12:40 p.m. - January 08, 2004
First thing he does is squeal. A literal squeal. Expresses how happy he is he got his first choice (me), how much he’s looking forward to shadowing me, how he had a great New Year’s, how he’s finally found a cheaper place to stay and thankfully rents are decreasing, about his visit home for Christmas (someplace in Illinois), about how interesting the articles I’ve written are and he’s excited even though he’s heard I can be intimidating and exacting, and this is his name sign because he likes to dance – isn’t it cool? – and is it true I took and passed all three national exams on the same day, in a few hours? And what was it like to be a coda, he’s going to enjoy getting to know me, he’s seen me work and how exciting to meet me, he’s seen my father do storytelling competitions and he’s so good, and my mother, he’s never met her but would like to – oh, she doesn’t live here? That sucks - and how cool to have Deaf grandparents and –
All this in about two or three minutes.
Steve talks far too fast for any sort of comfort on my behalf. His paperwork says he’s 23 but he strikes me as a very young shade. I’m making the effort to be nice, supportive, professional and keeping my eyes on the clock, not a good way to start off.
Damn professional obligations. Damn agencies and training programs’ collusion. Damn people who think ASL and interpreting is sooooo cooooool.
I am sorry to note that perhaps a major source of my antipathy arises from his flamboyance. I was embarrassed sitting across from him in the café – what if people thought we were together? In that regard, this mentee may be able to teach me something, but I’m not going to broadcast.