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Cooperation Strengthens Sign Language Interpreter Education Programs

Cooperation in Sign Language Interpreting Education

Damita Boyd explores the value of learning from other disciplines, developing national standards and shared bodies of exemplar work, and acting on what we already know to improve interpreter education programs.

From time to time I have heard it said that Interpreter Education Programs are the new functional “gatekeepers” of the sign language interpreting profession. That is, with more interpreters learning ASL and interpreting in academic settings, rather than based on their proximity to the Deaf community, it is navigating successfully through the classroom experience that first determines who will have the opportunity to become a sign language interpreter.

In several StreetLeverage articles, authors give an account of, or allude to, the shift from community-centered and community-made interpreters to interpreters trained in schools. Rico Peterson, in New Lamps for Old: Apprenticeship in Sign Language Interpreting, gives an account of life before this shift; he describes gated (invitation-only) opportunities for real-world learning allowed only by one’s relationship-in-good-standing with the Deaf community. In Sign Language Interpreters – Complicit in a Devil’s Bargain?,” Dennis Cokely gives an especially pointed account of the negative side-effects of communication access legislation, including the Deaf community’s loss of the locus of control for sign language instruction and the provision of interpreting services. The power shift from the heart of the Deaf community to community colleges, colleges, and universities has been a reality of sign language interpreter education for about forty years. We can’t go back, but perhaps we can find a new way forward. I’d like to briefly consider how the “gatekeeper” role might act as a nudge for greater cooperation, greater sharing, and standardization of curriculum, assessments, and outcomes.

The Measurement of an Interpreter

If interpreter education programs truly function as gatekeepers, whether by design or by default, shouldn’t we know what the gates (skills and competencies) are? What are the true skills and measures that decide whether students will end up on this side of the gate or that? Who decides what skills and competencies should be prioritized; and are we effectively designing our programs, our courses, and our teaching and learning from one moment to the next to prepare students for the world that awaits them?

What I am saying here is not particularly new. Several months ago I was preparing to attend a symposium for sign language interpreter educators. Homework for the symposium included reading Toward Competent Practice: Conversations with Stakeholders (Witter-Merithew & Johnson). The stakeholder conversations highlighted in this 2005 publication resulted in recommendations for the design of an “ideal” interpreter education program, and a comprehensive list of entry-to-practice competencies. Ever heard the adage that starts, “If I lived half as well as now I know how already…?” If we lived half as well as we know how already, there would be at least as many Deaf faculty in interpreter education as there are non-deaf, and we would be nearer to the implementation of standardized competency requirements that assess critical thinking, human relations competencies, and professionalism, in addition to interpreting.

I do know that sign language interpreter education programs are filled with dedicated faculty and staff who are genuinely committed to making interpreting program graduates as competent as possible, given limited time, limited resources, and often limited exposure to Deaf culture and language. I have no doubt that individually there are educators and programs working in compelling and creative ways (or maybe even just good old-fashioned effective ways) in order to meet the needs of the community where they live. If we were to find an effective way to knit our efforts together, I believe that each of our programs would be enriched and a small step toward a national understanding of entry-to-practice competency might be taken.

I am less interested in classroom practice and methodology at this point—important though they are—than I am in understanding the priorities programs seek to fulfill. Most are working on language. Advanced ASL fluency prior to admittance to an interpreter education program is rare, and depending on college entrance requirements, knowledge of the English language may need to be bolstered. What other skills are addressed by subsuming their instruction within the language/interpreting lesson? Which skills are reinforced by the practices of the program? What skills are considered rudimentary? How do programs build on and strengthen those skills?

The Value of Cross-Pollination

I have been working with faculty members from two disciplines outside of my own and in each case I have learned that there are approaches that I had not considered that if tried, might fit in interpreter education. The nursing program has extensive experience in designing, observing, and evaluating clinical practice. The concept that they hold for a successful interaction is specific. Working with the nursing department has helped me understand more clearly how I might be equally specific in structuring performance expectations for interpreting students during interactive interpreting. The Education program has mastered their process for field placement. Viewing their process and reusing some of the resources that they have in place not only saves valuable time and energy, it reminds me that longer-standing fields have had time to try, fail, build, and re-build, while the formal training of sign language interpreters is still relatively young.

I do not doubt that the roadmap provided by Witter-Merithew & Johnson and the 400 participants in their Conversations with Stakeholders project holds true. Because the conversation is centered around an ideal education program, some of the recommendations—given where we are now—read like the stuff of science fiction (separate exit expectations for two-year and four-year programs each followed by a formal induction system, apprenticeship, p. 120). Of course, we did put a man on the moon….

Would it be possible to poll interpreter education programs to determine which “ideal” recommendations are already in place? Do we all have similar measures to determine if our curriculum and teaching strategies are working? Because the list of recognized competencies is extensive, how can we prioritize those competencies and sequence instruction? Can we clearly identify priority objectives, explicit and implicit, and talk about their achievement? Perhaps our national agenda needs to start in regional work-groups in order to be more manageable?

Where Do We Go From Here?

Certainly, there are initiatives that are pulling sign language interpreter educators together. The National Interpreter Education Center and six Regional Interpreter Education Centers are working to provide support and outreach to sign language interpreter education programs throughout the country. Each of the regional centers hosts activities designed to further the profession of sign language interpreting and interpreter education. One initiative, the Outcomes Circle, established by the National Interpreter Education Center based at Northeastern University, will share the results of the collaborative work of 15 interpreter education programs in a study of effective practices. The TIEM Center exists as a research, resource, and networking hub that has served as the launching point for significant collaboration and research in the field of sign language interpreter education. Professional organizations, conferences, symposia—all are geared toward networking and contributing to the field of sign language interpreting through education.

As a consumer of these entities, someone who measures the success of my efforts in student “aha” moments and news of EIPA scores and NIC results; in my ability to translate theory and shareshop ideas into a cohesive program of instruction; and in the vivaciousness or deadpan silence in my last class—I have one or two thoughts about where I might start, were I to have my own sign language interpreter educator collective.

Outcomes Tied To Standards

First, I need an anchor. As we design interpreter education programs to lead students to specific competencies and outcomes, I would like to see those outcomes overtly tied to a single, clear standard of performance. The most accessible, identifiable, common professional standard that we share is the RID/NAD Code of Professional Conduct. Each tenet represents a guiding principle fundamental to the role of sign language interpreter. Each tenet is also a broad heading under which specific knowledge, skills, and behaviors might be placed. Our challenge as educators and researchers would be to define how each of these standards might be addressed, and to align our teaching to ensure that students have the opportunity to become competent and knowledgeable in each area. Perhaps there are sign language interpreting programs that do this already. For me, this is a new idea. I recognize that this means that when the CPC changes, educational programs will be affected. However, if we as a profession share values, expectations, and standards, I think that sharing in the evolution of those values, expectations, and standards is a powerful activity.

A Corpus Of Exemplar Work

Second, I need a model of expectation for the different phases of learning. I continually find that evaluating student work is a challenge. After several years of teaching, I have become comfortable with my ability to put a grade on an assigned interpretation. I can talk about it. I can justify it. I can get agreement from the student and from a colleague down the hall. What I lack is the ability to measure my students’ work against a body of work generated by students (interpreters) of similar competency. I also struggle to mentor new interpreter educators as they are faced with assigning grades for student work, particularly when their paradigm is largely framed by the work of professional sign language interpreting peers with whom they have become familiar. To be sure, there is a learning curve in any new endeavor. Still—a model, a level of expectation for what students in each phase of the education process should be able to accomplish would be very helpful.

In order to develop a corpus of exemplar work at all levels of student development, we would need broad stakeholder involvement. Teachers would need to seek permission from students and institutions and be willing to engage in active research. Students, for the sake of education, would need to be willing to allow us to share and compare their work. Or perhaps, in the service of shaping the professionals who will work beside them, professional interpreters would be willing to share the work of their past. We would need consumers involved to tell us what really works and what doesn’t in message transfer and, where warranted, in professional interaction.

Act on What We Know

I’ll stop there, and point back to the adage, “If I lived half as well as now I know how already…?”. There is so much good work that has been done in the last forty years in American Sign Language and sign language interpreting research, in bringing evidence-based practices and pedagogical awareness to sign interpreter education; it is to our advantage to actively participate in it.

How can we take what we know and take the next necessary steps toward collaboration, implementation, and standardization?

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Tribal Communication: Evolving Expectations in the Field of Sign Language Interpreting

Tribal Elders Within The Field of Sign Language Interpreting

As membership in RID has grown exponentially, so has how we communicate between leadership and members. Dora Veith’s research examines changing communication norms from interpreting’s tribal roots to today’s “container” method.

San Francisco, 2007. My very first Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf (RID) national conference. I had been working in the field for two years and I was thrilled to be attending the national business meeting with my heroes in the field.

As I entered the meeting room, I heard a rumbling. Members were agitated. There was a recent leadership decision and members were unhappy. I heard, “How could they make that decision without including us? That is not our culture, our roots!” I understood. RID is a member-driven organization and leadership decisions should reflect member needs and goals. But, wait – I also heard leaders saying, “We did ask you! We sent emails asking for input. We posted requests for feedback on the website! We printed articles in RIDViews!” Hmmmm. I left the meeting wondering: how could such drastic miscommunication happen in an organization filled with communicators?!

