Five Tips To Make Lipreading Easier

I’m deaf. It’s true. I’m stone deaf and sign language is my main mode of communicating. Of course, it can’t be only mode though. There are too many people out there who don’t know sign language to expect to be able to get around in the world only using that method. No. Another way I communicate is via the written word. If I’m lucky enough to encounter a hearing person with patience, writing back and forth is a really good way to go.

But that doesn’t happen all the time. I wouldn’t say it’s rare, but it certainly doesn’t happen often. Usually, people are in too much of a hurry to put their stuff down and write to me. What tends to happen, regardless of if I announce I can’t lipread, is people discover I’m deaf and then they tend to just speed off with their mouths, expecting me to lipread them with ease.

Truth is, I’m more than willing to try to lipread people. But they have to put forth some effort as well. That brings me to these five ways to make lipreading easier for the lipreader…

Tip #1: Beware of facial hair.

As anyone who has ever tried to lipread can attest, pseudo-Santas and other men with Frito catchers around their mouth can prove a great challenge. If you’re a man with a mustache (or a woman, for that matter), please make sure it is trimmed around the lips. It can be downright impossible to lipread someone with hair all over the place.

Tip #2: Don’t stand in front of a window or light.

One of the biggest problems I run into is trying to read the face of someone standing in front of a window or light. This puts a shadow on their face and makes it nearly impossible to tell what they’re saying. While we’re talking about it, don’t stand in front of a window or light even when you’re signing. The shadow makes it impossible to even see facial expressions—something crucial in a signed conversation.

Tip #3: Watch your hands.

Something many people don’t realize is how much they use their hands when they talk. It’s true! You have no idea how often I’ll look over and think two people are signing to each other until I realize it’s just hearing people using their hands. It might not be practical to tell you not to use your hands at all (in fact, sometimes it really does help give clues to what’s being said), but mind yourself when you go to put your hands to your mouth. This happens a lot. We cannot lipread you if your hands are on your lips.

Tip #4: Speak naturally and at a SLIGHTLY slower pace. Do not over-enunciate.

I am a lot of things. But one thing I am not is a dentist. I do not need to see your fillings and cavities, One thing a lot of people do when they find out I’m deaf is start to over-enunciate, saying each word overly clearly and with big lip movements. It’s scary! It’s true that speaking a little slower, a little more clearly, may help. But not so much that it changes the look of the words. Speak clearly, but at a normal rate. And, for Pete’s sake, keep your dental work to yourself!

Tip #5: Don’t chew gum or talk with your mouth full.

Finally, there’s one thing you would think wouldn’t need to be included on this list, but sadly does. Please do not talk with your mouth full of food…even stuffing it to the side. It’s downright nasty! It’s difficult enough to try to decipher what you’re saying. But when you add gobs of mushy egg salad to the mix, it’s gross! Even chewing gum while you speak can make it impossible to know what you’re saying. So swallow before speaking, please.

So, there you have it. Lipreading is not an easy skill to acquire. Only 35% of what is said can be lipread by even the best of lipreaders – 65% is guesswork. But you can make it a bit easier on the deaf or hard of hearing person by following these five tips. Put them to use if the deaf person says he or she can lipread. But if they tell you they can’t, even these five tips might not work. Written communication may be best. Good luck!

Coincidences are Underrated--that's for sure!

Who says coincidences are overrated? I must strongly disagree. I know I’ve been shocked by things often, but there’s one time that comes to mind that shows that life can throw unexpected joys at you when you least expect it.

I had just become totally deaf in both ears and I felt very alone. Not having found my identity yet in the deaf community, I called the contact person for the Association of Late Deafened Adults and asked about information. They didn’t really have anything for me. I wasn’t interested in lipreading (I am totally deaf—not just profoundly deaf—and a bad guesser from the start) and they didn’t really focus on Sign Language, which I chose as my main method of communication. But, although I found the organization more for older people who lose their hearing through age, they did ask if I wanted the contact information of someone in my area who was also “late deafened.”

I was shocked! I lived in town where the population was 200 and that included all the cows and dogs. But there was someone else experiencing what I was experiencing in my area? Wow! So, of course I took the information and then I TTYed them right up. (This was a long time ago—long before video relays and such).

When I finally was able to talk with Bob, I liked him right away. He had a great sense of humor and, like mine, tended to be sarcastic to the hilt. Kenny (my husband) and I met with him and his wife that very week. For a few months, we got to know each other well and it was so nice to have someone whom I could confide in.

Then one evening, it happened. Kenny had gone off to use the restroom and I was showing them my photo album. I had been into scrapbooking for some time and was showing off a little.

As we sat and thumbed through the pictures, Bob got a confused look on his face. He turned to his wife and asked, “Does that look like Thelma? Why is Thelma Laflen in your scrapbook?” I replied, “Thelma Laflen is my grandmother.” He looked at me and very excitedly said, “Thelma Laflen is my aunt!”

Huge laughs and total astonishment, we quickly figured out that that meant we were second cousins! In fact, he said he had even met my parents at a family reunion a few years prior! How amazing! We hugged and explained it all very excitedly when Kenny came back in the room. We were family! How wonderful! Two people who had never met, hadn’t known anything about each other’s existence were actually cousins! And both deaf at that!

