Amanda Steren spends a day with Inquirer Food Critic Criag LaBan and emerges with a profile of the a hard-working critic and foodie.
Johann Diedrick rides the streets of Philadelphia with Ronald Blount, a taxi driver and cab driver union activist.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Mr. LaBan, I Presume?
The life and times of a food critic
By Amanda Stern
“My only request -- a vow that lasts for eternity-- is that you will not divulge any details of my physical appearance. For obvious reasons, this is important to me. I trust that you can be trusted.”
It was upon these conditions that I was allowed to interview Craig LaBan, Philadelphia’s chief restaurant critic. Over the course of the day I spent with him, I discovered LaBan might have one the best jobs in Philadelphia.
For 10 years, LaBan has been getting paid to eat in restaurants and write about it. On average, LaBan eats about 500 restaurant meals a year, which works out to about three lunches and four dinners a week. By year’s end he has reviewed and rated 45 restaurants in total and these weekly restaurant reviews appear in Sunday's Philadelphia Inquirer feature section.
When he’s not out dining and accruing all of the material for his reviews, he’s holed up at his desk in the Newsroom at the Philadelphia Inquirer, transcribing notes, interviewing chefs and restaurateurs, attending editorial meetings, and writing his reviews.
In any given week, he’s working on four to five restaurants simultaneously, all at different stages of development. His assignments that appear in the Sunday paper are due every Thursday, three and half weeks in advance, and include the review itself, along with its rating, smaller capsule reviews that appear in the sidebar of each page, shorter “Or Try These” restaurants, and accompanying drink recommendations.
He is occasionally assigned longer features, trend, or product pieces and right now, he’s begun work on his “Year End Bells” piece, a recap of all his reviews for the year, which will run as a cover story in the December 30th Inquirer.
It was upon these conditions that I was allowed to interview Craig LaBan, Philadelphia’s chief restaurant critic. Over the course of the day I spent with him, I discovered LaBan might have one the best jobs in Philadelphia.
For 10 years, LaBan has been getting paid to eat in restaurants and write about it. On average, LaBan eats about 500 restaurant meals a year, which works out to about three lunches and four dinners a week. By year’s end he has reviewed and rated 45 restaurants in total and these weekly restaurant reviews appear in Sunday's Philadelphia Inquirer feature section.
When he’s not out dining and accruing all of the material for his reviews, he’s holed up at his desk in the Newsroom at the Philadelphia Inquirer, transcribing notes, interviewing chefs and restaurateurs, attending editorial meetings, and writing his reviews.
In any given week, he’s working on four to five restaurants simultaneously, all at different stages of development. His assignments that appear in the Sunday paper are due every Thursday, three and half weeks in advance, and include the review itself, along with its rating, smaller capsule reviews that appear in the sidebar of each page, shorter “Or Try These” restaurants, and accompanying drink recommendations.
He is occasionally assigned longer features, trend, or product pieces and right now, he’s begun work on his “Year End Bells” piece, a recap of all his reviews for the year, which will run as a cover story in the December 30th Inquirer.
The bell curve
LaBan rates restaurants with “bells” and he certainly sets the bar high.
“Ratings reflect a restaurant’s achievement within the context of its own genre. Since each bell represents such a broad category, the levels serve as a baseline for the restaurants to be recommendable.”
Rarely will he grant restaurants four bell status (Superior) and only a handful restaurants are even awarded three bells (Excellent). For example, this year he has not awarded any 4 bells, only 5-6 restaurants earned 3, and approximately 20 restaurants were given 2 bells. The majority of his restaurant reviews fall into the two or one-bell rating categories of Very Good and Average. Luckily, he rarely finds a reason to give out a no-bell "Poor" rating.
When choosing his restaurants, LaBan always keeps his audience in mind and aims to choose places with broad interest. Pricey, high profile restaurants come with the territory too, but it’s all about striking a balance. LaBan appreciates the benefit of working for the Inquirer, which has the financial resources to allow him to do the job right.
LaBan joined the staff of the Philadelphia Inquirer as its restaurant critic in 1998. A self-proclaimed Philadelphian at heart, he was thrilled to return to the city of Brotherly Love (he’d briefly been a staff writer for the Inquirer in the mid-nineties in the South Jersey bureau), and for almost ten years now he’s been the most influential voice on the Philadelphia dining scene.
In the last ten years, LaBan has had a front row seat to witness the explosion of Philadelphia’s dining scene. Philadelphia has always been a great place to eat, but in the last decade, the number of high-quality restaurants in Center City grew by more than 50
PAGE 3/LaBan Profile
percent “Restaurants are the lifeblood of a vibrant city. They are the first beacons of gentrification. As I review and reveal new culinary talents, I become the very first cultural writer to talk about the city’s new, emerging neighborhoods. I am on the frontlines of social research.”
LaBan feels lucky to have inherited a fertile restaurant scene, one with such a wide variety of restaurants.
“There’s a deep pool of options in Philly and that’s what makes this such a thrilling job.”
By the sea, by the sea
I join LaBan on a Tuesday, his busiest day of the week. We begin our morning with double espressos at the Starbucks on 20th and Callowhill, the first of three Starbucks stops that day. On the docket for today is lunch at Oceanaire, an upscale seafood chain on Washington Square. Today’s meal is a “revisit;” last time LaBan dined here for dinner with his editor Maureen and it was slightly disappointing, earning a “low” 2. He cringes at the memory of a “robotic” waitress and the lobster he ordered steamed, which arrived at his table broiled instead. LaBan usually visits his restaurants at least four times before writing a full-fledged review: one weekday visit, one weekend, and one night, so if Oceanaire makes the cut after our meal today, he will need at least two more visits under his belt.
We breeze into the Oceanaire, modeled after a 1930’s ocean liner, and we approach the maître d'. LaBan has instructed me to request the table for two, so he can avoid any direct conversation with the staff and attempt to maintain a low profile.
PAGE 4/LaBan Profile
To write about a restaurant and its cuisine, he begins by “interviewing the menu”. The menu at the Oceanaire is quite extensive and it takes several minutes for LaBan to deliberate who will order what. He is adamant that we sample the raw bar, so we split a ½ dozen oysters to start. Then he will order the New England Style Clam Chowder followed by the Coriander Bacon-Wrapped Diver Scallops and I will have the Clams Casino and the Chatham Cod with Shrimp and Corn Risotto.
Before our dishes arrive, LaBan explains that when he dines, he needs to “taste” all the food, but that he will rarely clean his plate. The drill when he dines out is that he’ll taste about two bites of everything on his own plate - including sauces, vegetables, and those cute flash-fried sweet potato chips on top, and then he’ll turn to his guests’ plates. During a meal he will often have a hidden microphone on him (although he refused to disclose to me where he actually hides it), but today, he just makes mental notes, many of which he shares aloud with me.
