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Aug. 4th, 2011 12:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
conuly
Among Twists in Budget Woes, Tensions Over Teaching the Deaf
You should read the comments here and also here. Or maybe you shouldn't, as some of them are a little inane.
"I'm so glad my parents chose the path they chose!" Well, that's good, but when you start off with those words, the first thing I say is "Well, duh." Not only do you not know the alternative, but most people will tend to support what their parents did for them as children!
"As somebody with a hearing impairment for the past few months which will hopefully be cured soon, I think I understand this subject...." Is it just me, or is a recent, possibly short-term hearing impairment as an adult not even remotely the same as growing up deaf, or Deaf even? You may be right or you may be wrong, but your recent hearing impairment doesn't actually make you more credible, does it? (Then again, I get annoyed sometimes when people start off comments by throwing around their "credentials". Who can prove it?)
Politicians have seen plenty of demonstrators outside the Statehouse here. But the crowd that gathered last month was a bit different from the usual shouting protesters.
Scores of deaf and hard-of-hearing children and their families assembled to complain in American Sign Language. Parents also have confronted new board members of the state’s school for the deaf in pointed, awkward exchanges. And more objections are expected when the board convenes next month for what had, until now, been ordinary meetings on routine school matters.
At the root of the tension is a debate that stretches well beyond Indiana: Will sign language and the nation’s separate schools for the deaf be abandoned as more of the deaf turn to communicating, with help from fast-evolving technology, through amplified sounds and speech?
And in the struggle to balance depleted budgets, Indiana and other states, like Kansas, North Carolina, Oregon, South Dakota and West Virginia have called for cuts on many fronts in recent years, including for state schools for the deaf — a group of institutions with long, rich traditions.
Some advocates for the schools now worry that financial concerns could push the debate toward sending deaf children to “mainstream” schools, which would, in the eyes of some, ultimately encourage methods of communication other than American Sign Language, or A.S.L.
“Speaking and listening classrooms across the nation are known for their forced exclusion of A.S.L. and expressly forbid any contact with the culturally deaf adult role models,” Marvin Miller, president of the Indiana Association of the Deaf, who is deaf, said in an e-mail interview.
“We view this as inflicting violence upon thousands of innocent deaf and hard-of-hearing babies — taking away their language and pinning their hopes on dismal success rates of cochlear implants,” he added.
The two approaches — sign language and the so-called listening and spoken language approach — are both in wide use. Many people do not see them in conflict with one another, and view the two approaches simply as a matter of personal choice. But shrinking state budgets, with less money to be spent on programs for the deaf, are hardening the debate because they are turning preferences into policy decisions.
Advocates for those who use technology to hear and speak say their option can be one answer to the budget constraints.
“Kids in the mainstream save society, taxpayers, a significant amount of money in the short-term and in the long-term when it comes to being integrated into the hearing world,” said Naomi S. Horton, executive director of Hear Indiana, which supports families who use listening and spoken language to communicate.
“There is a financial benefit, but at the end of the day it has to be a parent’s choice,” Ms. Horton said.
Here, the clash began this spring, when Gov. Mitch Daniels, a Republican, filled four empty slots on the board of the Indiana School for the Deaf, which was founded more than 165 years ago and promotes what it calls a bilingual, bicultural philosophy that includes American Sign Language and English. Some 340 students go to the school, which provides outreach services to hundreds of others.
Parents complained that three of the appointees were not themselves deaf. Two of the new board members (both of whom have a deaf or hard-of-hearing child) drew particular anger because families said they were dues-paying members of Hear Indiana and were perceived to favor an educational approach of amplifying sound and encouraging speech over sign language.
The appointments, they said, signaled that the state was now picking sides — against American Sign Language and deaf culture.
“It has become crystal clear that these selections were premeditated, planned and executed in a style befitting the most savvy of politics,” said Kim Bianco Majeri, who is deaf and whose daughters — one deaf and one hard of hearing — attend the Indiana School for the Deaf.
Ms. Majeri said the school provided them with language skills of all sorts but also the nurturing environment and true peers that she said she missed out on.
“My husband and I grew up mainstreamed and we would never wish that on our children,” she said.
Two of the board members who have faced criticism did not respond to requests for comment. A third, Mary Susan Buhner, whose husband serves on the board of Hear Indiana, declined to respond to specific questions about her views, but she did say she believes in the stated mission of the Indiana School for the Deaf to be “the premier comprehensive center providing education, services and resources” for Indiana’s deaf.
