of laughter on my end. And, as I later explained to my older niece, it is very hard to pee while you are laughing. I wasn't in the bathroom when I heard this being repeated to my sister, it is just that it kept me laughing at odd intervals for quite a while.
Meanwhile, I have decided that this will make a new and wonderful nickname for this sister, but I think I will also suggest it as an alternative name for the Native American character Aaron has in his script.
Don't assume this is an out of place recommendation. You haven't yet read the script.
Story of the Day 8/13/2010
We took Aaron back to college, today.
His two New York cousins, Nia and Serena, and I drove him there and then left him, waving to us very dramatically at the curb outside his dorm.
Serena is 7 , and has very enthusiastically learned a few basic signs while she has been visiting.
So Aaron is frantically waving “I love you” with both hands stretched out above his head, and I hear Serena say, “ I know how to sign I love you.”
And I reply, ”But what you really need to sign to Aaron is “ your pants are falling down and I can see your underwear.”
His two New York cousins, Nia and Serena, and I drove him there and then left him, waving to us very dramatically at the curb outside his dorm.
Serena is 7 , and has very enthusiastically learned a few basic signs while she has been visiting.
So Aaron is frantically waving “I love you” with both hands stretched out above his head, and I hear Serena say, “ I know how to sign I love you.”
And I reply, ”But what you really need to sign to Aaron is “ your pants are falling down and I can see your underwear.”
Story of the Day 7/18/2010
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Story of teh Day 7/11/2010
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Story of the Day 6/22/2010
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Story of the Day 6/15/2010
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Story of the Day 6/10/2010
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Story of the Day 5/11/2010
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Monday, May 31, 2010
Story of the Day 5/ 7/ 2010
The morning went well.
That explains everything. It must have been tempting fate to think it was going to be a smooth countdown to the weekend.
This morning, Sarah arrived at high school and had a good interpreter. Heather. Heather who can both sign ASL and can understand Sarah when Sarah signs ASL.
But Heather could only work half a day, so after lunch, a new interpreter came and introduced herself.
“My name is R-U-….” And she looked uncertain.
“R-U- “ she looked at her hand and tentatively continued “T- H” *
When Sarah came home, she told me the interpreter couldn’t’ spell her name. I though Sarah meant “her” name- Sarah’s. I mean, “Margolis- Greenbaum “can give a good finger speller a bit of a shock. But I never imagined this. And it was only 4 letters.
At the end of the school day, Ruth asked Sarah to sign a paper- something verifying that Ruth had been there. It may have been a standard thing from her agency, but Sarah told me she is suspicious that Ruth is on probation and it was a community service paper.
After her experiences at this high school, that is a reasonable assumption.
• The interpreter’s name has been changed. It was also a 4 letter name with the third letter being an R, so you are still getting an accurate representation of what happened.
That explains everything. It must have been tempting fate to think it was going to be a smooth countdown to the weekend.
This morning, Sarah arrived at high school and had a good interpreter. Heather. Heather who can both sign ASL and can understand Sarah when Sarah signs ASL.
But Heather could only work half a day, so after lunch, a new interpreter came and introduced herself.
“My name is R-U-….” And she looked uncertain.
“R-U- “ she looked at her hand and tentatively continued “T- H” *
When Sarah came home, she told me the interpreter couldn’t’ spell her name. I though Sarah meant “her” name- Sarah’s. I mean, “Margolis- Greenbaum “can give a good finger speller a bit of a shock. But I never imagined this. And it was only 4 letters.
At the end of the school day, Ruth asked Sarah to sign a paper- something verifying that Ruth had been there. It may have been a standard thing from her agency, but Sarah told me she is suspicious that Ruth is on probation and it was a community service paper.
After her experiences at this high school, that is a reasonable assumption.
• The interpreter’s name has been changed. It was also a 4 letter name with the third letter being an R, so you are still getting an accurate representation of what happened.
Story of the Day 5/ 6/ 2010
My son has brought his heavy drinking habits home with him from college.
A half gallon a day of chocolate soy-milk and two pots of green tea- decaf, Celestial Seasons.
This is in addition to water at meals, and an occasional glass of milk.
Of course, this means he also spends a lot of time depositing the digested liquids in the toilet.
He did share with me that he attended his first Toga party, recently.
I assume they served beer, at the very least.
Even I have seen the movie “Animal House.”
But I didn’t’ ask.
I mean, he might have brought his own container of green tea with him- he does like it cold, but I thought……do I really want to know?
I didn’t.
Especially after he shared with me about the toga he wore.
I mean, you do have to wear a toga to a toga party. After all, Aaron has also seen Animal House. Several times.
So, Aaron took one of his extra sheets, and wrapped himself in it toga style.
It was one from his Spiderman set.
A half gallon a day of chocolate soy-milk and two pots of green tea- decaf, Celestial Seasons.
This is in addition to water at meals, and an occasional glass of milk.
Of course, this means he also spends a lot of time depositing the digested liquids in the toilet.
He did share with me that he attended his first Toga party, recently.
I assume they served beer, at the very least.
Even I have seen the movie “Animal House.”
But I didn’t’ ask.
I mean, he might have brought his own container of green tea with him- he does like it cold, but I thought……do I really want to know?
I didn’t.
Especially after he shared with me about the toga he wore.
I mean, you do have to wear a toga to a toga party. After all, Aaron has also seen Animal House. Several times.
So, Aaron took one of his extra sheets, and wrapped himself in it toga style.
It was one from his Spiderman set.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Story of the Day 5/5/2010
I have been unpacking Aaron. Well, not Aaron, but his things. Not all of his things.
He unpacked his clothes, and his books, and his posters.
I was left to unpack his dirty laundry and the two containers of bathroom things that he left in the front hallway.
Bathroom things means his allergy medicines, his Tylenol, his body wash and toothpaste, and a note that was tucked in next to an extra tube of toothpaste that was still in its cardboard box.
The note was a card that had been removed from its envelope and , supposedly, read.
It was from the Academic Advising Department.
‘Congratulations” and then it continued to notify him that he had made the Dean’s List for the fall semester.
At about this moment , he came walking through the hallway.
I held it out to him, “Aaron, you should have told us about this or showed us the note!”
He looks at me, then he looks at the note which he had carefully opened and tucked into his caddy, “What is that?”
He unpacked his clothes, and his books, and his posters.
I was left to unpack his dirty laundry and the two containers of bathroom things that he left in the front hallway.
Bathroom things means his allergy medicines, his Tylenol, his body wash and toothpaste, and a note that was tucked in next to an extra tube of toothpaste that was still in its cardboard box.
The note was a card that had been removed from its envelope and , supposedly, read.
It was from the Academic Advising Department.
‘Congratulations” and then it continued to notify him that he had made the Dean’s List for the fall semester.
At about this moment , he came walking through the hallway.
I held it out to him, “Aaron, you should have told us about this or showed us the note!”
He looks at me, then he looks at the note which he had carefully opened and tucked into his caddy, “What is that?”
Story of the Day 5/3/2010
Today is Pick Up Aaron from College day.
