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Archive for March, 2009

Mar 30 2009

Happy Birthday to Me! Part Two

Published by njboone under family, home, life Edit This

When I left work on Friday, my birthday festivities were not over; I still had family fun waiting for me. Later in the evening, I took the girls to the bowling alley where Jeff bought me a drink while he finished his last game. We went home to presents before bed. Jeff got me new sheets and comforter for our bed, which I’ve been wanting for a while. Laura picked out a nice dress for me. And Sarah gave me two bags of Reese’s peanut butter cup miniatures (which she opened the next morning and ate before I was even out of bed). Laughing

presents

I made a Nameless Cake (a family recipe that is sort of a spice cake frosted with a sort of mocha-y frosting) and chicken cacciatore. When Jeff got off work, my sister- and brother-in-law were already here for dinner. Despite Sarah being pouty through dinner, we had a nice meal and enjoyed the cake afterward. Tina and Rob gave me a cool picture frame that I’m already planning to fill and hang up. When they headed home, the girls and I played a little Rock Band–Sarah singing, Laura on guitar and me on drums–our own virtual Go-Go’s. Smile I had fun stretching my birthday out over two days, thanks to my wonderful friends and family.

cake

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Mar 29 2009

Happy Birthday to Me!

Published by njboone under life, teaching Edit This

On Friday (March 27) I turned 35. As London Tipton would say, “Yay me!” (The girls have definitely been watching too much “Suite Life of Zack and Cody” lately…)

Since it was a Friday, of course I had to work. This really wasn’t so bad as co-workers showered me with birthday good wishes. However, the disruption of routine was not so great for my students. Micah* had a crying/shouting/flailing meltdown and went to the in-school suspension room to calm down while the rest of the class went to bake cupcakes. By the time we finished that activity, another Finn* was on the verge of a trip to ISS himself–also screaming and crying. An aide took him for a walk after lunch while the rest of us frosted cupcakes; the walk ended in another tantrum with Finn pounding his fist against a window. Meanwhile, before we could get the party started, Micah accidentally-on-purpose knocked Carly* over, then proceeded to throw a real fit about being put in time-out. I ended up pushing my crisis call button to have him escorted back to the ISS room so I could blow out my candle and pass out the cupcakes.

This is not to say that it was a bad day. It was crazy…but I’ve come to know that that comes with the territory! Tongue out But between tantrums, I got a special balloon arrangement from a co-worker friend that definitely brightened my day. I was wished happy birthday by students and staff up and down the halls. The kindergarten and first grade classes made me cute construction paper birthday cards. One of the middle school classes videotaped a short skit in honor of my birthday for the school-wide morning announcements. My brand-new student teacher had a gift for me–a beautiful necklace and earrings made by one of the aides in my classroom. After cupcakes with my class, I was treated to another chorus (of sorts) of “Happy Birthday” by the middle school class that had made the video announcement. When students were finally ushered onto buses at the end of the day, my great friends in the elementary and middle school departments had cake and ice cream waiting for me, along with cards and gifts. Overall, I could not have felt more special and loved.

*of course, student names have been changed

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Mar 14 2009

Beginning Braille

Published by njboone under life, teaching Edit This

So I’m taking classes that will allow me to add an endorsement to my teaching license in blindness/visual impairment. I was fortunate enough to get into a program funded by a grant so all of my 24 credit hours are paid for–without a penny out of my pocket. I don’t feel passionately about working with students who are blind or visually impaired the way I do about teaching deaf kids, but that’s okay. I do feel pretty passionately about deaf kids with additional disabilities, and that includes vision issues, so I am excited about taking these classes and learning new things.

Most of our classes are held by telephone conference twice each week, but today we had our first in-person meeting at the university. My professor himself is blind, so in addition to his extensive credentials, he has an authentic perspective on the subject matter he’s teaching us. It was cool to meet him and my classmates so now I have faces to connect to the voices on the phone.

But the day was not exactly smooth and easy! First of all, I overslept a bit: I woke up at 6:55 and was supposed to be meeting two friends at 7:15 to make the 2-1/2 hour drive to the university together. Oops! So I hurried to get ready, and we were able to hit the highway about 7:45. Not bad in Boone Standard Time! We actually arrived before 10:00 when class was to start and found the building where our class was to be held. But…the doors were locked. We searched for an open door and found our other classmates, minus one, who were also locked out of the building. The one person who had managed to get into the building finally came to let the rest of us in, and we made our way to the classroom around 10:15 at least…but there was no professor. A few minutes later, Dr. M’s grad assistant led him in. Surprisingly, he did not apologize for his own tardiness (we later found out that he had been locked out of the building too) but quickly ran through introductions and dived into our first lessons in Braille writing.

After Dr. M’s explanation and demonstration of loading paper into the Perkins Brailler, we each got a turn. The Brailler is basically a Braille typewriter, a machine with just nine keys: six keys that punch the dots, a space bar, a back space key, and a line-space up key. This is deceptively simple. After learning to load the paper in the Brailler, we delved into learning about the configurations of six dots that form the 26 letters of the alphabet, ordinal numbers (0-9), capitalization, and punctuation. The six-dot configurations are formed within what’s called a cell. And that’s juuuuust the beginning.

Braille There are TONS of rules to Braille. And they change. For example, the dot configurations that represent the letters A-J also represent the numerals 0-9 IF preceded by the number sign–another dot configuration. The rules for use of the number sign depend on whether the numbers are in a set, are separated by a space, continue onto a new line following a comma or a hyphen… Well, I’m not looking at my notes, so I can’t quite remember all the if-thens. I won’t even get into the rules for punctuation. Whew.