When our oysters are served, even though we chose an odd number of east and west coast, LaBan still lets me have half. His eyes light up after he samples his first.
“Excellent! Clean and fresh – I can nearly taste the bay that these are from!”
The clam chowder that follows is “classic, hearty, homemade goodness” and the clams casino, another classic appetizer, has “just the right balance of garlic and buttery bread crumbs.”
We both agree though that my cod and risotto are sub-par. “The presentation is lacking here. The cod overwhelms the risotto and see how overcooked it is? That’s why it’s so flaky. And, the risotto? Well, no one seems to be able to do a risotto well…”
When the bill comes, LaBan re-evaluates our meal, (“Those oysters are expensive! Very good, but very expensive…”) and then lays down a credit card and pays under an assumed name.
Hide and seek
Among restaurant critics, nothing causes more chatter and debate than the timeless question of anonymity, and in order to do his job to the best of his ability, LaBan goes to great lengths to keep his identity secret, wanting to have the same experience in a restaurant that the average customer would have. He often tries to disguise his appearance, growing assorted beards, changing hairstyles, dressing in costume and using pseudonyms like the one on his credit card. Ironically though, unlike some food writers, LaBan proudly uses his real name when he pens his columns. In the past ten years “Craig LaBan” has become a household name in our city and, because of his power to make or break a restaurant coupled with the mystique of his secret identity, he has managed to earn himself somewhat of a “celebrity” status.
Of course, restaurateurs, chefs, and faithful customers don't always like what he writes, but, “In this business, you learn to expect objections and over time, you just develop a thick skin,” LaBan says matter-of-factly. “Especially here in Philly…people care a lot about food in this town.”
After our lunch at Oceanaire we return to the office and LaBan scrambles to prepare for his live web chat, which he hosts weekly in the Inquirer Chatroom at 2 p.m. on Tuesdays.
LaBan writes a brief introduction and welcome to his chat audience, pausing for a moment before he churns out today’s “Crumb Cracker Quiz” a list of three dishes he sampled at various restaurants he’s visited over the past couple of weeks.
The reader who can match each dish to its restaurant wins a signed copy of LaBan’s book, The Philadelphia Inquirer Restaurant Guide. LaBan spins around to his bookshelf and proudly retrieves a copy to show me. He flips through his guide, which includes 76 of his reviews of popular Philadelphia-area restaurants and over 600 shorter capsule reviews.
It’s 1:57 and nearly time for the chat to begin. LaBan copies and pastes his introduction into the text box, ending it with, “Ready, set…start crumbling!” for good measure. Within minutes of posting his greeting, his inbox is inundated with responses. For the next hour, he sits hunched over the keyboard, filtering through the influx of questions and reciting his answers aloud in a deep, husky announcer voice.
This weekly chat has become an increasingly important part of his life at the Inquirer. Although occasionally he finds the questions are offbeat, many of them can lead to quite fascinating discussions. Today’s discussion, for example, begins with a lively debate about cask-conditioned beer. Sometimes these chats will pique his interest enough to turn them into a longer in-depth piece for the Inquirer, but mostly they are just a fun way for him to touch base with his readers. Every week, the chat is transcribed and archived and available for viewing on the Inquirer’s website and Maureen says it gets the most hits besides sports.
The hour seems to fly by and at 3:03, LaBan has to cut off the discussion. “Well, I’m going to call this week’s chat perfectly cooked. May you all be well and eat something worth bragging about!”
Thanks for your thoughts
The day is winding down and he still needs to get his 80-line introduction for the “Year End Bells” to his editor before he heads home for the night. Before he even begins to type, he leans back in his swivel chair, pulls out a pad and pencil and brainstorms “by hand” first. Twenty minutes and two pages of jotted, illegible notes later, LaBan is satisfied and he starts to type. One sentence in and the phone rings. With a sigh, he throws on his headphones and answers.
All I can hear on the other end of the phone is a woman’s voice squawking away. LaBan can hardly get a word in edgewise, but remains pleasant and patient. He utters a lot of “uh-huh's” and “how terrible's” and then “well ma’am, when you remember the name of the restaurant, please do send me an email…but, for now, I’m under a deadline and must run…” (Rick Nichols, fellow food columnist, passing by, hears that comment and snorts: “Oh, the old deadline excuse!”)
Before LaBan hangs up, he exclaims, “Thanks for the bad fish alert!” He tells me the woman was a disgruntled customer who wanted LaBan to write a nasty review for the restaurant so bad she couldn’t even remember the name of it.
“What an ordeal! This poor woman ordered flounder and now she’s had flounder thousands of times in her life but this was not flounder, this was catfish! So, she wants to know, ‘Craig, how can I prove it?’” LaBan chuckles. “What would this city do without
me? My readers have emergencies? Craig LaBan to the rescue: I will right the wrongs of poor flounder-lady done wrong!”
Into the Night
By Johann Diedrick
On a dreary December night in West Philadelphia, Ronald Blount is driving up and down the city looking to break even. It’s another uneventful weekday for the native Philadelphian, but he is not concerned about the slow activity.
“It’s usually like this on Wednesday,” he remarks. “On the weekends it can be more active.”
He begins his night already $14 in the hole.
“I’ll probably put in another $20 before the night is over.”
His nightly activities require a sizable buy-in before he starts seeing any money he can call profit. But as a cab driver in Philadelphia, you have to invest more than just time to make a night successful.
Before beginning the night, a taxi driver must rent his car from one of a number of cab fleet companies, provide the gas for the night, and pay for whatever other expenses that may arise.
“You have the gas to fill the cab for the night, renting the cab, and the paper and ink for receipts,” he explains.
“And every parking ticket,” he adds.
“It’s usually like this on Wednesday,” he remarks. “On the weekends it can be more active.”
He begins his night already $14 in the hole.
“I’ll probably put in another $20 before the night is over.”
His nightly activities require a sizable buy-in before he starts seeing any money he can call profit. But as a cab driver in Philadelphia, you have to invest more than just time to make a night successful.
Before beginning the night, a taxi driver must rent his car from one of a number of cab fleet companies, provide the gas for the night, and pay for whatever other expenses that may arise.
“You have the gas to fill the cab for the night, renting the cab, and the paper and ink for receipts,” he explains.
“And every parking ticket,” he adds.
Most taxi drivers don’t own their own cars, and even less own the medallions—the certificate that signifies a vehicle is allowed to be used for commercial purposes—that allow them to go out in the first place.
Blount knows first hand that being a taxi driver can be risky business. He points to the left corner of his dashboard.
Explaining the situation, “This car I got now has a ‘check engine’ light on, so I’m not even sure if I’ll make it through the night.”