So don’t tell me coincidences are overrated. I strongly disagree. Coincidences can be life-changing just like the one I had. Our family had grown. We were related and instant fans of each other.

Bob died of a heart attack a couple of years ago. We were close, but circumstances had lead us to not see each other as often as we would have liked. Don’t get me wrong. I miss him. I will always miss him. But I know that he and my grandmother are up there in heaven celebrating. I’m also certain they watched down on me as I went through finding my identity in the Deaf world. Thanks, Bob. I appreciate it.

When People Come A-Knockin'

When summer's over and school is back in session (which is coming up very soon), it seems that's when most people start walking up to my door and ringing the doorbell. I've got one of those fancy devices that throw off a strobe light whenever that happens. But I HATE it! From the moment it flashes till I actually open the door, all I can think is, "Darnit! Who is it this time?!?!?" That's because of my many experiences with answering a door while alone.

I'll be watching TV or doing the dishes and suddenly: FLASH! FLASH! FLASH! I try to peek out of the living room window first, but I can't tell who it is. I open my door and there are two people dressed in suits with huge smiles on their faces as they begin to speak.

I interrupt and point to my ears and shake my head--indicating that I'm Deaf. They begin to over-enunciate and point to their lips. "I can't lipread either," I slur. They laugh uncomfortably and start to talk to each other. "Are you Jehovah Witnesses?" I ask.

"Yes," they answer with a great amount of excitement and start talking to me again.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested," I say as I close the door. Whew! That was exhausting.

Sometimes people will write to me after I indicate I can't hear:

"Can you read?" No. What does this note say?
"Is there someone else I can talk to?" Nope. All alone and there will never be another person home.
"Do you read Braille?" Only in the dark.
"I can come back." Sorry, but I'll still be Deaf and uninterested.

I get all sorts of things happening after the house is empty of kids. It can be truly tiring. Some people just don't get it and I'm always amazed at the pantomime and facial expressions they'll spew off.

But I can't live in a bubble. I have to interact with other people at some points in my life. I guess that's just the way things go, but....FLASH! FLASH! FLASH! Oh, dear. Gotta run. Gotta go see what this next person has to say, sell, or perform. Wish me luck!

Are People's Needs Being Met?

We’ve come a long way since the days of serious oppression vented toward the deaf and hard of hearing population. Things such as interpreters and phones are now readily accessible in most situations. Most. So, when I found myself a patient at a nearby mental health facility, I was quite surprised at the workers’ attitude toward me and my deafness.

I should first let you know that this specific admission was, by far, not my first time being there. Not only are accommodations the law, but these people knew me by name when I got to my unit. You’d think they’d already know about my needs. You’d think it anyway….

The first main problem I had was the fact that several of the nurses didn’t believe that I couldn’t lipread.  “All deaf people lipread. I think she’s faking for attention’s sake.” One nurse in particular took many people aside and said, “If you catch her lipreading, come tell me. I don’t believe she can’t.” Now, why would I fake something just to make my life more difficult than it already is?

After a few admissions, I think the staff finally “got it” that I need an interpreter, but in there lay another problem…cost.

Although they were usually good about calling for a ‘terp, the problem was when that ‘terp should leave. A ‘terp was scheduled from 9 till 12 and from 1 till 4 for groups, meeting with my doctor or case manager, etc. But they would often give me medicine to de-stress me and it made me unbelievably sleepy. However, when I would lay down to try to sleep it off for a half hour or so, they would send the interpreter home—saying that they didn’t want to have to pay for an interpreter if I wasn’t awake to use them.

But what about the doctor? They would send the ‘terp home and then, later, would say the doctor needs to talk with me or that group is happening and it was mandatory to go. What they didn’t understand was that ‘interpreters are paid on a two-hour basis. No matter when they actually left, the hospital would still have to pay for the full two hours at a time. So, sending them home didn’t save anyone money and it made me miss the doctor or nurse or any professional who needed to speak with me.

Another problem that was never rectified while I was in-patient, was the telephone. Technically, it would be best if they had a video phone hooked up for deaf patients to use. They said they “thought they had a TTY around here somewhere,” but, not only was it yet to be found, but no one I know has one anymore. They’re very outdated,  So I would need to have my interpreter call on a regular land line phone, tell me what the person on the other end said and then let me speak into the phone and answer them. No privacy whatsoever. It was just wrong.

While I was in there this last time, several of my interpreters commented to their agency regarding how mistreated I am as far as communication goes. When I was discharged from the hospital, I worked with the customer rights’ unit at the agency and was told that things would be different next time. Next time? I hope I don’t have a “next time,” but I guess, if I do, at least (hopefully) it will be able to meet all of my needs.

I Tried And I Can’t—Now Just Go Away!….Please!

I’m writing this blog as a sort of lesson to myself. See, I have a hearing husband and he is totally wonderful. He’s always trying to please me. So, in return, he ends up interpreting for me a LOT. Just in the last 5 years I’ve become pretty isolated, so he has to do all the errands and conversations and phone calls. I know it’s not OK. I know I’m taking advantage of him. But it’s not like I don’t pay in back in other ways (wink wink).

