I have a small philosophy I like to break out when I'm deciding whether to go to an event that might be nervewracking, inconvenient, tiring, or otherwise non-ideal: in general, I find that I regret not attending something, but rarely do I regret attending. (There are a few notable exceptions, but that's not quite the point at the moment.)
All of which to say, there was a Deaf lunch near the D.C. Beltway today that I hemmed and hawed about for a while before just deciding to attend, and boy am I ever glad I did! My philosophy served me well, even if all the deliberating (not to mention bad directions) meant I got there nearly an hour late. (I wasn't the last one there, though -- not by a long shot.)
I spotted my group in the food court relatively quickly, but I walked past once in order to gather my courage. I'd been to one Deaf event before, but it had been with a girl from my class, call her Caritas. With her, I'd been able to tamp down my nervousness, and as it turned out, that "Deaf event" had been populated mostly by hearing signers.
Not the case today. All in all, I think four hearing people were there over the course of the afternoon (at least when I was there). I can't even begin to count how many Deaf people were there. One man came who was hard-of-hearing, but his father is a Deaf Gallaudet professor, so he was clearly part of the community.
When I first got there, there were a lot of disconnected tables, one of which I approached nervously. A woman spotted me and waved hello. DEAF? HEARING? she asked. HEARING, I responded sheepishly. I imagine it was fairly obvious. SIT, she ordered me, gesturing to the seat next to her. She spelled her name out for me, but let's call her Honey. I hardly knew what to say, but we chit-chatted idly for a while before she mentioned that she was going to get ice cream. I HAVE BLOOD SUGAR PROBLEMS, I said. NO ICE CREAM. I TRY GOOD. That really broke the ice -- I showed her my Medical Alert bracelet, she told me that she should get one because of her asthma, and I felt a lot more comfortable. Eventually we all ended up at one table, but it was Honey who really made me feel welcome first.
That being said, I was astounded by how patient everyone was with me. I like to believe I'd be equally patient with someone who had limited facility in English, but I honestly don't know if that's the case. There were plenty of Deaf people there; all of them could have signed amongst themselves and just let me watch. But no -- they asked my name, and where I live, and what I do, and how long I've been studying ASL, and a dozen other things. They slowed down their fingerspelling and explained the signs I didn't know and never once just threw up their hands and turned to someone else. They even told me I was good for only having studied ASL for five months! I've read plenty of stories about the Deaf community that characterize it as insular, but that couldn't have been further from my experience today.
So we all chatted together, even little old me. Turns out, one of the men who was there actually lives in my town! Since it was a little under an hour's drive to the meetup, this surprised me. WHY WE HERE?? I signed, and he looked surprised, then laughed. Actually, the man explained, he thinks there are about two hundred deaf people in our town. (If this is true, they are hiding really well. I have not seen a single person signing in this town since I moved here last September.)
In any case, next weekend there's a Deaf dinner in a town much closer to mine, maybe fifteen minutes away, and the people who were planning on going all urged me to come. So there's next Saturday night taken care of! Who needs dates when you've got a Deaf community?
I talked to another guy about his shirt, which had "MARTHA'S VINEYARD" printed on it. We talked about Cape Cod for a bit (I'm in love with the Outer Cape), and he asked if I'd ever been to Martha's Vineyard. YES, ONE TIME, I said. LONG-TIME-AGO -- he started. I smiled: I KNOW, ALL PEOPLE SIGN. (I'd be a pretty poor ASL 1 student if I didn't know that story. As it happens, though, I know it from Seeing Voices, which I consider to be one of the finest non-fiction books I've ever read, regardless of topic.) Then he made a sign that I didn't recognize, and he spelled it out for me: H-E-A-V-E-N.
