A Report

So, as it happened, a woman who was visiting the institute wanted to get some information on the deaf-blind unit. The director was away for the afternoon....so of course I was the obvious person to interview. The volunteer with no background in special education, who has only been here for a few months. Limited knowledge of students' personal history and progress. Yeah, I'm the man for the job.

I did my best to come up with some important points. First, I think the most considerable thing to grasp when trying to understand deaf-blind children is a unifying quality of all people. The world doesn't exist outside of our head. We have tools to perceive what we believe is going on in the space around us, and beyond. Ultimately, though, we rely on the brain's ability to interpret every signal that our sensory systems are capable of capturing. The deaf-blind person is deprived of the distance senses, shrinking the perceivable world from everything within earshot or line of sight to simply all things within their immediate proximity.

But, that world is still accessible. Since it is the brain which creates the awareness of this world, it is just as real, as true, and relevant as the world you and I experience. The approaches to facilitate proper awareness, though, are not quite as apparent. With visual and auditory cues, communication is just...picked up. Cause and effect can be collected on a time-line to promote intellectual formations of basic principles. Life skills are observed and copied. For a deaf-blind child, though, the disadvantage lies in an initial existence in a world of darkness and silence. When education is eventually started, all of the things the sighted and hearing take for advantage need to be deliberately taught. Discipline can't be understood unless the effects of an action are understood. The effects of an action can't be understood unless a moderate awareness of physical space and physical properties is understood. The awareness of physical space can't be meaningful unless a distinction is made between self, objects, and others. And this distinction can't be made until communication (in some form) has opened up a channel in the brain, which allows for thoughtful processing to evaluate the connections of everything within in that immediate proximity (and eventually even things beyond).

Truly, just because an action elicits a response in a deaf-blind, it doesn't mean understanding has occurred. More than likely, it is just a conditioned response. Additionally, a positive conditioned response doesn't necessarily mean progress. If cognitive processes of awareness, interaction, and understanding aren't the medium, then the signals between the cues and the responses are not much more than noise. You might end up with a well behaved child, but you don't have one with the ability to truly perceive the world.

And that is the challenge. Breaking the barrier of jumbled signals, to foster the meaningful connections that lead to emergence. The emergence from chaos into a peaceful, sensible world. A world that is within their grasp. How long does it take for an infant to develop language, self-awareness, and basic senses of the order of universe? The time needed is significant. For a deaf-blind child, a lot must be undone before the process of teaching is even conceivable. Then, add on to the fact that creativity is essential for tapping into the unique mechanisms of the deaf-blind brain. You end up with a child that is, in fact, not limited by their own disability. Instead, it seems more accurate to say that they are limited by the incompetence of the people around them to express the world in meaningful ways.

I suppose, then, you could say that my job is to creatively express the world. Its truths, absent of the sights and sounds, which in themselves do not contain any meaning other than what we assign to them. Pretty rockin' job. Peace.

Having a Spot Without Fitting In

I still don't really have a classification. I mean, I am a foreigner. I am a volunteer. I work at the Institute. But that doesn't make me really fit into a role. I am a teacher, but not quite. I am a guest in the community, but also a member of the community. I am hearing, but sometimes pretend to be deaf when outside the school (just easier than faking adequate knowledge in Arabic).

For instance, I work long days. The teachers in the deaf-blind unit are here from 8:30am to 4:00pm, with a lunch break from noon to 1:15pm (Sunday through Thursday). I work from 8:30 to 6:00, eating lunch with Haazim and having an allotted break on Sunday and Thursday from 12:30 to 1:15 (the other days I spend that time block on the play ground working with him). Then, as a volunteer, I also work on Fridays, 8:30 to 5:00 with a one-hour lunch break. Surprisingly, this hasn't caught up with me. I would rather be working with the deaf-blind children for those hours than sitting at home. I would rather work a full day Friday and be with the deaf community than work a half day and be rather useless (or at least feel that way). I suppose that is just how I am. But, it makes me appear to be distinctly overworked. I don't look at very many of my hours as work, though, which seems to make it all sustainable.

Still, I don't really fit into a descriptive category. The expectations are completely different for me. A unique set of flexible conditions that shift according to my availability and willingness.
I recently undertook a task of compiling, revising, and finalizing a list of PE equipment for HLID. In my incompetence, I spent many hours trying to locate and inquire about items through an online form, which was both tedious and...less than fruitful. After being at a prayer meeting, I stayed at the school until midnight trying to complete the task. I was bested, though, and quit without anything to show for my efforts. Exhaustion won the day. The next morning, running on 12 hours of sleep over the past two nights, the intensity of my work took its toll. I wanted to be focused. I wanted to be able to communicate in more than blinks and a greatly diminished vocabulary, whittled down to "sorry", "huh?", and "oh, right". Truly pitiful. And yet, without a category, it was like I wasn't at all accountable. I was told to take a nap. Perhaps I should hold myself more accountable for time management...

Slowly, this has been fading, though, and I am thankful for it. Wait....thankful? What? Why give up a lack of accountability? Why move away from being a perpetual guest, who is always allotted understanding, given excessive hospitality, and admired for doing such "good work"? Why trade that in for expectations and responsibility? I am not exactly masochistic, so it doesn't seem to make sense. It's like choosing to swallow grapes whole when you are perfectly capable of chewing. Yes. Exactly like that. Perfect metaphor.

And here's why: Everyone here swallows grapes whole. Dang. Lie. Metaphor proves to be inconsistent. Roll with it. By jumping into the trend, I get to be more than the foreigner. It won't make me Jordanian. It won't make me deaf (maybe mute if a couple grapes take up residency within my vocal chords). Instead, it makes me a little more dismantled. I might not fit in, but there is continually a place for me. The more I am dismantled, the easier I transition into said role. I don't really feel like I am serving if everyone has to constantly adapt to accommodate me. That sounds like vacation....

Today, we had a farewell party for a coworker in the deaf-blind unit whose last day of work is tomorrow. Everyone chipped in to help buy a gift and give some extra money for her as she is moving to Bahrain. I have only been here for a few months, but I have felt very welcomed by her, and consider her a good friend. But...I am still the American Christian, who is just a volunteer. So, I was just going to take pictures while we celebrated the gifts she has shared with us daily, through her work and friendship. When the gift was given to her, though, I was asked to do something special. The gift was a matching bracelet and wrist-watch, which I was asked to put on her wrist. I was taking the role of her brother. Maybe it didn't mean that much. But to me, that is substantial.

There is not an ounce of me which is qualified to assume that position, and yet the spot was there. I don't fit, which is what makes it even more perfect. I don't fit into most of the roles given to me, but I am asked to do them. I try to take on that responsibility humbly, and fulfill it with a sense of purpose. And each day, this is placed in front of me. If I lose sight of God within the children I work with, or the community I am placed in, surely I'll see God when I reflect on the serendipitous occurrences which so directly impact me. And, if my eyes are really open, maybe I'll have the wisdom to make the slightest of an impact the this community as well. Peace.