The American Sign Language interpreting profession has a lot of catching up to do to bring it on par with foreign language interpreting international conference interpreting. I would venture to say that most ASL interpreters are working not only from but also to their “C language.” You have to understand that until the ’60s and ’70s, there was no ASL interpreting profession, and those who interpreted for the deaf were usually family, friends, or neighbors. Deaf people counted themselves lucky to get anyone to interpret for them— free of charge, no less! Unfortunately, here we are in the 2010s and deaf people still find themselves lucky to get an interpreter to provide the service even for pay.

There is a shortage of interpreters to fulfill the demand for “qualified interpreters” required by the Americans with Disabilities Act. There are very few native hearing signers. Even those with deaf parents do not all learn the language fluently; in fact, it has been seen that one child may learn ASL fluently and the other siblings will rely on that child to interpret between them and their parents. And then, even the CODAs (children of deaf adults) who are fluent in ASL are not always as fluent in all registers of the language that they would need to be to call ASL their A language. What’s more, CODAs often have English as a B language because it is their second language. (Babies are developmentally able to learn signed languages at a younger age than spoken languages, so for many CODAs, sign language is their native language.)

To make matters worse, CODAs account for a small percentage of ASL interpreters. Most interpreters don’t learn ASL until college or high school at the earliest. I will speak for myself: I started learning ASL when I was 21. I have been interpreting for 21 years. Most people are very happy with my interpreting services, but I by no means possess native-like fluency in ASL! I always have to work on my fluency, and I honestly don’t know if my ASL will ever be even good enough to even call it my “B language.” And, if I may venture to say so, I am by no means alone in this.

In my defense—and so as not to be so hard on my colleagues—the ASL interpreting profession is still nascent. For decades, one didn’t even have to have a high school diploma to be an ASL-English interpreter. Only a few years ago did an associate degree become a prerequisite to stand for national certification exams. All of the already certified interpreters were “grandfathered” in. As of June 2012, candidates will have to have bachelor’s degrees to sit for the national exams—and their degrees don’t even have to be in interpreting. We still have a situation in which both entrants and graduates of interpreter training programs do not possess the fluency in ASL required to be an interpreter. Things are getting better, but we have much work to do.

Consider, finally, one last thing about sign language interpreting in America: most deaf people are non-native users of ASL. Many deaf children have limited, if any, exposure to spoken, written, or signed language until elementary school! I have heard the expression “semilingual” to describe deaf people who are native in neither ASL nor English. According to your terminology, the word would be “alingual.” I think that is too strong a word, and one that Deaf people would take umbrage to because the Hearing world tells them that if they don’t have English, they don’t have “language.” Deaf people are very proud of their sign language, even the 90% of them who did not learn it from birth (only 10% of deaf people are born to deaf parents). And many deaf people who are not “native” in ASL still have what would be considered to be “native-like” fluency— better than what I and many other hearing sign language interpreters possess. All in all, though, a fair number of the deaf people we interpret for do not sign more fluently than us C language hearing people do. Deaf education and ASL interpreter education both have a long way to go. I do honor our consumers and my colleagues for doing the best that can be done given the circumstances, and I look forward to the better future we are working toward.

The deaf speaker, presenting to an audience of people who knew ASL pretty well but not fluently, fingerspelled a number I wasn’t entirely sure of. I thought I got it, but wasn’t 100% confident in my perception. I didn’t have a team interpreter to support me in voicing. Someone in the audience said the thing I wasn’t sure of, and it turned out I was right. Yet, after they did that bit of work for me, I asked the presenter to reiterate the lexical item. I was doing consecutive interpreting, and while I was watching the deaf signer, yet another audience member said the thing I wasn’t sure of. I said, “Just a moment. I’m getting this.” And then I said the thing we all thought the deaf person said, only this time I was sure of my interpretation. The dialogue between me and the audience members was quiet, and it didn’t seem to be a big deal for anyone, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it after the assignment.

Why did I do what I did? Was it the most appropriate and effective behavior? What could I have done differently? Why didn’t I just let it go when the audience member guessed rightly? And, even if they had guessed wrongly, would it have mattered? These are the questions that nagged me this morning.

I think I did what I did for several reasons I’m not necessarily proud of.

1. I didn’t trust myself.
2. I overestimated the importance of the little thing I missed.
3. I wanted to control my work.
4. I didn’t want to set an unfavorable precedent.