I stayed for hours. At one point Honey asked me how I get home, and I explained my route. MAYBE I BUY HERE BEFORE LEAVE, I signed, not knowing the sign for SHOP. But she understood me, and she floated the idea to some other chatters, none of whom looked enthusiastic. My guess is that they probably don't live near too many ASL users, and when they get together, they want to talk till they close the place down. I don't blame them. If Martha's Vineyard is HEAVEN, then an all-signing table in a food court can be a tiny religious experience.
Just when I was beginning to feel as if my eyes were tired and my fingers couldn't spell anymore, Honey got my attention. WANT SHOP? I was surprised -- me? the hearing girl? -- but pleased. SURE, I said. We got up and left together, and decided to go to Macy's.
Once we were away from the crowd of Deafies, her signing changed completely. She'd been quick and ASL-y in the food court; one-on-one with me, she began using what I have to imagine was PSE or SEE. Instead of pointing to indicate a person we were talking about, she fingerspelled H-E. Talking about the past, she used the W handshape at her lips to sign WAS. She fingerspelled more (which, ironically, only hurts my comprehension -- I'm more likely to "gist" a sign than a fingerspelled word). She started talking along with her signs -- just whispering, but when I didn't get a sign, her voice usually filled in the blank for me. Her word order became almost completely English-y. I actually said something about the change, but she just laughed a little. Talk about code-switching! I wonder about her education, if she was raised in a SEE/PSE environment and learned ASL later. I also wonder if the code-switching was intentional, a conscious effort to help me to understand more, or a subconscious response to leaving the Deaf world and entering the hearing one.
But enough about linguistics. As it turns out, it takes very few signs to be able to shop! You have to know your colors, and LIKE, DON'T-LIKE, CHEAP, and EXPENSIVE. Everything else you can kind of make up. (As it so happens, I have a mental block when it comes to CHEAP and EXPENSIVE, but I could understand them when Honey signed them.) I ended up getting a couple of tops at Macy's, which is where we spent our time. Honey tried on some jeans, but she rejected them for being an odd length. We went down to lingerie to look for camisoles for Honey, but they didn't have her size. I offered to ask a saleswoman if they had stock in the back, and Honey immediately nodded. I felt a little better, being able to do something for her, when she had been so welcoming and patient with me. (Alas, all the camis were out on the floor.)
While I was buying my shirts, the saleswoman asked me, "Are you a mother?" "No no no no," I said hurriedly. "I thought not -- you don't look like one," she responded. Honey was standing off to the side, and I quickly turned to her. SHE ASKED, I MOTHER? NO NO NO NO. Honey laughed. "Are you a mother?" the saleswoman asked Honey. Honey frowned, then shook her head no. I signed and said simultaneously, "She's a mother. She's not my mother, but she is a mother." Honey nodded. "Happy Mother's Day," the saleswoman said to Honey, speaking slowly and exaggerating her mouth shapes. It took her a moment, but Honey got it; she smiled and signed YOU 2 (which she'd signed to me not half an hour prior -- is that more PSE?) Then we decided to call it quits for the day.
But before we parted, Honey asked, YOU WANT GO SHOPPING AGAIN? Well, of course I did! We traded email addresses and I signed, THANKS PATIENCE. She waved that off and gave me a hug. LATER!, I signed. She waved the ILY handshape at me as I descended the escalator, then, DRIVE CAREFUL.
What makes a person decide to take someone under her wing? I haven't the slightest clue. Maybe she felt sorry for the hearing person adrift in the Deaf world, though I doubt it. Maybe she appreciates a hearie taking the time to learn ASL, which is possible. Or maybe women just like having someone to shop with. My money's on that. It's always nice to be able to walk out of a dressing room and ask your girl friend, YOU LIKE? You don't even need ASL for that one.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Saturday, May 3, 2008
ASL insomnia
I had the most interesting experience last night, either while I was trying to fall asleep, or while I was already asleep -- it's hard for me to tell which.