It is right up there with Giving Birth day, except that the pain is much shorter and you get to actually hug the oversized baby even before the pain- when he runs over your foot with the cart holding all of his things.
It is also less expensive, I think.
I haven’t gotten the total bill.
No, not for tuition, we paid that, already- remember, this is the END of the school year, I mean the muffler or the tailpipe or whatever it is.
The one that was on his car when he drove away from Ball State and towards home, but wasn’t on his car when he pulled into our driveway.
It is right up there with Giving Birth day, except that the pain is much shorter and you get to actually hug the oversized baby even before the pain- when he runs over your foot with the cart holding all of his things.
It is also less expensive, I think.
I haven’t gotten the total bill.
No, not for tuition, we paid that, already- remember, this is the END of the school year, I mean the muffler or the tailpipe or whatever it is.
The one that was on his car when he drove away from Ball State and towards home, but wasn’t on his car when he pulled into our driveway.
Story of the Day 4/26/2010
It was too much to hope for.
A decent interpreter.
We had rec’d an email from Sarah’s TOR ( resource teacher) on Friday that a permanent terp would be starting, today. A good terp.
But she didn’t’.
Instead, Sarah had two terps, each for part of the day.
The one wasn’t’ awful, but the other…
Well, Sarah corrected a number of her more interesting signs. And the terp has a slew of poorly mis-learnt grammar problems- which made watching her….un-educational.
But the thing that Sarah didn’t’ correct and that made her rather uncomfortable, is that every time the terp signed “Hitler” she added “Seig Heil” along with the sign.
As Sarah said, “that is a very powerful thing to sign, and it made me uncomfortable.”
No shit. It is amazing she doesn’t work at the Deaf School.
A decent interpreter.
We had rec’d an email from Sarah’s TOR ( resource teacher) on Friday that a permanent terp would be starting, today. A good terp.
But she didn’t’.
Instead, Sarah had two terps, each for part of the day.
The one wasn’t’ awful, but the other…
Well, Sarah corrected a number of her more interesting signs. And the terp has a slew of poorly mis-learnt grammar problems- which made watching her….un-educational.
But the thing that Sarah didn’t’ correct and that made her rather uncomfortable, is that every time the terp signed “Hitler” she added “Seig Heil” along with the sign.
As Sarah said, “that is a very powerful thing to sign, and it made me uncomfortable.”
No shit. It is amazing she doesn’t work at the Deaf School.
Story of the Day 4/ 25/2010
Sarah told me that the policeman was angry. Of course, she couldn’t’ hear his voice, after he came over and spoke to them through her window, but his face certainly showed it.
It was right after that stop sign.
The one at the school.
The one in the parking lot.
The one that Sarah did stop for.
On Sunday, when the school is closed and the parking lot is vacant and where we have taken our kids to practice driving – you know, starting the car, stopping the car, shifting from 1st to 2nd gear.
Apparently, that is illegal.
In order to practice in eth school parking lot on a day that there is no school and the lot is empty, you have to have your driver’s license. Or at least your learner’s permit.
He told Sarah that “he” ( he thought Sarah was a boy ) would not be able to get her license until she was 21, if he write her a ticket.
But he just gave her a warning.
According to Larry, it would be permanently on her record until she was 21.
Since Larry is the one who explained what the police officer said to Sarah, I will let them hash out which version is right.
Sheesh, and to think we have been breaking the law all of these years and never knew it.
A real shame.
If we’d known we’d been breaking the law, we’d at least have gotten a little thrill out of it.
It was right after that stop sign.
The one at the school.
The one in the parking lot.
The one that Sarah did stop for.
On Sunday, when the school is closed and the parking lot is vacant and where we have taken our kids to practice driving – you know, starting the car, stopping the car, shifting from 1st to 2nd gear.
Apparently, that is illegal.
In order to practice in eth school parking lot on a day that there is no school and the lot is empty, you have to have your driver’s license. Or at least your learner’s permit.
He told Sarah that “he” ( he thought Sarah was a boy ) would not be able to get her license until she was 21, if he write her a ticket.
But he just gave her a warning.
According to Larry, it would be permanently on her record until she was 21.
Since Larry is the one who explained what the police officer said to Sarah, I will let them hash out which version is right.
Sheesh, and to think we have been breaking the law all of these years and never knew it.
A real shame.
If we’d known we’d been breaking the law, we’d at least have gotten a little thrill out of it.
Story of the Day 4/ 20/2010
Sarah’s resource teacher told her she had three options, she could go to the play on Thursday and the interpreter would interpret it to her ( from a script), they could give her a script to read along, or she could go off to the library and read.
Sarah immediately replied that she would go to the library.
The teacher said, “No, no, you have to think about it.”
No she didn’t.
I mean, how many more interpreter stories does she want to have to live through?
Sarah immediately replied that she would go to the library.
The teacher said, “No, no, you have to think about it.”
No she didn’t.
I mean, how many more interpreter stories does she want to have to live through?
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Story of the Day 4/ 13/ 2010 #2
I had to admit, today, to a friend, what was really going through my mind as Sarah was telling me, on Friday afternoon, the first part of the interpreter story.
It wasn’t’ exactly horror, or concern, or that I wanted to bop the idiot terp over the head with a heavy ASL dictionary, it was, “Boy, this is going to make great material for one of Aaron’s stand-up comedy routines.”
Now you know what sort of a mother I really am.
It wasn’t’ exactly horror, or concern, or that I wanted to bop the idiot terp over the head with a heavy ASL dictionary, it was, “Boy, this is going to make great material for one of Aaron’s stand-up comedy routines.”
Now you know what sort of a mother I really am.
Story of the Day 4/13/2010 #1
I sent the school a short email.
It came after one of my very few moments of insight.
Let me see, I am 50. I think I may have had about 4 of those, so far. A little bit less one per decade.
I said,
“There are really two possibilities, here.
The interpreter is competent / capable of interpreting for a high school health class and this was done on purpose, or the interpreter is incapable/ not competent to interpret for a high school health class.
Of course, the school's response should take those two possibilities into consideration.”
It came after one of my very few moments of insight.
Let me see, I am 50. I think I may have had about 4 of those, so far. A little bit less one per decade.
I said,
“There are really two possibilities, here.
The interpreter is competent / capable of interpreting for a high school health class and this was done on purpose, or the interpreter is incapable/ not competent to interpret for a high school health class.
Of course, the school's response should take those two possibilities into consideration.”
Story of the Day 4/ 11/ 2010
This is really part two of the Story of the Day from Friday ( 4/9/2010), except that I didn’t’ know about it, then.
Lunch today was interesting.
And educational.
In Health class, Sarah’s teacher has been lecturing them about infections, viruses, bacteria and how they are transmitted. Oh yes, and risky behavior.
According to the interpreter, the teacher was very graphic and used rude terms in her description of a blow job and the subsequent ejaculation.
Of course, Sarah is suspicious that instead of the rude terms the interpreter used, the teacher might have been using the term “oral sex.”
What can I say… either the teacher’s lecturing standards have fallen substantially, since my other two children were in high school , or the quality of interpreting just isn’t what it used to be.
And I complained when the public school Science teacher taught Sarah that God made the world in 7 days……..