In order to free him from interpreting in times when no interpreter is expected, I thought that I would try to learn to lip read. Have you ever tried to learn to lipread? I’ve been told it can be done, but not likely for someone with absolutely no residual hearing and not a lot of practice.

Before I decided to sign up for the local community class that teaches lipreading mainly to the elderly, I decided to see if I could do it on my own. I’ve since found I can’t.

That doesn’t stop people from trying to talk to me though. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but if a person is Deaf and can’t lipread, screaming in their ear or showing us your cavities when you over-enunciate at us isn’t going to help much. Plus, it’s terribly, terribly annoying.

Now, if you’ve read my other blog posts, you might remember that I have very little capability to remember things. This can be a great thing and a not so great thing.

Standing in the hallway of a hospital, waiting to be told what to do, an elderly woman approaches me. “You deaf?????” She yelled loud enough that the veins in her face almost popped. I nodded yes and hoped she’d just go away. “I know how to do my abcs!” Oy vey, that’s the one sentence most deaf people do not want to work with. I mean, I appreciate people learning to fingerspell (or just recite the alphabet as in this case), but, God be with me, I can only have it happen so many times in a short duration before internal combustion blows me out of the way.

When this woman was done, she turned to go. I, stood silently, hoping she’d be gone soon. Oh, but that didn’t happen. No. No. I was never that lucky. So, the woman turns around and starts singing and grotesquely signing the song, “Jesus Loves Me,” Into the side of my face. Oh, gosh! Someone rescue me!!! It was over, but none too soon. Thankfully, a nurse came by and escorted this old woman away from me. And that’s all I wanted. Just for her to go away. Why can’t they all just go away??

So, lipreading is out for me. I’m OK with that. I’ve got many Deaf, HOH, and interpreter friends to chat with. I’ll keep that. That’ll satisfy me plenty.

I Had The Right To Remain Silent…At Least I Think I Did…

Some things just don’t happen every day: You finding $100 in your wallet, Tom Hanks personally requesting you to co-star with him in his next Oscar-worthy movie, or your being arrested and formally charged with a DUI when you don’t even drink. Sure, a couple of those things would be wonderful to happen, but handcuffs and police stations make watching Joan Rivers’ face more appealing.

A few weeks ago, I started the day like any other. After getting everyone ready for school and forcing them to eat some breakfast whether they were hungry or not, I set off to drop my kids at their wonderful charter school. On my way home, I became parched and decided to stop at a near-by gas station to get one of my guilty pleasures of sweetened iced tea.

However, starting to pull out of the parking lot, I became distracted and very gently bumped the back bumper of the car in front of me.  With absolutely no damage whatsoever, the guy in that car insisted on having the police come to make a report. I think that was because he felt awkward dealing with a deafie and also I was acting slightly inebriated since I can’t lipread and they didn’t even understand that I was Deaf in the first place.

When the police did finally arrive at the scene, I got out of my van and started staggering around. I simply couldn’t stand up straight. I get this way when standing after sitting for a while. But it sure didn’t look like I was experiencing momentary dizziness to everyone around me! In fact, I’m sure I looked completely dead-on drunk!

Then, the officer approached me and started asking me questions. I must have informed him that I was completely deaf a million times. I also told him I couldn’t lipread and had no idea what he was saying. He pondered this for about two seconds, and then continued talking to me in exactly the same manner as before. Ugh!

I took the Breathalyzer test, which showed 0 alcohol in my body, but even that didn’t seem to matter much. I believe he read me my rights as he handcuffed me, put me in his car, and took me to jail, but there’s no way I could have understood him. Nothing was written down for me and no interpreter was present. Is that even legal? Doesn’t the rights he probably read me include a, “Do you understand these rights,” at the end? Because if he did read them to me, I surely didn’t understand. In fact, that entirely morning/experience, left me understanding absolutely nothing!

I could go on and on about what happened that day, but with a case of severe memory loss and the fact that they had me in custody for hours and hours before an interpreter showed up at the jail, (meaning I was confused and completely ignorant to anything anyone said), it wouldn’t be extremely informative.

But here I am, charged with a DUI when I don’t even drink or do drugs. They’ve even informed me that I could be facing thousands of dollars in fines and jail time to serve if convicted!

I arrived at my first court appearance and, again, there was no interpreter scheduled. We all had to wait around for more than an hour, after informing the clerk of my ‘terp needs, for one to even show up. Grrrrr…… And now they’re waiting for my blood labs to be done and reported (they did a blood/alcohol test, which will unquestionably come back as 0). Then they want to see me in court again. My hope, of course, is that they’ll dismiss the charges and leave me alone. And they’d better remember to schedule a ‘terp this time around.

So, as you can see, being Deaf and working with the police, especially if they don’t comprehend what special needs a Deaf person might have, is nothing but a big pain in the butt! Maybe this all has a reason though. Didn’t someone once say that everything happens for a reason? Maybe this is all a way of insisting I stop drinking copious amounts of sweetened tea. When you think about it, if I’d never stopped for my guilty pleasure, I would have simply gone home and enjoyed the rest of the day.