The Hear Indiana group lauded Mr. Daniels’ appointments, saying in a news release that they represent “the growing diversity of 21st century parents and children living with hearing loss” and a long-overdue inclusion of the views of people who use technology like cochlear implants.
“Today less than 20 percent of all families choose traditional American Sign Language,” the release said, “the remaining 80 percent want their children to enjoy the full range of sounds and to be able to listen and speak.”
Kristina Swatts and her husband, Chris, got a bone-conduction hearing aid for their son Isaac when he was 9 months old.
Now 22 months old, Isaac sings, dances and says scores of words, and the Swatts, who are not deaf, said they intended to send him to mainstream schools.
“We want what every parent wants for their child,” Mrs. Swatts said.
The clash over the two approaches is complicated by conflicting and shifting statistics — for example, cochlear implant advocates say the devices have a far higher success rate than critics claim, while A.S.L. advocates say the popularity of such devices is drastically overstated.
Advocates of A.S.L. say they worry about cuts to the state budget, which included a 13 percent cut this year to $16.3 million to the School for the Deaf, and that more might be in store.
But Hear Indiana says the financing is already lopsided against a spoken approach, spending far more, the group says, on the students attending the school than on the rest of the state’s more than 1,800 deaf or hard-of-hearing students, who go to school elsewhere.
“At the end of the day, this entire conversation is about right-sizing the budget for deaf education in Indiana,” Ms. Horton said. “No one wants to take the ASL option away; we simply want to see that parents who choose listening and spoken language instruction (over placement at the Indiana School for the Deaf) have equal access to a free and appropriate public education.”
A spokeswoman for Mr. Daniels said that no one in his administration has been comparing the cost-effectiveness of teaching sign language versus using amplification tools because no effort is afoot to change the School for the Deaf’s model of teaching. That said, Jane Jankowski, the spokeswoman, pointed to disappointing assessment results from the school, and added that the governor had no intention of undoing his appointments to its board.
“We frequently appoint individuals to our boards and commissions who take a fresh look and bring new perspective and ideas,” Ms. Jankowski said.
A Sleepaway Camp Where Math Is the Main Sport
As camps go, the Summer Program in Mathematical Problem Solving might sound like a recipe for misery: six hours of head-scratching math instruction each day and nights in a college dorm far from home.
But Mattie Williams, 13, who attends Middle School 343 in the Bronx, was happy to attend, giving up summer barbecues with her parents and afternoons in the park with her Chihuahua, Pepsi. She and 16 other adolescents are spending three weeks at Bard College here in a free, new camp for low-income students gifted in mathematics.
All are entering eighth grade at New York City public middle schools where at least 75 percent of the student body is eligible for free lunches. And all love math. At this camp, asking “What kind of math do you like, algebra or geometry?” is considered an appropriate icebreaker, and invoking the newly learned term “the multiplication principle” elicits whoops and high-fives.
In a Bard classroom one afternoon, it seemed for a moment that Arturo Portnoy had stumped everyone. Dr. Portnoy, a math professor visiting from the University of Puerto Rico, posed this question: “The length of a rectangle is increased by 10 percent and the width is decreased by 10 percent. What percentage of the old area is the new area?”
The 17 campers whispered and scribbled. One crumpled his paper into a ball. Mattie Williams may have looked as if she was doodling as she drew dozens of tiny rectangles in her notebook, but she was hard at work on the problem, which was taken from the American Mathematics Competitions, a contest series known for its difficulty.
In less than 10 minutes, she had the answer — 99 percent — and was ready for the next question.
For some schoolchildren, mathematics is a competitive sport, and summer is the time for training — poring over test-prep books, taking practice exams and attending selective math camps. But for students who cannot afford such programs, or have not been exposed to many advanced math concepts, the avenues to new skills are limited.
Daniel Zaharopol, the director of the camp at Bard, is trying to change that. He has brought four math educators to the Bard campus to teach the middle school students concepts as varied as number theory and cryptography. Among the instructors is Dr. Portnoy, a director of the Puerto Rico Mathematical Olympiads.
The camp is financed by the Art of Problem Solving Foundation, the nonprofit arm of an online school that promotes math education for gifted students. Classes meet in two-hour sessions and cover topics including voting theory, graph theory, and math and the arts.
The point of the program, Mr. Zaharopol said, is not to offer remedial instruction to struggling students, but rather to challenge those who already excel. He also hopes to prepare students to participate in competitions and independent math seminars called math circles, where low-income students are typically underrepresented.
