Charity Sanders

Life After School

I'm not graduating this May, but I am already wondering what it'll be like after school. I'll have been through 19 years of school by the time I graduate May 2007, and more and more I look forward to the end of this extremely long period of my life. I look to the period after the BA degree as a time of choice and extreme freedom, but it's a scary transition as well. My excitement outweighs any anxiety i may have, though.

]]> I see this period after school as a chance to live life, do something different before settling down to a job, family, kids, the works. If I wanted, I could move to alaska and live there for a year. How about Hawaii? I could work as a clown just to get that checked off my list of things to do before I die. I could sail across the world, work as a park ranger at Yellowstone, disappear from all relatives and friends and come back a changed woman, work as a wine-taster in grape-rich California, apply to be a worker on a ranch in return for room and board and some muscle. If you happen to go through one of the above said areas from the summer 2007 and on, look for me. i may be shoveling manure in Montana, cooking eggs over Old Faithful, sipping wine somewhere in California; I may be the person on that yacht in the distance waving; I may be the clown at your child's birthday party.

I may not do any of these, but the great thing is that after I graduate, I can, at least, for a little bit, dream both big and small and know that I can do these random things for just a little while before heading back to school.

Spring Fever

Not a very creative title, I know, but spring fever is here, and it's presence is strong. You can see students laying on the Gallaudet mall, soaking in the rays between classes. With the sun's persuasive rays making their way to every crack, through blinds opened and closed, a 50 minute affair (class) becomes agonizing. Open windows reveal gorgeous blossomed trees and milling Gallaudet students. Very few students are not wearing flipflops and shorts/skirts. Those unlucky students in class are peering outside, and I can bet you they're thinking, just 5 weeks left till summer vacation. Spring fever has hit, at full blast. ; )

Backpacking Part IV: An Eventful Turkish Border Crossing

Whew, I’m glad I was able to get this ‘notebook’ at a booth near the train station in Istanbul, because I have a lot of writing to do- I’m six days behind! It’s hard to believe, the time flies by, that it does. Last I left off (in the other journal), I was on the train to Istanbul, Turkey. That train ride was pretty uneventful, until the border crossing. When night came, we took shifts sleeping. The people on the train looked suspicious, and, on heightened alertness because of the contractor’s warning, we were paranoid. But taking shifts isn’t paranoid-it’s smart.

]]> Eventually, we decided to put all of our stuff at the end of the compartment and then both sit on opposite seats from each other and put our legs on the other seat- we could sleep pretty well and it would make it pretty hard for anyone to steal our stuff. They’d have to crawl over both of our legs to do so. It was sort of annoying that the compartment didn’t have curtains- less privacy- all of the passengers passing by (and they did so frequently, more often than not to take a smoke in the passageway) always took a long look inside, and the light was bothersome.

I slept well until- I’m not sure, then I started to watch for the border. I had thought that the train ride would take 11 hours or so. Boy, was I wrong- it was over 20 hours long. So here I was, expecting to arrive at the border anytime when we were barely halfway there. It’s funnier now. So I didn’t sleep much. The last stop before the border (perhaps an hour or two before it) was a long stop, but we had no way of knowing how long it would be- also, there was an ATM there but I didn’t see it until we pulled out. Neither of us got out, for fear of missing the train.

Hmm, the story gets interesting soon. Robyn and I both have NO cash, and at the border (they require Americans to buy a visa—can’t be bought ahead of time, only at the border). We had no way of obtaining any cash, and figured the border would have at least an ATM machine. So, we arrived at the border, got out, got in line, were told we were in the wrong line and had to get in another line to get a visa before coming back to the first line and getting our passport stamped. We found out they had no ATM’s and did not accept debit/credit. We were doomed. So we decided to just sit in our compartment. We were resigned to being held up in customs or whatever else could happen.

I decided that I wanted to record the feeling in the moment and wrote in my journal, even while the police/workers came in and asked for our passports. When we didn’t have a stamp some people in our car were really nice- they tried to help us, direct us to the visa line, etc. We tried to explain that we had no way of paying for the visa. Finally, I took out my debit card and showed them the visa sign- made the gesture for no money. They caught on and understood that we had no cash. All were really nice. We were ushered off of the train with just what we had on us- EVERYTHING else- our cameras, backpacks, etc. were on the train, which could leave without us, for all we know. A worker/police officer (not sure which) apparently stayed behind to watch our stuff (which I didn’t find out until late, and would’ve given me more peace of mind).