Fast forward to 2012. I am sitting in front of my computer reading the course materials for my online class, Leadership Principles, through Regis University in Denver, Colorado. There is a brief lesson in the course about communication models, specifically comparing Tribal and Container communication models. I read how tribal communication is person-to-person, oral traditions and history passed on from mentor to mentee, how elders are revered and sought out, how decisions are based on what’s best for the community. I instantly think about RID’s history, a history rooted in reciprocity, mentorship, service, and partnership; the tribal description resonates.

Then I read about container communication and its dependency on technology, general announcements and reports, feelings of hierarchy in leadership, and how the decisions are often made for individual benefit, not the community. I am instantly transported to the 2007 business meeting. That’s it! That is what happened! We had container communication trying to satisfy tribal expectations. No wonder we struggled!

From Tribe to Container

Since 2007, I have heard mention in casual conversation that the sign language interpreting profession has changed because so many practitioners do not come from Deaf roots. Many, like me, have entered the interpreting profession through training programs and had no connection to the Deaf community before pursuing this career. Deaf consumers and practitioners complain that the cultural competency of practitioners is in decline because of this lack of connection. In her article, Sign Language Interpreters and the Quest for a Deaf Heart, Betty Colonomos highlights this in a poignant way.

RID started with a tribal communication model. I have heard more than one of our seasoned interpreters say, “I used to be able to go to conference and know everyone there!” We have grown from that small founding group to a large organization. In addition, where we used to train other sign language interpreters through one-to-one mentorship, we now have formal degree programs. Out of necessity, we have become reliant on technology to communicate, and organizational communication comes in the form of general announcements and reports. We have become a container organization at the national level.

I think concerns about the change in RID, and the sign language interpreting profession as a whole, are valid, but I also suspect we are being a bit myopic. I am curious: if we step outside the cauldron of Hearing heart vs. Deaf heart and look at RID as a whole, what might we find? Is it possible that we are simply experiencing the results of unplanned organizational transformation caused by simple rapid growth as a profession?

Communication Style and Participation: A Closer Look

In 2013, when it became time to pursue my senior capstone at Regis, I was still haunted by the tribal vs. container lesson and decided to make it the cornerstone of my project. I tried to find other research about tribal and container communication, but other than a brief blurb in my old textbook, Leadership: A Communication Perspective (Hackman & Johnson, 2008), I was unable to find any research directly tied to this phenomenon. Most of the research is focused on proving or disproving Putnam’s theory of decline in social capital (Bowling Alone, 1995/2000) – that there has been a national trend of decline in membership organizations, resulting in fewer people building connections and supporting their community since 1952. I was unable to find any research about communication changes as grass root organizations grow and transform and the impact of this change on membership.

Consequently, I decided to do my own research. I developed a research question and a survey to see if there was a link between communication models and membership participation. I posted a link to the survey on the RID and BLeGIT Facebook pages. I also posted it to my local chapter, ColoradoRID, Facebook page and emailed it to local members.

What We Found

There were 70 respondents to the survey. Participants ranged in age from 20-something novice interpreters to 70+ -year-old semi-retired working sign language interpreters. Education levels ranged from associate degrees to master’s degrees. The survey participants were required to be ASL-to-English interpreting practitioners. Survey respondents remained anonymous.

With respect to experience, the respondents were split evenly: 50% had 0-10 years of interpreting experience and 50% had 11-30+ years of experience. This demonstrated a balanced perspective among respondents with significant history within the RID structure. 80% of respondents were trained in an IPP/ITP and 30% grew up in the Deaf community. 17% of respondents were introduced to the Deaf community through mentors, while 60% were introduced through their training program. While 97% of respondents were current RID members, only 76% belonged to their local chapters. 46% could not identify organizational leaders.

Communication Preferences

In terms of communication habits and preferences, the most significant findings were that 63% prefer to network in person at community socials or events. However, when asked to identify preferences, the number one preferred way to receive information from national and local RID groups was email, with social media a distant second. When I discussed this contrast with a colleague she said, “Of course! We want personal contact, but we don’t have time for it!”

While the data I collected was interesting and informative, it did not really answer the research question. However, I continued to analyze RID communication in light of the tribal model, since I was relatively new to the profession and had less personal experience with it.

The Tribe: A Closer Look at Who’s Who

Elders

So who is our tribe? Tribes have elders, water carriers, and general members. Elders can be defined pretty quickly as our most experienced interpreters and RID members. I also suggest that every interpreter with a Deaf parent is an elder by nature of their cultural intuition, regardless of their “professional” interpreting experience. In addition, every D/deaf person we meet is an elder in our tribe. They are the culture we try to serve, it is their language we use, who better to be offered the respect of a tribal elder?

Water Carriers

Max De Pree (1993), in Leadership Jazz, defines water carriers as those members who introduce new members to cultural norms and who share oral history. They help the new members of the tribe acclimate and avoid embarrassing pitfalls. As we have evolved, we have abdicated the water carrier role to our training programs. Maybe it is time for the local tribe to reclaim its water carrier responsibilities. The act of unpaid, casual mentorship of new interpreters strengthens connections and community ties while supporting the continuity of our cultural roots.

Members

The other, very important part of a tribe is that each member has a place – a role – and is a potential leader. We have identifiable leaders in our organization, people who have been vocal and visible for decades. It is easy to leave leadership to others. However, for a stronger organization, each member needs to take an active part in defining, contributing, and creating their local tribe and how their tribe interacts with the organization as a whole.

Bridging Container Communication and Tribal Expectations

As I apply the theory of tribal and container communication to our professional organization, I think logically—at a national and regional level—RID must continue as a container organization. Its efforts to engage members with social media have a role, but they don’t replace personal connections. Members have an opportunity to respond to RID issues in real-time, but the result is often a point-counterpoint interaction, not a real discussion.

I see that many local chapters have modeled their communication after the national office of RID; mass emails and social media have replaced personal interaction. I believe there is a better approach. The local chapter would be well suited to bring the benefits of tribal communication to members, acting as a bridge between container communication and tribal expectations. The local chapter can create a meaningful personal connection.

An example of how the tribe could bridge the container is the recent vote regarding the Deaf Parent Member at Large position on the RID Board. Almost all of the information regarding the motion and discussion about the motion rested on email and social media technologies (unless you were fortunate enough to attend the national conference). Even after Adam Bartley made an elegant plea in Mea Culpa: We Failed RID & Sign Language Interpreters with Deaf Parents, our container communication failed the second vote too. The fact that less than 10% of members voted nationwide is evidence of a system failure.

What would have happened if local chapters had offered this issue as a discussion point during local meetings? I suspect members would have become more invested in the outcome and more willing to cast a vote. Members might have felt invited into the discussion. It is easy to ignore an anonymous electronic invitation to, but that invitation has strength and impact when it is paired with an experience involving friends and colleagues.

Tribal and Container: The Best of Both

I believe RID has more options than just a container or a tribal communication model. I believe there is an ‘and’. It is a blend of both models that will lead us from the conflicts of organizational transition and toward a better, healthier, and effective professional organization.

Beyond the tribe. Beyond the container. We can become something more. After all, regardless of personal background, a commitment to effective communication is the common heart of every sign language interpreter.

References

De Pree, M. (1993). Watercarriers. Leadership Jazz. New York: Dell Publishing Company: 51-58 (kindle edition).

Hackman, M. & Johnson, C. (2008) Leadership: A communication perspective (5th ed). Long Grove, IL: Waveland Press, Inc. 238-241.

Putnam, R. (1995 & 2000). Bowling alone. New York, NY: Simon & Schuster Paperbacks.

Regis University. (Fall, 2012). COM 470 Leadership Principles. https://worldclass.regis.edu

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Treachery: Why Sign Language Interpreters Don’t Correct Each Other’s Work

An Act of Treachery for Sign Language Interpreters

Many sign language interpreters follow an “unwritten rule” that prevents us from intervening when a colleague’s interpretation is insufficient. Our silence contributes to Deaf oppression – it’s time to speak up.

As I submit this, some time has passed since the incident of the “fake interpreter” at the memorial service for Nelson Mandela. While this was an event of historic proportions, it was not an event where the life, liberty, or future prospects of the participants were placed at particular risk. Do not misunderstand me – what happened was fundamentally wrong. Deaf people were excluded from sharing in the memory of a person who has had a profound impact upon the world that we all share, as highlighted by Brandon Arthur in his post, Nelson Mandela: Have Sign Language Interpreters Disappointed the World? It was a major injustice and it is upsetting to witness access being denied in such a way.

There are no two ways about it: the events at the memorial were appalling, yet, in some ways, the level of attention that this single incident has received is nothing short of amazing. On a daily basis, Deaf communities put great energy into the fight for equality, yet this particular incident seems to have captured the imaginations of many people. Here in Ireland, Deaf people and sign language interpreters took to social media to express their condemnation. Judging by the reactions of the more traditional media (in the English speaking world at least), there appeared to be some understanding of why this was wrong. It was a positive thing to see such an outcry about the inequalities that are faced by Deaf people, and hopefully this will become a turning point.

Having said that, something is not quite right.

