My job is making me think a lot about the way I communicate with people, and the way language and expression allow us all to connect to one another. Many of my coworkers are first and foremost fluent sign-language users. They're able to express themselves well in written English because that's one of our standard job requirements, but it's not their preferred or native form of expression. Some of my Deaf colleagues can speak, but they all have thick deaf accents which are hard for me to follow. None of them knows a lot about deafblind communication methods, and I know next to no sign language, but we're all receptive to learning new things and we'll get there eventually.
Learning to sign - and even to communicate with people who don't have good written English skills - is almost like learning to swim. I can feel myself struggling against the water, not wanting to go under but not quite knowing how to stay afloat either. I have an overwhelming sense of wanting to get out, wanting to do things the easy way.
But then I have to remind myself that no matter how fluent I become at signing in any language, it will never be easy. The only 'easy' forms of communication for me are the written word and the human touch. Anything that involves my eyes or ears is inevitably going to wear me down. Hand-over-hand - a communication method used by deafblind people to feel what someone is signing - is slow and only works when you actually know the signs to begin with.
At the moment I'm mostly talking to my signing colleagues in toddler sentences and charades. "Where keys?", "What time meeting?", "No paper". I think the one full sentence I can manage right now is "The man has an evil paper goat". I am not expecting this to be a useful conversational phrase.
I wonder how this toddler-speak shapes their perceptions of me. I wonder if I'll ever be able to have a casual conversation with these people who are teaching me to say basic words all over again. After getting the cochlear implant, I had forgotten how fragile communication can be, how foreign one can feel without it. The strongest memory from my time without my hearing is that of not having a voice - not being able to participate in conversations, and not being able to physically control how I expressed myself vocally.
Now I feel like I've lost my voice all over again, only this time it's my hands that are tied.
Learning to sign - and even to communicate with people who don't have good written English skills - is almost like learning to swim. I can feel myself struggling against the water, not wanting to go under but not quite knowing how to stay afloat either. I have an overwhelming sense of wanting to get out, wanting to do things the easy way.
But then I have to remind myself that no matter how fluent I become at signing in any language, it will never be easy. The only 'easy' forms of communication for me are the written word and the human touch. Anything that involves my eyes or ears is inevitably going to wear me down. Hand-over-hand - a communication method used by deafblind people to feel what someone is signing - is slow and only works when you actually know the signs to begin with.
At the moment I'm mostly talking to my signing colleagues in toddler sentences and charades. "Where keys?", "What time meeting?", "No paper". I think the one full sentence I can manage right now is "The man has an evil paper goat". I am not expecting this to be a useful conversational phrase.
I wonder how this toddler-speak shapes their perceptions of me. I wonder if I'll ever be able to have a casual conversation with these people who are teaching me to say basic words all over again. After getting the cochlear implant, I had forgotten how fragile communication can be, how foreign one can feel without it. The strongest memory from my time without my hearing is that of not having a voice - not being able to participate in conversations, and not being able to physically control how I expressed myself vocally.
Now I feel like I've lost my voice all over again, only this time it's my hands that are tied.
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I often wonder about the whole deafness/isolation thing. I have heard some rather bad stories about a girl the same age as me who was deaf blind, we used to go to groups and things togehter, but she just couldn't get into the whole group thing. My sister reminded me that she made a special effort to finger spell in order to try and get this girl in with the rest of the group but I don't think that had much of an affect unfortunately.
It is hard in that situation with the deaf people that can sign and the blind people who have learnt to fingerspell for whatever reason. We had a similar problem at Cisco with a deaf blind guy, who because he was going blind, his native language was signing. Kerry essentially didn't bother trying to teach him becuase it was too hard. Visual cues, writing things down, etc are lost on him.
Ideally you'd want them to fingerpell because that is probably easiest for you, but obviously that's not the natural thing for them to do. it's a tricky one.
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You're in a no-man's land as far as blinky culture versus deaf culture goes - even if you identify more closely with one than the other, you're never going to have the whole experience of either. I can't follow sign language well and watching sport is also out. On the other hand, my ability to follow music or to gossip endlessly on the phone or Skype is also limited.
The other point you've raised is that deafblind people rely heavily on the abilities and intentions of other people to connect to the world. People may not intend to shut you off or make you feel like you have no control, but they don't have to be deliberate about it for that to happen. I can see and hear relatively well most of the time, but if people don't let me know when they're nearby, I feel out of control and lost. If people at my work aren't willing to get over their need for personal space to physically move my hands in the right way to form a new sign, I won't be able to learn to communicate with them. Each person you deal with can make your life significantly better or worse, and sometimes they don't even realise which one they're doing.
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The most (for me) annoying thing was that two deafblind people could communicate about twice as fast via fingerspelling than I could talking to someone "normal" ;)
Though, to come back to the actual topic: IME deafblind people don't have "casual" conversation - there's practically no small-talk involved. I guess that this has something to do with the fact that with signspelling it's always a one-to-one communcation where noone can just sit back and listen, like in a group setting of people talking. But, since I don't signspell myself (and had no intention to learn it for a mere 10 months of service), I always had to rely on other people telling me what it was about - so I don't really know, of course.
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Meh, 'spazzes' works just as well. I'm not one of those people that gets all "THE PERSON COMES BEFORE THE DISABILITY YOU DISCRIMINATING HEARTLESS BASTARD" about it. I tend to think the intention is more important the words you use to express it, if that makes sense.
You're right about the communication-fu, actually. When I was using fingerspelling as a primary method of communication it was both very speedy when used with the people who were fluent in it, and very difficult to maintain anything other than the most necessary communication with anyone. Even when you're communicating faster than everyone else, you're also using a great deal more physical energy to do it.
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The "whatchacallit" was meant quite literally in that case, because I had to think of an English word/phrase for a second - English is not my native language ;)