Notice I said, “not necessarily proud of.” That is not to say that it’s never okay to do these things. It is just to say that, in this case, I don’t think any of those “intrapersonal demands” in Demand-Control Schema (Karasek, 1979; Karasek & Theorell, 1990; Dean & Pollard, 2001) were well founded. First of all, I need to get better at trusting myself when I’m 90% sure I’m right; second, I need to get better at realizing when something’s just not that important; third, control is an illusion (or so they say); fourth, and the point of this post, is what is so wrong with letting consumers doing our work for us once in a while?

Could two different members of the audience both be wrong about something I’m 90% sure I’m right about? Unlikely. As far as precedent is concerned, there may be times we want our consumers to let us do our job because we are the interpreter in the room; they are not. It is sometimes not a good thing to have more than one person interpreting at once. And it is not a good thing if the “peanut gallery” gets the interpretation wrong. But we have to look at each case individually and not be rigid. In this case, I don’t think it would have done any harm at all to allow what happened to happen and let it go. It would have modeled good interpreter behavior, acknowledged them for their linguistic ability, and let the speaker go on unimpeded. If I had it to do over, my “control” in Demand-Control Schema would be either to say nothing or say something funny like, “what she said!” Next time, next time…

Incidentally, after I analyzed this interpreting scenario this morning, I read this today in a book by one of the world’s foremost experts on interpreting:

It should be noted that in interpreting, unlike translation, all parties concerned are aware of the communication situation, including possible difficulties associated with the interlingual and sometimes intercultural transfer. Since generally all parties wish to communicate, more cooperation can be expected from them than in translation…. Cooperation may also be forthcoming from listeners, especially in consecutive, where they can help the interpreter with word equivalents and generally listen sympathetically, though this is not always the case. In other words, although the interpreter essentially works alone, he or she may be helped through on-line interaction with both Sender and Receiver, while in translation such interaction is rather rare (Gile, 1995, emphasis mine).

It was so great to read something this afternoon that reinforces the reflections I had this morning! We interpreters should always strive to do our best. One way we can do our best is to be humble enough to let our consumers do our work for us sometimes.

Resources

Dean, R. K. & Pollard, R. Q (2001). The application of demand-control theory to sign language interpreting: Implications for stress and interpreter training. Journal of Deaf Studies and Deaf Education 6 (1), 1-14.

Gile, D. (1995). Basic concepts and models for interpreter and translator training (p.24). Philadelphia: John Benjamins.

• Silent Weekend Registration Form & Tentative Agenda 2011
• Silent Weekend Tentative Abstracts 2011

Early Bird registration fees available only until July 1st. Registration, tentative agenda & workshop abstracts also at http://www.wou.edu/education/sped/wriec/silent_weekend.php

From the Silent Weekend coordinator:

Greetings!

On behalf of the ASL/English Interpreting Program at Western Oregon University, the Western Region Interpreter Education Center, the Oregon Department of Education’s Educational Interpreter Subcommittee, the Regional Resource Center on Deafness, and the Oregon Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf, we would like to invite you to join us for our third annual Silent Weekend, August 12-14, 2011 in Monmouth, Oregon. This weekend, conducted completely in American Sign Language (ASL), is for Deaf and hearing students, interpreters, mentors, interpreter educators, and ASL instructors.

Attendees and presenters can choose from two possible tracks – although they may participate in both – with corresponding workshops. The first is interpreter professional development, which is for working and pre-professional interpreters. The second track is for students and community members to develop their ASL skills and further learn linguistic features of the language.

Interpreters: This is an opportunity to earn up to 1.4 CEUs! If you are looking for some worthwhile workshops and a chance to sharpen your skills, then Silent Weekend is for you!

Thank you!

~CM

For more information, contact:

UPDATE: Attendance was so good they had to move the workshop into a bigger room. Thanks, everyone!

I first spoke with Amanda, the conference organizer, on Thursday afternoon, January 14, and offered to interpret and coordinate. She told me the budget was $2,000 for a four–track conference which would need a maximum of eight interpreters. I figured I could get four professional interpreters to earn $50 an hour, get four students to volunteer their services pro bono, and that would still leave $400, half of which might go toward compensating me for coordinating services, and half of which might go toward gift cards for students.

