internships – two in Washington, DC, and a few others I couldn’t remember. I really didn’t care as long as I could get out of here and keep myself busy for the summer.
I walked into my internship placement counselor’s office. The minute she saw me, she said, “Congratulations.”
“There is a mistake with my internship,” I said.
“What mistake?” She flipped through her papers until she found my information. “Your internship is at Southwest Center for the Hearing Impaired.”
“Right. Here in DC. The paper says Texas.”
“No,” she said looking at the paper. “It’s actually in Texas.”
“Remember, I applied to two places in DC,” I reminded her. We had met several weeks earlier to discuss potential internship sites.
“That’s right, you did. You also applied to several others.”
“I know. But my phone conversation last week was with the agency in DC.”
“The agency you applied to is located in the southwest section of DC. They didn’t offer you an internship. The phone conversation you had last week was with Southwest Center for the Hearing Impaired,” she explained.
Then she suddenly figured out my confusion. “The word southwest must have gotten you mixed up,” she said.
Yes, I had mixed up the two places. I slowly sank into the chair. “So, I’m going to Texas? ” I asked feebly.
“Yes.” She looked at me, a bit worried. “Is that okay? You had already told them you would take the job.”
That explained the interviewer’s first question as I replayed our phone conversation in my head. After introducing ourselves, the interviewer had asked if I was from Texas. I remember thinking what an odd question that was. But, I let it pass as he proceeded with more questions. In the end, he asked if I would like to accept the internship, and I said yes.
I walked out of the office dazed. I only had a few weeks before the semester was over, and I was supposed to begin my internship the first week of June. A plane reservation had to be made. What would Mom and Dad say? Texas was so far away. Would I be able to handle not seeing him for two months? So many questions filled my mind.
I had tried to escape the summer before. I had accepted an internship at Camp Harold F. Whittle in Fawnskin, California. Unfortunately, it was one of the loneliest times in my life. I didn’t realize I would be the only Deaf person on the staff; there was one other intern who was deaf, but she was not culturally Deaf. Besides, she was placed at another site of the camp. When I had considered the internship, I was told I would be working with a group of deaf campers, but when I arrived I learned that the deaf campers wouldn’t arrive until the end of the summer.
After barely two weeks at the camp, loneliness overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t handle it. My year at Gallaudet had been better than this; at least I had full access to communication. Tension at home had been better than this. My limited time with him had been better than this.
I wanted to go home. My dilemma: I had no money to purchase a one-way return ticket. I couldn’t ask Mom or Dad; they wouldn’t have the money. In desperation, I called him, hoping he would be able to rescue me. He did.
After announcing the news to Mom and Dad about my summer plans in San Antonio, Mom was skeptical. “You won’t stay. You will want to come home. Remember last year,” she said with a smirk.
Perhaps she was right. I didn’t know. What I did know was that I needed to leave – Gallaudet, home, and him.
Chapter 34
April 1987
I sat in the car, waiting. He was supposed to meet me at 4:00 p.m., and it was a few minutes past. Our time together was always short, and I wanted him to hurry so that we could have as much time as possible together. As soon as I saw his car approaching, my heart quickened. When he pulled into a parking spot, I jumped out of the car and waited for him to walk over. We each took a quick glance around our surroundings to ensure
I walked into my internship placement counselor’s office. The minute she saw me, she said, “Congratulations.”
“There is a mistake with my internship,” I said.
“What mistake?” She flipped through her papers until she found my information. “Your internship is at Southwest Center for the Hearing Impaired.”
“Right. Here in DC. The paper says Texas.”
“No,” she said looking at the paper. “It’s actually in Texas.”
“Remember, I applied to two places in DC,” I reminded her. We had met several weeks earlier to discuss potential internship sites.
“That’s right, you did. You also applied to several others.”
“I know. But my phone conversation last week was with the agency in DC.”
“The agency you applied to is located in the southwest section of DC. They didn’t offer you an internship. The phone conversation you had last week was with Southwest Center for the Hearing Impaired,” she explained.
Then she suddenly figured out my confusion. “The word southwest must have gotten you mixed up,” she said.
Yes, I had mixed up the two places. I slowly sank into the chair. “So, I’m going to Texas? ” I asked feebly.
“Yes.” She looked at me, a bit worried. “Is that okay? You had already told them you would take the job.”
That explained the interviewer’s first question as I replayed our phone conversation in my head. After introducing ourselves, the interviewer had asked if I was from Texas. I remember thinking what an odd question that was. But, I let it pass as he proceeded with more questions. In the end, he asked if I would like to accept the internship, and I said yes.
I walked out of the office dazed. I only had a few weeks before the semester was over, and I was supposed to begin my internship the first week of June. A plane reservation had to be made. What would Mom and Dad say? Texas was so far away. Would I be able to handle not seeing him for two months? So many questions filled my mind.
I had tried to escape the summer before. I had accepted an internship at Camp Harold F. Whittle in Fawnskin, California. Unfortunately, it was one of the loneliest times in my life. I didn’t realize I would be the only Deaf person on the staff; there was one other intern who was deaf, but she was not culturally Deaf. Besides, she was placed at another site of the camp. When I had considered the internship, I was told I would be working with a group of deaf campers, but when I arrived I learned that the deaf campers wouldn’t arrive until the end of the summer.
After barely two weeks at the camp, loneliness overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t handle it. My year at Gallaudet had been better than this; at least I had full access to communication. Tension at home had been better than this. My limited time with him had been better than this.
I wanted to go home. My dilemma: I had no money to purchase a one-way return ticket. I couldn’t ask Mom or Dad; they wouldn’t have the money. In desperation, I called him, hoping he would be able to rescue me. He did.
After announcing the news to Mom and Dad about my summer plans in San Antonio, Mom was skeptical. “You won’t stay. You will want to come home. Remember last year,” she said with a smirk.
Perhaps she was right. I didn’t know. What I did know was that I needed to leave – Gallaudet, home, and him.
Chapter 34
April 1987
I sat in the car, waiting. He was supposed to meet me at 4:00 p.m., and it was a few minutes past. Our time together was always short, and I wanted him to hurry so that we could have as much time as possible together. As soon as I saw his car approaching, my heart quickened. When he pulled into a parking spot, I jumped out of the car and waited for him to walk over. We each took a quick glance around our surroundings to ensure
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