What I'm Up To: Deaf Camp

This week, I’ve been working as a maintenance volunteer at Deaf Camp in Esopus, NY. I was woefully underprepared for the job; where my colleagues showed up in work pants and work boots, I’ve been rocking a slim pair of jeans and some low-top Nikes. And I’ve become the stereotypical “new guy,” always asking for explanations to inside jokes and generally being lost. But that hasn’t stopped me from being included in work. I’ve done a bunch of new things like weed whacking (exhausting) and feeding a wood chipper (terrifying). And I’ve learned stuff along the way.

The first thing is that eye protection is important. Even if there’s not much risk of a blindness-inducing projectile, wearing goggles frees me from the natural squint I do to protect my eyes. The second is to watch your footing. I’ve slipped on a hill with a live weed whacker once, and I don’t want to do it again.

The third is how difficult it must be to lose one of your senses. I’ve only been here a couple of days, and I’ve had countless interactions with deaf campers who I can’t understand. Because I can’t sign, I’ve received many different reactions: kids desperate to find the nearest trash can (or bathroom), disappointment from kids who just want me to play with them, and even some under-my-nose signing and laughter (there’s one kid who seems to mercilessly roast me). Being around this camp, even though I spend most of my time working to clean areas they’re not currently in, has filled me with a combination of helplessness, guilt, and hope. I feel helpless because I can’t sign, and my brief experiences not understanding these kids can only be a microscopic window into their lives. I feel guilt for passively participating in a society that doesn’t welcome deaf individuals. And yet I feel hope seeing how the deaf community takes care of its own.

The most prevalent lesson is about labor. If you know me, you know I’m a numbers guy. In my free time, I make (or talk about) spreadsheets and python programs. And in my college career, I invested eons of time and a good deal of effort in building an organization to support a community. I did all of this while learning and writing in the mathematical language we use in fields like thermodynamics. While each of these things is undoubtedly important to me, the mere act of any one of them doesn’t embody the action. With my spreadsheets and code, the base level act is typing and clicking around. With leadership, it was just talking to others or even to myself. Studying wasn’t any different, composed of reading some words and perhaps scribbling in a notebook or on a chalk board.

Manual labor is different. The most basic description of weed whacking is swinging it around to cut some weeds. Feeding a wood chipper is just a bunch of lifting and (careful) pushing. Manual work is real. You’re forced to be grounded and mindful of the basic actions because it’s all you're doing. And when your mind drifts, it’s brought back into focus by sensory stimuli: the aching in your muscles and the sound of power tools. It offers a rare form of gratification: one that is both instant and profound, simultaneously purely utilitarian and deeply satisfying. I strongly recommend that you find ways to do those difficult things manually. Our society values the ability to pay to get out of manual labor, but the only thing we save ourselves from is the mental benefits that come with it.

Overall, my three days here at camp have had a surprisingly strong impact on me. As I go into my last day, I feel stronger, wiser, and just slightly dirtier. But most of all, I feel refreshed and glad to be serving.