“These are students who have a tremendous amount of potential and are really ready for a lot more than they’re able to get in schools,” said Mr. Zaharopol, who has master’s degrees in mathematics and teaching mathematics.
But they may lack some basic preparation, he said. “If these students had just gone to the New York City Math Circle this summer, they would have felt like a fish out of water,” he said. “They wouldn’t have the same mathematical background and experience as their peers.”
It is common for young people who later specialize in mathematical fields to begin studying advanced math concepts before they reach high school.
But Andrew Brantlinger, an assistant professor at the University of Maryland who has researched secondary-school math education, sees the math pipeline as “overwhelmingly nondiverse.”
“There are very few women, people of color and people from low-income backgrounds,” Dr. Brantlinger said.
A summer program designed to address such an achievement gap can be valuable in theory, he said, but might not be able to accomplish enough in a short time.
Zvezdelina Stankova, a professor of mathematics at Mills College in Oakland, Calif., who directs the Berkeley Math Circle at the University of California, Berkeley, said she had observed the same problem. “Just like it takes years for a basketball player to develop themselves and get to the professional league, it’s the same for mathematicians,” Dr. Stankova said. “By and large they have done something exceptional before they get into college.”
Jeffrey Pereira, 20, one of the math camp counselors, said he was trying to impress on the campers the value of their studying math independently, so they will not simply sit back and coast through classes that come easy to them when they return to school in September.
“In middle school, my experience with math was basically, everything was really easy to me,” said Mr. Pereira, who attended public school in the Bronx and is now a math major at Bard. “Some of the things they’re doing here, I haven’t seen in college yet.”
Besides helping the campers during classes, Mr. Pereira plays puzzle games with them during free time.
For Mattie, evenings spent socializing at the two-story residence hall where the students and counselors live have made the camp feel less like a school and more like a home away from home.
Outside of class time, the math whizzes can hike or lounge in the computer lab. And at least among the 10 girls, conversations are more often about what to wear the next day (one recent day, they all agreed to wear blue) than the merits of a particular counting system.
“The first night we all sat in each other’s rooms and talked about what we wanted to do, and how, oh, I miss my mom, I miss my dad,” Mattie said. “Then we had a pillow fight.”
You should read the comments here and also here. Or maybe you shouldn't, as some of them are a little inane.
"I'm so glad my parents chose the path they chose!" Well, that's good, but when you start off with those words, the first thing I say is "Well, duh." Not only do you not know the alternative, but most people will tend to support what their parents did for them as children!
"As somebody with a hearing impairment for the past few months which will hopefully be cured soon, I think I understand this subject...." Is it just me, or is a recent, possibly short-term hearing impairment as an adult not even remotely the same as growing up deaf, or Deaf even? You may be right or you may be wrong, but your recent hearing impairment doesn't actually make you more credible, does it? (Then again, I get annoyed sometimes when people start off comments by throwing around their "credentials". Who can prove it?)
Politicians have seen plenty of demonstrators outside the Statehouse here. But the crowd that gathered last month was a bit different from the usual shouting protesters.
Scores of deaf and hard-of-hearing children and their families assembled to complain in American Sign Language. Parents also have confronted new board members of the state’s school for the deaf in pointed, awkward exchanges. And more objections are expected when the board convenes next month for what had, until now, been ordinary meetings on routine school matters.
At the root of the tension is a debate that stretches well beyond Indiana: Will sign language and the nation’s separate schools for the deaf be abandoned as more of the deaf turn to communicating, with help from fast-evolving technology, through amplified sounds and speech?
And in the struggle to balance depleted budgets, Indiana and other states, like Kansas, North Carolina, Oregon, South Dakota and West Virginia have called for cuts on many fronts in recent years, including for state schools for the deaf — a group of institutions with long, rich traditions.
Some advocates for the schools now worry that financial concerns could push the debate toward sending deaf children to “mainstream” schools, which would, in the eyes of some, ultimately encourage methods of communication other than American Sign Language, or A.S.L.
“Speaking and listening classrooms across the nation are known for their forced exclusion of A.S.L. and expressly forbid any contact with the culturally deaf adult role models,” Marvin Miller, president of the Indiana Association of the Deaf, who is deaf, said in an e-mail interview.
“We view this as inflicting violence upon thousands of innocent deaf and hard-of-hearing babies — taking away their language and pinning their hopes on dismal success rates of cochlear implants,” he added.