But letters and numbers and the rules governing them are nothing compared to contractions. Grade 1 Braille is reading/writing letter-for-letter; the next step is Grade 2, which uses a system of abbreviations called contractions. Since Braille in general is very bulky, the contractions help conserve space in Braille writing. But they also make learning Braille much more complicated! Each letter of the alphabet, standing alone, represents a whole word. For example, “b” means “but” and “h” means “have.” A, I, and O are exceptions since “a” and “I” are already words on their own, and “o” is essentially the same as “oh.” That means 23 letter-word representations to memorize.

There are also whole-word and partial-word contractions. For instance, the words and, the, for, with, and of each have a single symbol to represent them. According to another set of rules, these whole-word contractions can be used alone and within longer words, so that the name “Andy” can be formed in just two cells using the dot configuration for “and” plus ”y”. There are also contractions for letter combinations such as “ch” or “st”–and I think these are partial-word contractions (not looking at my notes…I’ve got some studying to do!).

By 3:30, our heads were swimming with those six little dots. We left with 10 sheets of paper for our Braillers so that we can get busy with our homework exercises. In just over four hours, I learned more today than I have in the past three months, I think! But this is just the tip of the iceberg–only our first class of Braille I. We have the whole rest of this course to cover, and then there will be Braille II. I’m taking a deep breath and focusing on how cool it will be when I can add reading and writing Braille to my resume.

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Mar 07 2009

Letter to the Editor

Published by njboone under books and authors, life Edit This

Recently the Washington Post ran a review of Hands of My Father by Myron Uhlberg. Unlike other reviewers of this book, Carolyn See did not have much positive to say. If Ms. See had simply criticized the book–the writing–I could have tolerated her review. But I felt that she attacked Myron and his story, and that’s just not cool.

So I wrote a letter to the editor of the Washington Post. Well, first I wrote a really loooong response…then I found out that letters to the editor needed to be 200 words or less. Who can say anything with such few words?! But I pared down my response, and today my letter appears in the Post: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/03/06/AR2009030603202.html

Hands of My Father cover

And if you’re interested, here’s my initial response in its entirety:

When I first read Ms. See’s review of Hands of My Father by Myron Uhlberg, I thought, “Well, she didn’t like it. Everyone is entitled to his or her opinion.” But after a moment, the disgust set in. There are several reasons I take issue with Ms. See’s review. Where to begin?

I find it offensive that Ms. See, whose biography states that she is from California, dismisses Myron’s description of his Brooklyn neighborhood in the ‘40s as oversimplified and falsely quaint. As a child, Myron may not have been aware of the depth of the difficulties in his community during that era. His father belonged to the union and earned an honest and decent living. He provided well for his family, even managing to buy his son an elaborate train set and Dodgers tickets. Myron developed friendships with the boys in his neighborhood; why wouldn’t they engage in typical children’s games such as stickball? What cynicism to presume that Myron’s Brooklyn was in actuality “hell on earth” rather than the peaceful community that he remembers! What insolence to assume that Myron became “the neighborhood scamp” in order to cope with the perception that his parents were “freaks.” Why couldn’t Myron have been a typical, if mischievous, young boy trying to keep himself entertained?

It also disturbs me that Ms. See attributes the insults hurled at Myron’s deaf parents to poorly educated immigrants. This insults deaf people and their history—their cultural heritage—by making it seem as though only those new to the country and/or without sufficient education would be so cruel as to mock the disabled. That was not, in fact, the case. Both in Myron’s story and countless others, those who are deaf have experienced discrimination in and from all walks of life. From the butcher shop to Macy’s department store, Myron’s father had to face being called a “dummy.” He fought daily against the prejudice and ignorance of nearly everyone he encountered. To dismiss these affronts as coming only from poor, bad-mannered immigrants is to diminish the lifelong struggle of deaf people like Myron’s father to gain respect and be treated as equals among the hearing majority.

However, to say that Myron “grew up in a sea of shame” seems to me a gross overstatement. Myron admits to feeling ashamed of his parents’ differences—their deafness. Yes, he resented the burden of being his father’s ears and voice in the hearing world, of being forced to participate in adult interactions as a child of 6 or 7 (though not, as Ms. See implies, as a toddler who had just learned to talk). But in my reading, I found Myron’s overwhelming feelings toward his parents and brother to be pride and love. I suspect that, as an adult, Myron felt that pride more deeply and love more intensely in order to write with such passion about the life he lived some sixty years ago.

The final outrage is Ms. See’s allegation that Myron did not know his father very well, that he “portrayed him as a string of good deeds, painting over his complexities with the pastel strokes of children’s lit.” The reviewer seems almost to insinute that Louis Uhlberg may have had some seedy past; perhaps she was looking for a confession that Lou had been an alcoholic or a womanizer, suspecting that Myron covered these sins with tales of his father’s kindnesses or that he was childishly unaware of his father’s foibles. What an atrocious implication! I concede that I, too, wish I had known Myron’s father better but not because of any shortcoming in Myron’s depiction of him. Rather, through Myron’s accounts I grew to admire Lou’s courage and determination. I was fascinated by the very complexities that Ms. See claims Myron painted over: Lou’s dedication to his work and his tender love for his family, his courage to face adversity and his fears of failure, his confidence in his own abilities and his doubt that he would be treated fairly, and mostly his fierce pride in his ability to care for his family contrasted by the deep humility of depending on his young son to communicate with the world.

I am deeply saddened that Ms. See appears to have missed the global message of Myron’s memoir: LOVE. I saw love written on every page. Love of language—of expression through sign language, speech, and print. Love of stories. Love of learning. Love of Brooklyn. Love of the deaf community. And above all, Myron’s love for his parents and brother and theirs for him.

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