Let’s just hope that all of this takes care of itself as quickly as possible. I don’t experience worry and stress all that well. 

AND.....CUE!

The Whitman’s were due for dinner and, knowing I would be the only deaf person here and that they don’t use sign language, I tried my best to brace myself for what was to come. As Dr. Phil would say, “This wasn’t my first rodeo.” I had my paper and pen, but, because my husband, Kenny, was going to be there, he was planning on interpreting. That was nice of him, wasn’t it?

As the guests arrived, Kenny and I stood at the door to welcome them. What I found myself face-to-face with was an elderly woman with blood-red lipstick that seemed to follow the wrinkles in the skin above her upper lip (making it seem she had a bright red mustache) and a man with a Frito-catcher around his face that would rival even Old St. Nick himself. Wow! If I were ever going to need a pen and paper or an interpreter, tonight would be the night!

We said our hellos, hugged, hung up their coats and got them a drink. I should have gotten me a stiff one, too. While all of that was taking place, Kenny engaged in a nice conversation with them, making sure to sign his part. But, honestly, I was not all that interested, so I busied myself in preparing the dinner table.

After I was done, all four of us sat down at the table to eat. This can be looked at as gross or upsetting on so many levels. First and foremost, there’s the fact that here sat at least two people who don’t understand why talking with their mouth full bothers me more than it seems to bother other people. What planet did they come from? Where in the Solar System does it say that it’s considered polite and OK to spit out their mashed potatoes at the same time they’re spitting out their consonants? Ew! That has always been a pet peeve of mine and it doesn’t necessarily have to do with being deaf and paying more attention to their faces and lips. Besides, what lips?

The bulk of the frustration I was dealing with was our chitchat. As the four of us sat around, Kenny would interpret what they were saying and he would be sure to sign what he was saying. The problem I ran into is the pattern it left:

They speak.

Kenny turns to me and signs what they said.

All people in the room watch me for my reaction to what was said.

All night long, they would talk and, when Kenny went to include me, everyone got a expectant face and wanted to know what I thought. I despise being the center of attention. I mean, make me some wallpaper that kind of blends into the paint and I’d be very happy. But when we have people over who don’t sign, this is what happens.

Sure, I could ask them to write to me instead of having Kenny interpret, but it seems a little odd to say, “You know, I hate it when my husband signs to me. Can you write that down?”

Perhaps it’s just me, but it seems redundant when he could have just as easily told me what was being said. It just bugs the bejeebas out of me when everyone wants to look at me for a reaction. I mean, sometimes I don’t have a reaction. I’m not going to look all excited and responsive with every single sentence. Just let me hang out. Don’t put me on cue. It’s just too much pressure. You know? I feel like it’s almost a, “Let’s see how the Deaf woman reacts,” kind of thing.

Kenny (signing and speaking): How many children do you have?

Guest (speaking only): I have three kids.

Kenny (interprets): Three children.

Everyone looks at me to see my response.

Me (signing and sometimes speaking): Wow! Three kids? That’s great!

But, really, what’s so great about it? I have three kids. I’d gladly give away one or two sometimes. But I don’t think me having three warrants a “great” response.

So, I tried another scenario:

Kenny (signing and speaking): Where do your kids go to school?

Guest (speaking only): They attend Grandville Middle School.

Kenny (interprets): Grandville Middle School.

Everyone looks at me to see my response.

Me: I nod my head with no real expression on my face. (Thinking: OK. Let’s move on.)

I mean, who cares? He’s just being polite. Why must I have a polite and positive reaction to every single thing we talk about? It’s exhausting!

I just want to be another face in the crowd. I want to socialize with people who are involved in my hearing kids’ lives, but I can’t be expected to do cartwheels and the Victory Dance after every tidbit of information.

Yes, I used to do theatre and such, and yes, I know what being on cue means. But No, I don’t like being in the spotlight and on cue all the time.

The question is (besides asking them to write something down), how do I get involved in the conversations with hearing folk (like in a group) who are standing around gabbing? Kenny interprets and that helps break the barrier down, but then everyone wants to see him sign to me and my reaction to that and that’s just annoying. That’s the word. Annoyed.

I’m a friendly person. I enjoy other people’s company, but I find socializing with hearing people who don’t sign to be just too tricky. Hey, people! Talk to me, involve me, but, please, don’t place such a huge expectation on me. I am not on cue.

A DEAF PERSON'S GUIDE TO HOLIDAYS WITH NON-SIGNING FAMILY

It’s Christmas time and, chances are, you’re going to be spending some of that time around family and friends. Perhaps you’re Deaf or hard of hearing and your family is not. Perhaps those hearing relatives don’t know sign language either. What’s a deafie to do to make sure they don’t go completely berserk at this time of year?

Here, I’ve put together ten holiday tips for staying sane and making the most of your time with hearing friends and family.