Lunch today was interesting.
And educational.
In Health class, Sarah’s teacher has been lecturing them about infections, viruses, bacteria and how they are transmitted. Oh yes, and risky behavior.
According to the interpreter, the teacher was very graphic and used rude terms in her description of a blow job and the subsequent ejaculation.
Of course, Sarah is suspicious that instead of the rude terms the interpreter used, the teacher might have been using the term “oral sex.”
What can I say… either the teacher’s lecturing standards have fallen substantially, since my other two children were in high school , or the quality of interpreting just isn’t what it used to be.
And I complained when the public school Science teacher taught Sarah that God made the world in 7 days……..
Story of the Day 4/ 9/ 2010
Apparently, at North Central High school, sex is a bad word. Not only is it whispered, in class, by the teacher, but it is also expressed in a very crude way and there seems to be a strong preference for a specific position.
On the other hand, this could just be the interpreter.
Sarah thinks it is the interpreter.
She thinks that the teacher might have actually said the word “sex” or “sexual activity” or something like that, and the interpreter just decided to use some crude 4-letter word references to specific activities instead.
The first time, Sarah’s eyebrows went up.
It took her a moment to regain her composure.
The second time….
And, remember, this was being done in whispers.
You see, the interpreter was signing things like, :
”Some viruses are transmitted through
(tiny signing)........
And other viruses are…..”
In case you didn’t know it, watching an entire lesson being presented this way is rather annoying. It is also questionable if you could describe it as making the information “accessible” to the deaf student. Unless, the teacher really was whispering each of those words.
But back to the “educational “ terms being used.
Sarah bit back the impulse to ask the teacher or to correct the interpreter, if, in fact, the interpreter was simply mis-using some incorrectly learnt vocabulary.
Sarah knows better than to try to do this.
This interpreter is unable to understand even when Sarah dumbs down her signing and signs as if she were speaking to an 8 year old.
And then ,after Sarah has slowed her signing down and carefully arranged her words into English grammatical order and limited her vocabulary selections to ones an 8 year old should know, the interpreter might very well say, out loud, in spoken English, something that would imply that Sarah was trying to use those words to refer to something- and not trying to correct the interpreter’s vocabulary usage or ask if that is , indeed, what the teacher said.
And, because of her experiences with the other interpreter, Sarah knows not to trust the interpreters to correct any interpreting mistakes that they make.
So, Sarah simply came home and shared this with me. Shared what she had learned in Health Class , today.
This lesson that your tax dollars support.
Addendum: I will have to ask the teacher if Sarah will receive full credit for using these vocabulary words on the chapter test.
On the other hand, this could just be the interpreter.
Sarah thinks it is the interpreter.
She thinks that the teacher might have actually said the word “sex” or “sexual activity” or something like that, and the interpreter just decided to use some crude 4-letter word references to specific activities instead.
The first time, Sarah’s eyebrows went up.
It took her a moment to regain her composure.
The second time….
And, remember, this was being done in whispers.
You see, the interpreter was signing things like, :
”Some viruses are transmitted through
(tiny signing)........
And other viruses are…..”
In case you didn’t know it, watching an entire lesson being presented this way is rather annoying. It is also questionable if you could describe it as making the information “accessible” to the deaf student. Unless, the teacher really was whispering each of those words.
But back to the “educational “ terms being used.
Sarah bit back the impulse to ask the teacher or to correct the interpreter, if, in fact, the interpreter was simply mis-using some incorrectly learnt vocabulary.
Sarah knows better than to try to do this.
This interpreter is unable to understand even when Sarah dumbs down her signing and signs as if she were speaking to an 8 year old.
And then ,after Sarah has slowed her signing down and carefully arranged her words into English grammatical order and limited her vocabulary selections to ones an 8 year old should know, the interpreter might very well say, out loud, in spoken English, something that would imply that Sarah was trying to use those words to refer to something- and not trying to correct the interpreter’s vocabulary usage or ask if that is , indeed, what the teacher said.
And, because of her experiences with the other interpreter, Sarah knows not to trust the interpreters to correct any interpreting mistakes that they make.
So, Sarah simply came home and shared this with me. Shared what she had learned in Health Class , today.
This lesson that your tax dollars support.
Addendum: I will have to ask the teacher if Sarah will receive full credit for using these vocabulary words on the chapter test.
Story of the Day 4/7/2010
My daughter was worried.
About going back to school today.
She was absent on Monday and Tuesday. Today is Wednesday.
And the kids will ask her why she was absent.
She showed me her problem. She demonstrated what she should say.
” I was absent for Jewish holidays.”
I told her not to worry. All of the students at her school knew other Jewish kids and would understand. This wasn’t’ like the Deaf School where being Jewish was akin to speaking Pashto. No one even knew that Pashto was a language, none-the-less which country used it.
“That isn’t’ the problem.”
She signed it again.
Oh.
The problems is that the interpreter doesn’t have the receptive language skills or the vocabulary to turn that sentence into English and she is scared what the terp will say she said.
“Could you fingerspell really slowly?” I suggested.
This was met by a raised cynical eyebrow. She does that very well.
I remembered how well that worked last time.
And shuddered.
About going back to school today.
She was absent on Monday and Tuesday. Today is Wednesday.
And the kids will ask her why she was absent.
She showed me her problem. She demonstrated what she should say.
” I was absent for Jewish holidays.”
I told her not to worry. All of the students at her school knew other Jewish kids and would understand. This wasn’t’ like the Deaf School where being Jewish was akin to speaking Pashto. No one even knew that Pashto was a language, none-the-less which country used it.
“That isn’t’ the problem.”
She signed it again.
Oh.
The problems is that the interpreter doesn’t have the receptive language skills or the vocabulary to turn that sentence into English and she is scared what the terp will say she said.
“Could you fingerspell really slowly?” I suggested.
This was met by a raised cynical eyebrow. She does that very well.
I remembered how well that worked last time.
And shuddered.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Story of teh Day 3/ 26/ 2010
Sarah’s TOR ( resource teacher) told Sarah that she needed to let her teachers know that she will be missing school for 2 days for the end of Passover. So, yesterday morning, after the interpreter, who showed up late, came, Sarah explained very carefully and clearly that she would be absent from school on April 5th ad 6th, Monday and Tuesday , after spring break was over. She also asked if he had any make-up work he could give her for those days.
She got an odd look from her teacher, and then a response that made no sense. Apparently, the interpreter told the teacher that Sarah was absent on Monday and Tuesday and wanted make-up work from 5th and 6th periods….although Sarah never said anything about periods, and has this class during 1st period.
Of course, Sarah is now a pro at this and repeated, even more slowly and carefully, that she would be absent on April 5th and 6th, the Monday and Tuesday after spring break, and did he have any make-up work she could do for those days.
Since, this time, his response was appropriate, she knows the basic information was relayed, but she is concerned that the interpreter did not explain that it was the interpreters’ mistake and that the teacher now thinks that she is incredibly stupid.
Yes, this is the same unethical interpreter who previously refused to even interpret the correct information, after she had erred.