A Border police officer led us to his car, and sped us along the to the nearest ATM, through a clogged toll area near the train station. He went perhaps 100, 200 kilometers. Sometimes we got held up. He didn’t seem to have much pull on the streets- the car had no lights or sirens. It could be because he’s just a border policeman- I really have no idea but he was really nice to take us to an ATM. We got out and ran to an ATM. We had no idea what the exchange rate was for the Lei- no idea at all about what it was worth. So Robyn withdrew 600 Lei’s (Later we found out this was a lot of money- ouch) and we got back in. We were hoping the train hadn’t left, ran when we arrived. The visa man (who hadn’t seemed so friendly or helpful before) was waiting near the train, far from his booth, with the visas- great of him. Then a border policeman got our passports stamped, we thanked everyone, and ran to our car, passing almost every other car on the train. (I wonder what everyone thought). We thanked the people on the car, the officer watching our things. Not a minute after we sat down, the train started moving- the Turkish border police had held up a whole train for perhaps 30 minutes for us! And thus we entered Turkey with a bang. After this I had no qualms about the Turkish hospitality I had heard about but had been reluctant to trust. I was not proven wrong about this during our whole stay in Istanbul- I do miss that aspect of life in Turkey.

The Turkish sunrise, just after our Turkish border crossing.
Picture taken by Robyn Girard

Whew! After the train had been moving for awhile, Robyn and I still couldn’t say anything more than ‘wow!’, not believing it had happened and how fortunate we were to make it through none the worse for the experience (with the exception of being $445 down, as we were to find out later). I realized after that, that I had judged the people in our car too much- after the border crossing, I smiled at them whenever they passed by, and they smiled back. That was an amazing ride, but I never want to go through that again! Moral: ALWAYS have cash! At least 20 Euros is best, in my opinion. And be cautious, but not to the point where you think everyone’s a potential thief - you find friends (allies) in the most unexpected places.

The Haggia Sophia, a magnificent mosque turned musem in Istanbul, Turkey on the same day of our narrow border crossing.
Picture taken by Robyn Girard

Robyn and I inside the Haggia Sophia
Picture taken by Robyn Girard

Backpacking Part III: Romania Part II- More Deaf People in Unexpected Places

Again, this is an excerpt from my journals written live during my travels in Europe last summer.

We paid for a two-hour metro ticket (they allowed us both to use it) with money we had ‘set aside’ and which I hadn’t included in the amounts stated before. We arrived at the train station, and they have this section cordoned off where people have to pay to get in the train station, run by people in official uniforms. I still have no idea what it’s for or why they make people pay, but we got in without paying, acting lost and confused and deaf (great acting, huh?)

]]> We bought an ice cream cone each. The ice cream tastes different than I’m used to, but it was really good anyway. Then we had 5,000 Lei left, I believe. There isn’t much you can buy with that. We wandered around the various booths looking for something that was less than 5000 Lei, to no avail. We saw this group of Romanina deaf people signing, and I was again amazed at these encounters. We decided to go to the supermarket in the train station to find something cheap. One of the deaf guys must have seen us signing and we encountered him at the front of the store- he was very animated and explained that he had lived for a year in London and knew some BSL. We explained that we were from America and that the BSL alphabet is very different from ours, when he tried to sign in BSL.

He was really nice and went in to help us buy something. We had to explain that we had only 5000 Lei’s and just wanted to get rid of them- we saw these small snacks- similar to Little Debbie’s and could only afford one. He was like, no, they’re old! We’re like, it’s all we can afford. He was so full of energy and bustled us to the line, then took us out of line and grabbed two containers of these chocolate cracker cookies with white filling in between (yum!) and our ‘little Debbie’ from Robyn and paid for them for us. How nice! Then he escorted us to the table where everyone else was. On the way, he explained that he was married and his wife was deaf (has a sister in Minnesota- hearing) and he had two kids. So we met the others- it was all a flurry because we were being pulled into different conversations, then rushed and pushed onto our train before it left. We met two young girls, the deaf dude, and maybe 3 or 4 more. It was very interesting and I really enjoyed it – a great experience and just eye-opening. The young girls had no job, no home, no income, no education, so the other guys were helping them out with money they earned through selling things on trains. The girls had no education and couldn’t find a job. The men, only one had any education and knew English. I left wishing we could do something for the deaf people in Romania- they’re bright and independent but ignored and not many get a chance to succeed. How many students from Gallaudet are Romanian? I bet you there are none at all- and perhaps have never been. We exchanged email addresses with two of them, then were rushed off to the train- since our Balkan Flexipasses are 1st class (the only option when purchasing them, anyway.. at a good price), we decided to sit in first class- you have to pay $$ but the guy was nice and warned us to watch our things in the regular compartments before kicking us out. Theft was common in Bulgaria, he gestured and wrote down. We walked through the sleeper car and you have to pay 5 Euros. We opted out of that and just sat in the regular car- a compartment all to ourselves, as usual.