1. If you're worried about getting the perfect gift for that special someone, but the thought of battling through all the holiday traffic, spending hours finding a parking place, then remember that sometimes the best gift is a simple one. You can buy almost anything online from the comfort of your own home. Gift cards are also an easy way to go. But if you really want to “shake things up,” why not give them a vibrating alarm clock? No need to wrap it. Just sneak into their bedroom at night and place the vibrating part under their pillow. Although they’re usually meant to be placed under the mattress, putting it under their pillow will give them a much deeper and immediate appreciation for what you go through to wake up in the morning.

Just sneak into their bedroom, plug it in, and set the alarm for 1 minute later. Then sit back and watch the festivities begin!

2. If the thought of a party, family gathering, or other "mandatory" social event leaves you knotted up with anxiety, plan ahead for some "escape time" for yourself. If you are suddenly feeling overwhelmed with all of the lip-flapping and none of the hand-using, do what the experts tell you to do: Hide in the bathroom. (OK, maybe the experts don’t exactly say this, but I do, so we’ll just go with it, shall we?)

Not only can you lock the door and ignore all of the knocking and hands waving under the door, but you can go through their medicine cabinet and get to know them in a more personal way. Then, once at least 5 notes have been pushed under the door to tell you that they need to go to the bathroom, you can simply flush the toilet, let the water run for 10 seconds and emerge rejuvenated and wiser to the ways the host’s family deals with medication.

3. If you’re one who can lipread a bit, it might behoove you to determine in advance what subjects will be discussed.  Try to take a moment and think about what each guest is interested in and then practice lipreading words that might be said. You never know when learning to lipread “Sheboygan” and “antidisestablishmentarianism” will come in handy.

4. Greet every family member with a hug and sign, “It’s great to see you!”  You never have to recover from a good start. Then again, if you start things off on a bad note, it might just ruin the entire visit. Do what you think is best. If you think hugging Uncle Larry, who often looks at you like you’re about to smite him down with his own deafness, would benefit you (such as scaring him so badly that he loses all blood flow to his brain and passes out---fun to watch!) then hug away. Otherwise, a nice wave across the room should suffice.

5. Whatever issues exist, it is not the fault of your nephews, nieces, and grandchildren.  So, be sure to be nice to them. In fact, it’s a well-known fact that eating at the kids’ table is much more enjoyable. Not only can you play with your food, but, if you behave yourself, you can often get a second piece of pie. 

6.  Form alliances with those you like and stay clear of the dysfunctional ones. In other words, there’s no point in hanging out with Uncle Larry if your cousin Tammy signs well (and you like her). Just think of the things you can do! You can have long, gossipy conversations in sign language and no one will have a clue. In fact, I’ve even had people tell me that it’s rude to have signed conversations in front of people who can’t sign. My response is to explain how they’re doing the exact same thing when they speak around someone who can’t hear. Helloooo!

7. Don’t expect others to be different. It’s very easy to go into a situation like this, hoping that the people you haven’t seen in a while will be more receptive to you and include you more. Unfortunately, it’s those who haven’t seen you who will probably treat you worse. Out of sight, out of mind, applies to a person being deaf as well. So, don’t get your hopes up regarding people changing. Try to change your own attitude and let the ignorance of others roll off your back. (Easier said than done.)

8.  Keep busy! If you’re at a party and you feel bored or left out, find the host and ask what you can do to help. Whether it’s washing dishes or changing diapers, there’s sure to be something to occupy your time. Give it a try! If it doesn’t help, at least you can know that you helped someone else out that day.

9.  Use laughter and humor to take off the pressure. This is probably the most important tip of all! Everyone needs a sense of humor, and us deafies need it the most. Instead of focusing on why you’re unhappy or feeling excluded, try to think of things that are happening and what is funny about them.  So, you’ll be off in the corner laughing to yourself. So what? They already think you’re a freak because you’re deaf. Mental illness isn’t that far a step now, is it? 

10. Make an exit plan and use it. Escape, flee, run for the hills, hightail it out of there…anything you have to do to make it all go away. As soon as you’ve had enough, it is OK to tell people that you need to leave. Don’t stay until you’re so stressed you want to vomit in Uncle Larry’s shoes. He probably won’t notice it anyway. So leave. You may never enjoy these family gatherings, but, if you leave before total insanity has set in, you just might be able to find something good that came out of it.

BAGELS AND BABES: BONDING WITH MY HEARING CHILDREN…KIND OF

“Bagels and Babes” is a special time at my kids’ school, where they invite the mothers to come out and bring all their children for a breakfast of…wait for it….bagels for the babes (babies, kids, short people). I, ever the wanting-to-spend-time-bonding-with-her-kids-type mother, decided that this year, we would indeed attend.

I’ve never been very good at estimating arrival times. I always give myself way too much time to get there and then drive like a bat-out-of-hell, only to arrive 45 minutes early. This morning, I did better. I was only a half an hour early. Hey, it’s a step in the right direction.

So, when we pulled up in our van that desperately needs a new furnace and some shocks, we were all a little beat up and ready to snack. Unfortunately, we were the only ones in the parking lot and the only snack I had in the car was a half-eaten Snickers bar with fuzz stuck to it. This surprised me. Not because it was gross or the only thing in the car to eat. By why in the world would anyone only eat half a Snickers bar? That’s just insane.

