Language Myths in Interpreted Education: First Language, Second Language, What Language?
Christine Monikowski
Our system has no way to judge whether deaf students in the educational mainstream are afforded an equal education. Between 46,000 and 51,000 deaf and hard of hearing children are in the U.S. public schools at the elementary and secondary level (Allen et al. 1994). During the 1998–99 school year, approximately 59 percent of children with “hearing impairments” in the United States spent more than 40 percent of the day in a regular education classroom; this number increased from approximately 48 percent in 1988–89 (U.S. DOE and NCES 2002). Records show that “most deaf children are now enrolled in regular public elementary schools and receive instruction in English through a sign language interpreter … [and] secondary level mainstreamed students use educational interpreters in over half of their classes” (La Bue 1998, 4, 5). Records show that the academic achievement scores of deaf children have not improved much since the early 1900s (Quigley and Paul 1986) when residential schools were the only option.1 The average deaf student reads at a third to fourth grade level (Schildroth and Hotto 1994, 20). Records show that there are more academic programs for the training of interpreters than ever before (American Annals 2003, 165–70), yet estimates also suggest that the majority of interpreters working in the public schools today are not certified by the Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf, Inc. (RID).2 However, despite all this information that our records show, our system has no way to determine whether the education of deaf children in the interpreted mainstream is equal to that of their hearing counterparts in the same setting, although many have asked that question since the onset of P. L. 94-142 in 1975.3
The success or failure of a deaf child hinges on his or her language proficiency, which, in mainstreaming, most often means English proficiency. For a child whose primary method of communication is visual and manual, proficiency in English can be an unattainable goal (despite La Bue’s research, above, that tells us the majority of deaf children in public schools receive instruction in English through interpreters). If, indeed, the interpreter is producing English, the deaf student does not have the necessary English skills and, therefore, cannot comprehend the interpreter’s message. Before an “equal education” can be determined, the deaf child’s first language (L1) must be identified, a difficult task at best.
The educational challenge of teaching children who have not acquired a first language is complex. In traditional educational settings, teachers of the deaf, who are most often hearing, are expected to use spoken English along with a signing system derived from English. Yet, most of their students have not yet acquired a fundamental understanding of any natural language. (La Bue 1998, 6)
This educational setting does not afford a deaf student the opportunity to acquire language, and the purpose of placing an interpreter in the classroom should not be to teach that first language.
This chapter first focuses on the individuality of every deaf child and how that individuality affects his or her L1 acquisition. Then, a theory of L1 acquisition is presented with a discussion of the important role that a strong L1 foundation plays in L2 proficiency. The dynamics of a hearing classroom is reviewed and, specifically, the deaf student’s role as a participant in that classroom. Finally, the chapter examines the fictitious, assumed, naïve, and mythical role of interpreter as language model.
THE PARTICIPANTS
Let us consider two important participants in the educational setting, the deaf student and the interpreter, and the language they use in this setting. It would be helpful if we knew the student’s primary channel for successful communication. And, it would be helpful to consider what language the interpreter most often uses when interacting with the deaf child in the classroom.
What Is This Deaf Child’s L1?
“As children communicate with those around them, processes of language acquisition unfold, and children come to understand and participate in the social world they inhabit with others” (Ramsey 1997, 6). If the deaf child has Deaf4 parents who use a visual language such as American Sign Language (ASL) in the United States or Langue des Signes Québécoise (LSQ) in Quebec, the child’s L1 is acquired in this natural and spontaneous manner, just as a hearing child acquires L1 from his or her parents. If the deaf child has hearing parents, and the child’s hearing loss is such that he or she relies primarily on visual communication, then the question becomes What is the child’s L1?
As is commonly known, more than 90 percent of [deaf learners in the United States] have parents who are not deaf (i.e., they are hearing speakers of English) (Marschark, Lang, and Albertini 2002, 43), so a reasonable assumption would be that a child in this type of household does not acquire English naturally and spontaneously. And, as is also commonly known, a variety of hearing loss can be found within the Deaf community; “deaf individuals … vary in the degree of their hearing losses, age of hearing loss onset, and the etiologies or causes of the losses” (Marschark, Lang, and Albertini, 44). This variation makes generalizing across the population impossible to do unless we rely on the child’s primary method of communication. If he or she relies on visual input, then English cannot be his or her L1 because English is fundamentally a spoken language, and spontaneous and natural acquisition of English does not occur visually.5 “Deaf children from these environments acquire American Sign Language from other deaf children, usually in school, rather than from the typical language acquisition model (parent-to-child)” (La Bue 1998, 6). This pattern certainly was true before mainstreaming, when residential schools were the overwhelming choice. But, with many deaf children alone in a hearing class today, this method of acquisition is inaccessible, so we again return to the question, What is this child’s L1?