My husband thinks we should make a t-shirt for Sarah to wear to school. It should say, “I am not retarded, the interpreter is.”
The problem is that this would be insulting to the ethical and hardworking students who are intellectually challenged, even if the basic message is the Gospel truth.
She got an odd look from her teacher, and then a response that made no sense. Apparently, the interpreter told the teacher that Sarah was absent on Monday and Tuesday and wanted make-up work from 5th and 6th periods….although Sarah never said anything about periods, and has this class during 1st period.
Of course, Sarah is now a pro at this and repeated, even more slowly and carefully, that she would be absent on April 5th and 6th, the Monday and Tuesday after spring break, and did he have any make-up work she could do for those days.
Since, this time, his response was appropriate, she knows the basic information was relayed, but she is concerned that the interpreter did not explain that it was the interpreters’ mistake and that the teacher now thinks that she is incredibly stupid.
Yes, this is the same unethical interpreter who previously refused to even interpret the correct information, after she had erred.
My husband thinks we should make a t-shirt for Sarah to wear to school. It should say, “I am not retarded, the interpreter is.”
The problem is that this would be insulting to the ethical and hardworking students who are intellectually challenged, even if the basic message is the Gospel truth.
Story of the Day 3/ 14/ 2010
It is almost report card time.
This will be a big change for Sarah.
At ISD, she wasn’t’ guaranteed it, but there would often be the following comment “participates well in class.”
Of course, we are not expecting any of the teachers to write anything vaguely resembling that, this quarter.
Actually, as of last week, we are kind of expecting to get a note that she was sent to the Dean’s office or had earned detention because of her lack of classroom participation.
During science class, and do not ask me why, the teacher became upset with the class and said that if some hands didn’t’ go up, he was sending them to the Dean’s office.
Yes, this is the same Sarah who is overly concerned with having good behavior and takes pride in never having been sent to any office, at the Deaf School or at the public school for any behavior problem. But since Sarah lives in grave fear of what the interpreters will tell people that she said, she sat there with her hand down.
Apparently , enough students raised their hands to save the day, but it really does open up an entire new batch of potential problems.
The least of which is her report card.
This will be a big change for Sarah.
At ISD, she wasn’t’ guaranteed it, but there would often be the following comment “participates well in class.”
Of course, we are not expecting any of the teachers to write anything vaguely resembling that, this quarter.
Actually, as of last week, we are kind of expecting to get a note that she was sent to the Dean’s office or had earned detention because of her lack of classroom participation.
During science class, and do not ask me why, the teacher became upset with the class and said that if some hands didn’t’ go up, he was sending them to the Dean’s office.
Yes, this is the same Sarah who is overly concerned with having good behavior and takes pride in never having been sent to any office, at the Deaf School or at the public school for any behavior problem. But since Sarah lives in grave fear of what the interpreters will tell people that she said, she sat there with her hand down.
Apparently , enough students raised their hands to save the day, but it really does open up an entire new batch of potential problems.
The least of which is her report card.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Story of the Day 3/18/2010
I keep being asked if the interpreter situation has improved.
It has.
Sort of.
If you were going to weigh things, the two interpreters that Sarah has had most often are both “negatives”, and the one that she has had the most often is the more “negative” of the two.
If something is negative, and you have less of it, that is an improvement, right?
So, the fact that Ms. Doubly Negative ( also known as Jenni) leaves early must be a good thing.
Sarah has told me that she is often getting up in the middle of class, during the lectures, and leaving to go to the bathroom or to answer her phone.
Okay, Sarah doesn’t want her to squirm around in her seat in discomfort, but how many times in a day does the phone call take precedence over the fact that she is leaving and the student she is interpreting for is now missing part of the lecture?
And then, starting a few weeks ago, Jenni started asking Sarah if it was okay if she left for a bit. You know, took a break.
The break being half an hour, so that she can leave the HS.
And if Jenni is scheduled from 7:30- 1, and class goes until 1:09, she always gets up and leaves at 1.
Of course, If she is supposed to be the one starting at 1, she does not show up in the class that goes until 1:09, she meets Sarah in her next class, several minutes later.
But, this week, she has added a new twist; she has taken to leaving early, and not even telling Sarah that she is leaving.
Sarah was, in fact, surprised the first time that it happened.
But less surprised the second time.
Well, the school has been rather more patient with these interpreters that I am feeling they should be, but I wonder if the fact that I have now notified them that they are paying a terp to be interpreting and she isn’t even in the school will affect their response time.
Any bets?
In the meanwhile, despite the fact hat it means no interpreter is around for part of the day, I can’t help thinking that less of Ms. Doubly Negative can still be considered an improvement.
It has.
Sort of.
If you were going to weigh things, the two interpreters that Sarah has had most often are both “negatives”, and the one that she has had the most often is the more “negative” of the two.
If something is negative, and you have less of it, that is an improvement, right?
So, the fact that Ms. Doubly Negative ( also known as Jenni) leaves early must be a good thing.
Sarah has told me that she is often getting up in the middle of class, during the lectures, and leaving to go to the bathroom or to answer her phone.
Okay, Sarah doesn’t want her to squirm around in her seat in discomfort, but how many times in a day does the phone call take precedence over the fact that she is leaving and the student she is interpreting for is now missing part of the lecture?
And then, starting a few weeks ago, Jenni started asking Sarah if it was okay if she left for a bit. You know, took a break.
The break being half an hour, so that she can leave the HS.
And if Jenni is scheduled from 7:30- 1, and class goes until 1:09, she always gets up and leaves at 1.
Of course, If she is supposed to be the one starting at 1, she does not show up in the class that goes until 1:09, she meets Sarah in her next class, several minutes later.
But, this week, she has added a new twist; she has taken to leaving early, and not even telling Sarah that she is leaving.
Sarah was, in fact, surprised the first time that it happened.
But less surprised the second time.
Well, the school has been rather more patient with these interpreters that I am feeling they should be, but I wonder if the fact that I have now notified them that they are paying a terp to be interpreting and she isn’t even in the school will affect their response time.
Any bets?
In the meanwhile, despite the fact hat it means no interpreter is around for part of the day, I can’t help thinking that less of Ms. Doubly Negative can still be considered an improvement.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Story of the Day 3/ 9/2010
We had just gotten home from Ivy Tech.
Ivy Tech is a community college . Aaron is planning on taking two classes there, this summer.
Classes that are required, but not of particular interest to him.
We were pulling into the driveway and he decides to tell me a joke.
“Mom, what was Mozart’s favorite fruit?”
I think, but no brilliant flash of insight comes my way.
“Ba-na-na-na-na.” says Aaron is a very atonal kind of sing-song- if there is such a thing.
Then he adds, “My friends all think that joke is very funny, but I don’t get it.”
I then repeat what he said- but with the melody of one of Mozart’s works attached to the syllables.
He gives me a blank look . and I wonder why I am trying to “sing” this to my deaf son.
Obviously, I need another cup of coffee.
Ivy Tech is a community college . Aaron is planning on taking two classes there, this summer.
Classes that are required, but not of particular interest to him.
We were pulling into the driveway and he decides to tell me a joke.
“Mom, what was Mozart’s favorite fruit?”
