In medical school, I took a course in American Sign Language (ASL). I always thought it was beautifully expressive to relay information through the body. Poetry in motion, so to speak. If there is one thing we all need to learn, it is how to be better communicators.

American Sign Language

A few colleagues of mine took the class with me. Some of them knew the basics of ASL already, the alphabet, words, phrases. I was a blank slate, you could even say the odd woman out. Still, I was eager to learn something I hoped would not only be fun but that could help me communicate with patients.

The instructor was deaf which made the class an immediately immersive experience. He was a heavy-set older man with a peppered beard that reminded me of Santa Claus. His belly even jiggled when he laughed. The only trouble was when he laughed it was mostly at me, and not in a good way.

A Hard-Learned Lesson

There were no textbooks for the ASL class and no written materials. Whenever I would try to sign, having looked up information in books or online, he would literally laugh at my efforts. After one class, two classes, three, it became more and more uncomfortable. I asked for help on how to be better. I tried to sign with friends after class to improve my fledgling “skills”, but he continued to target me in class. No matter what I did, how hard I worked, I was the butt of the joke.

It was humbling in more ways than one.

I would get so frustrated in these classes, I would nearly be brought to tears. That didn’t stop me from showing up. I told myself I was going to persevere. Apparently, this was something I would never be good at, never mind master, but it was something that meant something to me. No one was going to stop me from trying.

Life’s Reality

Some friends asked why I bothered to stay in the class. After all, I was not paying for it. It was meant to enrich me but it was taking up so much of my free time. Why would I choose to sit through the taunting?

Because it meant something more to me.

I thought to myself, this is what it must be like for people to adapt in real-life situations. For refugees seeking aid in foreign countries. For immigrants. For people with disabilities. It can be hard to find a way to fit into a world that expects everything to fall into certain norms, that favors things one way over another. I did not fit into my class but I was there, and I would stay strong.

I am one of the lucky ones. I live in a developed country where women can vote and where they can get an education. I have my health and access to care when and if I need it. I choose to give back and try to make a difference when I can.

Seeing Life in a New Way

They say when you lose one sense, your other senses sharpen.

While in the back of church one day, I watched a woman use sign language to translate for a family. I listened to mass not with my ears but through the eyes of the interpreter. Watching her fluid movements and facial expressions, I was moved by the mass more than I would have been had I listened alone. I experienced the gospel with fresh eyes.

Days later I saw this amazing video of a woman signing the lyrics to Eminem’s “Lose Yourself”. She transformed the angst of the rapper’s words into physical reality. It left me breathless.

Body language can tell you so much about someone. Are they feeling confident? Angry? Nervous? Sad? I am more attuned to body language than I was before I took my sign language class. I see beauty in the human form. That makes me better able to sense someone’s vulnerabilities and to help those in need.

Say a Lot without Saying a Word

I never really did have the opportunity to use my limited ASL in clinical practice. At least not yet. Honestly, my skills are so rusty now that I would deserve to get laughed at this time around. The fact remains that I hold onto the lessons it taught me.

We all have a voice. We all need to be heard.

On the last day of my ASL class, my instructor pulled me aside and said thank you. At first, I was surprised. He didn’t lie and say I was his best student. I would never believe that. Instead, he said the one thing that mattered most to me. He simply signed that he appreciated that I tried, that not everyone makes the effort. In that way, he said a lot without saying a word.

Maybe I did succeed in that class after all.