Catching Up: Backpacking Part II- Romania Part I: Beauty in a Third World Country

Here's another journal excerpt from my European travels last summer.

Me on a train ride.
Picture taken by Robyn Girard

6-22-05 (Tuesday)
We were stuck at the Bucharest train station for maybe 20-30 minutes before getting onto our next train, to Suceava! They were getting ready for this broadcast there, though what the subject was, I have no idea. There were three different channels there getting ready to broadcast, I’m assuming at 1 pm.

Women and their female children were selling blankets, tapes, etc. throughout the ‘waiting’ area, outside the trainstation between tracks. When we got on our train, we had to wait perhaps another 45 minutes before finally leaving. During this time, people were constantly coming in and out trying to sell this or that. Some came in, dropped several products onto the seat next to us, then proceeded to the next car. When done, she’d (always a female) come back to see if we wanted anything (nope), then take it all back and perhaps move to the next car.

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The beautiful Romanian countryside, shot from inside a train.
Picture taken by Robyn Girard

We finally started moving, and this woman came into the same compartment- this was the first time, of all our long train rides, that we didn’t have a compartment to ourselves. She seemed a little stiff and asked us to close the window. But actually, she was very nice. When she left, she smiled and made it a point to wave good-bye. These things come from the most unexpected places here!

Along the way, Robyn and I talked about various topics, but mostly the scenery was depressing so we got quieter along the way- the poverty of Romania is fiercely evident wherever you go- only the farms seem less so.

It’s a 7-hour ride, so you can only mope for so long. We decided to play a card game- the only two we know are go-fish and 21!! It got a little dull at the end, but before we stopped, this weird old man came into our compartment and pointed to our cards. At first we weren’t sure how to react, but he grabbed our cards and we let him. He showed us a card trick, and was patient and kind about it, again amazing me and I have to keep chastening myself for judging a book by its’ cover- but its important to stay alert anyway.

Then things quieted down. At some point, we had our meal,
bread and applesauce. We made the mistake of leaving our full jar of apples evident on the top shelf (for putting bags on), and the cards were sticking out of Robyn’s bag. This little boy came in, perhaps 10 years of age or so, and started talking to us. We pointed to our ears and shook our heads, and he picked up quickly (bright boy, I’ll give him that) and started gesturing. He was pointing at the cards, he thought they were a box of cigarettes. We said they were cards and he kept on pointing, whether to the food or to the cards we’re still not sure of. He became aggravated and sat down, persisting. Then his friend came in, less bold, and was bald. His friend was more restrained. The first boy started pointing to Robyn’s alarm clock, which we had left on the window shelf so that we’d know what time it was. He spoke in his language, then said ‘clock’, ‘clock’, begging for it. We refused and finally had to usher them out of the compartment, physically. The first boy looked forlornly outside the compartment window for a few seconds, then the boys were on to the next compartment.

We saw them get off at the next stop, with some food- I’m glad someone did that, rather than give them items. But I wonder if they’re orphans or what kind of life they live. That first boy is really bright and could be so successful if only he had the opportunity. It’s sad. Robyn and I were a little shaken up after this, having not expected it at all. Then, with each stop, the scenery became worse and the people shadier-looking at each stop. It was starting to get dark, and Robyn and I were starting to freak out. What had we gotten ourselves into? Our stop was supposed to be next, but the train kept on stopping at these small unlisted train stations (now I realize it was a train mainly used by locals) where we kept on jumping and looking around for often nonexistent or hidden signs with the station’s name. Even though Suceava was supposedly the last stop, we were still scared we’d get carried off somewhere.