I think, but no brilliant flash of insight comes my way.
“Ba-na-na-na-na.” says Aaron is a very atonal kind of sing-song- if there is such a thing.
Then he adds, “My friends all think that joke is very funny, but I don’t get it.”
I then repeat what he said- but with the melody of one of Mozart’s works attached to the syllables.
He gives me a blank look . and I wonder why I am trying to “sing” this to my deaf son.
Obviously, I need another cup of coffee.
Story of the Day 3 / 8/ 2010
Aaron is home. He came home with a very large bag of dirty laundry.
And with an announcement.
Friday evening, he announced that he has throat cancer.
My concern lasted about 24 seconds, until it occurred to me that this is my very same son who drinks 4 POTS of green tea a day because he is afraid of developing Alzheimer’s, and eats only high fiber bread, to stave off colon cancer, and….
“How do you know?”
“My throat hurts.”
This information takes a mite longer to absorb. Maybe even 51 seconds.
“Have you been taking any anti-histamines?”
Blank look.
“You know, like Benadryl.”
“Oh, no.”
“Well, “ says his highly unsympathetic mother, “ I am going to give you some now, and I want you to take Claritin ( a different anti-histamine), tomorrow morning."
Amazingly, he has now decided that he does not have throat cancer, and if I am lucky, he will allow me to send him back to college with a couple of bottles of drugs…..the same kinds I packed for him in August, when he went off to college.
And with an announcement.
Friday evening, he announced that he has throat cancer.
My concern lasted about 24 seconds, until it occurred to me that this is my very same son who drinks 4 POTS of green tea a day because he is afraid of developing Alzheimer’s, and eats only high fiber bread, to stave off colon cancer, and….
“How do you know?”
“My throat hurts.”
This information takes a mite longer to absorb. Maybe even 51 seconds.
“Have you been taking any anti-histamines?”
Blank look.
“You know, like Benadryl.”
“Oh, no.”
“Well, “ says his highly unsympathetic mother, “ I am going to give you some now, and I want you to take Claritin ( a different anti-histamine), tomorrow morning."
Amazingly, he has now decided that he does not have throat cancer, and if I am lucky, he will allow me to send him back to college with a couple of bottles of drugs…..the same kinds I packed for him in August, when he went off to college.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Story of the Day 3/7/2010
Friday night, Shabbat dinner, was especially nice. Aaron is home on Spring Break.
He keeps reminding us that he preferred to come home and not trek to Florida where he could be drunk and sunburnt. Oddly, we even believe him.
At dinner, Sarah was sharing some of the week’s trials and tribulations with the interpreters she has at high school.
On Thursday, at lunch, she asked one of the kids she sits with a question.
The girl responded, “I guess we use trays because if we didn’t’, then the food would fall onto the floor.”
Sarah was taken aback. She sat there trying to figure out why this was so off topic.
The interpreter said, “What?”
Sarah said, “That doesn’t’ make sense.”
Then the interpreter said, “What did you say?”
“I said, ‘Are you waiting for T…. (another student with whom they usually eat)?”
The interpreter put her hand on her head and groaned.
She said, “I asked her why people have trays.”
Sarah cringed. OMG, the kids at the table must think she is mentally retarded or that the kids at the Deaf School have never seen a cafeteria tray, or both.
When she told me this, after school on Thursday, I asked, “Did she correct what she had misinterpreted with the other student?”
“No.”
Sarah said that she told the interpreter, “Please tell her what the mistake was.” But the interpreter wouldn’t.
Leaving Sarah mortified about what the other students thought about her.
Aaron listened to this, aghast.
After hearing about it, Aaron said, “I should go and interpret for you. I could do a better job than they do!”
I thought about this, my deaf son interpreting for my Deaf daughter.
I decided he is right.
He keeps reminding us that he preferred to come home and not trek to Florida where he could be drunk and sunburnt. Oddly, we even believe him.
At dinner, Sarah was sharing some of the week’s trials and tribulations with the interpreters she has at high school.
On Thursday, at lunch, she asked one of the kids she sits with a question.
The girl responded, “I guess we use trays because if we didn’t’, then the food would fall onto the floor.”
Sarah was taken aback. She sat there trying to figure out why this was so off topic.
The interpreter said, “What?”
Sarah said, “That doesn’t’ make sense.”
Then the interpreter said, “What did you say?”
“I said, ‘Are you waiting for T…. (another student with whom they usually eat)?”
The interpreter put her hand on her head and groaned.
She said, “I asked her why people have trays.”
Sarah cringed. OMG, the kids at the table must think she is mentally retarded or that the kids at the Deaf School have never seen a cafeteria tray, or both.
When she told me this, after school on Thursday, I asked, “Did she correct what she had misinterpreted with the other student?”
“No.”
Sarah said that she told the interpreter, “Please tell her what the mistake was.” But the interpreter wouldn’t.
Leaving Sarah mortified about what the other students thought about her.
Aaron listened to this, aghast.
After hearing about it, Aaron said, “I should go and interpret for you. I could do a better job than they do!”
I thought about this, my deaf son interpreting for my Deaf daughter.
I decided he is right.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Story of the Day 2/ 24/ 2010
My son called me.
It was a run of the mill call. He started out by apologizing. “Am I calling you enough? I am really sorry if I have not been calling you enough!”
He is driving me nuts. And not because he isn’t’ calling me often enough. I do not know where this comes from, as far as I seem to remember, I have not spent an excessive amount of time loading him up with guilt, saying things like, “ You must not love me, you never call!”
I am starting to wonder if it is some subtle body language, a look I give him…but since we are talking about phone conversations, I am not quite sure how that would be possible.
At any rate, I have this gnawing feeling that I have been a bad mother and have left him with an incurable guilt complex. And it is only because I have a really bad memory that I have no idea what it is I did to warp him in this way.
Maybe it is my fault because I keep asking him if he is having fun.
But this was not all that was bothering him.
“ I really wasted a lot of time.” He explained to me.
“I was working on this screen playing, and working at it. I spent a lot of time on it, but I decided that it isn’t’ working, so now I am starting another one.”
I had to ask, “What was wrong with the first one.”
“Well, it was a musical. And I kind of realized that I probably should not try to write a musical, since I am deaf.”
And I was worrying that he feels guilty about not calling me…….
It was a run of the mill call. He started out by apologizing. “Am I calling you enough? I am really sorry if I have not been calling you enough!”
He is driving me nuts. And not because he isn’t’ calling me often enough. I do not know where this comes from, as far as I seem to remember, I have not spent an excessive amount of time loading him up with guilt, saying things like, “ You must not love me, you never call!”
I am starting to wonder if it is some subtle body language, a look I give him…but since we are talking about phone conversations, I am not quite sure how that would be possible.
At any rate, I have this gnawing feeling that I have been a bad mother and have left him with an incurable guilt complex. And it is only because I have a really bad memory that I have no idea what it is I did to warp him in this way.
Maybe it is my fault because I keep asking him if he is having fun.
But this was not all that was bothering him.
“ I really wasted a lot of time.” He explained to me.