I had Mollie, my oldest, run into the school to see if we were allowed in yet. We were. So I bundled up my nerves, grabbed my purse, and headed for the school gym, which would double that morning as the cafeteria.

We were, in fact, the first people there. Well, the first people not setting up, there. The woman behind the breakfast table waved a hearty hello and shouted something to me that seemed pleasant. She could have been saying, “You guys sure are too fat to be arriving so early for food. Can’t you starve a little and give the hungry kids of the world something to chew on for once,” and I wouldn’t have known the difference.

I gave my usual, “Hi! Do you need any help,” only to be answered. Now, why did I ask a question when I knew I wouldn’t know what in the world the answer was? It is a terrible habit I have. Perhaps it’s just me wanting to feel the vibrations of my own vocal cords. I talk quite a lot, actually. I talk to fill up the air, knowing that I sound like some poor, dying animal on the side of the road. But poor, dying animal sounds is better than nothing, right? I think that may be debatable.

Thankfully, she shook her head as she answered. Even though I realized the answer was no, I did happen to glance at my 10-year-old, Natalie, who, by the way, is the second most fluent signer in the house (behind me, of course), and she interpreted that the woman had been there for 20 minutes and was all set up. Hmmm. If only I would have driven a little faster and met my usual 45 minutes-early time pattern, I could have lent a hand. Alas, all I could lend was my mouth and my stomach at this point.

After a couple of minutes of very awkward silence…well, awkward for the woman (everything is silent to me)…I decided to start digging into the donut holes on the far right of the table and a glass of hot chocolate, located in the middle.

I was so involved in decided which hole would be the least caloric with the most taste, that I failed to realize that more people had accumulated in the gym for the festivities. So, when I grabbed the two holes I’d decided on, I moved directly back toward the middle of the table to pick up a glass of hot cocoa. Unfortunately, someone else had already picked up theirs, so, when I moved to the left, not looking at where I was going, I hit the woman on her arm and it sent the hot beverage flying.

“Oh, my gosh! I am SO sorry!! I didn’t even realize you were there,” I spat out as I observed where the glass and its contents were going to land. Thankfully, it wasn’t on another person. What’s a wet wall at 7 AM, anyway? All was OK—Except the fact that the woman, who had politely smiled off the collision, had decided to start a conversation with me. She began by introducing herself. I think. Her name was Felicity or Barbara or Veronica. Maybe it was Diandra. Could have been supercalifragiliciousexpialadocious for all I knew. But, because I had absent-mindedly left my paper and pen in the van, I smiled and introduced myself and shook her hand.

She talked and laughed. I laughed and smiled. She talked some more. I nodded. She jabbered on as she started to eat her bagel, which was smothered in cream cheese. (I know this because she ate and talked at the same time.) I smiled and tried not to gag at the grossness. I quickly looked around the gym for one of my three children. Perhaps they could give me an excuse to get away from this bevy of crumbs and saliva and confusion. Nope. They were all busy with their own friends. So, I did what any other person would do in this situation: I created a new child. A fictitious child. A child who was always in trouble and was making a ruckus waaaaaaay on the other end of the gym.

“Sorry, but I have to go. Bartholomew is always making a fuss. I need to make sure he hasn’t maimed or killed anyone yet. It was nice to meet you.” I went to leave and the woman with her mouth full spat a few crumbs at me as a goodbye and went about making small talk with another poor victim.

After that…er…situation…I decided that maybe I should eat my holes and drink my chocolate and just sit somewhere. I did so. I acted like I was totally engrossed in the origami book my son has asked me to hold.  I’d never found a paper crane so interesting! When I was done with my food and realized that my kids didn’t even know I was there anymore, I went about getting ready to leave. After all, a mother was about to give a presentation on the importance of including your children in your every day activities. Definitely not something I wanted to sit through in silence.

I left. I left knowing that, even though they didn’t give me the time of day, I’m sure my kids appreciated my effort to spend a little extra time with them. I left knowing that I had done my job and shown my children a little extra love. I left knowing that some people just haven’t a clue about the proper eating habits of not talking with your mouth full!!!!! …Ahem…. And I left knowing that I had a half-eaten Snickers bar in my car if I crashed in the snow on the way home.

WHAT'S IN A NAME?

As I laid in bed, just a few hours after having a total hysterectomy, two women entered my room. The interpreter had left for the evening, but I had my handy dandy notebook with me, just to the side of my bed.

The duo that walked into my room consisted of an older lady (probably in her 60’s) and another woman in her mid to late 40’s. Apparently, the older woman (we’ll call her Myrtle) was teaching the younger one (let’s say..."Betty") how to draw blood. Perhaps they chose me to use as the pin cushion, thinking that, because I was Deaf, I would not scream and curse the skies as she repeatedly jabbed me with, what seemed like, a jumbo-sized knitting needle.

So, they entered the room, and Myrtle began to speak. I immediately let her know that I was Deaf and needed her to write to me. For some reason it didn’t register for her. She repeated whatever it was she was trying to tell me. I motioned over to the paper and pen. I couldn't reach it, because it's across the room and I’m practically dying from the pain, but I did let her know where it was. She continued to jabber on. I, again, told her where the paper and pen was, this time adding a bit of an edge to my facial expression (think Clint Eastwood meets Nurse Ratchet.) Again, no luck. I then told her  just what she could do with the pen and paper when she did finally find it. She wasn’t amused.

