Sign Language
Sitting at a transitional career fair today I watched as three young people "spoke" with the lady at the Highline Community College table. Pleasantly surprised that I have not totally lost my sign language skills. It reminded me of working at the group home for at-risk girls years ago. We had two deaf girls and I had to brush up on my high school sign language to communicate with them. They played practical jokes on my by teaching me the wrong sign for things. Whenever I asked for them to hand me their plate at dinner, they would scream in laughter. I guess I was saying "hand my your pussy." Bonafide good times. My favorite part of the day was bedtime. I would go into each of the rooms of these abused, mistreated and neglected young women and read from whatever book all of the girls in that room had decided upon. Even teenagers appreciate being read to at night. We would laugh and do silly voices and for one moment they believed that someone out there in this mixed up, fucked up social system actually cared for them. When I would reach the room where the deaf girls slept, we would have one of the other girls read the story and I would sign. They had a flashlight that they would shine on me so they could see my hands. I would mess up a lot at first and we would all giggle hysterically over my mistakes. Most of these girls came from seriously abusive homes, many of them didn't have families at all and had only known the atrocities of this world. But for one moment right before they fell asleep, they had a moment of laughter and security and a sense of bonding. It was the only gift I could give them.
Yesterday I took some students up to one of the Job Corps Centers. One of them comes from one of the most horrific home life situations I have ever encountered. When he got in the car, I did everything I could to make him laugh and talk and sing and joke around. For a few hours he forgot all about his living hell and could be a normal 18 year old guy. when we hit the snowstorm in Everett, I almost turned around to bring everyone home. when I told Sebastian that I thought we should go back, his face fell and froze into an emotionless mask. His shoulders slumped and he mumbled "ok". Damn straight I kept on driving through that damn blizzard. We almost died three times from people sliding into our lane. But we made it up there and had so much fun on our tour. Every student of mine came running to see me at lunch and get their "side-hug". With these kids I am honest and myself. I flip them shit, I call them on their antics and tell them how proud I am of them. And I listen to each and every story they want to tell me. I know I make them feel important and they do the same for me.
That is why I get up every morning, pull up those bootstraps and face the bureaucratic hell that is my job.
Yesterday I took some students up to one of the Job Corps Centers. One of them comes from one of the most horrific home life situations I have ever encountered. When he got in the car, I did everything I could to make him laugh and talk and sing and joke around. For a few hours he forgot all about his living hell and could be a normal 18 year old guy. when we hit the snowstorm in Everett, I almost turned around to bring everyone home. when I told Sebastian that I thought we should go back, his face fell and froze into an emotionless mask. His shoulders slumped and he mumbled "ok". Damn straight I kept on driving through that damn blizzard. We almost died three times from people sliding into our lane. But we made it up there and had so much fun on our tour. Every student of mine came running to see me at lunch and get their "side-hug". With these kids I am honest and myself. I flip them shit, I call them on their antics and tell them how proud I am of them. And I listen to each and every story they want to tell me. I know I make them feel important and they do the same for me.
That is why I get up every morning, pull up those bootstraps and face the bureaucratic hell that is my job.