When asked if his car has broken down before, Blount is quick to respond.
“Many a cold nights,” Blount says. “The dispatchers usually say wait for the tow truck to come, but that’s a lot of lost time. What most cab drivers do is call in for a tow truck and try to find a way home. The next day there’s a usually a big argument with your renters if you owe them for the whole shift.”
By around 8:30 p.m. he has earned $60 from five different passengers. Most cab drivers try to average around $100 a night. This will hopefully cover all the previous expenditures and leave Blount with a decent amount of income after a long night.
“I started driving tonight at around 5:30 and I’ll probably be out for 12 hours.”
Taxi drivers know the odds are against them. There are more drivers than available jobs on the streets, and without proper planning a ride can turn into a worthless endeavor.
“Most shifts have their rush hour, at six in the morning and six in the evening,” he says. “So what most drivers try to do is come straight out and make their money during rush hour for their lease, gas, and expenses. And when it slows down, that’s when they try to make money for themselves.”
Ronald goes on.
“If you miss the rush hour, there’s really no reason to come out. So you hope you can make the $60 for your rent, $35 for your gas, and spend the rest of your night making your own cash.”
A light snow begins to fall, which for Blount is a sign of good things to come.
“From June until November the weather is nice,” he explains while peering out the window. White spots start collecting on his windshield.
“Around November is when the weather starts breaking. When it’s colder people rather get home as fast as possible.”
Blount knows first hand that being a taxi driver can be risky business. He points to the left corner of his dashboard.
Explaining the situation, “This car I got now has a ‘check engine’ light on, so I’m not even sure if I’ll make it through the night.”
When asked if his car has broken down before, Blount is quick to respond.
“Many a cold nights,” Blount says. “The dispatchers usually say wait for the tow truck to come, but that’s a lot of lost time. What most cab drivers do is call in for a tow truck and try to find a way home. The next day there’s a usually a big argument with your renters if you owe them for the whole shift.”
By around 8:30 p.m. he has earned $60 from five different passengers. Most cab drivers try to average around $100 a night. This will hopefully cover all the previous expenditures and leave Blount with a decent amount of income after a long night.
“I started driving tonight at around 5:30 and I’ll probably be out for 12 hours.”
Taxi drivers know the odds are against them. There are more drivers than available jobs on the streets, and without proper planning a ride can turn into a worthless endeavor.
“Most shifts have their rush hour, at six in the morning and six in the evening,” he says. “So what most drivers try to do is come straight out and make their money during rush hour for their lease, gas, and expenses. And when it slows down, that’s when they try to make money for themselves.”
Ronald goes on.
“If you miss the rush hour, there’s really no reason to come out. So you hope you can make the $60 for your rent, $35 for your gas, and spend the rest of your night making your own cash.”
A light snow begins to fall, which for Blount is a sign of good things to come.
“From June until November the weather is nice,” he explains while peering out the window. White spots start collecting on his windshield.
“Around November is when the weather starts breaking. When it’s colder people rather get home as fast as possible.”
25 Years Behind the Wheel
For 25 years of his life, Blount, 42, has been involved in the taxi industry exclusively in Philadelphia.
“Since 1998, the last 10 years I’ve been driving part time,” he explains. Blount rides about eight times a month, or twice a week, to make extra cash and keep his hand on the pulse of the industry. With more taxi drivers out in the evening than during the day, he drives mostly at night and spends much of his time talking with drivers to hear about their current problems.
For the past three years, he has been spending most of his time as the founder and leader of the Taxi Workers Alliance, a loosely knit labor organization hoping to mediate peaceful relations between the Philadelphia Parking Authority, the regulatory body that oversees all of the 1,600 licensed taxi cabs in the city, and the drivers that make up one of Philadelphia’s biggest transportation bodies. He tries to reconcile their sometimes-opposing views as democratically as possible.
“We go out and survey, I don’t just go [to the PPA] and make up some stuff. I talk to the drivers and see how they feel about [the current situation].”
For 25 years of his life, Blount, 42, has been involved in the taxi industry exclusively in Philadelphia.
“Since 1998, the last 10 years I’ve been driving part time,” he explains. Blount rides about eight times a month, or twice a week, to make extra cash and keep his hand on the pulse of the industry. With more taxi drivers out in the evening than during the day, he drives mostly at night and spends much of his time talking with drivers to hear about their current problems.
For the past three years, he has been spending most of his time as the founder and leader of the Taxi Workers Alliance, a loosely knit labor organization hoping to mediate peaceful relations between the Philadelphia Parking Authority, the regulatory body that oversees all of the 1,600 licensed taxi cabs in the city, and the drivers that make up one of Philadelphia’s biggest transportation bodies. He tries to reconcile their sometimes-opposing views as democratically as possible.
“We go out and survey, I don’t just go [to the PPA] and make up some stuff. I talk to the drivers and see how they feel about [the current situation].”
For the drivers in Philadelphia, their top concerns at the moment are a looming meter increase and ways to rectify faulty Global Positoning Systems and pay-by-credit card systems that drivers feel are hurting, not helping, their jobs.
Now, another meter increase demands more action from Blount, as the drivers themselves are concerned how the change will affect the money they make.
“Right now drivers are just getting used to the recent increase that happened about a year ago and we just feel like it’s too soon,” Blount explains. “Drivers are only going to be making about 40% of that increase. The other 60% is going to go to the medallion owner. Other times when the PPA raises the meter, they raise the fines and fees and drivers are really concerned about that.”
Back on the road, Blount is trying to find work. Blount drives into Center City around 2:00 a.m., but things are not looking good.
A dispatcher’s static voice comes over the radio. Every so often a job will be broadcasted over the radio.
“He said there are four jobs. 200 cabs and four jobs,” he jokes. “What they are supposed to do is put the jobs in the GPS system, but they don’t even use it. The PPA charges $18 a month to the medallion owner, but they know the systems don’t work.”
Riding down Broad Street, Blount points out a Dunkin’ Donuts near the intersection of Pine and Broad Street, with three taxis in the parking lot.
“That’s a usual hang out spot for cab drivers. Usually after 9:00 p.m. it’s full of drivers waiting around.”
Blount hopes the recent addition of a GPS system in his car will assist him in his mission. He turns around and enters Walnut Street.
“Look at the [GPS] screen,” he says “Half the time a red light is on, which means you’re not on the radar. When you’re around the city’s tall buildings, that’s when it mostly happens.”
Blount picks up his handheld radio and calls the dispatcher and says his cab number.
“1129.”
The dispatcher responds to confirm.
“1129?”
“Roger,” Blount replies. “I’m just curious if you can see this cab on the GPS right now.”
After close to a minute, there is still no response.
“Not able to find you,” the dispatcher reports.