That same night, I found out that Amanda had un–registered a deaf registrant because she didn’t like her attitude. I advocated for the ousted registrant, emailing Amanda, “Deaf people routinely face discrimination and have to fight for their rights. In light of this, I find the registrant’s demands assertive rather than aggressive.” I even followed this up another day and asked Amanda if she would please consider reinstating her. Amanda was immovable.

I should mention that the first deaf registrant had approached me around Thanksgiving about interpreting for WordCamp. I had said I would be interested and asked him to send me more information, but the holidays came and went before I saw an announcement from Amanda on the Arizona RID Yahoo Group. I knew how important it was for this deaf person to attend WordCamp, so I decided to provide for him even though I was not happy with Amanda’s handling of the other deaf registrant.

By the end of the week, I had offers from two other professionals and at least four other students. At this point, all I needed was one more professional if (and that’s a big “if”) there were deaf attendees in all four tracks on Saturday.

In the meantime, I wondered whether there were any deaf attendees registered for Friday. Amanda had not told me it was overbooked, only that she didn’t have the budget for it. I figured if we didn’t need eight interpreters on Saturday, we could provide services on Friday as well. On Friday the 14th, I emailed the attendee I knew was going Saturday and asked him if he were going Friday. Note that I didn’t “offer” to interpret Friday; I merely asked him if he had registered. I heard back from the Tuesday after the MLK weekend, and he verified that he had registered for Friday and Saturday both. He knew that interpreting services had not been promised for Friday, and I did not promise them.

Later that morning, I told Amanda that she did indeed have a deaf person registered for Friday, and I proposed that we leverage the budget designed to employ four professionals and four students for one day and instead employ two professionals for two days. Two pros working for $50 an hour for eight hours on Friday and nine hours on Saturday would cost $1700. I could take an honorarium of $200 for coordinating and still come in at $100 under budget.

At the very mention of providing interpreting services on Friday, however, Amanda blamed me for encouraging the deaf attendee to register for Friday and then accused me of promising him interpreting services. I assured her that I had promised nothing, and for all I knew he had registered long before I asked him if he were going (later he confirmed that he had registered for Friday way back around Thanksgiving). She told me the room was too small, was overbooked, and there would be no room for interpreters.

What’s more, she told me she was considering un–registering the deaf attendee for Friday because she would not be able to provide him with interpreters. I told her that we interpreters often fit into cramped spaces, that one of us could stand while interpreting, and the other could sit on the floor. I reasoned with her that it would be a shame to tell a deaf person he couldn’t attend a conference because there wasn’t enough room for his interpreters. She relented. She adamantly refused to let me work with another professional, but she would allow me to provide services on Friday as long as I worked with a student both Friday and Saturday. I relented. Such is the nature of negotiation and compromise.

Yet I was not satisfied, and it wasn’t about the money. I was unsatisfied with giving the client less than the best. This sort of “highly technical” conference is best suited to seasoned interpreters, so I didn’t want to use a student volunteer if I didn’t have to. We weren’t talking about an eight-interpreter deal anymore. We were talking about two interpreters working work two days. I had agreed with Amanda that I would provide all this for a total of $1050, so I was in a quandary: do I earn a normal wage and work with a student or do I see if I could get a pro to split the money with me so that we both made only about $30 per hour? I negotiated with one of the pros who had offered to work on the conference. We were each certified, licensed, experienced interpreters who had worked many “highly technical” events before. We were, if I may say so myself, a “dream team” for WordCamp. I offered to sacrifice my coordinator fee to supplement the two of us to work for 60% of our normal rate. I gave up a job Friday morning and s/he gave up a job Saturday afternoon so we could provide continuous coverage all day on both days. We were in it for the service to the deaf consumer, not for the money. I thought we had arrived at a great solution.

Then I read Amanda’s blog post.

This is what I wrote to her:

I am more interested in providing the *most* service and the *best* service to the deaf attendees than I am in making money. The way I saw it, if you could afford to give less than the best for one day, you could afford to give the best for two days. If I had “taken direction,” I would have made $650 in one day, the deaf attendees would have gotten less than the best, and they would have gotten no service on Friday. Since I advocated for *more* and *better*, I am earning only $525 for two days, the deaf get the best, and they get Friday as well as Saturday.

Call me greedy.