Educators reach little agreement on the primary language of most deaf students whose primary channel of input is visual (McAnally, Rose, and Quigley 1987). However, of the utmost importance is not only to identify this L1 but also to ensure that the child acquires that L1 successfully. This language is the means by which he or she is going to access education. Clearly, the L1 foundation is necessary for cognitive development and academic success. If the L1 foundation of this child is problematic or flawed, then problems will surface in the educational setting. Marschark, Lang, and Albertini (2002) affirm the importance of language as “an essential component of normal human development” (111). But they also note that, because most deaf children are “born to nonsigning, hearing parents,” they do not, therefore, “have full access to the language of their world until they have passed the most critical ages for language acquisition” (111). Given this information, one might safely say that English is not the deaf child’s L1. At best, he or she will learn English later, which we know tends to be an uncertain process, even in ideal situations.
Now, let us expand this discussion to consider the interpreter. The next section takes into account the interpreter’s L2, the language he or she most often uses when interacting with the deaf child in the classroom.
The Interpreter’s L2
The native language of most working interpreters today is English; consequently, ASL is their L2. But, just as the variation among deaf individuals makes it impossible to generalize about their language skills, so too, the variation in proficiency levels in interpreters makes it impossible to generalize about their ASL skills. Some interpreters have Deaf parents and learned ASL as a first language or are considered bilingual in ASL and English. (Unfortunately, it is commonly known that most of these skilled individuals work as interpreters in the community and interact with Deaf adults; therefore, young deaf children rarely have access to these interpreters.) Some interpreters complete training/education programs that require ASL courses, and others come from programs that have open admission policies, which allows for little or no quality control over either English or ASL. Problems also arise because of the lack of a standardized ASL curriculum in interpreting programs, not to mention the fact that spending only two years of learning an L2 leaves much to be desired in anyone’s skills. Additionally, little research has been done on the ASL proficiency of interpreters, whether they are certified or not.
Research on the ASL proficiency level among interpreters who have acquired ASL as an L2 is scant. La Bue’s (1998) research is quite telling; her work “indicate[s] a strong pattern of lexical and grammatical deletions in the interpreted rendition across discourse structures” (xi). The prerequisite for an interpreter’s ability to render a successful message is the interpreter’s comprehension of meaning. A pragmatic (i.e., holistic rather than discrete) assessment of ASL can actually show how well an interpreter comprehends meaning. The cloze test is a pragmatic instrument for this kind of assessment.6
Using a videotaped cloze test to measure ASL (L2) proficiency in interpreters requires the subjects to perform tasks that are fundamentally the same as when they interpret in a real-life situation. Often, interpreters do not see every single sign when a Deaf person is signing, but they do use their cloze skills to fill in missing parts. Swabey (1986) reported on the use of cloze activities in ASL as a skill-building tool for interpreting students. Lambert (1992) discussed using cloze as a “pedagogical tool” for interpreters and translators who work between English and French. In addition, studies have been done in which Deaf subjects participated, but the language has been English (see Reynolds 1986; Odom, Blanton, and Nunnally 1967). Only Monikowski developed and used an ASL cloze test to assess L2 (ASL) skills of interpreters (Monikowski 1994). Her results showed that the ASL proficiency level of interpreters certified by the RID with either a Comprehensive Skills Certificate or a Certificate of Interpretation,7 although higher than noncertified interpreters, did not match the proficiency level of native or near-native Deaf users of ASL. The mean score for Deaf people was 70 percent, and the mean score for certified interpreters was 57 percent. In addition, this research supports the notion that one’s L2 skills cannot surpass one’s L1 skills (unless there are extenuating circumstances such as a move to immerse oneself in the minority culture and language).
