Silent Lessons

Lessons in silence

Javier Mata
Inquirer News Service

I'VE done some pretty unusual things in the quest for new experiences. One time I went an entire weekend blindfolded in order to know what it was like to be without sight.

This time, instead of learning on my own, I would be interacting with people who lived a different lifestyle 24 hours a day. I would be taught by those who have the genuine deal.

I signed up to join a sign language class for the deaf. Anyone who've been around deaf people would see that they are an interesting group. They have their very own culture that they carry with pride, and the more you see that culture the less it seems that the lack of hearing is a "disability." To learn even an inkling of their world is to marvel at human perseverance and flexibility.

The setting was at De La Salle-College of Saint Benilde during College Week 2005, an entire activity week that DLS-CSB uses to promote its course offerings. Since the college has a school for the deaf (with degree program tracks in multimedia arts and entrepreneurship), a free introductory sign language class was given to 4th year high school students, parents and interested college students. I decided to give it a shot as well.

The class wasn't what I had expected, to say the least. The thing that surprised me most was the lecturer and his staff. Because the room was full of people who had no knowledge of sign language, I assumed they would be sending a professor who wasn't deaf. Instead, Mr. Rey entered the room. He was deaf, silent... and one of the best teachers I would ever encounter. And so were his assistants.

What proceeded was a lecture that displayed Mr. Rey's natural talent for expressing ideas without actually saying anything. Throughout the whole session, he taught us the sign language alphabet, various words and phrases, and a little background on the sub-culture of the deaf. He did it all by not saying a single word and by being as animated and expressive as he could possibly be.

It amazed me how he managed to make us understand him, considering we didn't even know sign language. He resorted to playing charades to get the message across, and the fact that we understood him clearly was a testament to his teaching ability.

Seriously, this guy was more interesting to "listen" to than some of the professors I've had who were "normal." With him, something as simple as the words "student" and "teacher" were suddenly interesting to comprehend. He could be funny, too. He reminded me that mime and non-verbal humor is an art (anyone old enough to remember Charlie Chaplin?).

The session eventually ended with the mandatory feedback form and the complementary farewells. Mr. Rey gave a courteous smile and a very meaningful thumbs-up to everyone.

I suppose I could conclude the whole thing by saying that deaf people are far from disabled. But that would be a cliché now, wouldn't it? I'd rather say that they actually are superior to us in some ways. If there's one thing you get to realize from interacting with them, it is that the use of our tongues can sometimes become a crutch. Double meanings, veiled words, loaded questions, vague riddles all serve to muddle basic understanding and communication.

Take it away, however, and you are left with your expressions, actions and the force of your personality. The fact that these people have "lost" something and yet somehow function the way they do leaves a "normal" person to wonder if we've become stagnant, complacent and comfortable with how things work.

These people, on the other hand, are forced to break barriers to become something more. So who truly are the disabled ones then?

Call DLS-CSB at 5267441 to 47, or visit www.dls-csb.edu.ph.