“I was working on this screen playing, and working at it. I spent a lot of time on it, but I decided that it isn’t’ working, so now I am starting another one.”
I had to ask, “What was wrong with the first one.”
“Well, it was a musical. And I kind of realized that I probably should not try to write a musical, since I am deaf.”
And I was worrying that he feels guilty about not calling me…….
Story of the Day 2/ 18/2010
Our mail box looked sad.
This is despite the fact that it must have had a wild time, last night.
It is leaning, rather severely, to one side. It is cracked where the plastic attaches to the wooden post, and I am suspicious that the post is also cracked, and will need to be replaced. This is because the ground is frozen. And not just a little frozen, and it took a heck of a lot of force to shove the mailbox to this angle, which, in frozen ground, probably means a very cracked post.
There are some clues.
The party with the mailbox happened after 11 Pm and before 6:30 AM. And it wasn’t casual. The tracks in the snow show that the car that had the hot date with our mailbox swerved into it from the lane that is on the far side of the road from it. In other words, it came all the way over to the far side of the road just to make this statement.
Sarah was very upset.
She wants to know why the person that did this didn’t have the courtesy to come up to the house and apologize.
Personally, I am glad the most probably inebriated post-lover didn’t’ come and ring our bell at 3 AM.
However, I also hope his car has wearing a souvenir from the party.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Story of the Day 2/ 23/ 2010
I have apparently cornered the market on margarine.
I didn’t’ mean to. And I didn’t’ want to.
It has to do with Passover.
Last year, there was no margarine- none that was kosher for Passover.
I am 50 years old. For 49 of my years there has been Mother’s kosher for Passover margarine.
There has also been Breakstone Kosher for Passover butter, but that is a different story.
Every year, just before Passover, my family and then I would buy some to use during Passover.
But last year, there wasn’t’ any. There wasn’t any at Marsh or at Kroger’s.
With great desperation, I asked my neighbor to pick some up for me when she was in Chicago. Even if it was a different brand.
I know this was sacrilege, but I was feeling desperate.
She came home from Chicago with a van full of grape juice, and cheese, and meat, but no margarine.
She had been told that no kosher for Passover margarine had been made. At All.
So, this year, when the on-line Kosher for Passover co-op order list became available, I put down that I wanted a case of margarine- Mother’s, of course, to split.
What I mean is that I entered it on the “to be split” page, and people were supposed to contact me about splitting it.
This is the order that comes in from Kansas City and is dropped off in the parking lot of one of the synagogues on a prearranged date at a prearranged time, and then all of these Jewish ladies, and a few guys show up and put the cases of contraband surreptitiously into the trunks of our cars and drive away.
This happens about 6 times a year and on at least one of those occasions the stuff actually shows up when it is supposed to.
And once, in the years I have been ordering from them, my entire order has come. Usually I get half of it. Once I got none of it. So it is always interesting.
But if you pretend it has something to do with playing the slot machines, you will feel very lucky when you get what you have ordered, even if the date or time has changed.
So I put the case of margarine on the “to split” page.
A week went by.
Finally, one women emailed me that she wanted a lb or 2.
I was feeling a little stressed. The order deadline was coming up, and I really didn’t’ want 28 or 29 lbs of kosher for Passover margarine.
That is what I would have left from the 30 lb. case, after splitting it.
If you haven’t guessed, this is why I do not order many things from the co-op.
Yes, they have a great selection of things that you can’t get at the grocery store here in greater Indianapolis, and the prices are good, but I usually do not need 20 lbs of one kind of cheese,
Or 24 bags of chocolate chips, or ….30 lbs of margarine.
And when I do order something, I am not even sure I will get it.
So, in a mass emailing and at synagogue on Shabbat, I desperately mentioned that I wanted to split a case.
And…I waited.
And, after numerous emails back and forth and the desperate help of a few devoted friends, I found that I would only need to keep 16 lbs of margarine, if I ordered the case.
And the deadline to place the order is in 19 minutes. At midnight.
So, with some trepidation, I did a very brave thing.
I removed it from my cart.
And, I will hope that , this year, there really is margarine in the stores here in Indiana, or in Chicago- or we will just use Breakstone butter.
I consider this a true act of faith.
Now, there is actually a second part to this story.
You see, if I had ordered that case of margarine., I really would have been cornering the market- at least in terms of Indianapolis….and probably the rest of Indiana.
Just think of the power!
Many years ago, during the summer- this was in the early 1970’s, I was at home and I picked up the telephone. It was for my father. What ensued was along and very confusing phone call for my father.
My father had this friend named Mort .
Mort and he used to do a lot of things together. They used to double date. Well, not in the 1970;s, by then Mort was happily married to his wife of many years, but they had. They had also gone bowling together, and , in the 1970’s, they had started investing together.
Most people buy shares in a mutual fund. I have no idea if there were such things in the 1970’s, but even if there had been, that is not what those two would have done.
Mort and my father liked to think that they were pretty smart. So, they would study up on things and read up on things, and then Mort would tell my dad, who was a bit confused, what they should buy.
This was good. As a general rule, my dad did a lot better when he followed Mort’s lead than when he invested on his own.
Anyhow, there was this investment vehicle called “futures”. You would sell something, but then, you would have to buy it- that is because you sold it before you owned any of it. Please, do not ask me to explain. It has something to do with farmers wanting some insurance that they will get an okay price come harvest time, but it really sounds a lot like what sunk the economy, recently.
Actually, in comparison, I should probably invest in a case f that Passover margarine, but back to the 1970's.
For some reason, Mort had decided that they should invest in futures of orange juice.
I have no idea why he picked orange juice, but week after week the two of them were buying futures- or, put differently, selling more and ,more of something that they didn’t’ yet own.
Now, neither my dad nor Mort was poor- they were both comfortably middle class. The sort of middle class where you can belong to a swimming pool in the summer and have a maid come in and clean once a week, and get a new car every few years. Not a Cadillac, but something respectable.
Well, somehow, the two of them had managed to corner the market on orange juice. You see, the call was from sort of federal agricultural office asking what they were forecasting, since they were now the third largest dealers in orange juice in the country.
Unfortunately, they called my dad, who listened to the guy very carefully, and then told him that he needed to call his “partner”, Mort, for his sage advice. Personally, I think that was a good save.
And for the next few weeks, the two of them went around feeling like they had joined the ranks of the truly rich- since they had cornered a large part of the Orange juice market.
Hopefully, my dad and Mort would not be ashamed to find out that I decided not to order that case of margarine…….and am just going to take my luck on what Marsh may or may not have, this year.
I didn’t’ mean to. And I didn’t’ want to.
It has to do with Passover.
Last year, there was no margarine- none that was kosher for Passover.
I am 50 years old. For 49 of my years there has been Mother’s kosher for Passover margarine.
There has also been Breakstone Kosher for Passover butter, but that is a different story.
Every year, just before Passover, my family and then I would buy some to use during Passover.
But last year, there wasn’t’ any. There wasn’t any at Marsh or at Kroger’s.
With great desperation, I asked my neighbor to pick some up for me when she was in Chicago. Even if it was a different brand.
I know this was sacrilege, but I was feeling desperate.