“When someone calls for a cab,” Blount confesses, “the GPS systems are not picking up the closet cabs because the system isn’t working.”
Now, another meter increase demands more action from Blount, as the drivers themselves are concerned how the change will affect the money they make.
“Right now drivers are just getting used to the recent increase that happened about a year ago and we just feel like it’s too soon,” Blount explains. “Drivers are only going to be making about 40% of that increase. The other 60% is going to go to the medallion owner. Other times when the PPA raises the meter, they raise the fines and fees and drivers are really concerned about that.”
Back on the road, Blount is trying to find work. Blount drives into Center City around 2:00 a.m., but things are not looking good.
A dispatcher’s static voice comes over the radio. Every so often a job will be broadcasted over the radio.
“He said there are four jobs. 200 cabs and four jobs,” he jokes. “What they are supposed to do is put the jobs in the GPS system, but they don’t even use it. The PPA charges $18 a month to the medallion owner, but they know the systems don’t work.”
Riding down Broad Street, Blount points out a Dunkin’ Donuts near the intersection of Pine and Broad Street, with three taxis in the parking lot.
“That’s a usual hang out spot for cab drivers. Usually after 9:00 p.m. it’s full of drivers waiting around.”
Blount hopes the recent addition of a GPS system in his car will assist him in his mission. He turns around and enters Walnut Street.
“Look at the [GPS] screen,” he says “Half the time a red light is on, which means you’re not on the radar. When you’re around the city’s tall buildings, that’s when it mostly happens.”
Blount picks up his handheld radio and calls the dispatcher and says his cab number.
“1129.”
The dispatcher responds to confirm.
“1129?”
“Roger,” Blount replies. “I’m just curious if you can see this cab on the GPS right now.”
After close to a minute, there is still no response.
“Not able to find you,” the dispatcher reports.
“When someone calls for a cab,” Blount confesses, “the GPS systems are not picking up the closet cabs because the system isn’t working.”
Another night, another fare
“How you doin’ angel?”
A mid-20s Asian woman has just entered Blount’s taxi on 26th street near Ben Franklin Parkway. On this night, work is coming in slow but steady. She sits down in the back seat of the cab, and returns Blount’s welcome with a polite smile.
“Hi.”
“Where you going?” Blount asks, almost forgetting to start his meter.
“6th and Race” she responds.
Blount nods and begins to drive, taking a shortcut that cuts through Chinatown. The drive is quiet and uneventful.
“That’s my favorite restaurant in this area,” he says to break the silence.
He points to a green awning outside on the left that reads Shaio Can Kung.
“They got the best food in Chinatown”
The cab arrives in Olde City. The cobblestone streets are home to colonial residences built with red brick. Winter is here and the trees are bare.
“Drop me off across the light please,” the passenger directs.
Blount slows the car past a stop sign in front of her home. The woman exits the cab, but not before completing the transaction.
“Okay angel,” he replies. “That’s six dollars.”
The fare is actually $6.30 but Blount usually rounds down for his passengers. She hands Blount $9 and exits the cab as quickly as she entered.
Blount heads to 30th Street Station, the heart of mass transportation in Philadelphia. The tracks leading out of the building are steel arteries pumping the lifeblood that sustains the city. Each train that arrives delivers fresh patrons into the city, while each train departing transports the daily commuters back to the outside.
“Out by the train station you can always guarantee work,” Blount says. “Sometimes [the wait] is long, sometimes it's short. You might have to wait awhile but you can always get a guaranteed fare.”
A mid-20s Asian woman has just entered Blount’s taxi on 26th street near Ben Franklin Parkway. On this night, work is coming in slow but steady. She sits down in the back seat of the cab, and returns Blount’s welcome with a polite smile.
“Hi.”
“Where you going?” Blount asks, almost forgetting to start his meter.
“6th and Race” she responds.
Blount nods and begins to drive, taking a shortcut that cuts through Chinatown. The drive is quiet and uneventful.
“That’s my favorite restaurant in this area,” he says to break the silence.
He points to a green awning outside on the left that reads Shaio Can Kung.
“They got the best food in Chinatown”
The cab arrives in Olde City. The cobblestone streets are home to colonial residences built with red brick. Winter is here and the trees are bare.
“Drop me off across the light please,” the passenger directs.
Blount slows the car past a stop sign in front of her home. The woman exits the cab, but not before completing the transaction.
“Okay angel,” he replies. “That’s six dollars.”
The fare is actually $6.30 but Blount usually rounds down for his passengers. She hands Blount $9 and exits the cab as quickly as she entered.
Blount heads to 30th Street Station, the heart of mass transportation in Philadelphia. The tracks leading out of the building are steel arteries pumping the lifeblood that sustains the city. Each train that arrives delivers fresh patrons into the city, while each train departing transports the daily commuters back to the outside.
“Out by the train station you can always guarantee work,” Blount says. “Sometimes [the wait] is long, sometimes it's short. You might have to wait awhile but you can always get a guaranteed fare.”
Of all the spots in the city cab drives go to get work, 30th Street station is the most profitable. Trains come frequently and disembark enough passengers to keep a steady flow of people for the drivers to keep busy.
“We’ll sit here and wait about 15 to 20 minutes,” Blount said with much certainty. “The train is just moving in so it’s going to move pretty fast.”
On a slow night, taxi drivers pull around to the back of 30th Street Station. Waiting on the northern side of the building, they know that an assured fare will come with minimal effort. The sheer amount of cars packed into this locking dock looks chaotic unless you know a few of the unwritten rules.
“See the trick is to remember the cab number in front of you,” Blount explains. He pointed to the top right corner on the back of the car in front, right above the trunk.
“The number for the car ahead is P-1529. That way I know to follow him as the line moves up.”
This is one of a few conventions that governs how the drivers interact with each other. It’s good practice not to tail other drivers or speed up to steal a fare. Also, loads of cabs can flood a street, leaving many drivers out to dry with no passengers to pick up.
Drivers like to spread out as much as possible over the city to maximize the amount of fares they can get in one session. But tonight, even these tricks cannot help some of the problems facing these drivers. Most cab drivers are dealing with far bigger problems than finding work.
Blount parks his car on the left side of the lot, but makes sure to keep his the engine running.
“When I come here I usually try to talk to all the drivers I can,” Blount explained. “Different drivers will tell me different problems about what’s going on what happened to them, how the PPA treated them, how a customer treated them. This is where I get most of my information.”
Blount leaves his car and proceeds to walk down the line of cabs. He walks with a slow, casual gait, seemingly at ease within his surroundings. He knocks on each driver’s window when he passes by.
“Hey man how are you doing?” he asks.
“We’ll sit here and wait about 15 to 20 minutes,” Blount said with much certainty. “The train is just moving in so it’s going to move pretty fast.”