I'd spent the day at Gallaudet, during which I'd done my best to obey Wren's voice-off suggestion. Some of my classmates aren't nearly as proficient as they should be by this point, so with them I spoke; I also had an interesting linguistic discussion with a friend of Wren's who'd come along who is probably about two-thirds of the way along to becoming an interpreter (the concepts we were discussing were far beyond my ASL abilities). Other than that, I was signing all afternoon and evening.
I guess my brain was in ASL mode or something even after getting home, brushing my teeth, writing last night's post, and all that. The weird thing that happened to me was that I managed to wake myself up multiple times with signing! I think I was either thinking (if it was while I was falling asleep) or dreaming (if it was while I was asleep) a conversation in ASL, and my hands insisted on trying to actually sign my half of the conversation. The movement of my hands woke me up; as soon as I regained a bit of consciousness, I stilled my hands, but it recurred a couple times.
As someone who very much values her sleep, I have to protest. Brain, quit it. You can process the day's ASL without interrupting my slumber!
I'd spent the day at Gallaudet, during which I'd done my best to obey Wren's voice-off suggestion. Some of my classmates aren't nearly as proficient as they should be by this point, so with them I spoke; I also had an interesting linguistic discussion with a friend of Wren's who'd come along who is probably about two-thirds of the way along to becoming an interpreter (the concepts we were discussing were far beyond my ASL abilities). Other than that, I was signing all afternoon and evening.
I guess my brain was in ASL mode or something even after getting home, brushing my teeth, writing last night's post, and all that. The weird thing that happened to me was that I managed to wake myself up multiple times with signing! I think I was either thinking (if it was while I was falling asleep) or dreaming (if it was while I was asleep) a conversation in ASL, and my hands insisted on trying to actually sign my half of the conversation. The movement of my hands woke me up; as soon as I regained a bit of consciousness, I stilled my hands, but it recurred a couple times.
As someone who very much values her sleep, I have to protest. Brain, quit it. You can process the day's ASL without interrupting my slumber!
A first visit to Gallaudet
Today was my first-ever visit to Gallaudet University; I went on a class trip with about eight members of my ASL 1 class, along with my professor (whom I'll call Wren, since she reminds me of a bird), who is a Gallaudet alum, and her husband, also Deaf (whom I'll call Fortran -- which is, forgive me, a computer science joke). We took a tour of campus first thing, then went to the bookstore, then dinner, and then a play at the Model Secondary School for the Deaf (MSSD), which shares a campus with Gallaudet.
The tour was very interesting. I used to give tours at my alma mater, so I know the typical tour guide spiel. This differed inasmuch as the focus was not on luring students to the school, but on giving the history of the campus. I had to ask specifically at the end how many students attend Gallaudet, which is usually part of the opening gambit, along with application statistics, median class size, most popular majors, etc., etc. Our guide, a Gallaudet student, instead told us about different buildings (e.g. their date of construction and history of use) and the general history of the university.
The guide was using ASL, of course, and a university employee acted as her interpreter. I think of the two dozen or so people on the tour, maybe only four or five were Deaf (including Wren and Fortran), so most of us were relying on an interpreter to understand the guide. It was just one of many reversals we experiences over the course of the day.
If you've never been to Gallaudet, I don't know if you can imagine a truly Deaf environment. I've been to Deaf events, but they all somehow take place in a hearing context -- you can go to a Starbucks to meet with other signers, but the staff still expects you to be able to hear. But you pull up to the Gallaudet campus, and you see students signing to each other; the guards at the front gate sign to ask you if you need directions; the frat brothers at the side of the road are signing as they offer to wash your car for $5; the cafeteria workers sign to ask if you want a receipt; the friends sitting around those age-old round cafeteria tables are signing to each other at a pace so quick you can't imagine understanding.
