From The Washington Post Oct. 4:Sidewalks wide enough to accommodate pedestrians using sign language. Rounded corners and strategically placed reflective glass so people who cannot hear can see who's coming and who's behind them. Glass elevators so passengers can communicate with outsiders in case of emergency.
These features distinguish Gallaudet University's vision for developing four acres of vacant land across the street from its rolling campus in Northeast Washington, a plan that represents a dramatic shift in the philosophy that has long guided the nation's only university for the deaf.
Rather than cloistering itself from the rest of the community, Gallaudet for the first time is designing a streetscape and architecture to bring together deaf and hearing people. The changes will be made on two spacious parcels where the university is designing a mix of housing, offices, retail, restaurants and cultural attractions.
"It would create a connection to the city and tear down the walls," said Hansel Bauman, an architect retained by Gallaudet to help design the project. "It's a sea change in thinking."
Since its founding 144 years ago, Gallaudet's separation has been driven by the belief that the deaf were better off immersing themselves in their own culture. Their insularity is symbolized by the eight-foot-high fencing and thick stone walls that line the university's perimeter.
But the school intends to begin removing those barriers in part because of recruiting challenges and a younger generation that desires more integration into the broader world. The shift also reflects cultural changes and technological innovations that have made it more inviting for deaf people to navigate realms beyond their own, said Fred Weiner, the university's executive director for program development.
"When my parents grew up in the 1930s and 1940s, there were negative views of people with disabilities, and it drove the community inward," said Weiner, who is deaf. "What you see is a reversal. You have a more diverse America. You see technological advances. There are still challenges, but you have so much more access, and that's why students are saying they want to be part of it."
The impetus to build, he said during an interview at the university, is partly rooted in protests that drew national attention two years ago, when students shut down the campus to demonstrate against the selection of a new president.
"One of the outcomes from the campus unrest was the false perception created in the media that deaf people are monolithic," Weiner said. "That is, none of us speak or hear, all of us share the same views on all matters, and that when one deaf person speaks, that person speaks for all deaf people. I assure you, this is not the case.
"In a sense, our foray into Sixth Street is our opportunity to show the world that deaf people are diverse in many ways," he said. "The fact that we're opening up the campus is a symbolic expression of our intent to blend the deaf and hearing worlds on equal terms."
The university's plans are evolving, but officials say they are considering a variety of components -- rental housing, office space, restaurants, a community theater, a child development center -- lining Sixth Street NE north of Florida Avenue.
Gallaudet also anticipates removing the fencing from its Sixth Street border, opening the campus on at least one side, and perhaps creating green space or facilities for student programs.
The development also is being driven by more practical concerns. With such innovations as cochlear implants making it possible for deaf students to attend mainstream schools, Gallaudet officials say they need restaurants and other attractions to help make their campus more of a draw. In the past five years, undergraduate enrollment has declined from about 1,400 to just under 1,000, said Paul Kelly, the university's vice president for administration and finance.On a campus famous for its strong opinions, the university's plans appear to have generated support.
"I'm envious of the University of Maryland -- they can take a stroll from the dorm and grab a smoothie, do homework and interact with their neighborhood and community," said Nicholas Gould, president of the student government. "Gallaudet
has been here over 140 years, and we don't have that. Students support a development that will open Gallaudet to community."
The university has existed apart from its host city since its founding in 1864 in a sparsely populated area just on the other side of what was then Washington's northern boundary. As Gallaudet's population grew, the university added classrooms and dormitories, all built within its borders.
In recent years, as the economic boom triggered development across the city, Gallaudet has faced mounting pressure to develop its two parcels on Sixth Street, which have lain fallow since the university purchased them in the 1970s. The parcels adjoin the sprawling Capital City Market, a wholesale food and novelty bazaar that started more than 75 years ago.
Several years ago, with the encouragement of District leaders, a development team devised plans to transform the market into a new destination, with housing and retail, while building space for the wholesalers. At one point, the developers envisioned relocating the wholesalers to a headquarters that would be built on one of Gallaudet's parcels.
But university officials refused to sell. Subsequently, another developer bought the warehouse that is home to the D.C. Farmer's Market, located between the university's two properties. All the maneuvering spurred discussions within Gallaudet that the moment was ripe to jump in the real estate game.
"We're not developers," Weiner said. "It's more about controlling the land."
In its plan, Gallaudet would probably lease its parcels to a developer, who would implement the university's architectural vision, an aesthetic that school officials identify as "deaf space," one that accentuates the visual and tactile experience.
"It's a way of designing buildings that support and express deaf cognitive and social sensibilities," Bauman said. "It means lots of spaces that encourage people to come together as a community and be free of barriers to visual communication."
The university has tested the aesthetic on campus with the construction of a $32 million language and communication center, which features a glass elevator and rooms spacious enough to allow students to sit in large circles and converse.
The aesthetic also could mean avoiding wall patterns that are distracting or colors that blend too easily with skin tones and make reading sign language more difficult.
For the Sixth Street project, it will probably mean a preference for ramped walkways, as opposed to stairs, which can be difficult to navigate while conversing in sign language. "You have to stop and look at the steps, and it interrupts the conversation," Bauman said.
The Sixth Street project has thrust Gallaudet officials into what for them is the largely unfamiliar world of real estate. They have had to engage in sometimes delicate negotiations with developers and District officials and learn the details of zoning regulations.
Last week, Weiner led an entourage of university officials and students to the John A. Wilson Building, where they testified about Gallaudet's plans before the D.C. Council's economic development committee.
Fortunately, Weiner brought his own interpreter. The council failed to provide one, an oversight that prompted committee chairman Kwame R. Brown (D-At Large) to apologize.Brown's words, Weiner said, were encouraging. "It's a two-way street, building a bridge between two communities," he said.