We had to brace ourselves, when we got off, determined to find the hostel and even said that if the place was that bad, we could always get onto another train outta the place (though probably not, it was late). It was perhaps 8 when we arrived at Suceava, and still light. We needed to find the hostel- we had to ask three people along the way, but all were cheerful and nice about it. That cheered us up a bit. The potted roads and somewhat shady houses changed into a gravel road and country houses. Our hostel was a big white country house. In the yard were chickens, dogs, and a sick kitten- aw!

And here we were in a Romanian house- and it smells heavenly! Food was cooking, and it costs 5 Euros for each meal, so we had to turn it down. The hostess, Monika, made enough soup and salad for us anyway, so we got to eat. We sat down at the dinner table, and across from us was this couple, really nice people. They were on their honeymoon- a three-week trip in Europe. Nice people! And they were from America, too, from Boston but not sure where they would be headed to after they got back (new job for Andy-perhaps California).

Dinner was soooooooooooo good! We had this delicious vegetable soup- Romanian style, with the first green vegetables I’ve had since- I can’t even remember, it’s that bad! Between the Gally diet and being in Germany for three weeks (pork all the way!), and being an extremely poor backpacker, veggies rarely figure into my diet. Homemade bread, delicious salad! I must have had 3 or four servings, I was that hungry! Then we had homemade ice cream – yum! Robyn and I had been craving ice cream for so long but could never buy any. The ice cream had some kind of raisins in it, and tasted like Bailey’s- yum!

We had good conversations with Andy and Rachel. Along the way, they mentioned that the hostess had said there’s a railroad strike so the trains are fewer and less reliable (for transportation to monasteries, etc.). She said ‘did you have any problems?’ Robyn and I shook our heads, then looked at each other and realized that’s what had held us up for so long that day!!! It was hilarious, and we explained the story to them. We said good night and conked out early, perhaps at 10 or so. I woke up around 7:30, refreshed. Breakfast was served- yum! This rice porridge- my kind of food!, meat, cheese, tea, yummy fruit preserves. I stuffed myself, ha, in a civilized way. The couple lent us their travel guide- Lonely traveler or something. A great book I wish we had.

Then we went off to Suceava, planning to eventually go to the monasteries, but it didn’t work out that way. We checked the internet (30 minutes) to send out some threats, info, and cries of help (family-money). Then we looked around, stopping by a couple of churches while looking for the bus to our hostel/train station. They were beautiful. One was more complete than the other, painted all over inside with beautiful murals with the story of Christ. Another had gorgeous architecture but seemed to have been damaged by a fire at one time.

Eventually, we found the right bus but it required too much cash. We decided to walk- it was a good walk on a gorgeous day, only long. 2-3 hours long.

By the way, we were dropped off at Suceava by the hostess. Nice of her! And we saw this huge fortress but didn’t enter because you have to pay. Along the way, a lady gave us a whole bunch of cherries for no good reason-so nice of her! Romanian hospitality is really great!

Me and Robyn with a deaf man that we met at the train station in Suceava on our last day there. He was with a buddy and they both exchanged signs with us. They also bought us a bunch of cherries, a Pepsi, and two bananas, which definitely improved our diet.
Picture taken by Robyn Girard

What becomes of everyone?

As I sit here in my chair in the Ballard West RA office, I have some time on my hands and observe the lobby that's often full of life, with freshman seated on the lounge chairs and couches, chatting, goofing around, and discussing what to do tonight.

]]> It's so fun to watch them, and to wonder what will happen to them. The freshmen dorms are unique gathering places, of which Gallaudet students often remniscince positively about, remembering staying up till 3 am chatting and ordering pizza or chinese food late at night. I've never had a freshman experience at Gallaudet, but I've talked with my friends and they've mentioned how their crowds have changed immensely throughout the years. During their freshman year, they were a big family, gathering in the lobby and chatting. As the years go by, students find their own crowd of friends.

Turkey Day

One thing I've gotten used to about college life is not going home for Thanksgiving Day, usually for several imposing reasons such as: it's expensive to fly home especially when I'll be going home soon for Christmas, I have to remain for a basketball tournament (which isn't a factor this year as I decided not to join the team), etc.

