Crystal Jackson, 15, is "dialoguing" with her classmate without making a sound. "I understand you," she says.
"Not understand. Again please," replies Gabe Orellana.
Joy Hernandez and Chelsey Phillips practice their American Sign Language vocabulary during class at Concord High School
The two Concord High School students are talking expressively with their hands in American Sign Language (ASL), occasionally referring to a book with illustrations of hands in various positions.
"I really love sign language," Jackson, who can hear, says out loud. "I'm making lots of new friends that I couldn't communicate with before."
Orellana, 17, is deaf. When he arrived in the U.S. from El Salvador at age 12, he had virtually no communication skills. He knew a little Spanish, but mostly used homemade signs. "I had no language," he says. First he learned English, and now he is learning to sign.
Enrolled in first-year ASL class, the two students are bridging the worlds between those who can hear and those who can't - as well as fulfilling a second-language requirement for graduation.
Student Samantha Coleman participates in class discussion.
Their teacher, Susan Vaccaro, reminds students to raise their eyebrows for facial expression, which is a vital part of ASL. When Vaccaro signs, an interpreter translates verbally to the class, which has 27 hearing students, six deaf students and several special ed students in both categories. The teacher is deaf and uses an interpreter for her beginning students.
"Most classes, I don't need an interpreter," she says. "Isn't that cool?"
Years ago, when Vaccaro was a student at Concord High School and its first deaf cheerleader, there was little mixing between deaf and hearing students. Now that she has returned as a teacher, the Mount Diablo Education Association (MDEA) member is changing that.
"I encourage deaf students to work with hearing students in class because I want all students to feel comfortable with each other," she says. "I don't want them separated like salt and pepper or oil and water. I want them to intermingle. For too many years, students were separated by a communication barrier."
Student Eric Martin participates in class discussion.
Ironically, the school has many deaf students, but most are not fluent in ASL because they come from elementary and middle schools that teach Signing Exact English (SEE), which has similarities but is different from ASL. Many deaf students enroll in ASL as soon as they enter high school.
"I love it when people know sign language; it makes me feel inspired and thrilled," says Vaccaro, who is in her second year of teaching. "I really enjoy teaching and watching the change from September to June in the students. I am so happy to make a difference."
She says it never crossed her mind that she would return to teach at her alma mater one day. She has a master's degree and has almost attained her teaching credential, recently taking the CBEST exam.
Mandy Hanks signs a song during study hall
Being a deaf teacher of mostly hearing students is challenging, says Vaccaro. She turns the lights on and off or bangs on a desk to get their attention. "When I give a test, I sign vocabulary, and they must write it down. I can't tell if students are whispering about what's on a test or talking about other things. I tell them I don't want to see their mouths move at all and if I do, I will tear up their paper and give them an F. I am very strict."
Vaccaro is also fun, offering students games and activities that bring the language to life. For an hour each week, she lectures about deaf culture and history. One student said he was surprised to learn that a deaf football team needing to communicate inspired the now commonplace football "huddle."
Across the campus, MDEA member Dot Brown teaches third-year ASL students. When she tells them she recently celebrated her birthday, her students sing happy birthday to her in sign and voice, waving their hands in the air at the end to show applause in ASL.
Third-year ASL teacher Dot Brown confers with Amy Pruter
Her advanced students pair up to invent dialogue and take turns signing their conversation in front of the class, which is asked to interpret.
"What is your work?" asks Karissa McNeil.
"I'm an ER surgeon," replies Samantha Coleman.
"Do you like your work?"
"Yes, I love the job."
Student Nicole Gonsalves participates in class discussion.
Some of the students have trouble understanding the sign for surgeon, which shows the edge of a hand slicing an open palm. Brown translates the word and tells Coleman, "Kiss your hand to show how much you like your job."
Brown loves her job teaching ASL, which she has been doing for almost five years. Before teaching at Concord High, Brown worked at the California School for the Deaf in Fremont in a variety of capacities, including dorm counselor, bus driver, teacher assistant and long-term sub while she earned a teaching credential. She was asked to teach the first ASL class at Concord High. "There was one class then," she says. "Now, six years later, we have 10 classes and are turning kids away." More than 300 students on the campus take ASL.
Sign language is growing across campuses throughout America. Presently 55 public schools in California offer ASL, with 3,667 students enrolled. In 1988, California allowed high school students to take ASL in lieu of a second language or art class to fulfill a graduation requirement. University of California and California State University campuses accept ASL as a second language admission requirement. While the classes are in great demand, there is a shortage of ASL teachers.
Teacher Susan Vaccaro, who's deaf, delivers a lecture in ASL
"Kids find ASL fun from the beginning," says Brown. "It's so different from anything else they do. It's not written language. It's not a lot of reading and writing and so-called academic stuff. They are using their bodies in a way that's different and fun. It has some sort of mysterious attraction. Everyone finds it fascinating."
Indeed, the students are enthusiastic about the course.
"It's awesome," says Kenny Powell, a freshman sporting a spiky blue hairdo. "It's something different. I'm a visual learner, so for me this is a lot easier than Spanish."
"You have to pay attention," says his friend, John Kineo. "But for me, it's easier to learn gestures than words."
Unique homework assignments give students a special understanding for what it's like to be deaf in a hearing world. ASL students must remain silent for several hours with friends and family members, trying to communicate only through writing and pantomime. And they must visit restaurants acting as if they are deaf, ordering a meal without talking.
"When I went to a fast-food place and ordered from the counter, it was interesting how people reacted," says Celisse Hildreth, a junior. "They talked about me and didn't know I could hear every word. A bunch of people were staring at me and treating me like I was stupid. I understand what it's like to be deaf because, for a while, I walked in a deaf person's shoes."
Teacher Susan Vaccaro exaggerates her facial expressions during an exchange with Eric Martin during class.
"My students always tell me these assignments are frustrating," says Vaccaro. "They want to say something and be understood, but can't. But these are the kinds of experiences that deaf people encounter every day."
ASL students are encouraged to become involved with the deaf community. Some of the teens volunteer with deaf children at the nearby elementary and middle school. Students held a Halloween party for deaf youngsters at the high school and were responsible for providing games, decorations and food. ASL students are also encouraged to attend cultural and social events for the deaf.
Recently some students received extra credit for going to the homecoming football game at the California School for the Deaf. They told Vaccaro that it was a strange feeling to be a hearing person in a crowd of deaf people.
"They were mingling with deaf only," says Vaccaro. "What was funny is that my students told me that, while they were there, the shoe was on the other foot. They felt that they were the ones who were handicapped."
Sherry Posnick-Goodwin
