This document explains and reflects on the workbook answer for Signing Naturally Unit 1, Lesson 21 (often abbreviated as SN 1.21), where the target sentence or prompt is: "My favorite leather jacket — fixed." The goal is to provide a clear, teachable model for signing the sentence in American Sign Language (ASL), including grammatical notes, lexical choices, non-manual signals, possible variations, and teaching tips.
Before we get to the jacket, we need context. Unit 12 focuses on Narrating Unforgettable Moments. The specific sub-unit, 12.1, targets the use of Instrument Classifiers (ICLs) and Body Classifiers (BCLs) to describe damage and repair.
The prompt "My Favorite Leather Jacket Fixed" is a standard ASL 3 or ASL 4 expressive assignment. Students must tell a true or fictional story about a cherished leather jacket that gets torn (often involving a nail, a car door, or an aggressive dog) and subsequently repaired (either by a professional or via DIY sewing).
Disclaimer: While textbook editions vary slightly (DVD vs. online portal vs. 2nd edition), the following answers align with the most common 2021-2025 digital version used by Gallaudet University and community college ASL programs.
Completing "Signing Naturally 121 Answers" and getting my favorite leather jacket fixed are both accomplishments I'm happy about. They represent my ongoing efforts to learn and grow, both personally and in my skills. Whether it's expanding my abilities in ASL or preserving items that are important to me, I'm pleased with the progress I've made.
In the Signing Naturally Unit 12.1 story " My Favorite Leather Jacket
," Justin describes finding the perfect coat and the modifications he made to it over time. Below are the key answers and story details: Jacket Selection
Justin rejected the first two jackets he saw for specific aesthetic reasons:
Jacket 1: He rejected it because it had too many flower designs or flowery stitches.
Jacket 2: He rejected it because it had an excessive number of zippers and looked too old-fashioned.
The Choice: He eventually bought a plain brown leather jacket with long sleeves, a front zipper, and side pockets. Modifications (The "Fixed" Parts)
Over time, Justin made three specific changes to "fix" or improve his favorite jacket:
Trimmed the Collar: He cut off the collar because it interfered with his motorcycle helmet, preventing it from fitting properly. This document explains and reflects on the workbook
Added Pocket Zippers: He sewed zippers onto the side pockets to ensure his keys and belongings wouldn't fall out while riding.
Added Elbow Pads: He added metal patches or padding to the elbows for added safety in case of a fall. Related Story: "The Tailor"
Unit 12 often pairs this story with "The Tailor," which follows a similar pattern of modification:
Step 1: Cutting the bottom of a blue wool coat because it dragged on the ground and became shredded.
Step 2: Changing double buttons to a single row because the tailor gained weight and the coat became too tight.
Step 3: Cutting off the sleeves to turn the coat into a vest after holes developed in the elbows.
You can find more detailed study guides and scripts for these units on platforms like Course Hero and Quizlet.
ASL 2 Unit 12 Homework: Tailoring Techniques and Jacket Edits
Title: The Signature Stitch
The smell hit me first—that rich, earthy blend of worn hide and downtown smog. It was my favorite leather jacket, the one I had practically lived in for three years. But right now, it was lying on the workbench at "Silent Stitch," a small tailor shop tucked away in the back of a community center, looking less like a shield against the wind and more like a casualty of a sharp fencepost.
I had torn a massive gash right down the left sleeve.
A friend had recommended this place, mentioning that the owner, Elias, was a master leatherworker. What my friend failed to mention—until I was already parking my car—was that Elias was Deaf, and the shop operated primarily in ASL. The specific sub-unit, 12
"Signing Naturally," the textbook I had hastily googled in the parking lot, seemed like a distant high school memory. I barely remembered the alphabet.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door. A small bell chimed, but no one called out a greeting. The shop was quiet, save for the hum of a sewing machine in the back.
Elias emerged from behind a curtain. He was an older man with sharp eyes and a leather apron that looked older than me. He saw me, saw the jacket bundled in my arms, and smiled. He signed a greeting—a simple wave, followed by a gesture toward the jacket.
"Hi," I said, my voice feeling strangely loud in the quiet room. I instantly regretted speaking; I felt like I had entered a sacred space and broken a rule.
Elias didn't flinch. He simply pointed to his ear and shook his head gently, then signed again. How can I help?
I walked to the counter and unrolled the jacket, exposing the jagged tear. I pointed to the wound and made a face that I hoped conveyed disaster.
Elias leaned in. His hands moved fluidly. He pointed to the jacket, then mimed a needle sewing, then gave a "thumbs up."
I recognized the sign for "fix" from that hasty parking lot research. Or maybe it was just universal logic. Relief washed over me.
How long? I wanted to ask. I held up my wrist, tapping it, a mime I hoped translated.
Elias understood. He held up three fingers. Three days? Three hours?
He pointed to the clock, then made a walking motion with his fingers. Three hours. He pointed to me, then to a chair in the corner. Wait?
I nodded eagerly. "Yes. Thank you." I caught myself and raised my hand, shaking it slightly—the universal sign for "thank you" I had seen in movies. Disclaimer: While textbook editions vary slightly (DVD vs
Elias beamed. He gestured to the jacket, then rubbed his chest in a circular motion. I knew that one. It was the sign for "favorite."
My shoulders dropped, the tension leaving my body. He understood. He didn't just see a ripped piece of cowhide; he saw that this jacket mattered to me.
For the next three hours, I sat in the corner, pretending to read a magazine while actually watching Elias work. The silence of the shop wasn't empty; it was full. It was full of the rhythm of his hands as he prepared the leather, the focused intensity of his gaze, and the occasional glance he shot me to check if I was comfortable.
He brought the jacket over once to show me the patch he’d selected—a perfect match. He pointed to the patch, then to the jacket, and signed something complex I didn't catch.
"You... good?" I asked, hesitantly raising a thumb.
He laughed, a silent, shaking laugh that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He nodded.
When he finally handed the jacket back, it was transformed. The tear was gone, replaced by a seam so precise it looked like part of the original design. He had even conditioned the leather; it gleamed like new.
I put it on. It felt like home.
I wanted to say so much. I wanted to tell him that this jacket was my armor, that I’d worn it to my first job interview, that it was the last gift I bought with money from my first summer job. But I didn't have the vocabulary.
So, I relied on what I had learned in that quiet room.
I pointed to the jacket, then to him. I made the "favorite" sign he had used earlier, rubbing my chest.
Then, I pointed to the work, and raised my thumb high.
Elias smiled, a wide, genuine expression that needed no translation. He placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head slightly.
Walking out of "Silent Stitch," the noise of the street traffic rushed back in—the cars, the sirens, the loud world I lived in. But for a moment, I paused on the sidewalk. I zipped up the jacket, ran my hand over the invisible scar on the sleeve, and wished the world was a little quieter, so we could all listen with our eyes a little better.