]]> Fall (it is still fall, isnt it?) 2002 I was stuck in Rochester for two whole weeks, their Thanksgiving break which also happens to be a break between quarters. My brother and I drove up to upstate New York to have thanksgiving with our relatives there, which was pretty nice and is the last time I have seen my grandmother since. (I need to get around to visiting her again soon.)

Two years ago, I had to stay for Thanksgiving due to basketball. Several of us basketball girls went over to the coach's place, Kathryn Baldridge, but all of us call her Kitty, and got to converse with her family and eat home-cooked food. It was a good extension of Thanksgiving at home, and I really enjoyed myself and appreciate the thoughtfulness.

Last year I had to stay for Thanksgiving due to basketball as well, and went to a friend's house for Thanksgiving. It was just her mom, her, and I and their two gorgeous cats, Ian and Ira. It was a good Thanksgiving. We all enjoyed getting the meal together though my friend's mom did considerably more work.

This year I am remaining home because: one, I don't consider it a good investment paying so much money to fly home at this point when I'll be home in less than a month and two, and two, I can earn some extra money working (as an RA). So I'll be going over to my friend's again for Thanksgiving day after finishing up an 8-hour shift from 8 am to 4:30 pm. Hopefully I'll be able to finish up lots of homework and projects this Thanksgiving, preparing myself for the final stretch of the semester.

Exciting Times

I am part of a volleyball team that is going to make history, I just know it. Even if we don't make it as far as we hope to, it'll have been a wonderful ride and a good ending to my last year of eligibility for volleyball.

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Here's an update of our volleyball season. We were going through some ups and downs during the season, especially earlier, in September. We lost one of our best players, Tamijo Foronda, due to a freak accident that left her with a torn tendon and in a cast for two months. Luckily, she is going to be able to play next year.

After she was injured, we spent the next few weeks struggling to regain the chemistry we had achieved, experimenting with a new lineup. In October, we struck jackpot. We only lost one game since the end of September, winning 15 out of 16 games since then. The single game we've lost since then is Juniata, a strong volleyball program that consistently makes a showing in the NCAA tournament, and has been 2nd seeded in the nation for Division III schools since the beginning of the season.

Last week we began postseason play, consistening of single elimination play. Since we were the number one seed in our conference, the CAC (Capitol Athletic Conference), we had the home advantage throughout the whole tournament. The whole week was nervewracking for me, knowing that the season could end my career prematurely. Tuesday we played against the #8 seed, Goucher, beating them out 3-0. On Thursday we played the #4 seed, Mary Washington, and beat them out 3-0 as well. On Saturday we had a more formidable opponent, Marymount University, making only their second showing to a CAC championship match since the CAC was established. Marymount brought some tough offense and won the first game, but once we established that we were tougher offensively, and blocked more balls and served tougher, there was no stopping us. We won 3-1, my second chance at the NCAA's, since any conference champion is automatically given berth to the NCAA tournament.

Two years ago, in 2003 I was part of the team that won the CAC's as well. Only back then it was under very different circumstances. For one, we were a much younger team. We also had less than a .500 record. This year we have a record of 22-11, going into the NCAA's. In 2003 we had to go all the way to California to participate in the NCAA's. Granted, California was awesome, and everything was paid for, but we were sent there because our region was full with more qualified teams, and our record was not good enough. We were sent where there were openings in the bracket.

This year, it's a different story. We worked hard the whole season to be ranked in our Mid-Atlantic Region. Ranking would help us stay in the Region for the NCAA Tournament. The last two weeks, we were on the bubble for 8th place in the region, and finally got it. After the CAC championship, our ranking moved up to fourth place because many teams that had been ranked didn't make it into the NCAA's. Thus, everything's going to be a flurry. Tomorrow there is going to be a pep rally specifically for our entrance into the NCAA's. Wednesday morning, we depart at 7 am. We then have practice for 55 minutes at the Juniata gym. Thursday we have a 30 minute practice at 8:30 am I think. Then at 3:30 p.m. we play against the College of Notre Dame. If we win, we will play the next day, Friday, at 7 p.m. against the host team, Juniata. If we win that, we will have entered the sweet sixteen and play on Saturday against the team that won the other bracket. I truly want to win this thing.