On a slow night, taxi drivers pull around to the back of 30th Street Station. Waiting on the northern side of the building, they know that an assured fare will come with minimal effort. The sheer amount of cars packed into this locking dock looks chaotic unless you know a few of the unwritten rules.
“See the trick is to remember the cab number in front of you,” Blount explains. He pointed to the top right corner on the back of the car in front, right above the trunk.
“The number for the car ahead is P-1529. That way I know to follow him as the line moves up.”
This is one of a few conventions that governs how the drivers interact with each other. It’s good practice not to tail other drivers or speed up to steal a fare. Also, loads of cabs can flood a street, leaving many drivers out to dry with no passengers to pick up.
Drivers like to spread out as much as possible over the city to maximize the amount of fares they can get in one session. But tonight, even these tricks cannot help some of the problems facing these drivers. Most cab drivers are dealing with far bigger problems than finding work.
Blount parks his car on the left side of the lot, but makes sure to keep his the engine running.
“When I come here I usually try to talk to all the drivers I can,” Blount explained. “Different drivers will tell me different problems about what’s going on what happened to them, how the PPA treated them, how a customer treated them. This is where I get most of my information.”
Blount leaves his car and proceeds to walk down the line of cabs. He walks with a slow, casual gait, seemingly at ease within his surroundings. He knocks on each driver’s window when he passes by.
“Hey man how are you doing?” he asks.
In a thick African accident, the driver bursts into a tirade about what he feels are the wrongdoings the Philadelphia Parking Authority. He’s complaining about undeserved fines they’re receiving from the PPA for violating rules against dropping off passengers in front of hotels.
Blount tried to calm the driver down. He offers a few long-term plans the Taxi Workers Alliance are working on to enact change.
“We’ve been talking to these lawyers and we have a lot of positions we can raise in the courts. We’re thinking about having another major action in January. There’s a big convention coming to town and we might strike on that.”
Blount gives the driver a smile and extended his hand into window for a handshake.
“All right, but hang in there okay?” Blount says.
The driver smiles back and returns the gesture.
“All right, we will man. Thanks a lot.”
Blount runs back to his car in order to move it forward. The line must keep moving, and the drivers are getting anxious to get back out on the road. Quickly, Blount found one more acquaintance to chat with before hitting the road.
“Hey, how’s it going? You making money out here?”
The driver, dressed in a black jacket and matching snowcap laughs with a hint of despondency and shakes his head accordingly.
“Making money?” he repeats, as if the question was absurd.
The driver looks out of his window, then back at Blount, with eyes no longer to the road ahead.
“There is no money.”
Blount tried to calm the driver down. He offers a few long-term plans the Taxi Workers Alliance are working on to enact change.
“We’ve been talking to these lawyers and we have a lot of positions we can raise in the courts. We’re thinking about having another major action in January. There’s a big convention coming to town and we might strike on that.”
Blount gives the driver a smile and extended his hand into window for a handshake.
“All right, but hang in there okay?” Blount says.
The driver smiles back and returns the gesture.
“All right, we will man. Thanks a lot.”
Blount runs back to his car in order to move it forward. The line must keep moving, and the drivers are getting anxious to get back out on the road. Quickly, Blount found one more acquaintance to chat with before hitting the road.
“Hey, how’s it going? You making money out here?”
The driver, dressed in a black jacket and matching snowcap laughs with a hint of despondency and shakes his head accordingly.
“Making money?” he repeats, as if the question was absurd.
The driver looks out of his window, then back at Blount, with eyes no longer to the road ahead.
“There is no money.”
Technical Wonders
Two stories on how technology is changing high school life and college classrooms.
Zoya Abdikulova writes about how Facebook came to a suburban Chicago high school and changed the traditional culture and the school's pecking orders.
Kofi Darkoh has a story about the latest tech gadgets that are being used in American college, including the University of Pennsylvania.
Zoya Abdikulova writes about how Facebook came to a suburban Chicago high school and changed the traditional culture and the school's pecking orders.
Kofi Darkoh has a story about the latest tech gadgets that are being used in American college, including the University of Pennsylvania.
Point & Click
How technology is changing teaching at Penn
By Kofi Darkoh
When Professor Alan Plante wants to find out whether or not students follow his Environment Studies lecture, he does not ask for a show of hands. Instead, he puts up a question on a PowerPoint slide, and students respond using clickers, small plastic response keypads, which allow the professor to see exactly how many students picked which answers.
Clickers are one example of technology that is influencing modern education and the nature of lecturing in classrooms.
“Without the clickers I can only ask one or two people, or one person will respond and when that answer is received, I stop,” said Plante, a professor at the University of Pennsylvania. “Now with the clickers I can ask everybody, and everybody gets to answer. It gives me a better sense.”
The professor also uses the clickers to organize class quizzes, and to collect information on the backgrounds and interest levels of students at the beginning of the course.
More critically, he uses them as a way of maintaining interest during lectures.
“We’ve got a hundred and sixty students in that class, the lecture hall is big, and so people tune out,” Plante said.
“The clicker helps me break up the lecture and have the students be more engaged.”
In the Sociology department, Professor Melissa Wilde, asks demographic questions at the beginning of the semester with the clickers, and then sorts the responses she gets to social policy questions according to the demographics she collected.
John MacDermott, director for Instructional Technology at SAS Computing, explained how clickers and other technology can change the dynamics of a lecture class.
“We're trying to promote the clickers as an easy and effective way to get students involved,” he said.
“We've satisfied ourselves that it's effective and that it's worth doing.”
Student reports confirm this assessment. In a survey of Plante’s class, 90% said they enjoyed using the clickers during lecture, while 65% agreed the clickers effectively enhanced their learning.
Technology has changed the way several classes are organized. Group work is assigned more often, and students frequently have to give presentations. In some cases, students are being assigned to design posters and make movies instead of writing papers.
The David B. Weigle Information Commons in the Van Pelt Library is the resource center for Penn’s technology needs. According to their brochure, the center “supports collaborative learning using the latest technologies.”
The center has 10 study rooms which students can reserve for 3 hours at a time. There are also 12 booths with laptops, two alcoves with plasma screens, and a seminar room with 20 laptops, a projection screen, and a video recording system.
Three of the study rooms have video recording capabilities with which students can practice and record their presentations. The recordings are then reviewed by staff from Communication
In the Sociology department, Professor Melissa Wilde, asks demographic questions at the beginning of the semester with the clickers, and then sorts the responses she gets to social policy questions according to the demographics she collected.
John MacDermott, director for Instructional Technology at SAS Computing, explained how clickers and other technology can change the dynamics of a lecture class.
“We're trying to promote the clickers as an easy and effective way to get students involved,” he said.
