White. Styrofoam. Cup.

photo from officemax.com

One thing that I hate about my sometimes-job is that I am required to attend 60 hours worth of interpreter workshops every 3 years to maintain my certification. Most workshops are held at least an hour away and cost a fair amount of cash. However, one of my favorite things about my sometimes-job is when the local university right here in my hometown holds its annual interpreter conference.

The difference between this local conference and the ones held farther away is, in my opinion, significant. For one, I am a sometimes-employee of said university so after I shell out my minimal up front fee to register I am paid to attend for three days.

Score!

Another thing I love is that these workshops always end up being much more entertaining, interactive and just overall enjoyable than any others that I attend. Take today for example.

All of the conference attendees had previously taken the Myers-Briggs Personality Test in order to discuss the various ways that our personalities can affect our work. My personal results were surprising and interesting. In order to help us see the differences in personality styles, the presenter pulled out a white styrofoam cup and asked us to write a paragraph to describe it.

Most people's answers were something along the lines of: A white styrofoam cup. Used to keep things hot or cold. Holds beverages. Breaks easily. Things along those lines. I chose not to share my paragraph, because it was completely different from anyone else's...

At first glance it appears to be a simple, white styrofoam drinking cup. It is only when you really look at it that you can realize its full potential. Is it really just a cup? Look deeper. It could become a planter for a seed. A disposable pencil holder. Perhaps even a future spider trap or roly-poly collector. If you have ever been camping you have likely heard that this cup lets off some sort of toxins when burned. If that's true then it even has a slightly sinister side. This cup, like each of us, can be so much more than we imagine at first glance. This cup actually has some amazing potential, just waiting to be unleashed.

Funny thing is, for the rest of today's conference I started to look at all sorts of things in this way. Popcorn. Pencils. Paper. People.

All filled with potential beyond what we see.

I can't wait to learn what is in store at tomorrow's workshop sessions.

Friendly Hands

Every year I am required to attend 20 hours worth of interpreting workshops to maintain my certification. Last night a workshop was offered for FREE, and being the penny-pinching, thrift-loving money-miser that I am, I could not resist.

Apparently, no one else could either.

Aside from the fact that it was an interesting and informative class, it was like a reunion of sorts. (Almost) EVERYONE was there!


I'm not sure which I enjoyed more, the workshop itself or the visiting with everyone before and after.

Okay, who am I kidding? The visiting wins.

I am SO thankful for my awesome interpreter friends!

Getting Out

Last Saturday I had the chance to get out in the community and do some sign language interpreting again. It has been awhile, but despite my nervousness I was really looking forward to it. I met up with my brother, Chip, and we carpooled to Salt Lake City together to work as two of the ASL interpreters for the General Relief Society broadcast for our church.

Can I just say I LOVED EVERY MINUTE OF IT!!

We had an amazing crew:
The green room was loaded with plenty of things to snack on:

I was so excited that Chip suggested I get out a little more often. (Wouldn't you be excited?! Look at all of the chocolate!! And you can't even see the fruit and veggie trays, or plethora of drinks!)

This is the set, with the hot seat:

Here are Chip and I, reviewing the talks we will be translating for:


The talk I was assigned to interpret went great, especially considering I have not done this in quite awhile. If you want to watch me at work, click on this link then click on the link for Silvia H. Allred's talk in American Sign Language. If I ever figure out how to embed the video here, I'll do so and make it easier for all of us. But for now, click.

As we were leaving, Chip pointed out this poster of a former event at the Conference Center:


He told me about how he got to interpret for this concert, featuring the Oak Ridge Boys. And how everyone in the Tabernacle Choir kept asking the Oak Ridge Boys during rehearsals if they were going to sing Elvira but they kept saying they didn't think it fit the program. And then how it came down from the top that they could go ahead and sing the song, and that Chip was told to not hold back in his interpretation, but to put on a show. And then he gave me a small sampling of his performance, the likes of which I would pay handsomely to see again. I mean, who knew he could move like that when signing, Giddy-up, a whoom-bop a whoom-bop a maow maow! Apparently Chip's hips are not a force to be reckoned with.

Every once in awhile it is just a great thing to spend some time with my brother, enjoying some tasty treats and doing something that we love.

More Fun Than Should Be Allowed

Because I hold certification as an ASL Interpreter in my great state I am required to attend 60 hours worth of workshops every 3 years.

The workshops I attend are educational as well as enjoyable for the most part because I choose to make them so. However, the workshop I attended this weekend blows all of the others out of the water.

First of all, it was FREE. This, in itself, is a rare occurrence. Add to that the fact that my little brother was going to attend with me and you've got the recipe for a GREAT time. Add Amy, a friend I had not seen in over 5 years, and I was in.

It gets even better. This was a two-day workshop and overnight accommodations were provided in the dorms adjacent to the school. A workshop/slumber party? Awesome.

I packed a few items that would guarantee a good time:

1. Accordion
2. Roller skates
3. Sock puppets
4. Night-vision goggles

Because you never know when these things will come in handy.

When the Friday evening portion of the workshop was finished we headed to the dorms to plan our night. It was decided that the empty, mostly carpeted halls of the school would make for some great skating.

As I laced up my skates I was excitedly thinking, How many people can say they have roller skated through the halls of a school after hours? And then , disappointed, realized that there were maybe a few.

So then I thought, How many people can say they have roller skated through the halls of a school wearing night-vision goggles, after hours, while playing the accordion?

And I can now happily add to that thought: Me.

I'm thinking about calling The Guinness World Records people.
We made some new interpreter friends in the dorms who were happy to come watch as I made workshop history.

After a while I wondered how everyone could possibly be having as much fun as myself. I mean, sure, it's fun to watch people's dreams come true, but only to a point.