The Unwritten Rule

Someone pretended to be an interpreter, and Deaf communities reacted – as did sign language interpreters and society at large – and so they should have. An emphasis has been placed on using a qualified interpreter, and the situation has highlighted the importance of access. The arguments for using qualified interpreters are certainly supported in light of the events in South Africa.

Yet we should not allow the discussion to stop there. There is another issue that is arguably as disturbing: there are numerous anecdotal examples of qualified interpreters providing suboptimal interpretation, but the profession handles those events differently. The responses are often more subdued or fragmented than we have seen in the case of the memorial service.

Many of us are held back by the “unwritten rule” telling us not to get involved, not to draw attention to an interpretation that is not working. We have not been explicitly taught this during training – it is something that we learn. We learn it by watching Deaf people complain about sign language interpreters who do not understand them, or whom they cannot understand; we learn it by seeing how easily those complaints are deflected because the interpreter is qualified; we learn it when complaints are turned into issues about the personal preferences of Deaf people, rather than issues about the performances of the qualified interpreters.

Use of Credentials to Control

What we are actually learning is the power of credentials, and this is not something that is unique to the sign language interpreting profession. Charles Tilly, amongst others, has discussed how professionals use credentials to control entry into professions and, more importantly, to control and silence debate. The status of being qualified can supersede all other considerations, even taking away the right to ask questions of the professional. Indeed, at times, being qualified can even take the place of being competent.

In addition to raising awareness of the importance of qualified interpreters, the memorial service should also give interpreters something more to reflect on. If we step away from the fact that this person was unqualified, we can ask a more meaningful question: “what is the difference between someone who stands there making a series of gestures and a qualified interpreter whose interpretation Deaf people struggle to understand?”

For someone to purport to provide access when he or she is not an interpreter is foolhardy, disrespectful, and a gross insult to Deaf people – not to mention dangerous. When qualified sign language interpreters are involved and Deaf people struggle to understand the interpretation or make themselves understood, then we are in similar circumstances to those of the memorial service for Nelson Mandela; yet it is far easier for us to discuss the issue of the “fake interpreter,” as we are discussing an outsider.

There is one significant difference. The Deaf community has not invested in the “fake interpreter” and has not allowed him into their space. The betrayal is all the worse when qualified interpreters are involved.

Equality Framework

In Ireland we are fortunate to have a Centre for Equality Studies, where an Equality Framework has been developed [Baker, Lynch, Cantillon and Walsh (2009) Equality: From Theory to Action]. The framework has five dimensions of equality:

•           Power

•           Respect and Recognition

•           Resources

•           Love, Care and Solidarity

•           Work and Learning

The application of this framework to our work as sign language interpreters is far greater than can be discussed here, but just choosing some aspects of the framework can certainly give insight into our thinking. We can use it to analyze situations, and I intend to do this by sharing some reflections from personal experience.

Treachery Against Colleagues

I once attended an interpreted event with around ten off-duty interpreters present. Throughout the event, there were numerous instances in which the interpretation was not working well, with inputs from Deaf participants incorrectly or poorly translated into English.

At these times, there was discomfort, but no intervention: not from the other members of the interpreting team, not from the organizers, not from the audience. My discomfort came as a result of my position as a hearing person and as an interpreter. I was fully aware of what was happening, yet I chose not to act. I sat in uncomfortable silence hoping that the problem would be resolved.

At one point, I stood to make a comment. I chose to sign rather than speak. Afterwards, I realized that I had done something that I did not like: I had listened to the interpreter voicing my input, and I had modified my comment on the fly to correct the interpretation.

Even though I believe in equality, this was unegalitarian. I benefited from being a hearing person who could make sure that my message got across, even though the interpretation was not always working. Yet I was silent when it came to the other breakdowns.

Later at the event, another breakdown happened. A Deaf member of the audience stood to ask a question and the interpretation did not work well. The Deaf person asked the interpreter if she had signed clearly and the interpreter shrugged.

In a room with almost 15% of the sign language interpreters in our country present, this was unfolding before our eyes – and we were letting it happen.

We were sitting back. I was sitting back. It went against everything I believe in, yet I was listening to the voice in my head saying, “Don’t say anything. Just be quiet. You’re not working here. It’s none of your business”. I decided to ignore that little voice and say something. It had happened too many times already without intervention. I clarified with the hearing presenter by standing and sharing my understanding of the question. I was left with a bigger question to deal with: “Why was it such a big deal to intervene?”

I appreciate that it is easier to be an observer than to be actively interpreting. We can analyze the decision-making processes of the working interpreters and try to understand what happened for them, but to do that is to miss the point. The focus should be on the rest of us and what was happening for us that led us to be complicit in those inequalities as we sat back and allowed them to occur.

I have asked myself why it took me so long to say something and I have rationalized it in any number of ways: “The interpreters will correct the issue themselves;” “The organizers will  intervene soon;” “Someone else will say something before me.” All of those explanations fail to get to the crux of the issue: why was I hoping that something would happen without having to act myself? The real reason is that I know the rules as well as anyone else. I am aware that speaking up is seen as an act of treachery against colleagues, and even as undermining the profession.

The Emperor’s New Clothes

The power dimension of the Equality Framework is especially interesting here, at least for me. When witnessing the injustice of an incorrect interpretation, I allowed the power placed in an idea to hold me back from speaking up. This idea that has come from somewhere – it is an idea that serves some interests, just not the interests of equality or Deaf communities. Indeed, it doesn’t even serve the sign language interpreting profession, as it makes us question whether we should intervene when something blatantly wrong is happening. It confuses us into thinking that, by addressing a problem, we are causing a problem; yet these problems already exist. A wiser person than I refers to this type of situation as a case of the Emperor’s New Clothes: sign language interpreters can be in their “altogether” and be totally exposed. We can see it, but we cannot say anything for fear of how we will be perceived – after all, it is only a fool or a crank who does not recognize the credentials that we wear.

Distortion

The love, care and solidarity dimension is also interesting as it is frequently misused to protect the status quo. In the example above, I had Deaf friends and colleagues who were having their ideas misrepresented and I was weighing what to do. While it is true that everyone deserves the benefit of love, care and solidarity, the unwritten rule is a distortion of what this should be. We are instilled with the idea of protecting and fostering a “safe space” for interpreters, but the safety of interpreters should lie in our competencies, not in the fear fellow interpreters have of speaking up. Perhaps there are interpreters who consider my intervention as oppressive of the interpreters working at the event. Well, my answer to that is simple: look at where the power lies and you will see where the oppression is coming from. Correcting an interpretation is not an oppressive act. The marginalization and misrepresentation of Deaf people is oppressive, and our complicity in situations like that makes oppressors of us all.

The Takeaway

If there is one thing that we should take from the incident at the memorial service for Nelson Mandela, it is that real access is more than the appearance of access – qualified or not, the interpretation must be working. If we are equality-minded, “they are trying their best” is not good enough. The voices in our heads should be telling us to fix the situation, not stopping us from standing up. It is time to “rewrite” the unwritten rule.

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How Do Sign Language Interpreters Avoid Mentoring’s Dodgy Undertow?

Avoid the Dodgy Undertow of Sign Language Interpreting

Can mentoring relationships among interpreters avoid common pitfalls? Lynne Wiesman describes ideal traits of mentoring partnerships to result in success for both experienced and novice interpreter.

We have all had someone who “took us under their wing” at some point in our careers. These people that we say changed the trajectory of our careers and pulled us up by allowing us to stand on their shoulders. These people, whose quiet grace, wanted nothing more for their trouble than for us to become the best sign language interpreters, professionals, and humans we could become.

Unfortunately, some of us have also had the type of mentor, who had goals that were not transparent and altruistic; where we sensed that the goal was to push us down. Those mentoring relationships sought to further intrinsic, selfish agendas.

Although the latter may have inherently negative connotations, it is not automatically unscrupulous for a mentor to want a mutual benefit from the relationship. Quite the contrary, agencies have a need to cultivate more interpreters. Veteran interpreters, for whom the work has lost some of its original appeal, may long for a burst of energy and enthusiasm. Interpreters want to model for a newer interpreter. Mentoring is an excellent way to bring a fresh, new perspective, while providing a way to give back and pay it forward.  All are necessary and vital for the preservation of our field!

Unchecked Assumptions

These aforementioned scenarios could be detrimental if they contain a motivation or element of conscious or unconscious deception or inauthenticity. If the primary goal for entering into a mentoring relationship is anything other than supporting mentees (students or working interpreters) to realize their goals of becoming an effective sign language interpreter, it may still be a successful relationship, but may not be a mentoring relationship. The chief objective for all stakeholders of mentoring is for newer interpreters to be pulled up, not pushed down.

If either in the relationship has motives other than to pull up or based on unchecked assumptions, the relationship exists with a dodgy undertow.  Assumptions can occur on both sides of the relationship. Newer interpreters must “pay their dues”, “can’t possibly have Deaf heart”, “can never possess the foundations of what it takes to be a good interpreter from mere classroom learning”, or “are just in it for the money”.  Veteran interpreters “owe me”, “can’t possibly know as much as me since they never attended an ITP”, or “have been in the field so long, they can’t be up to date on current research.”

It is not my intent to insinuate that either have ulterior motives or agendas to push down. It is my intent to raise awareness of an effective and powerful approach to mentoring that pulls up all stakeholders of a mentoring relationship.