She began to yell at me. I began to cry. Betty stood there smiling like someone had glued her upper lip to her upper gums. It wasn’t pretty. And I didn’t reciprocate. No one in the room had a clue what to do next.

Finally, Myrtle gave up on communication and moved over next to Betty. She was explaining what Betty needed to do in order to suck out any remaining blood in my system. Betty listened carefully, looking terrified the entire time, pulled out a needle that looked like one of those plastic needles they give toddlers to play with when sewing cards together, and began to hack at my arm in full force, blood splattering everywhere.

All the while, Myrtle smiled evilly and glared at me. It was obvious she was enjoying this way too much. Betty kept touching my shoulder and apologizing. “Just one more time,” I believe she said….over and over again.

When all was done and there was no more blood left in my body to collect, Betty smiled and bowed repeatedly as she exited the room. Kind of like they do in China. Myrtle, on the other hand, walked over to the pen and paper (GASP! She found it!!), wrote something down, and left. No. She didn’t hand it to me. She just wrote it and left.I heaved a huge sigh of relief and began to wipe the blood out of my hair.

Finally, my husband came back into the room, having left to go get some hospital coffee (which is very different than just regular coffee). I asked him to read me the paper. He read it and looked at me with a very strange look.

”What does it say?”

“Thank you, Ms. Thomas. We hope you recover from your knee replacement surgery quickly.”

Bummer.

YOU SAY ORALISM ISN'T PERFECT? RIGHT ON, BROTHER!

As defined at http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/oralism:
Oralism: A philosophy of education for the deaf, opposed to manualism, that uses spoken language consisting of lipreading, speech, the process of watching mouth movements, and mastering breathing techniques.

September 6 – 11, 1880, in the city of Milan, Italy, a group of 164 participants attended the 2^nd International Congress on Education of the Deaf (ICED). The Milan Conference was organized by the Pereire Society. This society was a strong supporter of oralism. They organized the Milan conference with the intent to ban sign language. And they secured this outcome by carefully selecting who was invited, inviting the delegates to see the oralist success in a local school, and by encouraging negative reactions to those giving speeches supporting sign language and cheering those supporting oralism.

This convention consisted of 87 Italians, 56 Frenchmen, 8 Englishmen, 5 Americans, and 8 other delegates. Not a lot of diverse representation for an “international” meeting. During the conference there were 12 speakers who gave their opinions on the issues connected with deaf education. Nine of the 12 speakers gave an oralist view and 3 supported the use of sign language.

At the meeting, the members voted overwhelmingly to outlaw the use of sign language as a method for educating deaf children, in favor of the pure oral method. The group also opposed a compromise motion to include sign language along with speech. And thus began an attempt to abolish the language of Sign.

The original resolutions passed at this meeting did irreparable damage to deaf individuals, educators, professionals, schools and communities around the world. Thankfully, perhaps due to the fact that Gallaudet College (now University) refused to abandon the use of sign and to the founding of the National Association of the Deaf, ASL has persevered. Regardless of what the extremists and strict oralists believe, ASL is the language of the Deaf and always will be.

I was ecstatic to find that, on Monday, July 19^th of this year, the International Congress of the Deaf opened its 21^st Congress with a historic announcement that it formally rejects the resolutions passed at the 2^nd Congress. This move in part was due to the letters and actions from advocacy organizations and leaders throughout the world urging the ICED to embrace signed languages and deaf cultures.

NAD’s President, Bobbie Beth Scoggins, had this to say about the monumental proclamation:

"We are elated to see that, for the first time in 130 years, the ICED has joined us in rejecting the actions of its predecessors and moving forward to improve educational systems for the global deaf and hard of hearing community. We are grateful and proud to see the ICED take this important and very appropriate step towards reconciliation. The formal rejection of the 1880 resolutions made in Milan by the ICED realizes a dream that we have had for 130 years. Together with the ICED we have taken the first steps towards a beautiful, bilingual future of cooperation and mutual respect."

Here’s to a new and brighter future for our deaf and hard of hearing students! Let’s let them use what works for each, instead of a contrived notion that oralism is the only way!

DON'T DUMB DOWN MY CAPTIONING!

Last night, as I sat watching, “A Few Good Men” (only THE best court movie ever), I began to realize that I was being gypped. What I was reading on my closed captioning did not match the movement on the speaker’s face. It was almost as if I was viewing an old Japanese movie, where the voice-over ends and the lips keep flapping. I was upset. I felt betrayed. Why wasn’t I being given fully equal access to the dialogue as everyone else? And who was deciding what was important enough to transcribe and what could be left out?

I’m an intelligent person. An educated person. I deserve to be “in the know” as much as anyone else who chooses to watch a television program or view a DVD. I wanted to know who was deciding what I would and would not “hear” the speakers say? Upon finishing my research, I discovered there are a couple of reasons why the captioning and subtitles might not exactly match the script.