I thought over what a mess this had become. How uncomfortable I had felt ever since finding out that Amanda had un–registered a deaf attendee because she didn’t like her attitude. How Amanda had almost un–registered another deaf attendee because the room was too small. And, finally, how she had let loose upon the world this gross misrepresentation of what actually happened. I talked it over with colleagues. I slept on it. I discussed it with my team interpreter. We decided it would be best to remove ourselves before things got any worse.

Please, hearing readers, do not let Amanda dissuade you from providing interpreting services to the deaf. It doesn’t have to be this hard. And please, deaf readers, consider both sides of the story before you lay the blame on interpreters. (I only wrote that because ridor9th was the first commenter on Amanda’s blog post, and he said, “It is not your fault, the interpreters in Phoenix are to blame. Lately they are intimidating Deaf ppl all over Phoenix on many things” (I have no idea why he said what he said about interpreters in Phoenix, but I was hoping that other deaf people would not blame interpreters without at least hearing my side of the story first). There’s a lot we can all learn from this and still respect each other.

One more thing I must share about NAOBI— something that moved me and touched my heart. Now, I know it sounds funny to talk about “black people” and point out the differences between their culture and mine— black people’s and white people’s. It seems “politically correct” to be hush-hush about the differences between black people and white people, but I want to tell you some positive things about what’s different about black culture! And this is so neat. It seems — now, I interpreted for a full week last year at the NBDA (National Black Deaf Advocates, a deaf association) conference, and at the end of the week, we danced!— It seems to me that black people cannot get together and not dance. It seems that every conference I’ve been to — and that’s only two, but still — in my experience, when black people gather for a conference, they’ve got to dance together. And it’s so much fun! They had a DJ playing music loud, and everyone danced together— deaf people, interpreters, everyone. And they line up facing each other while people dance down the aisle, you know, like Soul Train. That’s where everyone lines up in two lines facing each other, forming an aisle, and as people move up to the front of the line, they dance down the aisle and do their own thing, show their personality, express what they’re feeling. Everyone on the sidelines cheers them on, goads them on, and roots for them. You strut down that aisle, you dance, you swing, you move your body, and you do your thing, you express yourself. Oh, it’s fun! And people are fiercely supportive.

One thing I noticed at both NBDA and NAOBI is that they do a lot of line dances and “slides”— you know, like The Electric Slide. Maybe you know that dance, maybe not, but anyway, I noticed a lot of that at both conferences. And not just once, but several times each night. It’s like a form of communal bonding. Loads of fun. And I used to do a lot of country-western line dancing, and I was a pro at it, but that was a long time ago, so I’m rusty. But the black people there helped me, guided me along, and showed me what to do. This one woman dancing next to me in the line saw that I was missing steps and didn’t know which direction to go it, so she put her hands around my waist and gently pushed and pulled me forward and back, took me by the arm and gently pushed and pulled me from side to side. And all the while she was so full of friendship and hospitality. It was like she wanted to include me in her family.

Gah! I get so verklempt every time I think about it. I get all choked up and tears come to my eyes. Because during one of the other songs, everyone stood around in a big circle and danced to “We Are Family”— you know the song, “We are family / I got all my sisters with me”? I’ve been to other conventions where that song was played, but I’ve never felt it so deeply, so truly, as when I was at NAOBI. Deaf and hearing people alike were signing the song together in that circle, and as I gazed around that circle of people — and I know it sounds cliché — I felt the love, I felt the sense of family, I felt the interconnectedness. And even though I’m white, I felt like I was included in that family, that I was helped, led, guided, and beckoned to join that family. That — whew! (tears) — that was a great experience. I felt honored that those people welcomed me into their world.

Now, I know that we’re both human. I know that we’re all part of the human race. I am aware of that. But the truth is also that black people have their ways and white people have their ways. They have different cultures, different skin colors, and different historical backgrounds. And that’s important to recognize. We can discuss race; we can discuss our differences. But likewise we can acknowledge our similarities and what we have in common. And the way they welcomed me, I felt like one of them. I felt like an “honorary black person” that night at the dance.

