It is often with many reservations, and even more apprehension, that I imagine systematic change required for deafblind education and advocacy to thrive in the Middle East. I cannot help but to constantly grapple with many factors, including educational systems, cultural barriers, and established (read: entrenched) methods for interaction with individuals who are deafblind. Admittedly, these are formidable foes for a person wanting to enact sustainable change.
And yet I am that person. And I have these foes. I am an unusually stubborn individual.
Still, I am cynical (at times), and often shy away from unnecessarily lofty goals. So, how does this one American volunteer, who has devoted several years to becoming a student and expert in deafblindness, find ways to make lasting impressions that will extend beyond his term? Well, I can specifically remember a time when I was thrown in the fire...
Two and a half years ago, a naive 23 year old waltzed into Jordan and deafblind education like it was a Tuesday night game of dunkball. And as you all know, dunkball isn't about honing the precision marksmanship of the deep threat. You just lower your head, take off, try to get friendly with the rim. Having some talent helps, but a cunning court sense lets you know the important moments to pick your battles.
In the field of deafblindness, I have been blessed with better court sense than I experienced in my basketball years. I am still naive, apparently, and have voluntarily thrown myself into the fire this time.
1) Training students- There is a core group of deaf students that act as peers for the deafblind unit, helping in many ways. These children have received no practical information about deafblindness. Perhaps I am being overly critical, but I believe this to be a problem. I mean, this is a specialized field. I am fairly trusting, but similarly, I would not want a layman to remove my appendix if he was operating purely on goodwill, caution, and attentiveness (unless he was highly recommended).
Every day, following school hours with Mohammed, I now head over to the deafblind unit to try to model concepts for the students, followed by a formal lesson. To give you an idea, I will describe one of the first lessons. It began with choosing a deaf student to be blindfolded (essentially becoming deafblind). That student was then led to another room, then given no prompts or instructions, but simply told to sit down. I am a devious fellow, and I was already transformed, cackling at my own perceived genius. The giddy students quite enjoyed seeing that I had concocted some sort of interesting illustration, though none could guess my intention. As the rest of us talked about sensory deprivation, and the many ways it impacts a person's ability to access information (or even to have neurological stimulation), the singular student was left to sit in the suffocating darkness and isolation of deafblindness. It only took a few minutes for that alarming deprivation to produce observable changes in behavior. With the remaining distance sense removed, what does one do to be stimulated? Often a self-stimulatory behavior takes hold, and this student only needed 5 minutes to start playing with his/her hearing aid, flicking it again and again. This kind of behavior is often viewed as inappropriate, and forcefully stopped, but here we had a well-behaved student unknowingly resorting to self-stimulation very similar to the "inappropriate" actions of the students in the deafblind unit. As I pointed this out, jaws were dropping left and right. Cleaning up dropped jaws is a messy task, so we went to talk more about the issue of self-stimulation, and how to intervene to provide stimulation which promotes interaction with other persons and the external world. Debriefing is fun, but each day there still remains a gaping hole between the information presented and the manner with which we can apply the many ideas and techniques.
2) Training a family- Mohammed has advanced in communication far beyond his family's competencies. As I am the one for this job as well. Not only an "expert" (ha) in deafblindness, but an expert in Mohammed's communication modes, this was a no-brainer...except that I would need to have some sense of Jordanian and Muslim culture, and also rely on Arabic as a primary channel of communication. Not so easy.
Like I said, I'm stubborn (though not particularly brave). I finally just told Mohammed's family that I was going to make a sign-language course for them to help them communicate with Mohammed. I wasn't going to take no for an answer, and I am very familiar with the Arabic word for "important". So I put together the details and we have begun this disjointed journey. They are amazingly welcoming and supportive of my efforts, and I have trouble expressing my gratitude.
I try to be understanding and sensitive to the fact that it must be tremendously frustrating to not only lack the skills to communicate with your son, but possibly embarrassing and painful to see someone else do it so effortlessly. So, it is with patience and much encouragement that we will continue on with these lessons. I am not in short supply of fervor. Besides, there is hardly an equal feeling to seeing the joy in a mother's eyes when she, for the first time, sees her son deftly respond to the question, "What is your name?", as he fingerspells with confidence. Awesome.
3) Training a replacement- This, I haven't yet begun. This will be the one that will give me the most fits. It is not arrogance, but rather reality, that prompts me to point out that there is scarcely an individual who can offer the same time commitment as a young, single, dedicated and passionate volunteer, who has few obligations beyond fulfilling the role of educator and servant. I have molded a program for an individual who I love very much, and this has led to 12-hour days being the norm. In my mind, even such an intensive program doesn't provide for all of the educational needs of this young man. It will be with much pain that I accept that my model will not be sustainable in the future. Yet, I will do my best to put together a proper transitional plan for my student.