Luck was on our side. Down a side hall we found a cache of enormous tricycles and other ride-on equipment that just screamed: Ride us! Ride us! Take us for a spin! So we did.

Chip and Amy tearing it up!

We had races. We had chases. We had a blast.

We quickly discovered the location of the school's gymnasium as well. I was in roller skating heaven! My own rink. Does it get any better?
At one point a piano was uncovered and played by the talented Jame. This made for some great interpretive dances.

Once we had tired out we sat on the stage and had an impromptu talent show with the help of the school's sound equipment.

Chip has not lost the talent of drumming out the rhythms of a beat-box with his mouth. And when it comes to break dancing? He's still got the moves down. (Word.)

We found some props on the stage which led to even more entertainment.

A giant teeter-totter.

A realistic coffin. (It was fun to talk about the poses we could get in there but when it came down to it, no one dared. Too creepy.)

My favorite prop? The perfect stage for a puppet show.

The puppets, performing a scene from Phantom of the Opera.

Eventually we traveled back to the commons area of the dorms to chat, laugh, munch on some junk food, debate avuncular smiles and listen to the flatulent sounds of Chip's iFart. (Incidentally, iFart is HILARIOUS at 2 in the morning!)

One by one our friends headed off to catch a few hours of sleep before we'd be back in the classroom learning about cohesion in our interpreting message. Chip, Amy and I (the true diehards!) finally turned the lights out at 4 a.m.

At some point in this adventure we realized that the school has security cameras throughout the campus. I'll be honest... we hold on to the secret hope that we will find ourselves on YouTube.

But if not, we at least hope that security enjoyed our nocturnal hi jinks as much as we did.

Although I doubt that is possible.

Sick and Tired (No, Really...)

Remember when you were a kid and your parents would say something like, "Hey! Next week we're going to Disneyland!" You'd get all excited and not be able to sleep the whole week leading up to the big day - so sure that something terrible would happen to you or your family or even Disneyland itself and you'd have to miss out?

And then the big day would come and you'd be so excited that it was THE DAY and everyone was healthy and no one got hit by a firetruck and Disneyland didn't burn down?

That was awesome.

But now my body plays different tricks on me.

I get really excited about going to something like a Theatrical Interpreting Workshop with my brother for the weekend - a mini-vacation, really - and then my body says, "HA! I've got a little something I've been saving up for just such an occasion!"

And my throat hurts. And my head hurts. And I just want to go to sleep.

And parent/teacher conferences are today.

Plus I am doing my first interpreting job in a LONG time tonight.

Mean body.

But I'm older now, and smarter too. I'm fighting this for all it's worth - with banana/blueberry/pineapple smoothies and lots of water and herbal teas with honey and whatever else I can think of.

Here's hoping I wake up tomorrow feeling renewed.

Wouldn't You Like To Be A CODA, Too?

(Interpreting for Mom and Dad at my older brother's graduation from Junior High, 1983)

I mentioned before that I am a CODA (Child of Deaf Adults). I was born a CODA, I'll die a CODA, and the life I've lived in between has been largely defined by the fact that I am a CODA.

And I LOVE it!

Most CODAs fall into one of two categories:
1) You love Deaf culture, enjoy being a "helper" for your parents and other Deaf people, embrace the language of ASL (American Sign Language) and keep the culture in your heart throughout your life - often becoming a sign language interpreter.
2) You can't stand having to be around Deaf people all the time, resent your parents for asking you to interpret at/for anything, escape the culture as soon as you can and blame all future problems on your parents.

I definitely fit into category 1. I have such fond memories of interpreting for my parents in the most interesting of situations before the ADA law came into effect and businesses and public organizations were not required to provide interpreters for those who were Deaf or hard-of-hearing. Hospital visits, Deaf clubs, church; what a diverse world I was able to experience as a young interpreter! My favorites, though, have to be situations of interpreting at my high school.

My brother Chip and I had the amazing opportunity to interpret for each other's Parent-Teacher Conferences. So we always....well, let's say we looked out for each other. Soon after I graduated, Chip helped lead a student walk-out in support of teachers who were in a salary dispute with the district. My parents were immediately called into the office to discuss Chip's rebelliousness and negative use of leadership ability. They asked me to come interpret.

The principal thanked my parents for coming, thanked me for coming to "help your parents understand the gravity of the situation", and proceeded to tell them in biased detail about what Chip had done and why it was wrong. Well, Chip and I had been talking about his plan for a couple days, so I knew what he did. So instead of interpreting what Mr. Principal was saying, I proceeded to "interpret" for my parents Chip's reasoning and logic behind what he did. When the principal was finished talking, I concluded as well. When he asked my parents what should be done with Chip, they told him how proud they were of him for standing up for what he thought was right and that they backed him up 100%. The principal, flustered, did not know how to respond. He thought he had made himself clear...and I'm sure he did... but my parents got a different story.

Of course, now - as a professional interpreter - I would never do such a thing. The fun thing about being an interpreter is the variety of situations you get to work in. If you like consistency, you can choose to work somewhere like an elementary or secondary school. If you enjoy variety, you can work freelance - through an agency or on your own - and you never know what you'll experience from day to day. I have some incredible stories I could tell, but it's kind of like working for the FBI: I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. Confidentiality is important.

Back to life as a CODA: most CODAs I know fit into category 1 like myself. We love to share stories of our childhoods, and I think we all like to be the center of attention. I personally started out quiet and shy and then discovered a love for becoming an entirely different person on stage in drama classes - then there was no stopping me. In fact, most CODAs who embrace the language and culture seem to be outgoing and precocious.

My kind of people.