In fact, it’s funny. I grew up with black people at school, thanks to SCPA, the School of Creative & Performing Arts. That experience — because it was an integrated school (voluntary integration) — that school taught me a lot about singing, acting, and dancing, but it also taught me about respecting the diversity of cultures, races, ethnicities, instilled in me a sense of cooperation and collaboration. When we put on a show at that school, the directors who auditioned the players cast them regardless of skin color. And when two people were cast as a married couple, one could be black and the other white, and their kids could be Chinese or Mexican. They could be any color or ethnicity— white, hispanic (and I know there are white hispanics). But that schooling was really, well, a lot of fun. And it taught me a lot, not just about the acting profession, but about dance, and fun, and jazz.

And, to be honest with you, as a gay person, I’ve been around black gay men and black women, and I’ve seen and studied their ways, their mannerisms, their slang, their dance moves and so on. And what was really funny was there was this one white girl who was doing this — it’s funny, I’ll show you at the risk of embarrassing myself — this “back it on up” dance move. So, okay, I can play with that! So I showed her a move I learned from a black gay man, like this— uh, uh, uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh “shake your booty like a bee.” So, these black girls on the dance floor caught me doing that and cracked up and said, “You just got a new nickname: ‘White Chocolate’!” So, I am White Chocolate! LOL. It’s funny. I felt like I was welcome in their world, like I was an “honorary black person.”

I know I’m white. I’m not trying to be black. But it’s still fun to be included. Anyway, I’d better wrap up this vlog and bring it to a close. Thank you for your attention. And if any of you in NAOBI are watching this vlog, thank you. I felt great to be included in your conference. So long!

Hi. I’m Daniel Greene, and this vlog is about my experience at NAOBI, a conference for the National Alliance of Black Interpreters. It was a really great experience. I had gone to the RID Region V conference in Salt Lake City the week before, and now I was teaching workshops at NAOBI here in Phoenix. (Last time I did a video about this I accidentally said, “Here in San Diego.” That’s crazy, but it’s because I lived in San Diego for such a long time — twenty-seven years altogether — and I moved to Phoenix five-and-a-half years ago at the end of 2004. Funny. I still sometimes say, “Here in San Diego.”)

So, anyway, here in Phoenix, I taught two workshops. I was actually scheduled to teach three, but oddly enough, the first morning of the conference, there were so few people and so many concurrent workshops — eight workshops at the same time! And I don’t know how many attendees there were at the conference that first morning. I do know that some of the other workshops only had a handful of attendees as well. One person showed up to my workshop, and I told her I would be happy to teach her all the workshop content even though she was the only one, that we could work it out between the two of us. But if she wanted to join another workshop, she should feel free to do so, and I would take no offense. So she went to another workshop, which was fine with me.

So, that one workshop was a loss, because I was really looking forward to teaching it and learning from all the participants. That workshop was called Speak & Spell, and it was about pronouncing and spelling foreign names and words. But it was actually more than that, because recently I’ve learned more about how parents invent names for their children. In particular, when I researched black people’s names, I found out some very interesting things about the rich history and phonology of black people’s names— the phonology, the sound patterns, number of syllables, and stress— where the emphasis lies. I found out that names in fact have prefixes and suffixes— not the prefixes and suffixes you see on some of the forms you fill out in which “prefix” means “Mr.” or “Miss” and suffix means “Jr.” or “III.” That’s one definition of prefix and suffix, but I’m talking about other prefixes and suffixes like “on.” In black culture, many names end in “on” like Dion, Marquon, and Javon or Javan (which sounds like Javon, or juh-vahn). And the stress of these names tends to come at the end. Di-ON, Mar-QUON, Ja-VAN. I could talk about this for hours, but that’s for another time. If you come to my workshop, I would be happy to explain it all and get your feedback. I had wanted badly to teach that workshop at NAOBI because I so wanted to learn more about your (black interpreters’) names—how your parents came up with your names, how your names are pronounced and spelled. And of course I would teach you about the world’s languages and their sound and spelling systems, called phonology and orthography. But unfortunately I didn’t get to teach that workshop. Darn!

In any event, I taught two other workshops, one about Vague Language (VL) about how people sometimes beat around the bush rather than being direct, soften things rather than being blunt, omit words and not describe things in precise detail but rather refer to knowledge that is common to them. When two or more people have shared knowledge, they can gloss over it rather than reiterating it in detail. Also, sometimes people sugar-coat things to be polite. That was the gist of my Vague Language workshop.

