Thursday, September 26, 2013 – When ASL does not mean “age / sex / location…”
I’ve managed to do it again. I’ve gotten myself into a learning situation where everyone around me is a few decades younger, and where most everyone has previous experience.
It’s not Zumba this time. It’s American Sign Language or ASL.
I am not quite sure why I signed up for this course. Oh, now I remember. Part of Alzheimers prevention is to learn a new language. I’ve signed up for French classes on numerous occasions and managed to fail each one miserably – conjugating verbs is just not my thing.
My mom used to work at the Ontario School for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing (OSDH) and knew the alphabet and a number of symbols. In fact we used to talk about my boyfriends while they were sitting there. (I didn’t have many boyfriends – can’t imagine why.)
And while I kind of remember the alphabet, I can’t remember anything else. And even my alphabet signage is pretty rusty. My daughter Anna took sign language classes with her infant, Emma, and I thought it was pretty cool that Anna could sign some basics like “milk,” “toy,” “Dad,” “Mom” and lots of other words babies have an affinity for.
*****
You’d have to have been there. I came flying into the classroom laughing and chattering; I found a place to sit and I was bouncing around. And then I realized the entire class was silent and still, including the instructor. Of course it was! Talking and flailing is counterproductive!
The Instructor – I’ll call him Zee – was incredibly polite and patient. He smiled when I “got it” and handed me some information to read and respond to. Part of it was a multiple choice questionnaire about ASL, Deaf Culture and the Deaf Community. There were 15 questions; I got 13 of them wrong. If my Mom hadn’t worked for the OSDH, I’d have got all of them wrong. Thankfully Zee didn’t ask for our score.
And off we went, learning how to introduce ourselves, our letters, our numbers, colours, postures, furnishings. At break I wrote a note to the woman sitting beside me, “This is like Zumba for fingers!” And I showed the teacher and he laughed too, silently. My Zumba is pretty awkward and it doesn’t involve trying to form a word or sentence; my signing is much worse.
But this isn’t the point, for me. Ultimately, I’m never going to be a “real” Zumba Instructor. I will be able to help seniors enjoy moving around a little more, and I’ll be able – at class – to get a good cardio workout. Truly, I’m not going to be having serious conversations with folks who are deaf. Someone has to be the person in the class who is the slowest to grasp things; and I can tell you, my poor little brain is getting a significant workout.
*****
I will certainly practice my ASL with the DVD and workbook, and I will enjoy classes. Our instructor is a joy to watch and learn from. And my classmates are very keen and patient.
And should I never progress any further, I can now sign “Thank You.” The most important word in any language, by my definition.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jnbPaVPadc
It’s not Zumba this time. It’s American Sign Language or ASL.
I am not quite sure why I signed up for this course. Oh, now I remember. Part of Alzheimers prevention is to learn a new language. I’ve signed up for French classes on numerous occasions and managed to fail each one miserably – conjugating verbs is just not my thing.
My mom used to work at the Ontario School for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing (OSDH) and knew the alphabet and a number of symbols. In fact we used to talk about my boyfriends while they were sitting there. (I didn’t have many boyfriends – can’t imagine why.)
And while I kind of remember the alphabet, I can’t remember anything else. And even my alphabet signage is pretty rusty. My daughter Anna took sign language classes with her infant, Emma, and I thought it was pretty cool that Anna could sign some basics like “milk,” “toy,” “Dad,” “Mom” and lots of other words babies have an affinity for.
*****
You’d have to have been there. I came flying into the classroom laughing and chattering; I found a place to sit and I was bouncing around. And then I realized the entire class was silent and still, including the instructor. Of course it was! Talking and flailing is counterproductive!
The Instructor – I’ll call him Zee – was incredibly polite and patient. He smiled when I “got it” and handed me some information to read and respond to. Part of it was a multiple choice questionnaire about ASL, Deaf Culture and the Deaf Community. There were 15 questions; I got 13 of them wrong. If my Mom hadn’t worked for the OSDH, I’d have got all of them wrong. Thankfully Zee didn’t ask for our score.
And off we went, learning how to introduce ourselves, our letters, our numbers, colours, postures, furnishings. At break I wrote a note to the woman sitting beside me, “This is like Zumba for fingers!” And I showed the teacher and he laughed too, silently. My Zumba is pretty awkward and it doesn’t involve trying to form a word or sentence; my signing is much worse.
But this isn’t the point, for me. Ultimately, I’m never going to be a “real” Zumba Instructor. I will be able to help seniors enjoy moving around a little more, and I’ll be able – at class – to get a good cardio workout. Truly, I’m not going to be having serious conversations with folks who are deaf. Someone has to be the person in the class who is the slowest to grasp things; and I can tell you, my poor little brain is getting a significant workout.
*****
I will certainly practice my ASL with the DVD and workbook, and I will enjoy classes. Our instructor is a joy to watch and learn from. And my classmates are very keen and patient.
And should I never progress any further, I can now sign “Thank You.” The most important word in any language, by my definition.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jnbPaVPadc