She came home from Chicago with a van full of grape juice, and cheese, and meat, but no margarine.
She had been told that no kosher for Passover margarine had been made. At All.
So, this year, when the on-line Kosher for Passover co-op order list became available, I put down that I wanted a case of margarine- Mother’s, of course, to split.
What I mean is that I entered it on the “to be split” page, and people were supposed to contact me about splitting it.
This is the order that comes in from Kansas City and is dropped off in the parking lot of one of the synagogues on a prearranged date at a prearranged time, and then all of these Jewish ladies, and a few guys show up and put the cases of contraband surreptitiously into the trunks of our cars and drive away.
This happens about 6 times a year and on at least one of those occasions the stuff actually shows up when it is supposed to.
And once, in the years I have been ordering from them, my entire order has come. Usually I get half of it. Once I got none of it. So it is always interesting.
But if you pretend it has something to do with playing the slot machines, you will feel very lucky when you get what you have ordered, even if the date or time has changed.
So I put the case of margarine on the “to split” page.
A week went by.
Finally, one women emailed me that she wanted a lb or 2.
I was feeling a little stressed. The order deadline was coming up, and I really didn’t’ want 28 or 29 lbs of kosher for Passover margarine.
That is what I would have left from the 30 lb. case, after splitting it.
If you haven’t guessed, this is why I do not order many things from the co-op.
Yes, they have a great selection of things that you can’t get at the grocery store here in greater Indianapolis, and the prices are good, but I usually do not need 20 lbs of one kind of cheese,
Or 24 bags of chocolate chips, or ….30 lbs of margarine.
And when I do order something, I am not even sure I will get it.
So, in a mass emailing and at synagogue on Shabbat, I desperately mentioned that I wanted to split a case.
And…I waited.
And, after numerous emails back and forth and the desperate help of a few devoted friends, I found that I would only need to keep 16 lbs of margarine, if I ordered the case.
And the deadline to place the order is in 19 minutes. At midnight.
So, with some trepidation, I did a very brave thing.
I removed it from my cart.
And, I will hope that , this year, there really is margarine in the stores here in Indiana, or in Chicago- or we will just use Breakstone butter.
I consider this a true act of faith.
Now, there is actually a second part to this story.
You see, if I had ordered that case of margarine., I really would have been cornering the market- at least in terms of Indianapolis….and probably the rest of Indiana.
Just think of the power!
Many years ago, during the summer- this was in the early 1970’s, I was at home and I picked up the telephone. It was for my father. What ensued was along and very confusing phone call for my father.
My father had this friend named Mort .
Mort and he used to do a lot of things together. They used to double date. Well, not in the 1970;s, by then Mort was happily married to his wife of many years, but they had. They had also gone bowling together, and , in the 1970’s, they had started investing together.
Most people buy shares in a mutual fund. I have no idea if there were such things in the 1970’s, but even if there had been, that is not what those two would have done.
Mort and my father liked to think that they were pretty smart. So, they would study up on things and read up on things, and then Mort would tell my dad, who was a bit confused, what they should buy.
This was good. As a general rule, my dad did a lot better when he followed Mort’s lead than when he invested on his own.
Anyhow, there was this investment vehicle called “futures”. You would sell something, but then, you would have to buy it- that is because you sold it before you owned any of it. Please, do not ask me to explain. It has something to do with farmers wanting some insurance that they will get an okay price come harvest time, but it really sounds a lot like what sunk the economy, recently.
Actually, in comparison, I should probably invest in a case f that Passover margarine, but back to the 1970's.
For some reason, Mort had decided that they should invest in futures of orange juice.
I have no idea why he picked orange juice, but week after week the two of them were buying futures- or, put differently, selling more and ,more of something that they didn’t’ yet own.
Now, neither my dad nor Mort was poor- they were both comfortably middle class. The sort of middle class where you can belong to a swimming pool in the summer and have a maid come in and clean once a week, and get a new car every few years. Not a Cadillac, but something respectable.
Well, somehow, the two of them had managed to corner the market on orange juice. You see, the call was from sort of federal agricultural office asking what they were forecasting, since they were now the third largest dealers in orange juice in the country.
Unfortunately, they called my dad, who listened to the guy very carefully, and then told him that he needed to call his “partner”, Mort, for his sage advice. Personally, I think that was a good save.
And for the next few weeks, the two of them went around feeling like they had joined the ranks of the truly rich- since they had cornered a large part of the Orange juice market.
Hopefully, my dad and Mort would not be ashamed to find out that I decided not to order that case of margarine…….and am just going to take my luck on what Marsh may or may not have, this year.
Story of teh Day- ummmmmmmmm from Rosh Hashanah?
Okay- I foudn this at the end of another document I was checking...I apparently did not save it in my Stories folder, and never posted it.
At dinner, on Rosh Hashanah, and I am very sorry that I do not remember what led to this part of the conversation, but Sarah decided to tell us that when Aaron gets engaged, she is going to pull the young lady aside and tell her two very important things:
1. If you ever hurt my brother, I will kill you.
and
2. We did not teach him that it is okay to eat scrambled eggs with his fingers.
At dinner, on Rosh Hashanah, and I am very sorry that I do not remember what led to this part of the conversation, but Sarah decided to tell us that when Aaron gets engaged, she is going to pull the young lady aside and tell her two very important things:
1. If you ever hurt my brother, I will kill you.
and
2. We did not teach him that it is okay to eat scrambled eggs with his fingers.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Story of teh Day 2/ 22/ 2010
Sarah was surprised by the interpreter, today.
Not by one of the usual “surprise “ scenarios, where the interpreter signs “ erection” instead of mail box flag, or the interpreter tells her that World War II started in the year 939. This was more personal.
The interpreter had met Aaron.
This is one of the interpreters Sarah has had since starting at North Central High School, a few weeks ago- and because there was no mention of this, before, Sarah was surprised.
She was also surprised because Aaron doesn’t use an interpreter. So how did they meet?
Well, the interpreter wasn’t at school to interpret for Aaron, she was there to interpret for another student, who didn’t’ show up, so the interpreter went to the Resource teacher to let her know. And Aaron was in the room with the Resource teacher.
Aaron introduced himself and then he said, “ I am deaf. I mean , I am not that kind of deaf, but I'm deaf. I can hear, but I can’t really hear. But I have a sister, and she is really deaf. “
He had made a lasting impression. Apparently, no one else had ever introduced themselves to this young woman that way, before.
She must not get around much.
Not by one of the usual “surprise “ scenarios, where the interpreter signs “ erection” instead of mail box flag, or the interpreter tells her that World War II started in the year 939. This was more personal.
The interpreter had met Aaron.
This is one of the interpreters Sarah has had since starting at North Central High School, a few weeks ago- and because there was no mention of this, before, Sarah was surprised.
She was also surprised because Aaron doesn’t use an interpreter. So how did they meet?
Well, the interpreter wasn’t at school to interpret for Aaron, she was there to interpret for another student, who didn’t’ show up, so the interpreter went to the Resource teacher to let her know. And Aaron was in the room with the Resource teacher.
