[2147] in Depressing_Thoughts
"What we've got here is ... a failure to communicate."
sethg@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (sethg@ATHENA.MIT.EDU)
Wed May 22 00:22:09 1991
(Looking back on it, this story is more amusing than depressing, but this
is probably the best place for it.)
A couple weeks ago, I was in the Park Street subway station, and noticed
a group of people signing to one another. After a minute or two, I got
up the courage to approach them and ask what was going on. It turned out
that most of these people were deaf, about half of them were deaf and
blind, they were all going on a little Boston Harbor cruise, and if I
coughed up three bucks I was welcome to join them. So I did, and it was
a joyous experience, especially compared with working on my thesis.
But *after* the trip was over ... well, one of the deaf and blind women
brought her daughter along (who seemed to be about ten years old), and
this girl brought a friend of hers, and as the adults were debating where
to go on their next arguing, these two kids got bored, and since I was
foolish enough to sit near them, they started picking on me. They were
carrying those little boxes of fruit juice, and threatened to squirt them
at me.
Since I was foolish enough to feel sorry for them, I played along: I took
off my jacket and made like a bullfighter, and we ran around the plaza as
the grown-ups continued their discussion. After a few minutes of this
adventure, I said, okay, that's enough, game over.
Now, these two girls could see and hear as well as I could (maybe better),
and seemed to have an excellent command of the spoken English language,
but they didn't pay attention to my request. When they ran out of fruit
juice, they began scooping dirt out of planters and throwing *that* at me.
And tried to steal my wallet. I lost about half my temper and threatened
to pitch their shoes into the Boston Harbor, but this didn't discourage
them either.
Finally, the adults' meeting broke up, and Mom took the kids back under
her wing. I made a vague remark to her about what had happened, and the
kids promptly denied doing anything wrong.
At about this point, it occurred to me that the children had maneuvered me
into a trap. Suppose I complained to Mom about the children's behavior.
Would she believe her own daughter? Or would she believe a stranger who
is near the bottom of her culture's totem pole? My diplomatic instincts
suggested that I shouldn't press the issue.
So I went home, thinking that this experience gave new meaning to the
phrase "total immersion," and trying to figure out how to describe it in
American Sign Language.
A few days later, I told the above story to Josh Shaine, who has been
working with the MIT Educational Studies Program for a looooong time.
He suggested that the diplomatic thing to do would have been to ask Mom,
"*Suppose* the following happened to me: [insert story]. What, within
your culture, would be an appropriate response for me to make?"
I commended Josh for his brilliance. A few days later, I ran into a
deaf (and sighted) woman who had been on the boat cruise. I told her I
needed some advice, spent about five minutes recounting the above story,
and asked her what I should do if similar situation arises in the
future.
She replied that she did not understand my story. I *thought* I had
told it in lucid, grammatical ASL, but, well ...
Eit.
