American Sign Language Class for the hearing

Taking American Sign Language is an unique experience for those of us who hear well. One of the first things you learn is that the sign for hearing and talking are the same. The implication that it is the hearing that do most of the talking. Another thing on the first-class agenda is we are told not to use our voices. As we get used to this and the class quiets down, we are transported to a very quiet world for a few short hours. Not quite the same world as world of the deaf, the buzzer for the door is so loud it is startling and the students are still distracted by noises in the hallway that our teacher doesn’t seem to be aware of.

As we relinquish our voices, we try to let our eyes substitute for our ears and our hands for our mouths. But as people learning any second language often find it difficult to distinquish the new sounds of the second language, our eyes often fail to distinguish one sign from another. My eyes are not used to seeking subtle differences in gestures. I am sure to the deaf teacher, signing for our class feels like signing in slow motion. And no matter how slowly the teacher signs, we usually ask him to repeat the sign, and then to repeat it again. Frequently, the only clear way to communicate effectively is to write things down on the board.

Even when we understand what is being asked of us, we are confronted by our hands which suddenly feel as large as Mickey Mouse’s mittens. Our brain has interpreted the input and formulated a response. However, our fingers fumble around awkwardly. Which finger is up and which is down, and then do you move your hand to the left or the right? We hearing students gamely try to shape our hands appropriately. We are often embarrassed to learn that we have either signed something obscene inadvertantly or that we have signed the equivalent of jibberish. By the end of the class, my fingers feel like they have run a marathon. All the tiny muscles in my fingers are tired from forming signs.

Somewhere near the middle of class the teacher indicates that we can take a break. He needs to repeat the signs again s_l_o_w_l_y for us to comprehend. Finally our brains begin to appreciate the implications, and the first thing we do intead of standing up to go get a drink, etc. We turn to each other and start to talk. Our talking is a little louder and more rapid than usual, as if we are trying to cram as many words into our short break time as possible.

So why do we come to learn? We each have our own motivations. Our own failing hearing, someone we care about is deaf or possibly we plan to launch a new career as an interpreter. What ever the motivations are, they bring our struggling eyes and fumbling fingers back each time to try again. Once again, ASL is like any language, as a beginner the best thing we can do for ourselves is to accept that we are going to make a lot of mistakes, however in order to learn, we just have to keep trying. (Oh, by the way do you know the sign for practice?)

Collaborative Inquiry and Professional Learning Communities …. Or not!

This week I had the privilege of visiting Boston to attend the National Science Teacher’s Association Convention. The convention is an exciting and inspirational place where teachers from all over the United States and beyond congregate to work on their teaching skills and understanding of science content.

Some of the buzz phrases, being used at this year’s conference included, “Professional Learning Communities and Collaborative Inquiry.” The goal of my personal pilgrimage was to augment my teaching skills and understanding of pedagogy. Through my previous career as a trained research scientist, I have a very strong understanding of science content and process. My challenge as a science teacher is definitely in understanding how to construct lessons that engage my students in the process of science that I personally have found so rewarding.

In order to strengthen my teaching skills, I signed up for an intensive professional development program that promised to “explore what it means to build a community of reflective practitioners who can, collectively, draw upon their knowledge of science, developmentally appropriate curriculum, instructional strategies, and assessment practices to improve student understanding and achievement.”

During a day long session, we talked and worked on identifying the most important concepts we want the students to understand. We worked backward from our identified goals of student understanding. We analyzed instructional materials to determine if they addressed our stated goals. We worked to incorporate standards and identify points at which formative assessments should be done.

It was emphasized repeatedly, that it was the process of participating with our colleagues in a “PLC” was more important that the lesson plans that result. It was critical to create a community of shared norms and values, to work collaborative, to use resources to study areas of content weakness, to share our insights and ideas with our colleagues and finally reflect on the efficacy of the result.

During a subsequent optional session, we were analyzing student produced tables and graphs to identify concepts and skills that needed improvement. We were given a tool to assist us, a list of “criteria” that the graphs and tables were expected to follow. I have seen similar lists before and while I understand that the criteria may be simplified to be accessible to a middle or elementary level student, there were aspects of this particular list that bothered me.

I through my research, I have a solid background in data analysis. Since becoming a science teacher, I frequently see and hear scientific method and specific skills required in data analysis mis-stated or mis-understood. In these instances, I feel caught in a very awkward position. I feel an obligation to confront inaccuracies to prevent them being perpetuated and yet I am also trying to build positive professional relationships. In the context of this particular workshop, I decided to take the risk of questioning points in the written criteria that seemed either mis-stated or mis-understood.

It was at this point that our practice PLC started to fall apart. The workshop facilitator responded to my inquiries with the statement, “We got these criteria from the University people we work with.” I have heard this justification before and I’m sure I will hear it again. But to hear those words in this context was especially ironic.

With those words, the workshop facilitator put the list beyond criticism. She attributed the list to an unassailable authority. Those people far away up in that Ivory Tower have handed down Truth. The implication was that neither I nor anyone else at the workshop had the credentials to challenge the anonymous omnipotent source. On a personal level I wanted to scream, “I am a University person.”

Early in my research career I worked as a research assistant. When my fellow assistants were challenged about something they were doing, they frequently took refuge behind the justification “because Dr. Imso Important told me to.” I decided that I would never use that excuse. One thing that this promise to myself meant is that I could not do things I didn’t understand. I needed to ask a lot of questions in order to understand what I was doing and why. However, I did it because I felt it was important to be able to justify my actions, in case I was asked.

As teachers I hope we can set the same goal for ourselves. If we are not willing to question protocol until we understand it and until we can explain it, how can we expect to model inquiry to our students. Science is a process. A critical part of the scientific process is the ability to take a critical stance and ask the question why. As science teachers, we must always be willing to consider the question. We need to hold ourselves to a very high standard and if we are not sure of the reason why, we need to acknowledge that. I predict that it will prove impossible to both build communities of inquiry and collaboration while we take refuge behind “authorities.”