As reported earlier in this chapter, estimates suggest that most interpreters in the public schools today are not certified. This situation begs the question, What is the L2 proficiency level of noncertified interpreters? In her same research, Monikowski (1994) reported a mean score on cloze tests of 29 percent for noncertified interpreters. Clearly, interpreters working in public schools do not have adequate skills in ASL, their L2. Yet, we expect the deaf student to learn ASL from the interpreter! If successful L2 acquisition depends on first acquiring a strong L1 (and we know that most deaf children do not have access to this kind a process) and if we also know that noncertified interpreters have minimal ASL skills, then we are faced with a frightening scenario to think about what kind of language skills the deaf students are learning from their interpreters. In addition, to say the interpreter is truly using ASL would be doubtful; he or she likely is using more English-like signs, which are more typical of an L2 beginner. This practice has the potential to confuse the deaf child even more.
However, before discussing this situation any further, the reader needs to gain a basic understanding of language acquisition, which is provided in the following section. We will return to the interpreter’s L2 later in this chapter.
LANGUAGE ACQUISITION: L1 AND L2
Acquisition of L2 does not happen in isolation. It is dependent on the level of proficiency in one’s L1, which is the foundation for one’s educational success.
Acquisition of L1
Vygotsky saw the demonstration of L1 as the “free, spontaneous use of speech [and signs] and then later, the conscious realization of the linguistic forms” (John-Steiner 1985, 350). A child does not require overt adult “teaching” to process this linguistic information from environmental cues. The L1 is acquired in a natural setting from those present in the child’s environment. Vygotsky also believed that language and cognitive development were interdependent (Vygotsky 1986, xviii). Language is a mediator of higher mental functions. It is the understanding of a deeper representation, of generalizations; it is the semiotic (i.e., symbolic) capacity of humans. The primary or native language is the basis for the development of one’s semiotic capacity. Oller (1991) cited Peirce, Einstein, Dewey, Piaget, Vygotsky, and others when he said, “The normal development of deep semiotic abilities depends largely on the development of the primary language” (29). If we accept this claim of Oller’s, then we can have little doubt about the importance of the successful acquisition of L1. Proficiency in L1 is of the utmost importance; it is the essential foundation for educational success. Proficiency in L2 cannot eclipse proficiency in L1.
Given that 90 percent of all deaf children have hearing parents (as mentioned above), it is questionable whether these children have access to language that is free and spontaneous. Perhaps their parents or primary caregivers are taking “sign language” classes. In many educational settings, the deaf children have learned “sign language”8 either from their parents (who are not native users) or from the interpreters who are assigned to their classes. Assumptions are made that the child knows either “sign” or English. An important point to understand is that “sign” is not ASL. ASL is a naturally evolving visual-gestural language with grammatical structures, discourse genres, etc., and is as complex as any spoken language, but it does not follow the sentence structure of English. Often, “sign language” classes are a series of vocabulary classes that teach hearing people how to take manual signs and superimpose them onto English words. This use of signs is not ASL. When we talk about language acquisition and the importance of having an L1, “sign language” does not fit the bill. Wilbur (2003) clearly states that “artificially created signing systems … do not behave like natural languages” and do not allow for “efficiency” in their production (343). Clearly, the deaf child in this kind of an environment would not be able to fully acquire either language. The child would not acquire English in the home, and he or she could not acquire ASL because the opportunity would not exist to acquire it naturally (i.e., with native users) and exposure to it in natural and spontaneous situations would not occur. Again, quite clearly, English is not the deaf child’s L1. In addition, the argument is clear that ASL can be learned only in a “free and spontaneous” environment. Those “sign language” classes for hearing people that focus on vocabulary cannot and do not present a language; therefore, the interpreter or parent who has taken those classes has no foundation in ASL as an L2, and consequently, ASL is not the deaf child’s L1.
Acquisition of L2
Although the primary focus of this chapter is not to review the many theories of L2 acquisition, providing some explanation of the more accepted approaches is important here. According to Lightbown and Spada (2002), “All second language learners, regardless of age, have by definition already acquired at least one language. This prior knowledge may be an advantage in the sense that the learner has an idea of how languages work” (21). A second language learner develops a system, an “interlanguage” (Seliger 1988, 21) that is different, neither “based entirely on his or her first language … nor based completely on the [L2]” (1988, 21). In addition, L2 learners attempt to apply what they already know about L1 to the new L2. “Language transfer … is the transference of rules from the learner’s first language (L1)” that are used to produce the second language (L2) (Seliger 1988, 21).