The other workshop I taught was Vocal Technique (V-0-C-A-L T-E-Q-U — let me spell that again — V-O-C-A-L T-E-C-H-N-I-Q-U-E) for Interpreters. As interpreters, we use our voices a lot— every time the deaf person signs, we speak. And even more so with VRS or any video interpreting, half our job is voice interpreter— voice interpretING. Ha ha! Still flubbing up my signs, but no matter, I’ll try and keep on trying to sign VLogs. Even if I make mistakes, I won’t do retakes; I’ll just press on and fly by the seat of my pants. If I makes mistakes, fine! Move on. Anyway, I taught about what I learned as as actor, singer, and voice actor who went through training at the Commercial Clinic with the great teachers James Alburger and Penny _____ the last name escapes me [Abshire]. Anyway, they’re great teachers, and I learned a lot about how to use vocal inflection, emphasis, expression, and character to show how you feel so that people who can’t see you — people who are “blind” to you because they’re listening to the radio or an audiobook — just like in VRS, when we can see the deaf consumer on our video screens, but the hearing person is “blind” because they can’t see the deaf person. So, this means we must express everything with our voices. That’s the purpose of that workshop.

I feel like I’m bragging a little bit, but I got such good feedback and turnout at my workshops. It’s funny, because the first workshop, only one person showed up, but at the next workshop, I had like 20 or 25 people, and at the workshop after that, there were 30 or 40 people! It was such great fun! I love learning from everyone as I teach them, and to help them as they help me. So cool.

So, that was my experience teaching workshops at NAOBI. There’s one more thing I must to share with you about NAOBI, something so moving— [Please watch the next video which is actually a continuation of this video that I had to split in two to fit within the 10-minute limit on YouTube.]

Abstract

Reflections on my recent experience at the RID Region V conference, the benefits of the policy of using ASL at all times during the conference (except in a few of the workshops that were interpreted), and the great contribution of deaf interpreters to the field. I also discuss my experience as a workshop presenter and my thoughts on how to make my discussions of interpreting less hearing-interpreter-centric, and more inclusive of all interpreters, especially deaf interpreters.

Transcript

Hi. My name is Daniel Greene, and to be honest with you, this is my third take on this video. I get so flustered and make so many mistakes, but I can’t retake again and again and again, so I hope the third time’s a charm.

I want to let you know about my experience at the RID Region V conference in Salt Lake City. It was awesome! I taught two workshops and that was really exciting. It was my first time presenting at a regional level. I had previously taught workshops on a local and state level, but this was my first time presenting at a regional conference. And, funnily enough, the next week I taught three workshops at NAOBI here in San Diego [Brain fart! I meant Phoenix, where I’ve lived for five-and-a-half years, not San Diego where I lived for 27 years —DG] — the National Alliance of Black Interpreters — and that was a national conference. So now I’ve taught at local, state, regional, and national levels. Anyway, it’s not just about me and my workshops. Yes, it was fun, it was great, and people came up to me and gave me tremendous feedback— this workshop is great, I love it, I’m learning a lot / benefiting from it, etc. And that’s terrific.

But what I really want to talk about is the ASL policy. The RID Region V policy was “all language here is ASL. We will use ASL at this conference.” Not “all language is ASL”– see? I told you I say things wrong. Dug! I mean “Duh!” See? I’m even fingerspelling wrong. Anyway! My point is that, “The language of this conference is ASL.” This means that people won’t speak in spoken language, they’ll speak in sign language. All of the plenary sessions were conducted in ASL. Whenever someone in the audience wanted to make a comment or ask a question — assuming that the speaker invited such participation — they would sign it. The speaker would call on them, they would stay seated, and the person on the stage interpreting for them would be a deaf interpreter. The interpreter would stand on the stage along with the speaker and copy the signing of the person in the audience. This was very helpful, because you could keep your eyes on the stage rather than having to scan the big ballroom to find out who was talking. And you wouldn’t have to worry about not being able to see the speaker or seeing only their back and not being able to see their signs. The best solution was to hire deaf interpreters to do platform mirror interpreting. And they had some fabulous deaf interpreters at that conference— fluent, top-notch, deaf interpreters. And it was really helpful to us hearing interpreters to be required to sign more.