Catching Up: Backpacking Part I- The Other Side of the River Elbe

As I have mentioned in a previous blog, I was in Europe for approximately two months during the summer. For three weeks, I was involved in a German Studies Program supported by Gallaudet University, taking place in mostly Hamburg, Germany. I elaborated on it in a previous blog. The remainder of my time in Europe was spent backbacking with my best friend Robyn. I realize that, looking back, it is really hard to write about the events and truly express the emotions and explain the dynamics of each crisis or event while looking in retrospective. So, I will let my journal do the talking. Here's an excerpt from my journal, written live in Europe.

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Photo taken by Elisa Bennie

On our last day in Germany, I decided that I wanted to show Robyn the other side of the River Elbe, going through the old tunnel. The German Studies program had since finished, and most participants were already in the United States by now, leaving just a few of us. Six girls were left, with three leaving the next day. Elisa Bennie, another program participant, would leave in two days. So, I woke up at 3:30 am, and Elisa, Robyn, and I left at around 4 to go to the Elbe Tunnel.

We went to the other side of the River Elbe and I decided to go ahead and jump the railing and walk down the cobbled, slanting ‘wall’ leading to the water, as I had done so before with Kari. It has a great view and is perfect for pictures, etc., especially at sunrise. There were steps in the middle of it, but I had come here before and walked down that cobbled wall. I didn’t realize how wet and slippery it was, and the first step I took was the last cuz I slipped, fell onto the wall and slid quickly down that thing, with no control. It was fast and I was sliding on my butt. I put out my knee and stopped, just a few centimeters away from the water. I could’ve fallen into the River Elbe. I stayed in the crouched position that I had stopped in, and Elisa and Robyn were just staring at me. I wasn’t sure if they had realized what had happened so I said, ‘It’s a little slippery.’ LOL. When Robyn came down, she yelled at me. She showed me these areas of ‘calm’ water in the river and how they are really dangerous with rip tides, etc. There were a lot of such areas near where I almost fell in. I had a small cut on my left index finger, but that was pretty much it. I think I may have pulled something my back but so far it's holding up.

The Seventh Day

I have a love-hate relationship with Sundays. As you can probably derive from my comment, today is such a day: a Sunday. I LOVE Sundays because they're my only real respite from a long week, they give me a chance to relax as I can only do on Sundays. As a member of the volleyball team, we have practices/games six times a week and Sunday is the only day off. However, having just one day off of the week makes me want to cram Sunday with all the things I've wanted to do all week: go to the mall, go food shopping, do homework, study for an exam.

]]> Even when I do manage to accomplish a lot of this, I regret not having a more relaxing Sunday, on the only day I can completely rewind. When I decide (or inadvertently) sleep in, I more often than not end up barely doing anything all day, which is good, but the day feels like a complete waste because of its unproductiveness.
When I think of the word Sunday, mixed images of lying comfortably on my bed, walking around DC on a beautiful day (seems like Sunday is often a beautiful day), going to Eastern Market, prevail. Then I come back to earth. I have homework to do, exams to study for, which invariably leads me to remember that today is Sunday, and tomorrow's Monday, the beginning of yet another school week and the cycle resumes.

A Dwindling Road

It is Friday, October 21st at 2 pm. The weather’s gloomy, the sky’s hazy and there’s a steady mist of rain coming down. I can see the Hanson plaza, along with its nest of dorms and the cafeteria, and a few people walking along the concrete paths. I forget exactly what my point was, but the little things never cease to amaze me. Today is one of those days that could easily blend into thousands of other days just like it, only it couldn’t. This weekend is Gallaudet University’s homecoming weekend, and more important (or sadly), marks the end of another week of regular season volleyball, meaning there’s only one more week.

]]> Tonight we have a game versus Vassar, and it is one of four more regular season volleyball games left. Tonight is our last regular season home game, and is Senior Night as well as a game during homecoming weekend. I’m excited, though, because there are good prospects ahead. For the month of October, our record is 9-1. Our only loss was to nationally ranked #2 Juniata. After our win versus Catholic University last night, and Salisbury University’s loss to Marymount University, Gallaudet University’s Women’s Volleyball team is now ranked #1 in the Capital Athletic Conference. We have just one more regular season CAC game, next week versus Goucher. With a win against Goucher, we would seal our position and guarantee a home advantage throughout the CAC tournament during the first week of November. Gallaudet students know how big that is, because a home advantage at Gallaudet is like no other school’s in the CAC. It’s special, and all teams in the CAC have learned to dread playing at Gallaudet University’s gym, with a huge number of rowdy fans who know their volleyball rules pretty well and a lot of noise. The infamous Bison Crew, which has been sleeping as of late, will hopefully be revitalized and lead the crowd during the CAC tournament. Seven shirtless men, rowdy and all painted up, really does kindle the fire. Playing volleyball at Gallaudet really is special, and I truly hope that the CAC tournament leads to an entrance in the NCAA’s.