Two Sides of the Same Coin

Members of professions (e.g., nursing, teaching, and interpreting) receiving mentoring, report that mentoring is a formidable and effective intervention for induction into an industry. For years, as Lynette Taylor in Modern Questor: Connecting the Past to the Future of the Field reminds us, interpreters with more experience have been paired with those will less experience as a way to “navigate new waters.” We are where we are today, in part, due to mentoring by the Deaf community, agencies, and veteran sign language interpreters.

Unfortunately though, some also report being mentored in ways and by people who were untrained and unclear on the purpose and goal of mentoring. There are those who have never received formal training because it was not available or it was deemed unnecessary. A percentage of those may also believe that formal training is not an effective path to becoming an interpreter (or mentor.) This belief can permeate the mentoring relationship. Those who, perhaps, sought to mentor to further a gatekeeper role. Whether or not there exists a need for interpreters to become gatekeepers beyond those who truly own the keys and who live beyond the gates, this should not be done under the guise and pretense of mentoring.

Using ones personal or professional power to leverage control of someone’s dreams and goals can cause harm and ultimately does not result in any gains for society. Having the position power and exercising that ability to prevent access and advancement under the guise of mentoring is deceitful, defies the goal of mentoring, and is tantamount to abuse.

Can’t We All Just Get Along?

Not all mentoring should be altruistic but all mentoring relationships should be driven by an agenda that is co-created and negotiated, transparent, and authentic.

The foundations of quality mentoring hold a premise that a mentoring relationship is ultimately forged and maintained by open and honest communication. It would follow then, the lack of quality communication, communication conflicts, or even deceptive communication can set the stage for a dysfunctional mentoring relationship. Ott (2012) characterizes communication problems in mentoring as having an origin in intergenerational communication conflict, which may result in horizontal violence. Horizontal or “lateral violence occurs within marginalized groups where members strike out at each other as a result of being oppressed. The oppressed become the oppressors of themselves and each other” (Findlay, 2013). While interpreters are not, as a group, considered a marginalized group; many individual members are. Considering also that a large percentage of veteran interpreters have roots that are deep in the Deaf community either by familial, religious or other types of alliances, they have born witness to the impacts of others’ experiences and collaterally been harmed by their marginalization.

Ott sets the line of demarcation between generations of sign language interpreters at those who pre-date the requirement by RID to require a Bachelor’s in interpretation. Others have posited that line lies at the enactment of the ADA in 1990 or the establishment of ITPs as a turning point forever changing the landscape of interpreting. Where the line is that distinguishes generations of interpreters is open to debate and not the point of this article.  The reality is that the interpreting landscape has changed dramatically since those first days of family members providing volunteer services. There exists now an “interpreting space” (Taylor, 2013) shared by those who learned via the “school of hard knocks” and those who learned in a formal classroom. This is progress, right?

The paradox of progress is that to move toward one thing (pulling us toward a new understanding of professionalism), we move, or are pushed away, from another (our alliances with the Deaf community).

Unconsciously Competent

In the case of interpreting, progress pushed us away from the fledgling industry comprised of people with rich cultural experiences, knowledge of ASL, and values that were not formally or academically taught. Many of these early entrants into the field provided interpreting and are now the “veterans” who learned by association with members of the Deaf community who pulled up each and every person willing to facilitate communication. The learning was largely informal and by trial and error. Many mistakes were made; people were often put unwillingly and unknowingly in situations where irreparable harm could have been done (and may have been). Learning occurred as a result of these mistakes, not from an interpreter educator’s red pen or feedback on homework but during and after the work in discussions with consumers and team members. Learning occurred from those mistakes and veterans grew into the professional roles without ever stepping foot into a college classroom to study interpreting. Veterans could (and still can) culturally mediate and produce an effective product but can not explain how they did it. In a sense, veterans are, as Maslow (1940) would describe, “unconsciously competent.” Someone having so much experience producing interpretations, to the point of it becoming an innate task, characterizes this stage of learning. However, because they are unconsciously competent, they may also not be able to describe the discrete and multi-layered processes or decisions made leading up to the production of the task.

Consciously Competent

Herein lies a peek into what may be part of the communication conflict. Veterans are now being asked to mentor newer entrants into the field. Entrants who are afforded this opportunity based on that very same progress that pulled the field away from its cultural and linguistic roots. That progress that moved us toward professionalization of sign language interpreters was a result of ever-increasing academic and certification requirements. These newer interpreters lie somewhere on the continuum near unconsciously incompetent to consciously competent. These newer entrants to the profession have acquired a set of tools & processes, vocabulary, and research-based approaches & theories to be able to articulate the decisions made completing an interpreting task and analyze their work. They do this with a level of academic sophistication that can, as frequently reported, leave veterans feeling less competent or intimidated.

Mentors have frequently commented that “students can’t have Deaf heart” as if there is a formula or some secret membership card that they don’t yet possess. I challenge that assumption! In my experience as a mentor and educator, students in the program and just having graduated, may not have all of the cultural experiences that veterans do, but they definitely are passionate about the work, excited, enjoy socializing with Deaf people, and are still very interested and hungry for feedback from consumers. They are closer to having Deaf heart than many interpreters who have been in the field 5 years. It is then when we need to seize the window of opportunity, give them exposure to the community and culture that also paved the way for our induction into the field, and pull them up, as we were pulled up.  In my experience, that bright light dims after roughly 5 years in the field and seems to be replaced with the reality of the work, competing demands for time, or exposure to others whose light has dimmed or who may never had have a “Deaf heart”.

Finding Commonalities

Yes, our interpreting space and the landscape has changed. Let’s use this newer space and maximize the synergistic benefits for all. Veteran interpreters possess a different, and valid, perspective and ownership of the work. At the same time, newer interpreters possess a different motivation for having entered the field with a justifiable deep sense of pride in their educational accomplishments. The intersection of the two, provided by the mentoring relationship, can reap some very positive and mutually beneficial opportunities to unpack and discuss each other’s paradigms and to learn from and with each other. Find the commonalities!

As StreetLeverage’s mission is to effect positive change, my challenge for all is to leverage the powerful potential in the strengths and challenges of each group. What one set possesses, the other lacks. One set of interpreters possesses cultural and linguistic knowledge, experiences, and competencies. The other set possesses the academic knowledge, new experience, energy and enthusiasm.

Considerations

Both veteran and novice interpreters have the same goal of wanting to provide effective interpreting. The best path to competency does not have to be recreating traumatic experiences for the mentees. Just as doctors used to give people a shot of whisky to pull out a bullet and saw off a leg, we too moved away from archaic methods and have made progress and created better tools to educate and mentor new interpreters. Pushing away the future of our industry does not benefit the community.  For all, incorporate approaches that pull new interpreters up and not push them down.

Pulling Up

Pushing Down Behaviors
Welcoming, open and authentic sharing of knowledge, information, and resources Withholding access (assignment, or consumer-related info)
Open and authentic communication throughout the process. Co-creating and negotiating motivations and agendas. Non-verbal & verbal behaviors (facial expressions, audible displays of displeasure, use of sarcasm and teasing, aggressive statements, etc.)
Sincerity & involvement in all opportunities. Accountability to the agenda. Undermining & sabotaging activities that make oneself unavailable for team support or deliberately setting up negative situations
Direct, authentic, and transparent communication. Posturing (infighting, deliberate betrayal, rumors, bickering, and unhealthy approaches to conflict management, not speaking directly to a person but speaking about them.)
Team accountability and discussion. Censuring (attributing the product of the teamed effort to the work of one person)
Respecting relationships and boundaries established as a result. Boundary violations (disclosing private or confidential information)
Inclusive behaviors Exclusive behaviors
Acceptance of a newer interpreter’s skill or knowledge deficits Intolerance for a newer interpreter’s skill or knowledge deficits
Embracing Intimidation
Supporting toward competence Blaming for incompetence
Validating experiences that got us both to this place Imposing one’s own experiences as the best or only route to competence

Adapted from Corgan, J. “Lateral Violence in Nursing”.

Extending a Challenge

My challenge to all –  PULL UP:

  • students, recent graduates, and new interpreters: pull them in early, while they are still so eager, willing, impressionable, and will benefit from your attention!
  • veteran interpreters: they have a wealth of experience, establish those invaluable relationships as early as possible and will benefit from your knowledge!
  • the entire community: we are only as strong as our weakest link!

As in the words of J.F.K., “A rising tide lifts all boats.”  Are you on board and willing to change the tide? Commit this year to entering into at least one mentoring relationship and pull up our profession!

 

References

Findlay, D. (2013). Kweykway Consulting. http://www.kweykway.ca/lateral-violence-in-first-nations-communities.

Original Maslow, A (1940) replicated Broadwell, M. (1969). Unconscious Competence. Teaching for Learning (XVI). V 20 February 20, 1969 – NUMBER 41, (PAGE 1-3a).

Ott, Emily K., “Do We Eat Our Young and One Another? Horizontal Violence Among Signed Language Interpreters” (2012). Master’s Theses. Paper 1. 

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Mental Health Settings: Are Sign Language Interpreters at Risk?

Sign Language Interpreter Needing Support

Sign language interpreters are rarely equipped to deal with the trauma sometimes incurred in mental health settings. How can interpreters find support and prioritize self-care for themselves and their colleagues?