Being hearing at Gallaudet is a stunning reminder of what it must be like to be Deaf in a hearing world. All of a sudden, you need an interpreter to speak to most people. In the cafeteria, I wanted to custom-order a pasta dish, and then realized how many signs I needed that I didn't know -- ONION, GARLIC, PEPPERS, OLIVE, SAUCE, MEAT, CHEESE, and WHOLE-WHEAT, to name a few. I decided to take the easy way out and pick up some pre-made pasta salad. I assume that Deaf people face choices like that one every day -- not to mention choices far more important -- and take the easy way out for lack of a better solution. I could have stood there and fingerspelled every ingredient I wanted, but I didn't want to appear ignorant; similarly, a Deaf person could ostensibly write down an order in that sort of situation and hand it to the chef, but who knows how a person without exposure to the Deaf community would react to that?
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before we all went for an early dinner, we went to the library and saw the archives, where they keep papers from important Deaf individuals, as well as past presidents of Gallaudet and other people connected with the university. It seems to be the main repository for papers related to Deaf history, which isn't surprising -- Gallaudet and NTID are the only major postsecondary institutions connected with the Deaf community.
Then it was time to hit up the bookstore, which was full of Gallaudet and I-L-Y merchandise. Because I am a sucker for such things, I bought an "I [Heart] ASL pin," an I-L-Y pin and keychain, and a book called The Book of Name Signs, since that's a topic I'm especially interested in. (Naming and names have sparked my interest for a long time; most of my major papers in pursuit of my women's studies minor in college were about women's names.) I couldn't bring myself to buy any Gallaudet merchandise; I'm too afraid that if I wore a Gallaudet t-shirt or sweatshirt, I'd be mistaken for someone who is actually fluent in ASL. What a disappointment for any Deaf person who saw me on the Metro or in a coffee shop!
After we were finished at the bookstore -- which took a while, not least because Wren, who'd worn a sweater on what turned out to be a distressingly hot day, bought a t-shirt for herself to wear -- we moved onto the cafeteria. Normally you'd think of a college cafeteria as a loud, rowdy place, but all the rowdiness was nearly silent. My class took up a couple of tables in the back, where we cobbled together some sort of pidgin ASL, English, and lots of fingerspelling in order to communicate. None of the Deaf students approached us, though Wren had warned us there had been a small food-throwing incident the previous year. We sat for hours, going back to the all-you-can-eat smorgasbord multiple times for real food, but also for ice cream and cookies. I'd forgotten how much college cafeterias encourage you to fatten yourself up.
Then it was time to go to the play at MSSD. It was fairly disappointing, though I hate being hard on kids. Apparently it was written by an MSSD student, so a lot of the flaws (bad pacing, shallow characterizations, and bizarre use of a framing device, to name a few) are forgivable because the playwright can't even vote yet. I will say that I'd appreciate better voice interpretation. (More reversal!) I saw that the interpreters had scripts, but they sounded as though they were translating on the spot, between the fact that they timed their interpretations poorly, and the fact that they didn't properly inflect their voices at all. I wonder who the interpreters were, if they were other MSSD students who have CIs or are hard-of-hearing, or if they were staff members.
After the play, it was time to go home. We'd spent a grand total of six hours on the Gallaudet campus, but it seemed like much longer, thanks to the strange feeling of being in another universe entirely, one in which I was a linguistic minority struggling to understand and be understood. The minute the car I was in pulled onto campus, I promised myself that it wouldn't be the last time I came; I hope to take ASL there in the future, though for now I'll stick to my local community college. If nothing else, I have to get good enough that I feel comfortable walking around campus by myself!
The tour was very interesting. I used to give tours at my alma mater, so I know the typical tour guide spiel. This differed inasmuch as the focus was not on luring students to the school, but on giving the history of the campus. I had to ask specifically at the end how many students attend Gallaudet, which is usually part of the opening gambit, along with application statistics, median class size, most popular majors, etc., etc. Our guide, a Gallaudet student, instead told us about different buildings (e.g. their date of construction and history of use) and the general history of the university.
The guide was using ASL, of course, and a university employee acted as her interpreter. I think of the two dozen or so people on the tour, maybe only four or five were Deaf (including Wren and Fortran), so most of us were relying on an interpreter to understand the guide. It was just one of many reversals we experiences over the course of the day.