The Beginning of the Beginning, and More

A few days ago, the atmosphere was festive and jovial, announcing the beginning of New Student Orientation and the arrival of 348 new students, a record as far as I know. These freshmen enjoyed their newfound freedom, formed new friendships and rediscovered old friends. However, today I noticed the beginning of their realization of the reality of what college life at Gallaudet is like aside from the social aspect. I walked into the Student Academic Center at one time, and the first thing I saw was a new student saying that “the world was ending.” Stress is high, as these new students are struggling to get the schedules they want, and even the upperclassmen are feeling it, racing to perfect their schedules or pay off their balance, as well as buy their books and exclaim at how expensive they are.

]]> I have to admit, I’ve been swept into the whirlwind of stress here at Gallaudet. I’ve been balancing work as an RA, which for now is helping out with the evening activities of NSO, as well as volleyball, which has required me to attend practices as early as 5 am, and no later than 6:30 this past week. I often wonder, ‘Is it stupid to think that I can do it all?’ I’ve been less than cheery these past few days, trying to wipe this dazed and exhausted look out of my face, but some moments have made it all feel worthwhile. A new student came up to me, nearly in tears and wanted to talk. This student was frustrated with his schedule and the chaos on campus, and it felt good that just by talking to him I was able to give him some new hope, and the feeling was mutual. I go to Gallaudet because I love it here, and I play volleyball because I love it, and I’m waiting for that light at the end of the tunnel to come out and shine brightly, but in the meanwhile, smile and say a kind word here and there. It’ll make all the difference in someone else’s day, you may not know how much.

Deutsch Gehorlosen Sprachen: A Mini-Dictionary

Here: I thought it would be of interest to present various signs, contrasting DGS and ASL signs. I'll begin with fingerspelling. First of all, the entire DGS fingerspelled alphabet is very similar to that of the ASL one. The only differences are: the T and the G.

The picture on the left is the ASL G, and the picture on the right is the DGS G.

The picture on the left displays the ASL T, and the picture on the right displays the DGS T.

While the alphabets are similar, ASL utilizes its much more than DGS. In ASL, some words do not have signs and you are expected to fingerspell them.

]]> Now, here are some signs, with the ASL and DGS versions.

Father:

ASL

DGS

Mother:

ASL

DGS

Pink:

ASL

DGS

Restaurant:

ASL

DGS

Understand

ASL

DGS

Waiting

ASL

DGS

Deutsche Gehorlosen Sprachen (DGS)

Whew! The time has flown, and I can't believe that I've had two months of summer already. I'm still in denial and pretending I'm still on vacation while I'm participating in training for my position as a New Student Advisor for the Bridge Program. The Bridge Program at Gallaudet officially begins next Thursday, but I'm already being caught up in the whirlwind. Time goes by so quickly, I feel like I'm going to be 90 before I realize it.

Elisa, me, Chris, Tamijo and Kari after a cruise across the River Elbe.

I've had a pretty educational summer so far that has given me some experiences of a lifetime. I spent the first leg of my summer taking a three-week "German Studies" course in Germany.

Welcome to the Dark side!

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Me standing on the balcony in the back of our hostel in Hamburg.

The view from our hostel.

There were fourteen participants (including me) and one instructor (Margaret Mullens) from Gallaudet University. For much of the three weeks, we stayed in a hostel in Hamburg, Germany. We also spent three nights and days in Berlin, and made side trips to places like Lubeck and Stade - tiny but gorgeous old towns.

Kari Bahl and I on a boat to Blankenese.

A gorgeous picture of Stade.

A traditional Hamburg dish: raw, pickled herring. I couldn't finish it up.

