“I don’t know how I would be able to live life without my second home,” said student Gabriella Bibb.
Since toddlerhood, Bibb has been attending the California School for the Deaf (CSD) in Fremont, a longstanding haven for local deaf children. Now as a high school senior she fears the collapse of the institution, as underfunding has driven away teachers and staff, and those who remain, struggle to make ends meet.
Staff are making extraordinary sacrifices to continue serving students. Some live out of their cars, while others endure grueling daily commutes of over 100 miles from more affordable cities. But these measures are not sustainable. After decades of unsuccessful lobbying, CSD staff and families can see the end on the horizon. Without state intervention, Northern California’s only Deaf school could be forced to close its doors, leaving hundreds of deaf students without a culturally-informed learning community.
“Our buildings are falling apart and we can’t afford rent,” said Aselefech Tiku, a CSD high school counselor who lives in her car. “If we can’t keep this school open, where will the students go?”
There is currently no plan for closure, and CSD’s doors will remain open for the foreseeable future. But with the financial issues and subsequent staffing shortages, the question is, for how long?
Since 1860, CSD has been a leader in bilingual education, offering Deaf students language-rich opportunities in both English and ASL. Theophilus Hope D’Estrella, born in 1851, was among the first students at CSD and later became the first Deaf student to attend the University of California, Berkeley. Over a century later, the school has become a revered model in the Deaf education community, leading trainings at Deaf schools across the country and earning distinction as the only Deaf school ranked by U.S. News & World Report.
Despite proving themselves on a national stage, the school has been pushing for staff pay increases since the ‘70s. A first-year teacher’s salary after taxes at CSD is around $2,750 a month, compared to the state average of just over $4,000 a month, according to the California Department of Education. The CSD community believes that the school’s neglect is rooted in audism: discrimination or prejudice against people who are deaf or hard of hearing.
Will Fertman believes in the mission of CSD, and that’s why he drives his 6-year-old son there from Berkeley every weekday. But he and other parents are quickly losing patience as their children continue to bear the effects of understaffing while their emails to the superintendent’s office go unanswered.
“Tony Thurman [the State Superintendent of Public Instruction] clearly thinks my children are nothing and will spend nothing on them,” Fertman said.
Last year, Fertman’s son was diagnosed with a hand-strength deficiency and was referred to an occupational therapist. But because CSD lacks the funds to hire these specialists, Fertman had to withdraw his son from Kindergarten and send him to a public school in Berkeley where he could see one. Unfortunately, the only available signing therapist was serving another deaf student at the school at the time, and they had to be pulled from that student in order for Fertman’s son to receive services.
Stories of deaf students missing out on critical services in mainstream schools are common across the country. The Individuals with Disabilities Act was enacted in 1975 and proposed that the federal government would cover up to 40% of services for students with disabilities. But according to the Special Needs Alliance, federal funding only covers just under 15% of these costs, creating a shortage in the billions of dollars.
“It’s a bigotry problem,” Fertman said, asserting that CSD teacher wages do not adequately reflect the specialized bilingual skills they bring to the role.
In a desperate letter to Superintendent Thurmond, CSD parent William Pong called the school a lifeline for his family. Pong is a hearing father who had to navigate the learning curve of caring for a deaf child. Without CSD, he says his son could have missed out on critical early language learning opportunities. While he’s grateful his son is thriving with teachers who understand him, he’s disheartened by the low pay those teachers receive for their invaluable work.
“My heart goes out to them, they’re working so hard to give these kids a shot,” Pong said.
Pong says the frequent shuffling of staff caused by high turnover is disruptive to his son’s second-grade education. To fill the gaps during severe staffing shortages, he hires a speech therapist, a privilege he acknowledges many families cannot afford. While he considers himself fortunate to provide this extra support, it’s a significant expense not covered by insurance.
Despite these challenges, Pong’s son says he enjoys being a part of CSD. He loves his teachers, the close-knit community he’s found, and the pride he feels as an “Eagle.” Pong, however, dreads the thought of one day having to tell his son that his beloved school is closing.
“I don’t want to think about telling my kid that,” Pong said. “We have immersion programs in other languages, why can’t the state support ASL?”
Concerned CSD mother Haruna Matsumoto has developed a profound appreciation for deaf education. She grew up deaf in Japan and attended a mainstream school, where Japanese Sign Language was not taught and there were no interpreters available. With no way to absorb the material during critical instruction time, the young Matsumoto had to pick up what she could solely by reading her textbooks.
“I felt isolated, but I just had to accept it,” she said.
She later moved to Fremont, where she first heard about the deaf school and also met her husband, a CSD alumni and counselor. Impressed by the school’s reputation, the Matsumotos swore to themselves that they would send their child there if they ended up being deaf. When their daughter was born deaf, they felt lucky to be able to send her to a school that would cater to her needs.
“I wanted to give her access to an experience I never got as a kid,” Haruna said.
While uncertain about the future of her daughter’s school, there’s one thing Matsumoto is certain about; her daughter must continue receiving a deaf education. Reflecting on her experience as the only deaf child in a hearing school, she is determined to keep her child in a non-mainstream educational setting.
“I’m living proof that it doesn’t work,” she said.
The concerned mother’s sentiments are backed by research. According to the National Association of the Deaf, 70% of deaf children lack language access. A combination of being born to hearing parents (which is the case for over 90% of deaf children) and inadequate supportive services in mainstream schools means many deaf youth fall behind in language development.
To be continued next week