“We've satisfied ourselves that it's effective and that it's worth doing.”
Student reports confirm this assessment. In a survey of Plante’s class, 90% said they enjoyed using the clickers during lecture, while 65% agreed the clickers effectively enhanced their learning.
Technology has changed the way several classes are organized. Group work is assigned more often, and students frequently have to give presentations. In some cases, students are being assigned to design posters and make movies instead of writing papers.
The David B. Weigle Information Commons in the Van Pelt Library is the resource center for Penn’s technology needs. According to their brochure, the center “supports collaborative learning using the latest technologies.”
The center has 10 study rooms which students can reserve for 3 hours at a time. There are also 12 booths with laptops, two alcoves with plasma screens, and a seminar room with 20 laptops, a projection screen, and a video recording system.
Three of the study rooms have video recording capabilities with which students can practice and record their presentations. The recordings are then reviewed by staff from Communication
Within the Curriculum (CWiC) who counsel the students on how to speak better. This is one of many ways in which the center integrates technology with services available to students.
Anu Vedantham, Director of the Information Commons, expects the center to continue playing a large role in education.
“I see a sense that students should be creators of content rather than consumers of content,” she said.
Her view is reflected in the success stories the center has generated, including podcast tours of Philadelphia created by students of Dr. Patrick Wehner, associate director of the Critical Writing Program; and videos of victim impact statements produced by students of Dr. Regina Austin, a Penn Law faculty member.
“The traditional way would be the professor shows the video. Now the students are making the video, so it's much more powerful,” Vedantham said.
Some of the technology at the Information Commons is available in a number of of newer classrooms on campus. Lecture halls in the Huntsman building at the Wharton School have video recording facilities, and the classrooms in the Fisher-Bennett hall have similar audio capabilities.
Technology is present in classrooms in even smaller ways. Almost all lecture rooms have screens and equipment for making presentations. Textbooks now often come with CDs that contain supplementary material, from which professors can lift diagrams and other illustrations into their lectures.
Anu Vedantham, Director of the Information Commons, expects the center to continue playing a large role in education.
“I see a sense that students should be creators of content rather than consumers of content,” she said.
Her view is reflected in the success stories the center has generated, including podcast tours of Philadelphia created by students of Dr. Patrick Wehner, associate director of the Critical Writing Program; and videos of victim impact statements produced by students of Dr. Regina Austin, a Penn Law faculty member.
“The traditional way would be the professor shows the video. Now the students are making the video, so it's much more powerful,” Vedantham said.
Some of the technology at the Information Commons is available in a number of of newer classrooms on campus. Lecture halls in the Huntsman building at the Wharton School have video recording facilities, and the classrooms in the Fisher-Bennett hall have similar audio capabilities.
Technology is present in classrooms in even smaller ways. Almost all lecture rooms have screens and equipment for making presentations. Textbooks now often come with CDs that contain supplementary material, from which professors can lift diagrams and other illustrations into their lectures.
The School of Arts and Sciences is also starting to make either video or audio recordings of class sessions. The recording includes the professor’s voice, what is displayed on the computer, and any markings on slides made with an electronic pen.
“When it's all done well, it's pretty much invisible during the class session, but it is very valuable to students after class,” MacDermott said.
These new tools present new challenges to lecturing, some of which have the potential of negatively affecting learning.
MacDermott accepted, for instance, that video recordings might keep an instructor from repeating important concepts, knowing students could refer to the recording if they needed to go over some material again.
Some lecturers also expressed concern that preparing their lectures in PowerPoint removed the flexibility they had in determining the course of their lectures.
“It puts me into a rather linear path. The next slide is the next slide and I don’t have a lot of flexibility,” Plante said.
“It forces you to be a bit more linear, whereas, if you’re not stuck with a presentation and a student asks a question, you can follow that.”
“When it's all done well, it's pretty much invisible during the class session, but it is very valuable to students after class,” MacDermott said.
These new tools present new challenges to lecturing, some of which have the potential of negatively affecting learning.
MacDermott accepted, for instance, that video recordings might keep an instructor from repeating important concepts, knowing students could refer to the recording if they needed to go over some material again.
Some lecturers also expressed concern that preparing their lectures in PowerPoint removed the flexibility they had in determining the course of their lectures.
“It puts me into a rather linear path. The next slide is the next slide and I don’t have a lot of flexibility,” Plante said.
“It forces you to be a bit more linear, whereas, if you’re not stuck with a presentation and a student asks a question, you can follow that.”
These are some of the challenges addressed by the Center for Teaching and Learning (CTL). The center helps faculty develop and improve their teaching through discussions.
This semester, the center held Teaching with Technology Seminars, where professors met to discuss effective ways of teaching with technology.
Bruce Lenthall, the director for the Center, explained how the sessions were organized.
“We try not to spend a lot of time talking about ‘how would you do you do this technically,' but rather ‘why would you do it? What are you trying to accomplish?’” he said.
Recently, two speakers at the seminar shared different ways of using PowerPoint. One speaker had linked his presentation to a live feed of laboratory research which introduced students to ongoing experiments in the material they were studied. In this way he had removed the problem of the static nature of presentations. The focus of the seminars, however, is not simply to get professors to use new technology.
This semester, the center held Teaching with Technology Seminars, where professors met to discuss effective ways of teaching with technology.
Bruce Lenthall, the director for the Center, explained how the sessions were organized.
“We try not to spend a lot of time talking about ‘how would you do you do this technically,' but rather ‘why would you do it? What are you trying to accomplish?’” he said.
Recently, two speakers at the seminar shared different ways of using PowerPoint. One speaker had linked his presentation to a live feed of laboratory research which introduced students to ongoing experiments in the material they were studied. In this way he had removed the problem of the static nature of presentations. The focus of the seminars, however, is not simply to get professors to use new technology.
“The very basic question that comes up there is - what are you trying to teach the students?” Lenthall explained.
“The challenge for faculty member after faculty member was, ‘I can do interesting things with discussion board, but if it simply makes work and doesn't relate to what we're doing in class, it fails.’”
He gave examples of instances when he has encouraged faculty to consider using chalkboard over PowerPoint. This allows the students to see how the material develops.
“Whether you use hi-tech or not, you have to ask the lo-tech questions: What am I trying to teach? What are the best ways of teaching it? What are my goals for the class?” Lenthall said.
These teaching goals, even with new technology, have not changed. The primary concern of faculty is still how best to educate students.
“Faculty always get more interested in technology when they can see how it will help students learn better,” MacDermott said.
“They're not interested in gadgetry just for gadgetry sake.”
It follows that this is the primary factor the directors consider when selecting what technology to introduce to campus.
Other factors include cost, ease of use, and the presence of facilities to support the technology.