As I take on more responsibilities, I am dedicating myself to continue to love my work. And eventually I'll find time to write some more humorous, light-hearted accounts of my daily life. In the meantime, I'll have plenty on my plate to keep me busy...
Peace.
And yet I am that person. And I have these foes. I am an unusually stubborn individual.
Still, I am cynical (at times), and often shy away from unnecessarily lofty goals. So, how does this one American volunteer, who has devoted several years to becoming a student and expert in deafblindness, find ways to make lasting impressions that will extend beyond his term? Well, I can specifically remember a time when I was thrown in the fire...
Two and a half years ago, a naive 23 year old waltzed into Jordan and deafblind education like it was a Tuesday night game of dunkball. And as you all know, dunkball isn't about honing the precision marksmanship of the deep threat. You just lower your head, take off, try to get friendly with the rim. Having some talent helps, but a cunning court sense lets you know the important moments to pick your battles.
In the field of deafblindness, I have been blessed with better court sense than I experienced in my basketball years. I am still naive, apparently, and have voluntarily thrown myself into the fire this time.
1) Training students- There is a core group of deaf students that act as peers for the deafblind unit, helping in many ways. These children have received no practical information about deafblindness. Perhaps I am being overly critical, but I believe this to be a problem. I mean, this is a specialized field. I am fairly trusting, but similarly, I would not want a layman to remove my appendix if he was operating purely on goodwill, caution, and attentiveness (unless he was highly recommended).
Every day, following school hours with Mohammed, I now head over to the deafblind unit to try to model concepts for the students, followed by a formal lesson. To give you an idea, I will describe one of the first lessons. It began with choosing a deaf student to be blindfolded (essentially becoming deafblind). That student was then led to another room, then given no prompts or instructions, but simply told to sit down. I am a devious fellow, and I was already transformed, cackling at my own perceived genius. The giddy students quite enjoyed seeing that I had concocted some sort of interesting illustration, though none could guess my intention. As the rest of us talked about sensory deprivation, and the many ways it impacts a person's ability to access information (or even to have neurological stimulation), the singular student was left to sit in the suffocating darkness and isolation of deafblindness. It only took a few minutes for that alarming deprivation to produce observable changes in behavior. With the remaining distance sense removed, what does one do to be stimulated? Often a self-stimulatory behavior takes hold, and this student only needed 5 minutes to start playing with his/her hearing aid, flicking it again and again. This kind of behavior is often viewed as inappropriate, and forcefully stopped, but here we had a well-behaved student unknowingly resorting to self-stimulation very similar to the "inappropriate" actions of the students in the deafblind unit. As I pointed this out, jaws were dropping left and right. Cleaning up dropped jaws is a messy task, so we went to talk more about the issue of self-stimulation, and how to intervene to provide stimulation which promotes interaction with other persons and the external world. Debriefing is fun, but each day there still remains a gaping hole between the information presented and the manner with which we can apply the many ideas and techniques.
2) Training a family- Mohammed has advanced in communication far beyond his family's competencies. As I am the one for this job as well. Not only an "expert" (ha) in deafblindness, but an expert in Mohammed's communication modes, this was a no-brainer...except that I would need to have some sense of Jordanian and Muslim culture, and also rely on Arabic as a primary channel of communication. Not so easy.
Like I said, I'm stubborn (though not particularly brave). I finally just told Mohammed's family that I was going to make a sign-language course for them to help them communicate with Mohammed. I wasn't going to take no for an answer, and I am very familiar with the Arabic word for "important". So I put together the details and we have begun this disjointed journey. They are amazingly welcoming and supportive of my efforts, and I have trouble expressing my gratitude.
I try to be understanding and sensitive to the fact that it must be tremendously frustrating to not only lack the skills to communicate with your son, but possibly embarrassing and painful to see someone else do it so effortlessly. So, it is with patience and much encouragement that we will continue on with these lessons. I am not in short supply of fervor. Besides, there is hardly an equal feeling to seeing the joy in a mother's eyes when she, for the first time, sees her son deftly respond to the question, "What is your name?", as he fingerspells with confidence. Awesome.
3) Training a replacement- This, I haven't yet begun. This will be the one that will give me the most fits. It is not arrogance, but rather reality, that prompts me to point out that there is scarcely an individual who can offer the same time commitment as a young, single, dedicated and passionate volunteer, who has few obligations beyond fulfilling the role of educator and servant. I have molded a program for an individual who I love very much, and this has led to 12-hour days being the norm. In my mind, even such an intensive program doesn't provide for all of the educational needs of this young man. It will be with much pain that I accept that my model will not be sustainable in the future. Yet, I will do my best to put together a proper transitional plan for my student.
As I take on more responsibilities, I am dedicating myself to continue to love my work. And eventually I'll find time to write some more humorous, light-hearted accounts of my daily life. In the meantime, I'll have plenty on my plate to keep me busy...
Peace.
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