Domain 1:
Theory & Knowledge

Within the Theory and Knowledge domain of Witter-Merithew and Johnson’s (2005) 34 Entry-to-Practice Competencies for Interpreters, a competency cluster underscores the importance of interpreters possessing a broad and deep knowledge base. It includes Competency 1.1, which calls for interpreters to be able to discuss “current and historical events in regional, national, and international contexts and by describing systems that support society” (Witter-Merithew & Johnson, 2005). Competency 1.1 is clustered with Competency 1.7, which requires interpreters to have the ability to “compare and contrast majority and minority cultures in American society” (Witter-Merithew & Johnson, 2005). Considered together, this cluster highlights the imperative for interpreters to possess both linguistic and sociocultural knowledge necessary to transfer discourse and meaning effectively between ASL and English.

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One of the reasons I chose the ASLEI program at UNC was that it offered a full bachelor’s degree, allowing me to build language and interpreting skills while completing a liberal arts curriculum. Accounting for approximately 32 credits of my degree, the liberal arts coursework included written communication, mathematics, arts and humanities, history, social and behavioral sciences, U.S. multicultural studies, international studies, and natural and physical sciences. Collectively, these courses provided a broad foundation of knowledge across diverse subject areas while fostering essential academic skills. Several of these courses revealed that the learning I completed in high school was not only incomplete but also embedded with biases shaped by my school district or instructors. I recognized this most clearly in a U.S. History course that examined familiar historical events through alternative lenses and challenged the simplified narratives I had previously accepted.

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While reading primary sources that framed Lincoln’s war decisions during the Civil War as strategic rather than purely moral, I realized that my own biases were shaping the lens through which I viewed history. I had long accepted the portrayal of Lincoln and other historical figures as unquestionably noble, a perspective presented to me in high school without significant critique. I believed his primary motivation was the freedom of enslaved people; however, encountering interpretations that emphasized his priority of preserving the Union unsettled that certainty. The discomfort I felt extended beyond Lincoln’s motives. It stemmed from recognizing how readily I had accepted dominant narratives and how little I had questioned the authority behind them. In that moment, I became aware that I had trusted familiar perspectives without examining whose interests they centered or whose voices were absent.

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In response, I began to approach research more deliberately. I now intentionally diversify my sources, question hero narratives, and seek perspectives that complicate rather than reinforce dominant accounts. As an interpreter, this shift is critical. Interpreting requires navigating competing narratives and representing meaning without filtering it through my own assumptions. Recognizing my inclination to trust authoritative viewpoints enables me to actively seek marginalized perspectives and make more deliberate, informed decisions in my interpreting work. Most notably, these liberal arts experiences strengthened my ability to think critically, not only to seek out new information but also to evaluate the credibility and reliability of sources—an ability that will be central to my effectiveness and ethical decision-making as a professional interpreter.

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I was raised in a small town and graduated from a small high school, and it was not until I reached college that I realized how significantly this background had shaped a narrow worldview. Growing up, many perspectives were presented as complete rather than partial, and I rarely questioned whether certain voices were missing. When I began encountering alternative interpretations in college, I felt not only embarrassed but unsettled by how confidently I had accepted limited narratives. That realization required me to confront the passive trust I had placed in authority and to take greater responsibility for how I form my understanding of the world.

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This shift has influenced how I approach both research and interpreting. I now recognize that when I feel overly certain about a topic, it may signal that I have not examined it deeply enough. Rather than assuming competence, I intentionally seek perspectives outside my immediate experience and remain attentive to the limits of my own exposure. While I will never reach a point of complete knowledge, I have developed the self-awareness necessary to recognize when my worldview may be narrowing and to take deliberate steps to expand it.

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The major requirement courses in the ASLEI program further challenged me to deepen my understanding of linguistic structure, sociolinguistic variation, and interpreting decision-making, while demonstrating what I have learned in both my first language, English (written and spoken), and my second language, ASL. This process enabled me to articulate complex topics in both languages, a skill that will serve me well in interpreting. Through this work, I developed an awareness of when it is necessary to prioritize meaning over linguistic form, recognizing that preserving form does not always yield accurate or accessible interpretation.

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In addition to linguistic decision-making, ASLEI coursework was intentionally integrated with learning about Deaf culture and cultures beyond my own. These academic experiences prepared me to better understand and appreciate the intersectionality of the individuals and communities I will encounter in interpreting settings. As part of the program requirements, I completed structured observation opportunities to watch highly skilled interpreters at work and to analyze their decision-making processes. This past summer, I observed a team of interpreters at the Denver Fan Expo. Because I was enrolled in upper-division interpreting courses, I was also given the opportunity to interpret several lower-risk sessions under supervision.