You know, it’s easy when you’re interpreting and you can hear what a hearing person says and then process it, rehearse it, figure out how to sign it— not that you’re consciously thinking “How do I sign that?” but a part of your brain is working it out. But when you talk for yourself in sign, it’s a bit more immediate— it’s unrehearsed, spontaneous. It forces me to express myself in sign more naturally, or whatever. I really sometimes wish I had the native fluency of a deaf person. I wish I could “sign like a Deaf person.” And I aim for that although I doubt I will ever achieve it. But the point is communication.

I remember times when I would say to a deaf person, “I know I’m a little hearie who’s not fluent like you,” and several deaf people would tell me, “The point is to communicate. It doesn’t matter if you’re using PSE, ASL, or whatever, as long as you’re communicating— signing.”

And it was the same with the RID Region V conference. Yes, the conference policy was ASL, but that didn’t mean they would clamp your hands down if you didn’t sign pure ASL. It didn’t mean they would force you to instantly sign with the fluency of a culturally Deaf person who grew up using the language. No, that was not it. Besides, not all deaf people sign with equal fluency in gorgeous “perfect” ASL. So, there’s variety in all of it.

The point of it is so that deaf people know what you’re talking about. If a bunch of hearing interpreters are standing around talking (speaking English), the deaf people are left out of the conversation and it’s not fair. And, actually, nowadays more and more deaf people are interpreters. It’s not like in the past when deaf people were the clients and hearing people were the interpreters. Now it’s more integrated — hearing interpreters and deaf interpreters, HI’s and DI’s — all working together, learning together, improving together. That’s the great benefit of it. That’s big.

Oh, and in my experience as a workshop presenter, one thing I noticed about teaching was that I wanted to including the deaf participants (there were mostly hearing and a few deaf), and I thought, “how can I include them and make them feel it was equally beneficial, interesting, and entertaining?” And that’s hard. It’s a little bit of a challenge. I think most of the time if I sign and deliver the content of the workshop, all will benefit equally. But one thing I recognized in myself was that I tended to talk about the interpreting process as one of watching deaf people sign and hearing people talk. And I kept setting up deaf people and hearing people in signing space that showed the deaf person in front of my and the hearing person to my right. I guess that’s because I do a lot of video interpreting — video relay service — well, actually both VRS and VRI. Anyway, I realized that [division of hearing and deaf in signing space] is “hearing–interpreter–centric.” It would be better that I discuss the interpreting process in terms of “first speaker / second speaker; person expressing communication / person receiving communication; sender / receiver; expresser / receiver… or something.

But not deaf / hearing. Because deaf interpreters interpret between deaf and — well, not deaf, but hearing interpreters, not hearing speakers of English. So, deaf interpreters are not going between ASL and English— not spoken English anyway… well, maybe sometimes, but most of the time between hearing interpreters and deaf people. Both [of their interpreting tasks] are receiving sign and expressing sign. It is a challenge for me to think about how to talk about two interlocutors (two people who are talking to each other) and how to take one language and convey it to another. Maybe using more neutral space (from here to there and there to here), not “deaf in front of me and hearing at my side” or deaf/hearing, but more like “person A and person B” or something.

Maybe we as a profession need to think about how we discuss the interpreting process per se— not focused so much on English-to-ASL and ASL-to-English, but more like “one language to—” well, I know there are words for that, such as “Source Language (SL)” and “Target Language (TL).” Yes, we already have those words, so maybe we need to engage those words more often. Or maybe I have to do that myself as a teacher / presenter.

So, I guess that’s all. I really had fun in Salt Lake City. I did sightseeing and took lots of photos— you can look at my Flickr— I have tons of photos (eleven thousand photos!). I love taking pictures. So, I will post them today. Promise! Anyway, if you want to follow me on Twitter, it’s my name danielgreene. I’m also a member of LinkedIn, and my name on that website is danieljgreene [it's now danieljamesgreene]. Well, I enjoyed talking with you — I mean You, and thanks for your attention to this video!

I presented my workshop "Knowing What They’re Going to Say Before They Say It: Using Genre Recognition to Improve Your Predictive Skills" at the Arizona RID (Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf) State Conference on Saturday, March 28, 2009 from 1-4:30 PM. It was the first time I’d ever presented at a state conference, and they put me in the smallest meeting room (the Palo Verde room) at the Hilton Airport Hotel in Phoenix, Arizona.