The technology has to have a reasonable learning curve for faculty and the support people. There also has to be confidence that the technology is durable and viable for a reasonable amount of time, MacDermott explained.
“The challenge for faculty member after faculty member was, ‘I can do interesting things with discussion board, but if it simply makes work and doesn't relate to what we're doing in class, it fails.’”
He gave examples of instances when he has encouraged faculty to consider using chalkboard over PowerPoint. This allows the students to see how the material develops.
“Whether you use hi-tech or not, you have to ask the lo-tech questions: What am I trying to teach? What are the best ways of teaching it? What are my goals for the class?” Lenthall said.
These teaching goals, even with new technology, have not changed. The primary concern of faculty is still how best to educate students.
“Faculty always get more interested in technology when they can see how it will help students learn better,” MacDermott said.
“They're not interested in gadgetry just for gadgetry sake.”
It follows that this is the primary factor the directors consider when selecting what technology to introduce to campus.
Other factors include cost, ease of use, and the presence of facilities to support the technology.
The technology has to have a reasonable learning curve for faculty and the support people. There also has to be confidence that the technology is durable and viable for a reasonable amount of time, MacDermott explained.
The new clickers, for example, give insight into the selection process. There was an older version available since 1999, which used infra-red communication between the transmitters and the receiver, as in a TV remote control. This meant that receivers had to be mounted in visible locations in classrooms, which made setting up difficult. Only a few rooms could be used.
The newer technology uses radio frequency which requires only a small USB device attached to a computer. It can be made available in any room with a computer.
Still, the biggest challenge is providing reasons for professors to change their teaching methods to new ones that use the technology.
“What faculty do, and are conscious of, and have to be vigilant about, is to think about their teaching goals first, and not the technology first,” Lenthall said.
For his Environmental studies class, Professor Plante recognizes that the technology helps him deliver more information visually that would otherwise take many words and more time to describe verbally. He can therefore take the time to prepare the material, especially those he can reuse in future lectures.
In other cases, professors cannot make the initial investment.
The newer technology uses radio frequency which requires only a small USB device attached to a computer. It can be made available in any room with a computer.
Still, the biggest challenge is providing reasons for professors to change their teaching methods to new ones that use the technology.
“What faculty do, and are conscious of, and have to be vigilant about, is to think about their teaching goals first, and not the technology first,” Lenthall said.
For his Environmental studies class, Professor Plante recognizes that the technology helps him deliver more information visually that would otherwise take many words and more time to describe verbally. He can therefore take the time to prepare the material, especially those he can reuse in future lectures.
In other cases, professors cannot make the initial investment.
“Sometimes there are disagreements with the benefit of the technology, but more often it's just the time and attention that it takes,” MacDermott said.
“Most commonly it's, ‘I don't have the time or attention to devote to figuring out how to re-engineer my teaching.’ That's a very understandable thing and so when we're picking technologies we do try to promote ones that are relatively easy to adopt.”
But over time these concerns are lessening and more professors are including technology in their courses. The Weigle Commons holds tutoring sessions that reduce the time needed for students or faculty to learn new technology. Resource centers, like CTL, educate faculty on using technology to augment, rather than replace their lessons.
“I don't really see that there are too many disciplines that don't use technology anymore. It's becoming so commonplace,” Vedantham said.
With this scale of adoption it is interesting to imagine how technology will be used in classrooms in the future.
“Most commonly it's, ‘I don't have the time or attention to devote to figuring out how to re-engineer my teaching.’ That's a very understandable thing and so when we're picking technologies we do try to promote ones that are relatively easy to adopt.”
But over time these concerns are lessening and more professors are including technology in their courses. The Weigle Commons holds tutoring sessions that reduce the time needed for students or faculty to learn new technology. Resource centers, like CTL, educate faculty on using technology to augment, rather than replace their lessons.
“I don't really see that there are too many disciplines that don't use technology anymore. It's becoming so commonplace,” Vedantham said.
With this scale of adoption it is interesting to imagine how technology will be used in classrooms in the future.
One practical direction is in introducing students to the technology that is used in the research of a discipline. Except for buying licenses for software used in particular fields, SAS Computing is looking at new ways to enable students to use tools of the trade in analyzing problems.
Professor Plante already uses real time data in his weekly recitations. He intends to incorporate computer modeling sessions into his class next semester, where students can build simple models to help understand concepts introduced in class.
“In this day and age there is so much data available,” he said.
“To be able to harness some of that for teaching is really useful.”
At least at Penn, a less realistic option is moving classroom lessons completely online.
“The technology is designed to supplement and enhance the residential based, face to face teaching experience,” MacDermott said.
“It is still all based on the assumption that the traditional same time, same place model is at the heart of it, and the other stuff helps support that model.” Lenthall compared the scenario to the 1950s when radio was touted to replace Universities.
“Universities have a function beyond the dissemination of knowledge. Bringing students physically together is a value,” he said.
“There's always going to be a role for sitting down and working through problems.”
Professor Plante already uses real time data in his weekly recitations. He intends to incorporate computer modeling sessions into his class next semester, where students can build simple models to help understand concepts introduced in class.
“In this day and age there is so much data available,” he said.
“To be able to harness some of that for teaching is really useful.”
At least at Penn, a less realistic option is moving classroom lessons completely online.
“The technology is designed to supplement and enhance the residential based, face to face teaching experience,” MacDermott said.
“It is still all based on the assumption that the traditional same time, same place model is at the heart of it, and the other stuff helps support that model.” Lenthall compared the scenario to the 1950s when radio was touted to replace Universities.
“Universities have a function beyond the dissemination of knowledge. Bringing students physically together is a value,” he said.
“There's always going to be a role for sitting down and working through problems.”
Friday, November 2, 2007
The Crisis Junkie
By Taylor Wemmer
Some activists are into politics. Others are into the environment. Morgan Seag is into natural disasters.
I sat down with Seag, a 21-year-old University of Pennsylvania senior recently (10/25) in her apartment’s living room. Movie posters of Disney classics hung on the walls and Halloween candy was piled high on the kitchen table.
Although it was clear she loved fairy tales, our ensuing conversation made it clear that she loved natural disasters more.
Seag is a co-founder and executive board member of NO REST, an acronym for New Orleans Recovery Efforts for a Stronger Tomorrow.
NO REST, started in the spring of 2006, is a Penn undergraduate student group with the goal of fundraising for and sending volunteers to the city of New Orleans. Hurricane Katrina, which hit New Orleans hard in late August of 2005, was one of the worst hurricanes to hit the area in years and had left thousands of residents with absolutely nothing.
“I did not intend to become an advocate for the Gulf Coast but I am one and I care about it a lot,” said Seag. There is currently a “lack of volunteers and lack of media coverage, and therefore, a lack of national interest.