The objective of the class was to learn German sign language, or DGS (an acronym which I explained in the title). We also made various excursions. At Berlin, we saw pieces of the Berlin Wall, the Holocaust memorial, and the Judisches Museum. In Stade, a beautiful tiny town, we were given first class hospitality by the local deaf club, being served a delicious meal of genuine German food (for free!). In Lubeck we had an opportunity to view a beautiful old gothic church (creepy for some of the students). The cobbled streets and the overhead steeples made for beautiful scenery.

Kari and a piece of the Berlin Wall.

DGS was taught to us by two instructors, Chris and Stefan. Both are natives of Germany and live in Hamburg. Stefan graduated from Gallaudet some time ago. After Stefen received his degree from Gallaudet, he had to complete more schooling before he could satisfy the German equivalent of a bachelor's degree (apparently a degree from any American college doesn't meet the strict requirements of a German degree). Stefan went on to also get a master's degree in Germany. The school system in Germany is completely different than ours in America. In Germany there are several levels of secondary education, which include categories such as vocational, regular, low-education, and future college students. The advanced school, for which graduation is imperative for admission into any college or university in Germany, is not initially open to deaf students. They must attend the regular school, then finish up two more years at the advanced school before being able to go on to University.

During the three-week program, we picked up basic signs and idioms from class. Some classmates picked up sign faster than others, but that's just how it goes -- as with any other subject. We had several chances to interact with deaf people in Hamburg, Berlin, and Stade, and this increased our retention of the sign language. It's interesting how it's much easier for a deaf person to pick up any sign language than it is for a hearing person to pick up a sign language from their own country. Chris told me that it would take us maybe two weeks to pick up what would take hearing interpreting students perhaps two months to learn. By the end of the three weeks, I felt that I had really picked up a lot. I had picked up the basics from class, but most of my fluency was from the interaction with deaf Germans, proof of the saying, 'practice makes perfect.' At the end of the three-week program, we all had to take a test ("Prufung" in German), given by Chris and Stefan, measuring our fluency in DGS. Our grade on the Prufung is worth a lot in our final grade for German Studies.

I'd have to say the whole experience was worth it. This was the first time that Gallaudet offered a program for instruction in DGS in Germany, but I already know that there are plans to offer the course again in two years, so I strongly encourage anyone who may be interested to sign up for this course. It's an experience of a lifetime! Advice: take a year of Introduction to German to ease your learning experience.

Mare and Viktor, a young German couple who invited those of us who were still around on June 11th, to their home for a real home-cooked German meal. Delicious!

The Woes of Having a Car

I don't have a car. The reason I don't have a car is because I don't need a car in D.C. Too many Gallaudet students have cars, leading to arguments over parking allotments for students. Get this: parking has been a hot topic here at Gallaudet University since the 70's, perhaps longer. I don't see that changing anytime soon.

]]> What's so great about Gallaudet University is that it's located in Washington, D.C. D.C. has an extensive network of public transportation. You can get nearly anywhere using public transportation. I've gone to places in Virginia and Maryland. Not enough Gallaudet University students utilize D.C.'s public transportation system. Why spend so much money on insurance, gas, and parking when you can go from place to place much more freely and for much less money? For example, going to Chinatown from Union Station costs $1.35. It's fast and cheap. It's actually priceless when you've arrived and have already taken a bite of a magnificent Chipotle burrito before your friends - who decided to take a car - arrived after finding a parking spot 2,000 miles away.

I feel like an idiot for not making this realization ages ago. Before, I limited myself to hitching rides with friends. But now I am officially a metro junkie. I love riding the subway. Metro stations are extremely interesting places to go. It's never dull if you're observing the people around you. You encounter all sorts of people. One time I had a guy sketching me. Have you ever stood really close to the area where the metro train is pulling in, and experienced a thrill when the wind from the cars whips you? If you've been in D.C. and not done this, you've missed out on an important aspect of D.C. life.

Now, I'm not saying I'm against cars. It's just that, in D.C., the metro is the best way to go. Buses can also be extremely useful. Gallaudet University has a daily shuttle service from Gallaudet to the Gallaudet metro stop and Union Station. I may seem like a hypocrite, but I want a car just like every other college student. When I get one, it'll be utilized mainly for road trips. After all, there's no metro line from D.C. to Olathe, or Chicago, or to LA!

Hasta la vista!