The two approaches — sign language and the so-called listening and spoken language approach — are both in wide use. Many people do not see them in conflict with one another, and view the two approaches simply as a matter of personal choice. But shrinking state budgets, with less money to be spent on programs for the deaf, are hardening the debate because they are turning preferences into policy decisions.
Advocates for those who use technology to hear and speak say their option can be one answer to the budget constraints.
“Kids in the mainstream save society, taxpayers, a significant amount of money in the short-term and in the long-term when it comes to being integrated into the hearing world,” said Naomi S. Horton, executive director of Hear Indiana, which supports families who use listening and spoken language to communicate.
“There is a financial benefit, but at the end of the day it has to be a parent’s choice,” Ms. Horton said.
Here, the clash began this spring, when Gov. Mitch Daniels, a Republican, filled four empty slots on the board of the Indiana School for the Deaf, which was founded more than 165 years ago and promotes what it calls a bilingual, bicultural philosophy that includes American Sign Language and English. Some 340 students go to the school, which provides outreach services to hundreds of others.
Parents complained that three of the appointees were not themselves deaf. Two of the new board members (both of whom have a deaf or hard-of-hearing child) drew particular anger because families said they were dues-paying members of Hear Indiana and were perceived to favor an educational approach of amplifying sound and encouraging speech over sign language.
The appointments, they said, signaled that the state was now picking sides — against American Sign Language and deaf culture.
“It has become crystal clear that these selections were premeditated, planned and executed in a style befitting the most savvy of politics,” said Kim Bianco Majeri, who is deaf and whose daughters — one deaf and one hard of hearing — attend the Indiana School for the Deaf.
Ms. Majeri said the school provided them with language skills of all sorts but also the nurturing environment and true peers that she said she missed out on.
“My husband and I grew up mainstreamed and we would never wish that on our children,” she said.
Two of the board members who have faced criticism did not respond to requests for comment. A third, Mary Susan Buhner, whose husband serves on the board of Hear Indiana, declined to respond to specific questions about her views, but she did say she believes in the stated mission of the Indiana School for the Deaf to be “the premier comprehensive center providing education, services and resources” for Indiana’s deaf.
The Hear Indiana group lauded Mr. Daniels’ appointments, saying in a news release that they represent “the growing diversity of 21st century parents and children living with hearing loss” and a long-overdue inclusion of the views of people who use technology like cochlear implants.
“Today less than 20 percent of all families choose traditional American Sign Language,” the release said, “the remaining 80 percent want their children to enjoy the full range of sounds and to be able to listen and speak.”
Kristina Swatts and her husband, Chris, got a bone-conduction hearing aid for their son Isaac when he was 9 months old.
Now 22 months old, Isaac sings, dances and says scores of words, and the Swatts, who are not deaf, said they intended to send him to mainstream schools.
“We want what every parent wants for their child,” Mrs. Swatts said.
The clash over the two approaches is complicated by conflicting and shifting statistics — for example, cochlear implant advocates say the devices have a far higher success rate than critics claim, while A.S.L. advocates say the popularity of such devices is drastically overstated.
Advocates of A.S.L. say they worry about cuts to the state budget, which included a 13 percent cut this year to $16.3 million to the School for the Deaf, and that more might be in store.
But Hear Indiana says the financing is already lopsided against a spoken approach, spending far more, the group says, on the students attending the school than on the rest of the state’s more than 1,800 deaf or hard-of-hearing students, who go to school elsewhere.
“At the end of the day, this entire conversation is about right-sizing the budget for deaf education in Indiana,” Ms. Horton said. “No one wants to take the ASL option away; we simply want to see that parents who choose listening and spoken language instruction (over placement at the Indiana School for the Deaf) have equal access to a free and appropriate public education.”
A spokeswoman for Mr. Daniels said that no one in his administration has been comparing the cost-effectiveness of teaching sign language versus using amplification tools because no effort is afoot to change the School for the Deaf’s model of teaching. That said, Jane Jankowski, the spokeswoman, pointed to disappointing assessment results from the school, and added that the governor had no intention of undoing his appointments to its board.
“We frequently appoint individuals to our boards and commissions who take a fresh look and bring new perspective and ideas,” Ms. Jankowski said.
A Sleepaway Camp Where Math Is the Main Sport
As camps go, the Summer Program in Mathematical Problem Solving might sound like a recipe for misery: six hours of head-scratching math instruction each day and nights in a college dorm far from home.