It is so important that there are efforts being made on this campus" to continue the aid effort in New Orleans.
In the spring of her freshman year, Seag volunteered with a group of students to go to Sri Lanka to help the country rebuild after the Asian Tsunami hit the country in December 2004.
It is so important that there are efforts being made on this campus" to continue the aid effort in New Orleans.
In the spring of her freshman year, Seag volunteered with a group of students to go to Sri Lanka to help the country rebuild after the Asian Tsunami hit the country in December 2004.
“I was fascinated by the power of nature. [I asked myself:] how do humans navigate around these forces we cannot control? How can we make the best of these situations? How can we help?” said Seag.
Her fascination with natural disasters was born long before Hurricane Katrina and the Asian Tsunami. It all started at the age of eight in Westwood Hills, Kansas, a suburb of Kansas City.
She and her family only lived in Kansas for six months, but it was long enough for the third-grader Seag to develop a secret fascination with tornadoes.
“I always kept a plastic bag of toys near the basement door [just in case.]” she said. “I was always hoping there would be one when I was there.”
Although she never saw one in person, she never forgot that dream. Her senior year ambition recorded in her high school yearbook was to “see a tornado, a volcano, and Antarctica.”
Why Antarctica?
She thought that that would be a more realistic route for her future as an environmental scientist.
Despite this goal, her college career steered her in a different direction. Seag also harbored an interest in international affairs and that is ultimately where her life has taken her, she said.
When the tsunami hit in 2004, she knew she had to go. "This was third grade Morgan shouting out ‘Take me! Take me!’ So I took me to Sri Lanka!” she said.
What she found out while helping rebuild homes in Sri Lanka was that there was a lot more to disaster relief than just humanitarian aid. There were lots of politics involved.
Realizing the role politics played in disaster relief, she declared her major in the field of political science. The tsunami also influenced her in terms of what she would volunteer for next.
“When Katrina hit, it was so clearly the next thing I would be doing,” said Seag.
She and a couple of other students who had traveled with her to Sri Lanka decided to co-found a disaster relief organization for Katrina in 2006. Although they considered making a relief organization that raised funds for all kinds of future crises, they ultimately decided on focusing it solely on New Orleans.
“It was domestic, close to our hearts, and something that we felt we could really make a tangible effect on,” said Seag.
NO REST has been very effective so far in its efforts to reach out to students. They sent five groups of Penn undergraduates to New Orleans the summer of 2006 and raised money to sponsor a Head Start classroom for the holidays later that year.
They have also partnered with FLINOA, Fox Leadership in New Orleans, Louisiana, which, in turn, is a part of Penn’s Provost’s umbrella organization for sending aid to the Gulf Coast.
FLINOA provides a significant amount of funding for NO REST, as well as supplying important connections and infrastructure to which undergraduate groups do not have normally have access.
“Penn is really involved in an incredible way down there. Our goal is to keep future undergraduates aware of and caring about the city. It’s not just about humanitarian aid that [is needed right away], [it’s about] the long term recovery of a city,” said Seag.
She is excited about continuing her efforts to support this city and no matter where her future life might take her, Seag knows “that disaster relief and the city of New Orleans will [always] remain a part of where [she] comes from.”
Signing His Way Across America
His funny and sad tales of By Erica Tobin
No one has ever been able to pronounce Alan Abarbanell’s last name.
“It didn’t matter if they were deaf or hearing, everyone mispronounced my name,” Abarbanell told his audience at a recent performance (10/22) at the University of Pennsylvania.
Abarbanell’s stop at Penn was part of The Abababa Road Tour.
Abababa was a name given to Arbanell by a friend who could not pronounce Abarbanell. The one-man show, part of a national tour by the 44-year-old Chicago performer, chronicles his experiences growing up in a deaf family.
Abarbanell did not simply speak to the audience. He communicated with the entire audience, including the deaf members, by simultaneously signing American Sign Language.
Abarbanell is a member of the CODA organization, a group for Children Of Deaf Adults. Each year, the adults in the organization get together so that they can talk about their experiences growing up with deaf parents.
“CODAs tend to lie,” according to Abarbanell. “They’ll tell you things like… ‘I’ve been signing since the moment I was born.’ Or, ‘I’ve been interpreting since the moment I was born,’ and that’s a lie.”
Arbanell comically suggested that he may be the exception to the rule. He said, “I have been interpreting since the moment I was born. And I’m not lying.”
The exact moment Abarbanell began interpreting for his parents began when, he said, “Everything was dark, quiet, I was floating. And suddenly there was a push, and push, and a pull, and there was lights, there was noise, and the doctor pulled me out, and he flipped me upside down, spanked me on the butt, and he said, ‘it’s a boy.’”
He said he remembered clearly, “hanging upside down, and my mother waving at me saying,
‘Alan, what did the doctor say?’”
He said he signed: I’m a boy.
Abarbanell did not see a comedic side to his entire experience growing up with deaf parents, however.
One embarrassing moment occurred when he invited his classmates back to his house for lunch. Both of his parents worked, so the boys would be free to make a mess in the kitchen.
After lunch, the boys jumped around the living room, hopping from chair to chair. Then, the boys leapt off of the furniture, hit the hardwood floors that covered the house, and laughed when they felt the vibrations of the floor planks.
On this day, unbeknownst to Abarbanell, his father was home sick from work.
His father, Joe Abarbanell, screamed when he felt the vibrations of the floor. When Alan’s classmates asked him what the horrific noise was, he was so embarrassed that he told them it was the dog.
Abarbanell said, “It was the first time, it was the first time in my life, I realized that I was a little different. My mom and dad are different, because that noise… that was my father.”
The fact that Abarbanell’s parents were deaf made his life more difficult in some ways, but their deafness made one specific incident much easier for him. He was able to communicate with his mother during her final days of life, when she was in the hospital.
His mother had lapsed into a semi-coma, where she was half awake and half asleep.
Doctors told Abarbanell that it was important for his mother to have family with her while she was in her coma, to support and comfort her. One by one, his three brothers sat with their mother; they held her hand and kissed her goodbye.
Finally, it was time for Abarbanell to say goodbye to his mother. He saw her lying in her hospital bed, hooked up to countless machines. An oxygen mask covered her mouth and nose.
His mother opened her eyes, and he begged her to stay alive. In response, she signed to him.
Abarbanell said, “I got to see my mother’s last words. If my mother were hearing, she’d have the mask on, and the tubes, and the tube going down her throat. She wouldn’t have been able to speak. But my mother was deaf, and she signed. And she signed to me… ‘you are my precious son, and I am going to love you forever.’”
Since that moment, Abarbanell said, he is eternally grateful to have been born a CODA.
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