Interdependence of L1 and L2
All of the theories of L2 acquisition, despite their intricacies, clearly indicate the importance of an L1 on which to build the L2. John-Steiner (1985) credited Vygotsky as saying that “acquisition of a second language is indeed dependent upon the level of development of the native language” (350). In addition, Vygotsky wrote:
If the development of the native language begins with free, spontaneous use of speech and is culminated in the conscious realization of linguistic forms and their mastery, then development of a foreign language [second language] begins with conscious realization of language and arbitrary command of it and culminates in spontaneous free speech. But, between those opposing paths of development, there exists a mutual dependency. … [T]his kind of conscious and deliberate acquisition of a foreign language obviously depends on a known level of development of the native language. … [T]he child acquiring a foreign language is already in command of a system of meaning in the native language which she/he transfers to the sphere of another language. (quoted in John-Steiner 1985, 350)
The “conscious and deliberate acquisition” of the L2 is dependent on “a known level of development” in the L1. Vygotsky said that the child is already “in command of a system of meaning” in his or her native language that supports the acquisition of L2. However, we have already established that a child whose primary method of communication is visual is not in command of English. If the child cannot access spoken English, then he or she cannot gain an age-appropriate command of English. Clearly, identifying an L1 for a child in this situation would seem impossible to do. Consequently, acquiring an L2 would also be impossible. Yet, schools often attempt to use sign language (a questionable L2) to teach classroom content (requiring an L1, which, in this case, is questionable).
If one accepts that language acquisition requires an underlying intellectual ability, then it must be involved in both languages. John-Steiner cautioned that Vygotsky’s view of the importance of conscious learning might have been exaggerated because of his focus on learning solely in a classroom. In a more natural second-language setting, the L2 process seems to more closely follow the L1 process. However, the point is made: L1 and L2 acquisition are connected.
The importance of proficiency in L1 is also stressed; L2 builds on the foundation of L1. The L2 acquisition process follows the L1 acquisition process. Thus, if the primary system contains deficiencies or flaws, then the L2 system will have comparable problems. If L1 proficiency is relatively poorly developed, then we cannot expect proficiency in L2 to be more advanced. This reasoning is true for any and all languages. For our discussion, this reasoning maintains that, if a deaf child does not have a strong foundation in English from the home environment, then he or she cannot learn English in the classroom (because the child does not have ASL as an L1) nor can he or she learn ASL from the interpreter (because the child does not have English as an L1 and because the interpreter’s ASL skills are questionable). A strong foundation in an L1 is paramount, and we have seen quite clearly that most deaf children do not have that foundation. Yet, in the classroom, educators often assume that the child already has English and, therefore, the interpreter either should sign in English (because it is what the child already knows) or should sign in ASL (because the child is deaf and the visual language is more “appropriate” for him or her). Little thought is given to the development of L1 before entering the classroom.
Vygotsky is not alone in purporting a link between L1 and L2. When Krashen (1982) presented his Input Hypothesis with respect to L1 acquisition, he said “we acquire … only when we understand language that contains structure that is ‘a little bit beyond’ where we are now” (21). This acquisition is possible only by using “more than our linguistic competence” (21) to understand. We acquire by “going for the meaning first” (21) and then acquiring the structure of the language as a result of that comprehension. The child attends to the “meaning and not the form of the message” (21). Krashen (1982) also included L2 acquisition in his hypothesis and noted that input can be “comprehensible” when teachers and students “take advantage of the acquirer’s knowledge of the world” (25). Ramsey (2001) clearly related this acquisition to the teacher of deaf children and his or her “powerful role,” saying that teachers must be sure they use “accessible and comprehensible” language as “they monitor the learner’s engagement with the language and the task” (20). This role involves “intersubjectivity, or joint shared attention,” which must be successful if learning is to occur (20).