If you've never been to Gallaudet, I don't know if you can imagine a truly Deaf environment. I've been to Deaf events, but they all somehow take place in a hearing context -- you can go to a Starbucks to meet with other signers, but the staff still expects you to be able to hear. But you pull up to the Gallaudet campus, and you see students signing to each other; the guards at the front gate sign to ask you if you need directions; the frat brothers at the side of the road are signing as they offer to wash your car for $5; the cafeteria workers sign to ask if you want a receipt; the friends sitting around those age-old round cafeteria tables are signing to each other at a pace so quick you can't imagine understanding.
Being hearing at Gallaudet is a stunning reminder of what it must be like to be Deaf in a hearing world. All of a sudden, you need an interpreter to speak to most people. In the cafeteria, I wanted to custom-order a pasta dish, and then realized how many signs I needed that I didn't know -- ONION, GARLIC, PEPPERS, OLIVE, SAUCE, MEAT, CHEESE, and WHOLE-WHEAT, to name a few. I decided to take the easy way out and pick up some pre-made pasta salad. I assume that Deaf people face choices like that one every day -- not to mention choices far more important -- and take the easy way out for lack of a better solution. I could have stood there and fingerspelled every ingredient I wanted, but I didn't want to appear ignorant; similarly, a Deaf person could ostensibly write down an order in that sort of situation and hand it to the chef, but who knows how a person without exposure to the Deaf community would react to that?
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before we all went for an early dinner, we went to the library and saw the archives, where they keep papers from important Deaf individuals, as well as past presidents of Gallaudet and other people connected with the university. It seems to be the main repository for papers related to Deaf history, which isn't surprising -- Gallaudet and NTID are the only major postsecondary institutions connected with the Deaf community.
Then it was time to hit up the bookstore, which was full of Gallaudet and I-L-Y merchandise. Because I am a sucker for such things, I bought an "I [Heart] ASL pin," an I-L-Y pin and keychain, and a book called The Book of Name Signs, since that's a topic I'm especially interested in. (Naming and names have sparked my interest for a long time; most of my major papers in pursuit of my women's studies minor in college were about women's names.) I couldn't bring myself to buy any Gallaudet merchandise; I'm too afraid that if I wore a Gallaudet t-shirt or sweatshirt, I'd be mistaken for someone who is actually fluent in ASL. What a disappointment for any Deaf person who saw me on the Metro or in a coffee shop!
After we were finished at the bookstore -- which took a while, not least because Wren, who'd worn a sweater on what turned out to be a distressingly hot day, bought a t-shirt for herself to wear -- we moved onto the cafeteria. Normally you'd think of a college cafeteria as a loud, rowdy place, but all the rowdiness was nearly silent. My class took up a couple of tables in the back, where we cobbled together some sort of pidgin ASL, English, and lots of fingerspelling in order to communicate. None of the Deaf students approached us, though Wren had warned us there had been a small food-throwing incident the previous year. We sat for hours, going back to the all-you-can-eat smorgasbord multiple times for real food, but also for ice cream and cookies. I'd forgotten how much college cafeterias encourage you to fatten yourself up.
Then it was time to go to the play at MSSD. It was fairly disappointing, though I hate being hard on kids. Apparently it was written by an MSSD student, so a lot of the flaws (bad pacing, shallow characterizations, and bizarre use of a framing device, to name a few) are forgivable because the playwright can't even vote yet. I will say that I'd appreciate better voice interpretation. (More reversal!) I saw that the interpreters had scripts, but they sounded as though they were translating on the spot, between the fact that they timed their interpretations poorly, and the fact that they didn't properly inflect their voices at all. I wonder who the interpreters were, if they were other MSSD students who have CIs or are hard-of-hearing, or if they were staff members.