Friendlyville is a mid-sized city (population 85,000) in a Midwestern state with a Deaf (ASL) population of about 200.  Janice is one of the few RID-certified sign language interpreters in Friendlyville. She is the child of Deaf parents, and chose to become an interpreter after graduating from an ITP in Bigtown in a different state.  Janice works with a sign language interpreting agency in Friendlyville, and she tends to be called upon for the most challenging assignments.  She travels in a multi-county area, sometimes going as far away as Metrocenter (population 1.3 million), a distance of 120 miles from Friendlyville.

On July 14, Janice was contacted by the Emergency Department of the Friendlyville Community Hospital and asked to interpret for a deaf man.  Janice asked for specifics regarding the individual for whom she would interpret, but the person who called Janice stated that this information was confidential and she would need to sign a HIPAA Compliance form before any PHI could be released to her.  So, Janice arranged for daycare services for her two preschool children and rushed to the hospital.

Upon arrival, she signed the necessary confidentiality forms and was escorted to an examination room where she found Dr. Wilson and a 27-year-old Deaf man she had never met before, James.  Dr. Wilson had a notepad with which she had been attempting to communicate with James, but the attempts at writing back-and-forth had not been successful.  James had exhibited several violent outbursts (screaming and hitting the bed) but had not hurt anyone.

Since Janice had never met James before, she asked Dr. Wilson if she might introduce herself to him. The doctor agreed. As Janice introduced herself, she voiced for Dr. Wilson and tried to identify common “deaf introduction” items, such as James’ school background, where he had grown up, and the name signs of several local Deaf community members.  None of these topics elicited any “connections.”  Janice then informed Dr. Wilson that James was unknown to her.

Dr. Wilson informed Janice that James had been brought to the ER by police officers (who were still outside the door), and that he had been arrested in downtown Friendlyville while making strange noises and pounding his fists against the brick walls of a homeless shelter.  James was dressed appropriately for the weather, but had noticeable body odor and needed a shave.  His hands had some fresh bandages on them, but he was able to sign unimpeded.  No one seemed to know much about him, but he had a driver’s license which was used to identify him.  No outstanding warrants or medical history had been found on a quick records check.

Dr. Wilson began asking questions, and James’ level of agitation seemed to diminish in the presence of the interpreter.  James knew his name, but when asked where he lives, he replied that he has no home, that a flying object (spacecraft?) had brought him to Friendlyville, and that he had been forced to have sexual relations with unfriendly life-forms from another galaxy.  He was a Messenger to Earth and warned of imminent destruction unless all people on Earth agreed to have sex with the inhabitants of “Xylic.”  He also asked Janice and Dr. Wilson if they would like to have sex with him.

James’ signing was rapid and disjointed, and often it was difficult for Janice to voice for him because of his sign speed and the rapid changes of topics in his discourse.  She did her best to provide an exact verbal interpretation of James’ signs and the strange incidents he tended to describe.  James used some signs which Janice had never seen before, and when she asked him to explain he replied, “You’re stupid!  You don’t know my alien sign language.”

At one point in the session, Dr. Wilson received a crisis call and left the room.  As soon as Dr. Wilson departed, James exposed himself to Janice and demanded sex “before the doctor gets back,” adding, “we need to create offspring for the Xylic people.”  Janice handled the situation well – she immediately left the room and asked the police to step in.  She didn’t return to the room herself until Dr. Wilson came back and she was able to tell the doctor what had happened.

Dr. Wilson quickly arranged for James to be admitted to the hospital. Janice accompanied James to a locked treatment unit where paper work was completed and he gave a brief personal history.  He objected strongly to medication, but the doctor insisted that he MUST take it either through pills or through an injection.  James agreed to take the pills because, he said, “I hate needles.”

Janice left the hospital after several hours.  She had assisted by interpreting for James’ orientation to the rules of the Mental Health unit of the hospital.  She had also made arrangements to return for James’ therapy sessions and his medication management meetings with staff.  When she left the unit, she saw James sitting alone, watching a news program on television.

After leaving the hospital, several thoughts occurred to Janice:

– Did I do my job effectively and appropriately?

– Did James REALLY need to be locked up in that hospital?

– Did James get the same treatment as the other people on that unit?

– Would a CDI have helped with really comprehending James’ language?

– Does James really belong in that place?

– What will happen to him there?

– What if that had been my dad?

…and so on.

The Follow-Up

“What if that had been my dad…” begins to strike at the core of the issue, even if a sign language interpreter isn’t the child of Deaf parents.  What has been happening inside Janice’s own mind and heart are rarely part of the mental health services delivery continuum.  Social workers, counselors, and psychiatrists have professional support networks available to them where they can receive “supervision” from clinicians and colleagues, and where they discuss problems that are affecting them personally.  But interpreters are sometimes constrained from seeking personal support by obsessive adherence to a Code of Professional Conduct.

Sign language interpreters who have worked in mental health situations can probably empathize with Janice better than anyone else in this scenario.  Janice can’t get help from Dr. Wilson (who is probably too busy to offer the time anyway) or from other interpreters who don’t work in mental health settings. It’s not the same as educational interpreting, and it’s not the same as legal work.  It’s not even the same as medical interpreting.

This is not to say that mental health interpreters should not participate in their personal therapy sessions to better understand their own feelings and reactions to very non-traditional experiences.  Hearing mental health personnel may be accustomed to such things as patients propositioning them, but sign language interpreters are rarely confronted with such events when all alone, and such experiences may leave traumatic scars on a person’s psyche.

How Can Sign Language Interpreters Care For Themselves?

The major concern here is for Janice, and for the trauma she may have experienced through this event.  As shocking as it may be, sign language interpreters are human beings and, as such, they are vulnerable to psychic insult as a result of the work they do.  An interpreter does not usually encounter overt sexual trauma such as this as a regular part of a normal assignment.  In this case, events transpired which were unexpected.  Janice is unlikely to find much consolation from the mental health staff, since they are trained to deal with such events and may experience similar things on a fairly routine basis.  How can interpreters prepare for these realities?

Below you will find a few suggestions for interpreters in such circumstances:

1) Colleagues With Experience.

If an interpreter is fortunate enough to know other interpreters with a great deal of mental health experience, such people can be a valuable resource to tap into.  As with all such connections, of course, strict adherence to confidentiality and professional codes of conduct needs to be observed.  But codes of conduct do not prevent a person from discussing strategies or receiving the assistance and support they need to function as a healthy and happy interpreter and continue to provide a valuable resource to Deaf people and the larger professional communities.

2)  Debrief.

Debriefing with a supervisor or trusted colleague may offer an opportunity to share feelings and hear the perspectives of other professionals.  Care must be taken to preserve the confidentiality of the deaf consumer, as well as the reputation of other professionals in the incident.  Sometimes we have a tendency to take a judgmental position and offer advice in the form of, “You should never have done… .”  Not only is such unsolicited advice unhelpful, it does little to offer alternatives or solutions to the interpreter directly impacted by the incident.

3) Online Support Group.

A confidential online support group might be a possible solution, especially for interpreters who have few “local” resources, or when confidentiality would be compromised by using such resources.  Situations like a widely publicized event or involving well-known Deaf person(s), for example, might be better handled in a more anonymous setting online.  Each situation will dictate the best approach to take.

ITP Encouragement

Typically, Interpreter Training Programs don’t include much coursework on caring for one’s own psychological health (although this may be an area to consider for curriculum enhancement).  Seeking professional counseling from a generic therapist or psychiatrist is sometimes avoided because, “They don’t understand what I do as an interpreter, and I don’t want to waste expensive hours educating them.”  But even though a mental health professional isn’t an expert in Deafness or ASL, they are trained to deal with people who have had negative experiences, and they are usually well-equipped to offer strategies for recovery from such trauma.  ITPs would do well to encourage a commitment to one’s own health as a possible investment in burnout prevention.

Another way in which ITPs may assist is through offering advanced training to working interpreters, allowing them to learn from mental health professionals and other interpreters regarding situations such as those described here.  Better collaboration with professional communities can provide opportunities for all collaborators to learn from one another.

Mental Health Service Ineffective Through Interpreters

The incident described here with James is a classic example of an individual experiencing symptoms of a severe mental illness.  The fact that James is Deaf is really not the fundamental issue; James likely has a major mental illness separate from his Deafness.  This is an important distinction to make.  James was not subjected to anything unusual during the admissions process;  he was “treated” in much the same way as people with mental illnesses who can hear.  As he becomes stabilized on the unit and on his medication, he will probably benefit from interpreting services throughout the day.  But, as we know, it is unlikely that the hospital will provide such services as frequently as he needs them.  Because he will not be included in the daily interactions and communications on the unit (formal and informal), James will probably need to stay longer than most of the hearing patients on that unit.  Within a couple of weeks, however, James will likely be discharged to “somewhere” for community-based services.

Community mental health services cannot usually be delivered effectively through sign language interpreters, but in most communities, interpreter services are the only option. If mental health planners honestly asked interpreters, they would learn that sign language interpreters are wholly incapable of providing the same services to Deaf people as hearing people receive.  First and foremost, clinicians who are fluent in ASL are required to meet the needs of Deaf people with severe and persistent mental health issues.  Ideally, Deaf people who are in recovery from mental illnesses should be the primary service vehicle for other Deaf people.