The deaf child born to hearing parents who do not know ASL does not have access to free and spontaneous use of language (either English or ASL). Children in this situation either develop some kind of pidgin or home signs or adopt an oral approach. One way or another, their language development is seriously delayed. “The underlying fact is that deaf infants do not have sufficient hearing to acquire spoken English in the typical way” (Ramsey 2000, 25). In addition, “many hearing parents who choose to raise their deaf children with sign language do not sign consistently” (Marschark, Lang, and Albertini 2002, 90). When the children enter school, they demonstrate a major deficit in their English and ASL skills, and they spend the next twelve years of education trying to cope with that deficit. This lack of foundation in English (the potential L1 system available in the home) is reflected in the student’s struggle to succeed in the classroom. Because English was not acquired as an L1, the child is doomed to play “catch up.” An important point to understand is that the presence of an interpreter in the classroom cannot remedy this language deficit.
THE CLASSROOM
The classroom presents a challenging environment to the deaf student and to the interpreter. Interaction between student and teacher is primary, and it must be successful if the child is to succeed. In addition, the secondary interactions among the students themselves and among the teacher and the other students cannot be ignored.
According to Marschark, Lang, and Albertini (2002), “the important factor for learning is not the ability to speak, but the ability to communicate through language, whatever its form, from an early age” (92). Cazden (1988) adds that, although “any social institution can be considered a communication system …the basic purpose of school is achieved through communication” (2). Communication between the teacher and the student is crucial, as is communication among the students themselves. It is how teachers impart information and how students “demonstrate to teachers much of what they have learned” (Cazden 1988, 2). “Spoken language is an important part of the identities of all the participants” (3). Even among the hearing children, different linguistic backgrounds need to be considered, and the study of classroom discourse is essential for successful teaching. The level of sophistication and the topics discussed certainly change from the elementary school to college, but the structure of the interaction is similar.
Research on success in English as a foreign language supports the importance of L1 in the classroom:
Academic proficiency in one’s mother tongue seems to play a very important role in predicting students’ success in [foreign language learning] within a school situation. Even when such proficiency is measured by the teacher’s grade, knowledge of L1 is a powerful predictor. The strongest predictor, however, across different student populations, is an external measure of one’s academic language ability. (Olshtain et al. 1990, 138)
A number of factors contribute to the complexity of the environment, most notably the “purposes of talk” (Cazden 1988, 54). Talk that occurs in the classroom involves “speaking rights … the most important asymmetry,” turn taking in discussions, the pace of classroom discourse, and shifts in “speech style.” This talk can shift from formal lecture to informal conversation within minutes. In addition, in any classroom there is “considerable variability in the amount of teacher time spent with individuals or groups” (Cazden 1988, 62). In addition, “one of the most important influences on all talk (some say the most important influence) is the participants themselves—their expectations about interactions and their perceptions of each other” (67). Students and teachers develop opinions about one another by the way they talk to and about one another in the classroom. An incredible amount of incidental information is shared in the classroom. Children learn how to socialize, how to make friends, how to approach the teacher, how to ignore the nosey classmate, etc. Rarely does the teacher explicitly “teach” the significance of these important tangential events. Yet, these events are the foundation of our social interactions for years to come.
The Deaf Child in the Classroom with an Interpreter
Deaf children in today’s mainstream classroom have “many developmental needs that are not different from those of hearing children. Primarily, they need opportunities to use language to engage with others. These occasions must be embedded in comprehensible social contexts where there are other children and adults who share the language and who can help make the world intelligible” (Ramsey 1997, 3). Intelligibility is an important consideration and, by simply placing an interpreter in the room with the student, naïve participants—administrators, teachers, parents, and many interpreters—think the problem is solved. Why? Placing an interpreter in the class seems to be the perfect answer. The interpreter can communicate with the child, can present the teacher’s words in a visual mode, can mediate between the child and his or her classmates. The strategy seems as though it should work, but knowing what we now know about the deaf child’s lack of L1 (English) skills and the interpreter’s lack of L2 (ASL) skills, we can begin to see the disconnect in this situation.
Winston (1994) clearly presented the dilemma for the deaf child in the hearing classroom, saying that the classroom is “designed to accommodate learning through both visual and auditory channels” (58). The students in Johnson’s (1991) study, despite their age differences, exhibit the same “limitation,” namely, that it is difficult (perhaps impossible) for a deaf person to visually attend to more than one thing at a time.