After the play, it was time to go home. We'd spent a grand total of six hours on the Gallaudet campus, but it seemed like much longer, thanks to the strange feeling of being in another universe entirely, one in which I was a linguistic minority struggling to understand and be understood. The minute the car I was in pulled onto campus, I promised myself that it wouldn't be the last time I came; I hope to take ASL there in the future, though for now I'll stick to my local community college. If nothing else, I have to get good enough that I feel comfortable walking around campus by myself!
Monday, April 28, 2008
The FAMILY family
One of the first signs any new signer learns is FAMILY. The ASL University page on FAMILY gives a few other signs in the FAMILY family -- i.e., signs that are made by taking two letter handshapes, palms out, thumbs touching, and circling them around so that they are facing the signer with pinkies touching (roughly, of course, depending on the letter).
But I'm a collector, and curious as the proverbial cat, so today at work I asked the Geometer for signs that correspond to every letter of the alphabet. Unsurprisingly, not every letter is assigned a meaning. But here are the signs in the FAMILY family:
Got all those? One motion and the manual alphabet, and now you know a dozen new signs. I keep wanting to make up meanings for the vacant ones -- like MEMBERSHIP for M or KIN GROUP for K. But I think I ought to learn more than a couple hundred signs before I go making up new ones!
But I'm a collector, and curious as the proverbial cat, so today at work I asked the Geometer for signs that correspond to every letter of the alphabet. Unsurprisingly, not every letter is assigned a meaning. But here are the signs in the FAMILY family:
- Double A: AGENCY
- B: BUREAU or BRANCH
- C: CLASS (the ASL University page also lists CATEGORY)
- D: DEPARTMENT
- E: ENTOURAGE (either slangy or otherwise nonstandard)
- F: FAMILY
- G: GROUP
- I: ISOLATED (this doesn't fit the pattern, and the reason is simple: it's actually Signed Exact English, not ASL)
- L: LEAGUE
- O: ORGANIZATION
- P: PARTY (again, this is SEE, and shouldn't be used with culturally Deaf people)
- R: REGION (he said this is a rare one -- the ASL Browser has a slightly different sign, but I'd consider them to be mutually intelligible)
- S: SOCIETY
- T: TEAM
- U: UNION (he said this one is rare as well; the ASL Browser has a completely different sign, but I wonder if one would be used in the context of "Steelworkers Union Local 547" and the other would be used in the context of "European Union")
Got all those? One motion and the manual alphabet, and now you know a dozen new signs. I keep wanting to make up meanings for the vacant ones -- like MEMBERSHIP for M or KIN GROUP for K. But I think I ought to learn more than a couple hundred signs before I go making up new ones!
Saturday, April 26, 2008
A beginning, and a STORY
I am not Deaf. I do not have a Deaf child, a Deaf boyfriend, or a Deaf parent. I am not hearing impaired. I am not in danger of becoming hard of hearing (HoH). I don't want to be a professional ASL/English interpreter. I have no plans to quit my job and go to Gallaudet full-time. Actually, I love my job, and it has nothing to do with Deafness (though I have a good number of Deaf colleagues).
I'm studying ASL for entirely selfish reasons: I want to learn it; I want to be able to talk to Deaf people; I want to be a part, even tangentially, of Deaf culture.
A lot of people who learn ASL, especially after childhood, are Hearing, and I'm just another member of that group. This blog is both for my own personal edification -- I'd like to document my learning process for future reference -- but also hopefully can be a resource, someday, for other Hearing people who are thinking about studying Sign.
So there's my opening argument. Let's move onto the Sign, shall we?
Before I get into any linguistic stuff, let me share my proficiency: I'm currently finishing up ASL 1 (taught by a Deaf professor) at my local community college; I take a weekly all-levels class with a Deaf colleague at work; and I often torture my Deaf friends at work with my hesitant, inaccurate signing.