In The End

As interpreters, we are part of some of the best, and some of the worst, times of Deaf people’s lives and, like it or not, we become part of those occurrences.  The impact that these events has on each of us can be personally and professionally profound.  Although we may tend to act as if we are immune from human feelings and reactions to things like child abuse, major disasters, addictions, marital disharmony, etc., it is vital that we take care of ourselves and our colleagues when asked.  We will not be of much value to our customers, our families, our partners, or ourselves if we ignore the fundamental humanity that makes us who we are and allows us to function as the consummate professionals we all wish to be.  It is hoped that this post will lead to a broader discussion of these issues, and to a solution that each interpreter can feel comfortable engaging.

 

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StreetLeverage – Live 2014 Speaker Line-up

MJ Bienvenu

StreeLeverage - Live 2014 Speaker Line-upStreetLeverage - Live 2014 Speaker Line-upDecember 19, 2013:

We are excited to announce that we have largely finalized our speaker line-up for StreetLeverage – Live 2014 in Austin, TX May 1-4, 2014.

For the third year in a row we’ve scoured the field to spotlight those daring the field of sign language interpreting to think differently.

Join these thought leaders for a weekend of discussion and critical thinking about how we understand, practice and tell the story of the sign language interpreter?

Connect

Read speaker bios and more by clicking here.

Connect with these speakers on FaceBook by clicking on their name. Carolyn Ball, Mj Bienvenu, Doug Bowen-Bailey, Eileen Forestal, Tom Humphries, Robert G. Lee, Carla Mathers, Gina A. Oliva, Stacey McIntosh Storme, and Chris Wagner.

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Sign Language Interpreters and the Quest for Cultural Competence

Cultural competence is a never-ending journey, especially for those interpreters who are learning about a new culture later in life. Marlene Elliott uses her own observations of call and response patterns to explore Deaf and hearing cultural norms regarding the phrase “I’m sorry.”

I’ve been interpreting professionally for 25 years. I like to think I’m reasonably good at what I do but from time to time something will dawn on me about ASL or Deaf culture that I’ve never known or realized before. How embarrassing! After all this time there are fundamental things I don’t know about the language I use and the culture I participate in. At the same time, how exciting! My learning is never done.

For me, I know my best teachers are the Deaf people who tolerate me so patiently, despite my many miscues. Not only have I made many mistakes, I’ve had to learn “how to learn” the Deaf way – by trusting my own eyes, really see what is in front of me and make sense of it. Then, because I’m hearing, I have to check it out with Deaf people.

Observation

This past year I realized something else about Deaf culture that I completely missed before and it really made me blush. I did what I usually do in these moments – I went to Deaf people I know and trust and ran my observation by them to see if I was noticing correctly. So far, everyone has affirmed this observation.

What I noticed is simply this:

ASL has expected patterns of exchange that I was never formally taught.  One basic pattern, which is critically important to master, calls for signing SORRY at specific points in a conversation in order to affirm the relationship during a time of differences. After the SORRY the rest of the interaction can proceed; without it, the relationship feels awkward or can even be derailed completely. This SORRY in ASL has a different use and meaning than sorry in English.

Credibility

As I approached writing about my observation I looked in journals for articles about the role and function of apology in a variety of cultures and about call and response structures in dialogic languages. I found plenty of articles on both. I’m keenly aware that in the hearing world credibility comes from science, research, and academics so it was natural for me to go there – I’m hearing. But I also know that in the Deaf world credibility comes from Deaf people and from Deaf experience. There is no higher authority. If I am to write credibly about trusting my own eyes, examining what I see and consulting Deaf people, what does it mean if I then turn around and cite hearing experts on other cultures or languages? Isn’t it enough that Deaf people say so? In the end, I have to believe it is. Every culture defines its own source and structure for credibility. If I’m going to be in the Deaf culture, then surely I can practice this tenet when I’m writing about it.

What’s the Word For That?

In the hearing world we know what is real and not real by what has a label. If there isn’t a label for something, it usually isn’t legitimate.  We love our labels! They explain so much. They give us a guide for how to think, feel, and act. It is part of our culture.

When I first began my interpreter training I was encouraged by my teachers to get involved with the Deaf World. They told me that “hanging out with Deaf people” was the best way to learn. They also admonished me to be careful because Deaf people had a way of expecting too much from others, of being dependent in an unhealthy way. “Be careful of your boundaries,” I was warned.

Around this time, researchers studying Deaf culture reported that RECIPROCITY was a primary feature of Deaf culture. Deaf people practicing RECIPROCITY support one another by contributing to the common good, not by only giving to those who have given to them or as a direct repayment to specific individuals. The same behaviors that I was warned to guard myself against were now explained and celebrated. Having a label allowed hearing people to re-frame them. Deaf people weren’t asking to be taken care of; they were inviting hearing people to participate in the common pool of mutual aid.

In my observations of difficult interactions between Deaf and hearing people I often see that when hearing people have a label for something, it is much easier to go along with what the Deaf people are doing. When we don’t have a label, we can have a tendency to stiffen up, to resist, and to end up in conflict.

I encourage all of us hearing people to recognize this tendency, know that it’s cultural, and realize that the Deaf World doesn’t feel the same need for labels to make their culture and their behavior legitimate so let’s take it easy on each other. Deaf people may not know what something is called but they sure know when it doesn’t feel right. We can trust them to guide us.

Culture Clash

Part One – be sure and take your turn!

We know that ASL is more interactive than English at most levels of register. This is well documented in linguistic research and confirmed by our own experience. The most formal ASL lecture will include interactive features that would be unthinkable in a formal English lecture. We also have plenty of proof that ASL is also more interactive in less formal settings. We know these required responses in casual conversation by their label – back channel feedback. If these features are absent in a conversation it is a noticeable absence, one that can have a serious meaning – refusing to engage, a certain kind of coldness or at best a show of cultural incompetence.

This need to engage in dialogue, this need to perform our part in any exchange is a hallmark of ASL. In dialogic languages the need for specific responses to specific kinds of stimulus is known as Call and Response. ASL, like any dialogic language, has standard Call and Response structures.

While these structures are relatively rare in American mainstream culture, a number of sub-cultures do have strong Call and Response patterns. Most people are familiar with at least a few. Black church has a strong Call and Response component where the responses come as individuals pepper the talk with affirmative encouragement. Catholic Mass has a highly scripted Call and Response component. 12-step meetings have short bursts of Call and Response exchanges during readings and introductions. Also, the military also has highly scripted Call and Response structures.

One thing we probably all know about Call and Response patterns is that we are keenly aware if there is a failure in the response. Anyone who has been to a workshop, meeting or seminar has had this experience. The person opening the session gives the call, “Good morning!” The required response from the participants is “good morning.” If the response is too weak, the call will be issued again with more emphasis. Normally more people will help with the second response, it meets expectations, and the event can begin. On the rare occasion that the second response is also too weak, instructions may follow and an emphatic call will be given for the third try. I have only rarely seen the third call fail because everyone is aware that the properly enthusiastic “good morning,” has to be delivered by the participants for the event to proceed. To refuse a third time would be more than awkward.

In spoken English I always know when I’m supposed to respond. I may not be able to explain why, but I recognize a call when I hear it. Having the label Call and Response has helped me also tune in to this aspect in ASL because I may not always recognize a call. At times when Deaf people repeat the same thing they’ve just said, but with more emphasis, I now ask myself, “is there something they’ve called for that I’ve failed to provide?”           

Part Two – How sorry is SORRY?

Every culture has it’s own role and function for apologies. In mainstream America there are generally two uses for the phrase, “I’m sorry.” The most common is an admission of guilt. It is an expression of a personal failing and fault. It means I admit I did something wrong and I will personally take responsibility for it. The second is an expression of sympathy, usually reserved for a serious loss or trauma.

Of course, other cultures have very different meanings for the phrase “I’m sorry,” and different understandings of apology. In Great Britain, when one person bumps into another the person who is bumped says sorry. In Japan there are many uses for apology and Japanese people tend to apologize frequently as ways saving face and reinforcing social status or hierarchy.

So what does SORRY mean in ASL? My observation is that it affirms my relationship with you over whatever else is happening. It means that somehow we will solve this problem together. It does not mean I did something wrong, it just means I acknowledge that this doesn’t feel good and I will work it out with you.

When is an apology called for in the Deaf World? This part is tricky for me. I know it when I see it now but I’m not sure my description will satisfy anyone. Probably the best way to understand it is to use your own eyes, notice where it occurs and check it out with Deaf people. I know it is unscripted. As far as I can tell, it is based more on a feeling, a kind of discord, or a type of interaction, than on a specific set of words or signs. There is something between us that feels bad – a conflict, a misunderstanding, or a difference of perspective. It can even be as simple as disappointing someone, even though their expectations might not have been my responsibility.

What happens when SORRY isn’t delivered at the expected point in a Call and Response exchange in the Deaf World? As in any other culture, the call is offered again with greater emphasis. The story, or “complaint” is repeated with more emotion. And if the apology is still not delivered, then what? In this case an explanation of what is wrong here is usually amped up. The problem in the relationship is now stated explicitly, in detail, often slowly, and with emphasis. If the apology is still not delivered this is a worst-case scenario. As a final attempt to save the relationship someone will probably be instructed to apologize. If the apology still isn’t delivered the relationship may be beyond repair. The connection would then be broken in a fundamental way.

