Profile: Dr. Caroline M. Solomon

Tell us about your background.

I contracted spinal meningitis as an infant, which left me deaf. Throughout elementary and middle school, I was a student at the Delaware School of the Deaf, which provided the mechanism to mainstream full-time at local schools with two other deaf students while getting services and participating in a few courses and activities. For high school, I attended a public high school near Annapolis, Maryland, with one other deaf student. After graduation from high school, I went on to earn a bachelor’s degree in environmental science and public policy at Harvard University, a master’s degree in biological oceanography at the University of Washington, and a doctorate in biological oceanography at the University of Maryland.

I grew up in a hearing family. My father was a professor of economics at the University of Delaware (35 years) and later Gallaudet (3 years). My mother, who was trained as a social worker, worked in the state government, then during the later part of her career became a vice president at General Dynamics before retiring. My brother is a law school professor at the University of Memphis and directs their Disability Law clinic. My husband, Barry, is a procurement analyst for the National Institutes of Health, and I have two children: Hannah and Elliott (or Eli). We also have a dog named Finn.

How did you get to where you are?

 When I was growing up in Delaware, we lived near a creek, and I used to love to swim and sail there. One day, I was told I couldn’t swim in the creek due to dangerous conditions due to pollution. I was a kid so that made me mad, but it sparked a curiosity in me about how we can keep our waterways healthy.

After my experience with the polluted creek, I went to college determined to do something to improve the environment – either as a scientist or a lawyer. When I arrived at Harvard, they announced a new major – environmental science and public policy which allowed me to explore how the intersection of those disciplines could lead to greater impact. The major impetus behind the new degree was Senator and Vice President Al Gore, an alumnus, who was frustrated at the difficulty of passing environmental legislation during his years in Congress.

After completing a pivotal summer internship at the University of Maryland Center for Environmental Science between my junior and senior years, which led to my honors thesis, I chose to do science. From there, my graduate and doctoral studies were in biological oceanography focusing on microbes (viruses, bacteria and phytoplankton) that play an essential role in the food web. 

When I was starting out in my career path, my first concerns were how to obtain the incidental learning that my graduate classmates were getting from those impromptu conversations in the lab and hallway. The same was true at professional conferences. This was also compounded by getting interpreters who were willing and were competent in STEM terminology.

What is a professional challenge you have faced related to your deafness? How have you mitigated this challenge?

I have experienced several professional challenges including being not allowed on research vessels; professors asking the interpreter to move their location because they did not like the interpreter in their sightlines; people approaching me at conferences more interested in the interpreter or how to sign something than my own research; credibility as a researcher; and fighting for and obtaining competent interpreters for small professional conferences.

I have mitigated these challenges in several ways. I have had to ask my hearing allies, including my colleagues, to speak on my behalf to assure boat captains that simple processes can be put in place to ensure safety of all on board. I’ve had to explain that it is already an uphill battle to get interpreters for lectures and visual dispersion is an issue, and that professors can be more understanding of the importance of where interpreters need to stand to ensure better access. At conferences, I’ve had to change the course of conversations quickly by asking people about their own research; I also highlight the impact of my work on their own research or share other colleagues’ positive experience of working with me; I have also worked to create a network of deaf academics to share strategies on how to handle funding for interpreters and on requesting interpreting services from different professional societies.

What is an example of accommodation that you either use or would like to use in your current job?

I am fortunate to have worked at both Gallaudet University and at RIT/NTID, which are both known for their accommodations for deaf, hard-of-hearing, and deafblind students, faculty, administrators, and staff. NTID has more than 130 full-time interpreters on staff, and I have a designated interpreter assigned to me for meetings and presentations. We have a Center on Access Technology that works to develop new assistive technologies to enhance communication. Rochester is believed to have one of the highest Deaf populations per capita anywhere in the world, so wherever I go, on campus and off, there is an understanding and acceptance of deafness.

What advice would you give your former self?

I tell my students that learning isn’t a one-size-fits-all experience. I would tell younger Carrie to try new things and find new ways of experiencing life. I am fortunate to have grown up in a family where curiosity was encouraged and valued. I carry that spirit of curiosity with me to this day.

Any funny stories you want to share?

My favorite story to tell is when I was in college, I went to Archbold Biological Station in Florida as part of my junior year seminar course. We did a lot of field work during that week, and there were three occasions where the interpreter had to either intervene or change tactics.

One of the professors took us on a hike through a mangrove forest, and we were walking on the tree roots then suddenly, he stopped and picked up a snake and held it in his hands.  Typically, the interpreter should be next to the professor, but she refused to be next to a snake moving in his hands, so she interpreted from a safe distance away.

The other professor (the course was co-taught by two professors) did a lesson on limnology and told us to join him in wading in the lake. The interpreter told me that she would interpret from the dock so that she would not need to get wet. I shared my hesitation if he started talking in the middle of the lake which was quite a distance away from dock. She assured me everything would be ok. However, the professor indeed did start a mini lecture in the middle of the lake. I could see her stomping in frustration as she got off the dock and started wading towards where the class was and signing furiously. 

The most notable one was when the professor said that we would be going on a night hike to listen to the owls hoot. Both of us argued that I would not benefit from this experience because it was pitch black and I would not be able to see and how would I hear the owls? The professor insisted that I go as he wanted to treat me the same as my classmates. He finally relented and let us stay behind. Later asked a classmate how it went and he chuckled, “The professor hooted and no owl hooted in return!”

Is there anything else you would like to share? 

I encourage Deaf adults to consider becoming mentors to the younger generation of Deaf students. If you are employed, encourage your employer to hire Deaf interns or co-operative work students. Volunteer in your community and share your expertise. And always be curious!