M A R C H / A P R I L - 1 9 9 8

Ahead is the biggest challenge of all—the 15 courthouse steps. Picking up speed, Keith bumps down the first nine and then he is in the air. He flies over the next six steps, before landing on the sidewalk below. There he greets his friends. They do more ollies, a few front slides, and grinds. They applaud, criticize, correct, and support each other.

All of them are hearing—except Keith. Keith is the only deaf skater in Madison, Alabama. Like the other street skaters, Keith wears only baggy pants and tee-shirts. No one wears a helmet or knee pads, and most have had terrible falls. Keith knows all about the falls. He had to go to the hospital emergency room once himself. The doctor took x-rays and patched him up. Keith was soon back with his board on the street. "I never thought about quitting," he says.

At 15 years old, Keith depends on his parents to pursue his weekend passion. His folks drop him off and pick him up. They buy him skateboards—about five a year—and shoes. At $45 a pair, sneakers for skating are cheaper than sneakers for basketball, he notes. He goes through about 10 pairs a year.

Weekdays belong to school.

Keith is in the ninth grade at Panther High in Madison, one of 16 deaf students in the large public school. He tried the deaf school, he said, but didn't like it much.

"Not enough freedom," says his mother.

"Not enough challenge!" says Keith.

The son of deaf parents and born deaf himself, Keith is fluent in American Sign Language and English.

He "hates school," but it comes easy for him. He takes math, English, biology, history, and physical education. He gets mostly As and Bs. Occasionally, he gets a C.

His future—his career?

"A job to support skating," he says simply.

General comments may be sent to: Ken.Kurlychek@gallaudet.edu
Last modified May 22, 1998
Copyright © 1997, All Rights Reserved
Laurent Clerc National Deaf Education Center

Gallaudet University 800 Florida Ave. NE Washington, DC 20002-3695