Now What?

I can use this observation to continue my noticing and checking with Deaf people.

I’m may overuse my SORRY, like a child discovering a new word, until I know exactly where it fits. This is a natural part of incorporating a new skill. It’s ok.

I can continue to ask questions. I can look at where we, the sign language interpreting profession, have a need to use our SORRY in our collaborating with Deaf people. Have there been times when we have not said SORRY when we needed to? How has it affected our relationships?

Of course, my big question is what else don’t I know? What other mistakes have I been making without ever realizing it? Are there ways for me to improve my noticing, or inviting Deaf friends to tell me when I’m off? Can I be humble and know that corrections are an act of friendship and love, not a criticism of who I am? Can I be thankful that there is always more to learn even when I’m really embarrassed?

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Nelson Mandela: Have Sign Language Interpreters Disappointed the World?

Thamsanqa Jantjie, the sign language interpreter at Nelson Mandela's funeral

The news of the “fake sign language interpreter” traveled the globe. But what of the everyday failings of systems that leave access by the wayside through lack of scrutiny? Brandon Arthur calls for specific action by sign language interpreters to monitor and ethically deploy qualified interpreters.

The terrible cocktail of “schizophrenia,” unethical business leadership, and uninformed government decision-makers that lead to the sign language interpreting debacle at Mandela’s memorial service is a tragedy.

As a sign language interpreter, I cringe at the thought that as a field, we are responsible for the world’s distraction from the celebration of one of the planet’s most widely recognized human rights leaders and for yet another injustice served up to the Deaf Community.

The question that continues to roll around in my head is after the tsunami of sensationalism, swarming armchair quarterbacks, and CYA puffery blows over is, what will change?

While Thamsanqa Jantjie is the current face of the issue, unqualified sign language interpreters deploying or being deployed into local communities around the globe is a longstanding and widespread problem. A problem that necessitates the cooperation of a multiplicity of industry stakeholders willing to put down their nursing agenda and be accountable for the breakdowns in the system that continue to allow this problem to persist.

Are we courageous enough as field, both practitioner and organization, to make the hard decisions necessary to truly eradicate the problem?

If we come away from this debacle truly resolved to create meaningful resolution to the issue of unqualified sign language interpreters infringing on the human rights of Deaf people, perhaps we should consider taking action on the following:

  1. Insist that industry stakeholders publicly and actively subscribe to upholding the UN Convention on Rights of Persons with Disabilities (UNCRPD).
  2. Incorporate the applicable aspects of the UNCRPD as part of the ethical practices system for working sign language interpreters. Further, to insist on more aggressive and timely actions for violations.
  3. Found a national organization to create, uphold and promote standards of practice for businesses deploying sign language interpreters.
  4. Establish a coalition responsible for a partnership between national associations serving the Deaf community, national organizations serving sign language interpreters, and organizations responsible for the public awareness of the rights of Deaf people and the roles and responsibility of sign language interpreters.
  5. Insist on local partnerships between Deaf and sign language interpreting organizations that result in the perpetuation of native perspectives among practicing sign language interpreters.

Care to add?

Thanks to Mandela for doing in death what he did in life, using his existence to raise awareness of the atrocities, injustices, and disadvantages suffered at the hand of privilege while working to make the world a more inhabitable place.

Let’s not allow the memory of Mandela’s memorial service to be one where the field of sign language interpreting disappointed the world. Let it be one where we honor Mandela’s life by rising from the ashes galvanized to end the rampant problem of unqualified practitioners infringing upon the human rights of Deaf people.

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Sign Language Interpreters: How to Avoid Being Abandoned at the Microphone

Lone Sign Language Interpreter Holding a Microphone

Even surrounded by a team of interpreters, crucial support can be nowhere to be found. Tiffany Hill deconstructs a situation she experienced while offering perspectives on how to strengthen collective responsibility.

I am facing a panel of 6 people in front of an audience of 200 attendees. The event is about to commence. I have a lone microphone in my hand and an empty chair beside me. As I settle into position I look around for my team and realize that I am alone. I cannot locate the other two members of the interpreting team for the event, let alone the ‘second pair of eyes’ that were promised to me.

Right as the facilitator takes the stage, I see the other interpreters get into place to interpret for the audience behind me. “Great—I think—as soon as the panelists start, someone will come right over.” The Deaf panelist thought the same as I had assured all involved that the team was locked and loaded and ready to go. Sparing some of the logistical tidbits, I will say that what happens next is the very opposite of what I committed and of what had been committed to me, the very opposite of what had been instilled in me in my professional upbringing: I was not part of a team.

All Alone

As I sit in my chair with the microphone I try to get the attention of my fellow interpreters. I wave my hand and the Deaf panelist tries to make eye contact with them from the stage…nothing. It never happens. For the next 45 minutes no one comes to my aid. After the panel and speakers finish, I make my way out of the conference. As I exit, one of the interpreters sees me and says, “great job” while throwing me a thumbs up and a wink.

Fortunately, the above series of events are not what I typically experience from my hard working colleagues. I do, however, need to go on record by saying, sadly, this was not the first time that I have been an eye witness to, or the recipient of the stated behaviors, which leads me to beg the question: Whose team are we on anyway?

The Pre-Conference

What events transpired prior to me sitting there alone with the mic in my hand? Let’s rewind the morning.

I was informed with short notice that I would be voicing for a Deaf panel participant during a local conference. I was afforded no opportunity to prepare myself, as the speaker, with whom I work regularly, had yet to even form an outline of their own thoughts and points for their remarks.

Of course the idea of walking in cold to any situation can immediately ignite the nerves. And although I was engaged to be the primary voice interpreter for this panelist, I anticipated the event organizer requesting interpreters for the general audience, as there was a high expectation of several Deaf attendees to be present. Proactively I arrived as early as possible to get the lay of the land and pre-conference with the other interpreters.

Social Agreement

Right away I was greeted by the requestor and made as many decisions as I could without the presence of the Deaf panelist. I was also told the other interpreters for the event had already arrived and I was introduced to one of the two of them. I felt an immediate sense of camaraderie flood over me at the relief of having a ‘team’ on hand. Not just one, we were potentially a team of three. Actually, when you include the Deaf panelist, I was really to be one of a four-member team.

My professional switch flipped into the ‘on’ position. I wanted to first put my ‘team’ at ease informing her that I work with this person regularly and would handle the voicing, however, I would really appreciate another pair of eyes next to me. I was met with lots of head nods and affirmations of support. I explicitly spelled out what I needed from my team and I was assured I was going to receive it. After all, these were the assigned interpreters for the conference. The whole conference was their responsibility, right?

In the end, I felt comfortable that the arrangements had been settled and we all knew our roles.

Collective Responsibility

Reflecting on the events of that morning returns my focus to the basics with an intense need to open up a dialogue about where we are and where we are headed as a group of professionals. As sign language interpreters, we enlist ourselves to demonstrate professional courtesies to our clients and consumers, but what about to our professional counterparts, our co-workers, our fellow partners, and team members?

Part of the reason I pose this question, is because it was posed to me. At the conclusion of it all, the Deaf panelist wanted to know what had happened. Why was I not viewed as a member of the team? Why didn’t the interpreters feel the same professional responsibility toward me as I did towards them?

If we were there with the same purpose, with the same roles, and with the same goal, should we not have all been working together to provide continuity and integrity of message for all? Should it not be automatic that when we are present in multiples we forge an automatic alliance? What would have happened if I had not done a ‘good job’? After all, was not the success of the ‘team’ dependent upon the success of my production and how I worked with the Deaf panelist? Not one of us functioned independently of each other, rather, interdependently. Isn’t that how we should prefer to work, knowing our arsenal includes not only our tool bag, but those of a network?

The 3 Point Replay

Some things are innate, others have to be taught and nurtured until they become second nature. In my view, Professionalism, by way of teamwork, is one of those things. We need to understand its definition and its connectivity to those with whom we work. We also need to be aware of the social and cultural implications it has in and around the community when we fail to grasp the concept.

While I appreciated the one interpreter expressing her opinion that I did a good job, as I consider the events of that morning, I would like to offer 3 things that I believe could have changed the dynamics of the assignment and led to a better outcome:

  1. With the need to reassure my team of my familiarity with the panelist, it is possible I projected a certain level of over-confidence, which may have given the impression that I needed less support than what I actually stated.
  2. As the assigned conference interpreters, there was a need to be alert to all aspects of the event, whether or not serving as the primary interpreter for a certain portion.
  3. Post-conference would have allowed us, as a team, to retrace which missteps led to our communication breakdown and which steps to take going forward as not to repeat any mishaps on our part.

The above forms part of the recipe to the antidote for counteracting the effects of unbalanced teamwork and contributes to preventing the series of events, which resulted in the unintended isolation of a team member.

In Conclusion

It gives me pleasure to happily state that for the past twelve years, I have been part of a profession where I believe the majority to be team players, partners even, with the same mission on the tips of their fingers and tongues. In fact, many of them have raised and nurtured me with their skills and knowledge, even passing along and bequeathing me their professional genealogy.