One such opportunity arose unexpectedly when Deaf attendees chose to attend a breakout session at the same time the working interpreters were assigned to a mainstage event. The lead interpreter allowed a classmate and me to cover the first half hour of the breakout session until she could relieve us. What initially seemed like a manageable opportunity quickly became a moment that tested both my preparation and my broader world knowledge.

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My classmate and I discovered that the breakout session focused on paranormal activity in Colorado. Because neither of us had background knowledge in this area, we attempted to conduct research before the session began. However, the large number of attendees in the conference center rendered the internet connection unusable. Unable to research effectively, we informed the Deaf consumers that we were students and asked whether they had vocabulary preferences. They did not, so we proceeded with the tools we had.

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My classmate began as the active interpreter while I supported. Within minutes, the presenters began using highly specialized jargon from the field of paranormal investigation. Shortly thereafter, one presenter asked whether there was an ASL sign for “cryptid.” We had been instructed by the lead interpreter that if presenters asked how to sign something during a session, we should defer to the Deaf consumers so they could decide whether and how to engage. When my classmate turned to me for the spelling, I realized I had not fully processed the word. Under pressure and without contextual knowledge to anchor it, I defaulted to what sounded plausible and spelled “cryptoid.” In the seconds that followed, I felt a sharp drop in confidence. I knew I had guessed, and I immediately recognized that I had prioritized speed over accuracy.

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The Deaf consumers appeared confused, as the inaccurate spelling prevented them from responding to the presenter’s question. Because we lacked sufficient knowledge of the topic, we were unable to clarify or repair the exchange in a way that facilitated a meaningful connection between the presenters and the consumers. Although the Deaf attendees were patient and my classmate and I continued to work, I became acutely aware of how gaps in world knowledge can quickly translate into reduced access. When the lead interpreter relieved us twenty minutes later, I felt both grateful and unsettled by how easily the moment had unraveled.

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This experience reshaped how I think about preparation. I had prepared extensively for the Fan Expo, but my preparation focused narrowly on the sessions I expected to interpret. I now recognize that effective preparation requires casting a wider net and developing at least baseline familiarity with adjacent subject areas, especially in settings where schedule changes are common. More importantly, I learned that when I encounter unfamiliar terminology under pressure, I must resist the urge to guess and instead employ clearer repair strategies, even in large-group settings.

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This moment reinforced that a broad knowledge base is not a luxury but a professional necessity. Communication is inherently unpredictable, and interpreters can only render discourse they understand. Preparation reduces uncertainty, but when discourse shifts unexpectedly, interpreters must rely on both foundational world knowledge and disciplined decision-making to ensure accurate and equitable access.

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While it is impossible for any one individual to possess knowledge of every subject, the Fan Expo experience clarified that I must prepare more broadly and intentionally. I now approach preparation by scanning not only the sessions I am assigned but also adjacent topics that may arise unexpectedly. When encountering unfamiliar terminology in practice settings, I resist the urge to guess and instead prioritize clarification strategies or transparent repair. Outside of assignments, I continue to expand my general knowledge through reading, podcasts, documentaries, and community engagement; however, I now do so with greater intentionality, paying particular attention to specialized subcultures and niche terminology that may surface in professional environments. This shift reflects my commitment to ongoing learning as an active, strategic process rather than a passive accumulation of information.

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I have also developed a collection of trusted resources that I intentionally use to address knowledge gaps. Rather than passively consuming information, I treat these resources as preparation tools. For example, when I watch The Daily Moth, I pause to note unfamiliar terminology, research references I do not recognize, and consider how I would render those concepts for hearing audiences who may not share the same cultural context. This practice allows me to expand both my vocabulary and my awareness of issues currently affecting the Deaf community.

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Living and working in the Seattle area, where there is an active and visible Deaf community, staying informed about regional and national developments is particularly important. Engaging with Deaf-centered news ensures that I am not relying solely on mainstream narratives and helps me make more culturally responsive decisions when interpreting for consumers in my community.

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These competencies are not concerned with acquiring all possible knowledge, as learning is a lifelong process. Instead, they emphasize the interpreter’s responsibility to continually examine assumptions, expand world knowledge, and make disciplined decisions in unpredictable contexts. Experiences such as encountering competing historical narratives in coursework and navigating unfamiliar terminology at the Fan Expo have clarified that access can be compromised not only by language gaps but by unexamined assumptions and insufficient preparation.

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Completing the liberal arts curriculum alongside major coursework has strengthened my critical thinking, linguistic flexibility, and cultural awareness; however, those skills must be applied intentionally in practice. As I transition into professional interpreting, I am committed to approaching assignments with broader preparation strategies, resisting the urge to guess under pressure, and actively seeking diverse perspectives that challenge dominant narratives. In doing so, I aim to provide interpretations that are not only linguistically accurate but also culturally responsive and ethically grounded.