So about that last one -- I had lunch on Thursday with a Deaf work friend, and I had a great story I just had to tell him. Of course, I got off on the wrong foot immediately: I signed, I HAVE STORY FOR YOU,* but I used the sign for STORY that my ASL professor uses. My friend -- let's call him the Geometer -- looked confused. He fingerspelled back, S-T-O-R-Y? (He must've read my lips or gotten it from context.) YES, I signed. Then he corrected my sign, using this one instead.
My professor's version is similar, but instead of singling out the middle fingers, she uses all the fingers for the same motion. (Actually, it's a little too close to COMFORTABLE for my comfort.) I'm happy to switch to the Geometer's sign; it seems less ambiguous than my professor's. It makes me wonder, though, if people regularly switch between signs depending on who they're talking to.
It's a question that interests me because I can't think of an English analogue. I guess the closest I can think of is changing your vocabulary to jibe with someone else's regionalisms or even education level. But that second one isn't apt at all -- the Geometer and my professor are both very intelligent, well-educated people, and switching between (simple) signs that have the same meaning isn't like dumbing down your speech when talking to a child. Regionalisms might be a better comparison -- in fact, it reminds me a lot of going to school in Boston and being confronted with phrases that had no meaning to me ("bubbler" for "water fountain," "frappe" for "milkshake," etc.)
I have to admit, it's a little overwhelming for a beginner. It's one thing to be in the classroom, where your professor knows exactly what vocab you do and don't know; it's another thing entirely to be in the middle of a conversation with someone who's Deaf and just has to tell you about the cute girl he met on the Metro last weekend. It's the lab versus the real world.
*Told you I had a Hearing accent!!
I'm studying ASL for entirely selfish reasons: I want to learn it; I want to be able to talk to Deaf people; I want to be a part, even tangentially, of Deaf culture.
A lot of people who learn ASL, especially after childhood, are Hearing, and I'm just another member of that group. This blog is both for my own personal edification -- I'd like to document my learning process for future reference -- but also hopefully can be a resource, someday, for other Hearing people who are thinking about studying Sign.
So there's my opening argument. Let's move onto the Sign, shall we?
Before I get into any linguistic stuff, let me share my proficiency: I'm currently finishing up ASL 1 (taught by a Deaf professor) at my local community college; I take a weekly all-levels class with a Deaf colleague at work; and I often torture my Deaf friends at work with my hesitant, inaccurate signing.
So about that last one -- I had lunch on Thursday with a Deaf work friend, and I had a great story I just had to tell him. Of course, I got off on the wrong foot immediately: I signed, I HAVE STORY FOR YOU,* but I used the sign for STORY that my ASL professor uses. My friend -- let's call him the Geometer -- looked confused. He fingerspelled back, S-T-O-R-Y? (He must've read my lips or gotten it from context.) YES, I signed. Then he corrected my sign, using this one instead.
My professor's version is similar, but instead of singling out the middle fingers, she uses all the fingers for the same motion. (Actually, it's a little too close to COMFORTABLE for my comfort.) I'm happy to switch to the Geometer's sign; it seems less ambiguous than my professor's. It makes me wonder, though, if people regularly switch between signs depending on who they're talking to.
It's a question that interests me because I can't think of an English analogue. I guess the closest I can think of is changing your vocabulary to jibe with someone else's regionalisms or even education level. But that second one isn't apt at all -- the Geometer and my professor are both very intelligent, well-educated people, and switching between (simple) signs that have the same meaning isn't like dumbing down your speech when talking to a child. Regionalisms might be a better comparison -- in fact, it reminds me a lot of going to school in Boston and being confronted with phrases that had no meaning to me ("bubbler" for "water fountain," "frappe" for "milkshake," etc.)
I have to admit, it's a little overwhelming for a beginner. It's one thing to be in the classroom, where your professor knows exactly what vocab you do and don't know; it's another thing entirely to be in the middle of a conversation with someone who's Deaf and just has to tell you about the cute girl he met on the Metro last weekend. It's the lab versus the real world.
*Told you I had a Hearing accent!!
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