But just as two children are raised in the same home with the same parents, with the same rules and expectations, who do not mimic each other, so it goes in the professional arena where no two interpreters reflect the same level or depth of understanding with regards to this concept. It then becomes abundantly clear what the antonym looks like.

I want to challenge myself and each of us to continue to analyze ourselves and our approach to the work we do and how it effects our colleagues.  Teamwork should echo and permeate the very fabric of what we do.

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Has An Identity Crisis Immobilized The Field of Sign Language Interpreting?

Sign Language Interpreter Immobilized Due to Conflict

As the demographics of sign language interpreters change, rifts develop as products of privilege and cultural identity. Stacey Storme uses the lens of war for insight into linguicism and the need for peace through meaningful dialogue.

During my attendance at the 2012 Region IV RID Conference in Denver and the 2013 National RID Conference in Indianapolis I found myself in tears more than once. While it is not uncommon for me to become emotional when I am with colleagues discussing the very serious, real and important issues that impact our work as interpreters, the tears I felt at these conferences were different. It was not until a moment of clarity during the business meeting in Indianapolis that I realized the difference.

It was not long after the start of the Business meeting in Indianapolis when I experienced a shift in my awareness about my emotional response during both conferences. It occurred as I was witnessing discussion and decisions regarding the use of spoken English via open microphone. As I was sitting there, feeling helpless, looking around the room feeling the heavy and volatile energy – I realized I felt as if I was witnessing a war. A battle waged between two perspectives, the deaf and hearing world, both fighting for recognition.

As a person who has grown up in both worlds, I have struggled with my own identity and place in each world since I can remember. Sitting there, I found myself relating with perspectives from both “sides.” As I type this, it strikes me that it may not seem such a powerful realization. After all, this struggle between the two worlds has been going on for years.

By framing this struggle through the lens of war and making the connection between my internal struggle and the mirror reflecting around me I found clarity that I have not yet experienced.

Lens of War

War is not something I want to perpetuate or contribute to.

When I consider ways to end war, three immediately come to mind: surrender, truce, and victory. At first thought, none of these sound too appealing. Truce suggests compromising or simply putting the “war” on hold for a short time. Surrender implies giving something up and the opposite of victory is defeat – so, depending on which side of the war you are on it could be very destructive. However, upon deeper reflection, and some reframing – I see these three approaches turning out to be possible strategies that can work in tandem to move the field to a more constructive and healthy space.

A Truce

Calling a truce seems a good first step. Putting “the fight” on hold for a while in lieu of some time to reflect and take note of our own journey. Hindsight is indeed 20/20. When I reflect on my past struggles and active times of ‘war’ I see with clarity that it is only when I stop reacting that I am able to move past the fight. I think one of the biggest reasons people are able to move past the “fight,” is when they give themselves the opportunity to look within they become more centered on their own beliefs and perspectives. Thus equipping themselves more readily for healthy interactions when faced with situations where their beliefs and perspectives are challenged. So rather than reacting in an attempt to protect their own beliefs and perspectives they can more confidently listen to another and engage in productive discussion rather than destructive war.

Surrender

Upon consciously calling a truce and engaging in self-reflection next can come surrender. In this context I think especially of surrendering judgment. Rather than judging emotions, reactions, behaviors – simply acknowledging them and accepting them as what is. The act of acceptance can be the step needed to move one from reaction to action. Rather than judging whether or not a colleague is using ASL in a shared space made up of Deaf and hearing people; first recognizing it as fact can slow down a likely knee-jerk reaction based on judgment of another’s actions purely based on assumptions. Instead of feeding the anger or resentment that resides within, attention could be focused on constructive approaches to addressing the incongruity of the person’s choice within this shared space. By surrendering judgment, we are more likely to be committed to sincerely sharing our own perspectives and receiving others perspectives, no matter how different they may be. From there we can move forward and hold each other accountable as we explore the issue at hand.

Victory

So, you may be thinking, ok Pollyanna, it would be nice if everyone came to the table being centered in self, and equipped for healthy, constructive dialogue; but that is not the case. I am aware that after reading this it can appear that my view of moving forward is one through rose colored glasses: that if we all just play nice the present state of affairs within the field will magically improve. I do not take this perspective in any way. This is where I see victory coming into play as a way to end war. When I consider what it means to be victorious in my own inner war, it is when I reach those moments of balancing all parts of myself that identify with both the Deaf and hearing part of me. It is when I have fully succeeded in enough self-reflection and enough surrendering of judgment that I feel fully acknowledged and accepted. It is also when I allow these parts of me to co-exist in ways that are fluid and evolving based on my interactions in the world around me.

So, ultimately, victory comes in acknowledging there will always be different views, therefore there will always be ample opportunities for war. It is up to us to choose how we enter each war. We can enter in full-fire, taking out everyone who crosses our path. Or, we can stay committed to our own truth, knowing it is fully ours until we decide to change it. Therefore, there is nothing to defend. There is only opportunity to fully be who we choose to be in each moment – to embody the change we wish to see.

The Costs of War?

War hurts. War scars. War kills. As I witness the wars taking place in our field today I see many costs. We are hurting ourselves, each other and immobilizing meaningful forward progress.

One of the biggest costs, perhaps is that sometimes we are in war and don’t even realize it. I think this is especially true for those of us who hear and experience the many privileges of living in a society where we take much for granted. Sometimes this unintentional war occurs as we perpetuate audism by defending and/or exercising our right to our own native language, or at least the majority language, by not considering ways that our hearing privilege colors our views of our work, therefore silencing people of the marginalized minority with whom we work.

A tangible example can be given by exploring sometimes buried assumption of one’s right to choose spoken English when engaging in professional development. When attending interpreting conferences, I sometimes sense a vibe in the air. At StreetLeverage – Live in Atlanta, Nancy Bloch referred to this vibe as “Hearing Interpreters Only.” This vibe manifests in a few different ways. Sometimes it is sensed as a mild irritation in the air due to having Deaf people in attendance. Other times it is disappointment at having to use ASL. Yet other times it feels as if Deaf people are being appeased – as if they don’t really understand our work but need to be placated.

I am in no way asserting that these things happen all the time, or that all hearing interpreters feel this way. Rather, I am attempting to articulate something that I merely sense; something that has the potential to shed light on one aspect of active war occurring in our field today. It is this type of exploration I hope will bring us closer to unpacking the baggage that underlies the tension and pain I both feel and witness all around me. This baggage that hurts us by way of limiting us to majority perspective; that hurts others by way of devaluing and ostracizing them; that perpetuates our false belief that we are the only ones who “get” our work; that there is something special to the work of interpreting that Deaf people don’t and can’t understand.

If we do not work together to explore areas of opposition surrounding areas of language use, oppression, privilege, assumptions, power and the like, we lose the opportunity to fully understand the existing struggles rampant in our field and professional organization. We also run the risk of our view being colored only by our likely colonized perspective of what it means to be a sign language interpreter.  We lose out on the opportunity to fully realize that while we, as hearing interpreters, may always be the face of oppression, we do have the opportunity to change that face so that instead of being the face of that which we are against, we are instead the face of change, respect and acceptance.

The Lesson

“A man or a woman who has peace inside has everything. A man or a woman who is pulled apart by the war inside him or her has nothing. How you choose to interact with the opposing forces within you will determine your life. Starve one or the other or guide them both.”

– Cherokee Story

We must take a hard look at our own wars. If you feel like you are not engaged in or aware of any wars, either internally or externally in our field and with regards to the field of interpreting, I encourage you to explore more deeply. Some wars may be hidden – sometimes when we feel too much pain, or experience too much resistance to our views, we become desensitized and ignore signs of war. The exploration of the opposing forces within and around us becomes more critical when we consider the power we hold by way of the privilege we hold as hearing members of a society who are granted entry into both worlds – the hearing world and Deaf world. It is our responsibility to dive deeply into the issues surrounding us. The fact that we have the choice whether or not to dive deeply and choose not to have complete access to the world around us limited attests to the importance of this responsibility. This is the heart of privilege held by hearing interpreters.

We always have a choice.

If things get too overwhelming, too scary, too sticky, too “fill-in-the-blank,” we have choices that include access to both worlds. If we become too uncomfortable with our role in the deaf world, there is another world we can go and have unlimited communication access. Perhaps we can play the “neutral” card and be “just the interpreter” or simply detach and only show up in the Deaf world when actively interpreting. We must remain conscious of these choices.

I know important conversations addressing tough issues are happening within our field. Especially in response to the recent vote about the DPMAL position on the RID Board. I recently watched a video posted by Sarah Hafer sharing some of her thoughts in response to the vote and her discussions with colleagues in her graduate program. Locally, in Kansas, we are engaging in important, sometimes painful, dialogue regarding certification standards, our state commission and the varying perspectives that exist. So, the hard work is happening. People are showing up. People are unpacking. This work must continue and catch fire.

Conclusion

War hurts relationships. War scars hearts. War kills trust. The field of ASL/English interpreting is one rampant with opportunities for war. However, if we reframe the lens in which we look out into our field and communities, I believe those same opportunities are also ripe for growth, learning and healing.

Let’s unpack our own privilege, hold ourselves accountable, and be willing to share our own perspectives while remaining open to others. As scary as it may be, it can take us a long way toward peaceful, healthy dialogue and respectful, balanced co-existence.