Unfortunately, the deaf child receiving his or her information through an interpreter has only the visual channel. We can reasonably assume that the child can, potentially, miss half of the information being presented. What is missed might not be the information coming directly from the teacher; it might be the incidental knowledge that his or her hearing peers are able to “pick up.” Remembering the lack of qualified interpreters working in the educational setting, one must question the skills they have and the messages they produce.
In addition, the deaf child has a difficult (if not outright impossible) time actively participating in some of the teacher’s activities. Even an extremely skilled interpreter can interpret only one message at a time. Whom does the interpreter choose to follow when several children are talking at the same time? The teacher does not want to stop the energetic discussion, so the interpreter is forced to make a choice, and the deaf student thus lives with someone else’s view of the interaction rather than having the opportunity to make decisions by him or herself. However, regardless of the scenario, the important point to realize is that the dynamics of the hearing classroom often make successful interpretation virtually impossible, even when an experienced and competent interpreter is present. In spoken English discourse, for example, turn taking can be a seemingly chaotic event. A classroom of excited and energetic seventh graders includes cross talk, overlap, asides, etc.—all of which is under the direction of the teacher. The interpreter suffers from “information overload” (La Bue 1998, 19), and the subsequent interpretation suffers from multiple missing pieces of information. The result is that the deaf student is overwhelmed and overloaded, and the teacher’s attempt to monitor the “learner’s engagement” is lost. The participants (i.e., teacher and student) do not share an understanding of the message.
AN INTERPRETED EDUCATION: THE INTERPRETER AS LANGUAGE MODEL
We know that languages (both L1 and L2) are acquired through exposure to natural and spontaneous models. Regardless of the theory involved—Vygotsky’s, Krashen’s, Oller’s, etc.—there is no doubt of the importance of an L1 language model. Parents certainly know this importance to be true; they can simply watch the language development of their own children. It truly seems that, one day, the child suddenly produces “mama” and the world changes, but we know that countless “conversations” have occurred between mother and child that build up to that moment. The child has had countless opportunities to copy mother’s voice intonation, words, head shakes, etc. And, as the child grows, models who are found beyond his or her primary caretaker also become important.
Consider the deaf child with hearing parents, who does not have the opportunity to benefit from those primary models. Then, one day, that child arrives at school and encounters an interpreter who can sign and who can, in the eyes of too many people, function as the language model for that child. Besides the fact that this role involves a tremendous responsibility for a mere interpreter, it is an inappropriate and impossible responsibility.
Earlier in this chapter, “sign language” was mentioned as a commonly taught substitute for ASL. Note that “signed English” and the more structured sign systems (e.g., Signing Exact English) are visual representations of English, an auditory language. This representation causes numerous problems because the systems are not a language, they do not have naturally evolving structure, and they are neither naturally and spontaneously produced nor acquired. In these systems, ASL signs are organized in a way that follows English sentence structure, and initialization is commonly used. The underlying supposition for the use of these systems is that the learner already knows English, a supposition that may be true for hearing people but is not true for deaf children who primarily rely on the visual channel for language acquisition and development. Unless a deaf child has English as his or her L1, it is not cognitively possible for a deaf child to comprehend a signed English system (see Wilbur 2003 for an in-depth discussion of this topic).
We know that many interpreters are signing English in the classroom, and we know that their ASL skills are weak. This situation has resulted in “inadequate access [for the deaf student] to content” in the hearing classroom (La Bue 1998, 232). Deaf students “receive bits and pieces of content through context, and through an interpretation of the discourse” (233). The same is true for older students; Johnson’s (1991) work on the university classroom presented data from the deaf students’ point of view and reported “significant miscommunication” and “confusion” when working with interpreters (24). In addition, although ASL-English interpreters were not included in his work, Nida’s (1976) seminal work on interpreters was quite telling: “Even among experts [working with interpreters] discussing a subject within their own fields of specialization, it is unlikely that comprehension rises above 80 percent level” (63). The lack of a strong L1 for the deaf student (and therefore a weak or nonexistent L2) coupled with a lack of strong L2 (ASL) for the interpreter results in confusion, skewed messages, and substantial miscommunication.