But Mattie Williams, 13, who attends Middle School 343 in the Bronx, was happy to attend, giving up summer barbecues with her parents and afternoons in the park with her Chihuahua, Pepsi. She and 16 other adolescents are spending three weeks at Bard College here in a free, new camp for low-income students gifted in mathematics.
All are entering eighth grade at New York City public middle schools where at least 75 percent of the student body is eligible for free lunches. And all love math. At this camp, asking “What kind of math do you like, algebra or geometry?” is considered an appropriate icebreaker, and invoking the newly learned term “the multiplication principle” elicits whoops and high-fives.
In a Bard classroom one afternoon, it seemed for a moment that Arturo Portnoy had stumped everyone. Dr. Portnoy, a math professor visiting from the University of Puerto Rico, posed this question: “The length of a rectangle is increased by 10 percent and the width is decreased by 10 percent. What percentage of the old area is the new area?”
The 17 campers whispered and scribbled. One crumpled his paper into a ball. Mattie Williams may have looked as if she was doodling as she drew dozens of tiny rectangles in her notebook, but she was hard at work on the problem, which was taken from the American Mathematics Competitions, a contest series known for its difficulty.
In less than 10 minutes, she had the answer — 99 percent — and was ready for the next question.
For some schoolchildren, mathematics is a competitive sport, and summer is the time for training — poring over test-prep books, taking practice exams and attending selective math camps. But for students who cannot afford such programs, or have not been exposed to many advanced math concepts, the avenues to new skills are limited.
Daniel Zaharopol, the director of the camp at Bard, is trying to change that. He has brought four math educators to the Bard campus to teach the middle school students concepts as varied as number theory and cryptography. Among the instructors is Dr. Portnoy, a director of the Puerto Rico Mathematical Olympiads.
The camp is financed by the Art of Problem Solving Foundation, the nonprofit arm of an online school that promotes math education for gifted students. Classes meet in two-hour sessions and cover topics including voting theory, graph theory, and math and the arts.
The point of the program, Mr. Zaharopol said, is not to offer remedial instruction to struggling students, but rather to challenge those who already excel. He also hopes to prepare students to participate in competitions and independent math seminars called math circles, where low-income students are typically underrepresented.
“These are students who have a tremendous amount of potential and are really ready for a lot more than they’re able to get in schools,” said Mr. Zaharopol, who has master’s degrees in mathematics and teaching mathematics.
But they may lack some basic preparation, he said. “If these students had just gone to the New York City Math Circle this summer, they would have felt like a fish out of water,” he said. “They wouldn’t have the same mathematical background and experience as their peers.”
It is common for young people who later specialize in mathematical fields to begin studying advanced math concepts before they reach high school.
But Andrew Brantlinger, an assistant professor at the University of Maryland who has researched secondary-school math education, sees the math pipeline as “overwhelmingly nondiverse.”
“There are very few women, people of color and people from low-income backgrounds,” Dr. Brantlinger said.
A summer program designed to address such an achievement gap can be valuable in theory, he said, but might not be able to accomplish enough in a short time.
Zvezdelina Stankova, a professor of mathematics at Mills College in Oakland, Calif., who directs the Berkeley Math Circle at the University of California, Berkeley, said she had observed the same problem. “Just like it takes years for a basketball player to develop themselves and get to the professional league, it’s the same for mathematicians,” Dr. Stankova said. “By and large they have done something exceptional before they get into college.”
Jeffrey Pereira, 20, one of the math camp counselors, said he was trying to impress on the campers the value of their studying math independently, so they will not simply sit back and coast through classes that come easy to them when they return to school in September.
“In middle school, my experience with math was basically, everything was really easy to me,” said Mr. Pereira, who attended public school in the Bronx and is now a math major at Bard. “Some of the things they’re doing here, I haven’t seen in college yet.”
Besides helping the campers during classes, Mr. Pereira plays puzzle games with them during free time.
For Mattie, evenings spent socializing at the two-story residence hall where the students and counselors live have made the camp feel less like a school and more like a home away from home.
Outside of class time, the math whizzes can hike or lounge in the computer lab. And at least among the 10 girls, conversations are more often about what to wear the next day (one recent day, they all agreed to wear blue) than the merits of a particular counting system.
“The first night we all sat in each other’s rooms and talked about what we wanted to do, and how, oh, I miss my mom, I miss my dad,” Mattie said. “Then we had a pillow fight.”