Aaron introduced himself and then he said, “ I am deaf. I mean , I am not that kind of deaf, but I'm deaf. I can hear, but I can’t really hear. But I have a sister, and she is really deaf. “
He had made a lasting impression. Apparently, no one else had ever introduced themselves to this young woman that way, before.
She must not get around much.
Story of teh Day 2/ 8/ 2010
Holding a spot, sicne I am still hoping to get permission to post this one.....
Story of the Day 1/ 28/ 2010
Today was Sarah’s second full day as a student at North central High School.
She marked it as a special day by vomiting.
She was very proud of herself, too. She managed to make it , not only into the girl’s bathroom, which was somewhat of a miracle, since she has no idea where the bathrooms are , yet, but even into the toilet. Not her, that is, but the vomit.
Afterwards, she ended up in the health center.
The health center was a step down from the one at the deaf school.
Sarah realized that when the woman asked her if she could get her anything, and Sarah asked for a toothbrush and toothpaste- so she could get rid of the disgusting post-vomit mouth –feel.
And the Health Center lady was startled. No , They don’t’ have those…….which surprise Sarah, since ISD’s health center does.
When asked , she tried to explain that she was stressed by the change in her schedule. She explained that she had just transferred.
Sarah is very concerned that she might vomit again, tomorrow.
She is worried that if she goes to the health center that the woman will think that she is lying. Either that or pregnant.
My face showed my utter astonishment at this remark.
To which Sarah responded, “Well, I am a girl.”
And she added that’s he would be mortified if they asked her to take a pregnancy test.
She marked it as a special day by vomiting.
She was very proud of herself, too. She managed to make it , not only into the girl’s bathroom, which was somewhat of a miracle, since she has no idea where the bathrooms are , yet, but even into the toilet. Not her, that is, but the vomit.
Afterwards, she ended up in the health center.
The health center was a step down from the one at the deaf school.
Sarah realized that when the woman asked her if she could get her anything, and Sarah asked for a toothbrush and toothpaste- so she could get rid of the disgusting post-vomit mouth –feel.
And the Health Center lady was startled. No , They don’t’ have those…….which surprise Sarah, since ISD’s health center does.
When asked , she tried to explain that she was stressed by the change in her schedule. She explained that she had just transferred.
Sarah is very concerned that she might vomit again, tomorrow.
She is worried that if she goes to the health center that the woman will think that she is lying. Either that or pregnant.
My face showed my utter astonishment at this remark.
To which Sarah responded, “Well, I am a girl.”
And she added that’s he would be mortified if they asked her to take a pregnancy test.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Story of the Day 1/15/2010
I was speaking on the phone with Cindie, yesterday evening.
About the Deaf School.
Cindie said, “If I hadn’t been sitting next to you for most of it, I would never believe your Stories.”
Neither would I.
About the Deaf School.
Cindie said, “If I hadn’t been sitting next to you for most of it, I would never believe your Stories.”
Neither would I.
Story of the Day 1/14/2010
Sarah came home from school today, got off the bus and came into the house with a huge smile plastered across her face.
She said, “I have great news for you.”
And then she gestured for me to guess.
I assumed it was about the Deaf School.
“They fired J.B.?” This is the Social Studies teacher that taught the class that the Holocaust never happened. Of course, this teacher is still teaching Social Studies at the Deaf School.
“No.”
Sarah is still smiling broadly and gesturing for me to guess again.
“They fired T.W. ?” This is the teacher that literally stalked Sarah, when she was in elementary school. At a meeting with the superintendant, Cindy Lawrence, the supervising teacher literally cried. She was so frustrated with trying to stop this teacher from following my daughter all sorts of places, including leaving a classroom of students unattended to follow my daughter into the bathroom. Of course, this teacher is still teaching at the deaf school.
“No.”
Sarah is still smiling broadly and gesturing for me to guess again.
Okay, I am struggling.
“They fired the principal?” One a scale of 1 to 10 she is not in the same category as those teachers, but she has told me in writing that they will not be following my daughter’s IEP. Not a good sign from a principal of a school where every student has an IEP. However, she certainly fits in with choosing consciously to employ J.B. and T.W. to teach children.
“No.”
And despite her grin, I am out of guesses.
“What?”
“I am transferring to North Central High School.”
This is the public high school her sister and brother attended - the one with the absolutely wonderful Deaf and HH resource teacher. The same one Linda Wilkins and I rave about every time we get together for coffee. The one who makes sure the IEPs are followed. And at a school that does things like fire teachers who stalk students and who teach that Hitler was a nice guy.
I managed not to faint.
Later, on the phone, I call and tell Cindie the news.
I tell her I need to go out and buy one of the 4 lottery tickets I will probably buy, this year. It is a sign from above that we might just get lucky and win money for the synagogue to build a mikveh.
Of course, Cindie is smarter than I am. She says to hell with the lottery ticket. This is better than winning the lottery.
She is right.
She said, “I have great news for you.”
And then she gestured for me to guess.
I assumed it was about the Deaf School.
“They fired J.B.?” This is the Social Studies teacher that taught the class that the Holocaust never happened. Of course, this teacher is still teaching Social Studies at the Deaf School.
“No.”
Sarah is still smiling broadly and gesturing for me to guess again.
“They fired T.W. ?” This is the teacher that literally stalked Sarah, when she was in elementary school. At a meeting with the superintendant, Cindy Lawrence, the supervising teacher literally cried. She was so frustrated with trying to stop this teacher from following my daughter all sorts of places, including leaving a classroom of students unattended to follow my daughter into the bathroom. Of course, this teacher is still teaching at the deaf school.
“No.”
Sarah is still smiling broadly and gesturing for me to guess again.
Okay, I am struggling.
“They fired the principal?” One a scale of 1 to 10 she is not in the same category as those teachers, but she has told me in writing that they will not be following my daughter’s IEP. Not a good sign from a principal of a school where every student has an IEP. However, she certainly fits in with choosing consciously to employ J.B. and T.W. to teach children.
“No.”
And despite her grin, I am out of guesses.
“What?”
“I am transferring to North Central High School.”
This is the public high school her sister and brother attended - the one with the absolutely wonderful Deaf and HH resource teacher. The same one Linda Wilkins and I rave about every time we get together for coffee. The one who makes sure the IEPs are followed. And at a school that does things like fire teachers who stalk students and who teach that Hitler was a nice guy.
I managed not to faint.
Later, on the phone, I call and tell Cindie the news.
I tell her I need to go out and buy one of the 4 lottery tickets I will probably buy, this year. It is a sign from above that we might just get lucky and win money for the synagogue to build a mikveh.
Of course, Cindie is smarter than I am. She says to hell with the lottery ticket. This is better than winning the lottery.
She is right.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Story of the Day 1/11/2010
I have been uploading details about my family members to Geni.com . That is a family tree site where you can link with other relatives. You get to find people who are , as one cousin explained the relationship between them as “15th cousins once removed”.
In the middle of all of this, my daughter called. My husband told her, “Mom has been on Geni.com. It is Face book for dead people.”
In the middle of all of this, my daughter called. My husband told her, “Mom has been on Geni.com. It is Face book for dead people.”
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