Can you believe that a total of 27 attendees filled this room beyond capacity? I was astounded at the turnout. I was too busy during my workshop to even think about taking pictures, but as I was leaving the space after packing up all my things, I paused to say a prayer of thanks; then I took this photo to commemorate the moment. I am hopeful to teach workshops at other conferences throughout the rest of my life. It may sound corny, but I’m all ferklempt right now as I say, "this is where it all began!"

Thanks to the conference presenter selection committee including Lauren Greenberg, Michelle Caplette-Boyle, and Joy Marks. And thanks to everyone who listened to my ideas and gave me feedback as I developed this workshop in my mind over the past several years, especially:

• Nancy Alcock, who sat with me over lunch at Denny’s in Mira Mesa in 2003.
• Elita Harvey, who sat with me over lunch at Outback Steakhouse in Scottsdale in 2006.
• Lisa Levine, who stood with me on the grounds at Phoenix College in 2007.
• Jamie DeArmas, who exchanged workshop ideas, feedback, and encouragement with me at Hands On Video Relay Service in 2008.
• Joy Marks, who provided me with resources and materials during the nuts-and-bolts development of my workshop and gave me the space, the publicity, and the students to present my workshop for the first time in November 2008 at the Desert Valleys Regional Cooperative.

I’m sorry if I forgot anyone. Please remind me and I’ll gratefully acknowledge you here.

So, what are all the things I’m doing (and/or avoiding doing) right now? Well, there is the matter of taxes. My husband’s employer somehow forgot to take out any taxes for him in 2008, and he somehow never noticed this. So I have to pay his tax debt with my tax refund. But to get my tax refund, my tax accountant needs to return my phone calls and e-mails, which so far he hasn’t. The sooner I get my taxes filed, the sooner I get my return, and the sooner we can file my husband’s taxes along with the money he owes. I would be nice if filing jointly were an option for same-sex couples.

Then there is the Arizona RID State Conference this weekend. I am presenting a workshop on Saturday afternoon titled “Knowing What They’re Going to Say Before They Say It: Using Genre Recognition to Improve Your Predictive Skills.” I’m in a competing time slot with Ari-Asha Castalia, Sharon Neumann Solow, and Teddi Von Pingel, so no pressure there. Oh, and the company I work for, Purple Communications, tasked me with staffing the booth in the exhibit hall with at least one or two Purple employees at all times during the weekend and recruiting in-house interpreters such that there are four of our interpreters in the conference interpreting team during all the workshops on Saturday and Sunday. So far, I’ve succeeded in staffing the exhibit hall and the interpreting team; I’m just crossing my fingers that everyone shows up when they’re supposed to. Note to self: send reminders! In addition to teaching a workshop and staffing Purple’s presence at the conference, I will also be taking workshops to earn my much-needed CEUs so that I can remain nationally certified and licensed to interpret in the state of Arizona. And while I’m there, I’ll have my camera with me to take photos, as I’ve been asked to do this as well. One last thing: I really should attend the business meeting at 4 PM on Friday since I am the Bylaws Chair, but I work until 5 PM at HOVRS, so I don’t see how I’m going to make it. I’m going to need to see about that.

So, that’s this coming weekend. The weekend after that is my husband’s 50th birthday party. So there are preparations to be made, things to be cleaned around the house, invitation reminders to send, etc.

Plus, there’s the little detail of preparing to interpret William Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice for the Southwest Shakespeare Company on April 18 at 2 PM. Somehow, I have to find time to work on that even this week when things are so crazy.

I’m also, along with my husband, the vice-president/secretary of our neighborhood association, which is trying to take the neighborhood historic. We have a meeting tomorrow night which I need to send out reminders about today and I must preside over tomorrow because Andy will be working. I’ll have to ask someone else to take minutes. Then we have our big meeting with Vice Mayor Tom Simplot on April 28, at which we hope that many residents will appear to show the vice mayor how keen we are on going historic. (Many dollars and hours have been spent by residents before me and my husband even moved here four-and-a-half years ago to document this neighborhood and apply for historic designation, and it looks as though, with the Vice Mayor’s help, all those years of efforts may finally pay off.)

So, there you have it. That’s what I’m up to these days. And that’s just the planned stuff. We all know that life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans. I probably shouldn’t have even spent the time to write this blog entry, but at least it’s productive in terms of getting these projects out of my head and onto the “page,” as it were. And by stating these things publicly, I hold myself accountable and perhaps I ask for help. Or, at least, patience.