If language acquisition occurs most successfully through natural and spontaneous use of the language, then for two basic and straightforward reasons, deaf children will find that acquiring ASL from their interpreters is difficult if not impossible to do. First, the interpreter is most likely not signing ASL; instead, he or she is probably signing some form of English that may or may not incorporate ASL features. We now know that the relatively high number of noncertified interpreters working in educational settings do not exhibit high proficiency levels in their L2, ASL. However, even if the interpreter is quite proficient in ASL, the second reason comes into play: He or she is interpreting the discourse of another individual, and this communication is not “natural and spontaneous” language use. Rather, it is an interpretation of someone else’s thoughts and ideas, and it is potentially an incomprehensible message.
An educational setting does not afford a deaf student the opportunity to acquire language nor should language acquisition be the purpose of placing an interpreter in the classroom. The child is there to learn content. Hearing children certainly are being taught “language” when they are in English classes throughout their education. But the difference is that they already have an English language inside their heads. They cognitively “know” the language they use on a daily basis; English classes serve to expand, to augment, to elaborate on what these children already know. Hearing children also acquire incidental language from their teachers and their peers as a by-product of their education. In contrast, deaf students often do not fundamentally “know” any language; they simply know bits and pieces, but they have no strong foundation on which to build. For example, trying to learn about the Civil War when one does not know the language being used to convey the facts is not only difficult but also unrealistic, and expecting children to learn in this type of scenario borders on cruelty. We would never ask a hearing student to comprehend a lecture in Mandarin if he or she did not have proficiency in the language. Nevertheless, we ask this feat of deaf children every day.
CONCLUSION
Until changes occur in the education of deaf children, their low reading levels will continue to remain the same. Until changes occur in the education of interpreters, their inadequate ASL levels will remain the same.
Language acquisition, when it occurs naturally, is a seemingly uncomplicated process. However, when a hearing loss affects the communication process to such an extent that use of the auditory channel is not an option, we see what a complex and daunting challenge language acquisition can become.
Many people think that, by providing children with interpreters, we are exposing those children to language. However, language acquisition requires interaction and direct communication. Interaction that occurs through an interpreter is, at best, incomplete. Interpreters who use English signing systems provide only a rough reflection of English. Our deaf children deserve better. Our deaf children deserve real language.
NOTES
1. Schildroth and Hotto (1994) report a decline in enrollment in residential schools between 1976 and 1993—a loss of almost 9,000 students, or 47 percent of the population.
2. Data exist for several specific states. In 1987, 87 percent of Oregon interpreters working in K–12 public schools were not certified (Jones, Clark, and Soltz 1997, 263). In addition, “almost two-thirds of the interpreters working in public schools in Kansas, Missouri, and Nebraska” were not certified (263). New York State reports 15 certified interpreters out of 983 educational interpreters (Marilyn Mitchell, grant director for the New York State Preparation of Educational Interpreters Project, personal communication, September 5, 2002).
3. This law, also known as the Education for All Handicapped Children Act of 1975, mandates that all children with disabilities have access to the “least restrictive environment” (LRE). Over the years, for deaf children, LRE has come to mean the local public school.
4. The distinction between deaf and Deaf is made throughout this chapter. The former is the characteristic of not being able to hear, and the latter indicates the group of individuals who see themselves as a culture and a community.
5. An important point to note is that deaf children whose parents’ primary method of communication is visual (which accounts for the other 10 percent of deaf learners) compare favorably with hearing children who have hearing parents and that these deaf children “pass comparable milestones at comparable ages” (Meier 1991, 64).
6. Cloze tests have been used in numerous spoken languages to assess the proficiency of native speakers and proficiency of L2 speakers. These tests resemble the “delete every fifth word” activities commonly used in testing signed language proficiency. To administer a reliable and valid test, testers need to approximate the skill level of the students and to reference a complete text because the information from the beginning of the text influences the answers later in the text.
7. These two certificates are commonly accepted to reflect an interpreter’s ASL skills. The Certificate of Transliteration is indicative of the interpreter’s ability to work within English and does not reflect his or her ASL skills.
8. ASL is the language of the American Deaf community. However, no standardized curriculum for teaching ASL is available like there is in the United States for teaching Spanish, for example. Many hearing people learn a form of “contact signing” (previously called Pidgin Signed English), which is a naturally occurring mixture of ASL and English that occurs when hearing people and Deaf people attempt to communicate manually. However, as Ramsey (2000) noted, contact signing is “generated by people who usually are fluent in both ASL and English” (28), which is not true of most parents of deaf children.
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