• In some occurrences, some bigwig decided that, because people born deaf or early-deafened sometimes struggle with the English language, including reading it, they should dumb down the captions to make it easier to understand for the viewers.
  

Now, granted, I do understand why people whose first language isn’t English might not be able to follow complex English sentences with a lot of ease. But who is this bigwig to decide what is “too complex” or how it would be “better understood”? Besides, reading the captioning while watching a show can actually help develop a person’s English skills. If someone decides to change a sentence to a structurally easier format (in their opinion), you’re not only robbing pretty much everyone of the actual scriptwriter’s words, but of the possibility to help a person appreciate the English language. Not to mention that you’re stereotyping and placing the whole
of deaf and hard of hearing society into one category. Phooey!

• Sometimes the reason the captions are altered is because the captionist has to create captions whose reading time syncs with the viewing time of each clip or shot. Because reading time is generally shorter than what is actually being said in a given scene, the captionist is faced with the job to paraphrase what is being said before the scene or shot ends.

Admittedly, this is a good point. I understand that. Many a time I have struggled to follow captions that were flying by at an astronomically fast pace. I’ve even been known to yell at the television set, “Come on! Slow down already!” So, I do recognize that this places the burden of decision on the person doing the captioning or subtitles. Do they include it all, even though the clip is only four seconds long? Or do they paraphrase and leave out “unnecessary” extras, as is often the case?

In my opinion, I would much rather struggle to read the captions at full-speed than have the decision of which words and phrasing will be ignored made by some man or woman who hasn’t a clue who I am. What is this person basing their decisions on, anyway? Maybe that line, “I know what you mean, sir. I know what you mean,” could be phrased “I know what you mean,” and that be the end of it. And maybe they’re exactly right that the rest of that line is inconsequential to the storyline, but I don’t know this. All I know is that what I’ve just finished reading is obviously not exactly what they said, because they’re mouth is still moving. I don’t know what the left-out dialogue was. So, it doesn’t matter to me. I want to know what they said. Word for word. Tell me. If I have to struggle to read it all, I’ll deal with that. But it’s my decision.

• Yet another reason some people believe that captions are snipped here and there is for the movie makers to save money. This is untrue. Captioning companies do not charge by the word. So that “good” argument is out.

Be it right or be it wrong; be it subtle or be it blatant; captionists should not mess with the script. Tell us what they’re saying and what noises are being heard. That’s why we have the captioning turned on in the first place. Acting the part of “God” and deciding what will and will not be relayed is not only disrespectful and condescending, but it’s annoying as all get out, too.

PARDON ME WHILE I MAKE YOU FEEL INFERIOR

As I was preparing for my sign language class that was about to begin, two students arrived early. As is usually the case, they each entered, smiled sheepishly and sat down in silence. A few seconds of getting settled and one excitedly begins to speak. Signing awkwardly and speaking at the same time, she begins: “Oh my gosh! I was working on my signing vocabulary last week and you won’t believe what happened!” Becoming excited, she begins to speak at a lightning speed and all semblance of sign language is lost. She and the other student engage in a very animated and enthusiastic discussion while I look on. When she’s finished, she turns me with wide eyes and smiles expectedly. But I haven’t the faintest clue what she’s just said.

I look at her and ask, “So, what exactly happened last week when you were working on your sign vocabulary? It seems exciting.”

“Well, I was …” Again, her frantic behavior and rapid speech made it virtually impossible for me to comprehend any word or sign she uttered.

“Wait!” I stopped her before she went on. “I can’t understand you. You need to slow down. Can you sign it?”

A moment of obvious discomfort later, she shifts in her chair. Finally, she looks up and, with a sympathetic expression, states, “Never mind. It’s not important.”

GASP! NO! NOT THAT! It’s not important to whom? It was obviously important by the body language and facial expressions she used when telling the other student, why would it not be important now? Or does she mean I’m not important enough for her to go through the trouble of repeating it? Be it right or be it wrong, when you say, “Never mind,” and “It’s not important,” to a deaf or hard of hearing person, that’s the message that comes across. “You’re not important enough for me to put forth effort to explain it to you.”

Try to imagine how you would feel if you went to a party and someone tells the most hilarious joke ever at just the moment your child tugs at your shirt and distracts you. The crowd breaks out in guffaws and screams of delight. When finished with your child’s needs, you look up and eagerly ask, “What was so funny?” Now imagine that the only response you get is someone brushing you off while saying, “Oh, it’s not important,” and then abandoning you for others in the crowd who actually know what’s going on. Doesn’t feel so hot, does it?

It doesn’t matter whether what you were saying was some stupid joke you heard from your five-year-old or a grand soliloquy your boss gave before he fired you, if it’s important enough to say once, to, say, a hearing person who is easy to converse with, it’s important enough to figure out a way to help the hearing-impaired person you’re with to understand what you were sharing.

In other words, sign, speak (clearly), mime, gesture, or write, but DO repeat it for us. Let us decide if it was worth all that effort. Because, whether you mean it or not, “Never mind,” can have much the same impact as turning to that person and telling them to go to hell.

VOTING--THE BLIND LEADING THE DEAF

Alice Rossi, famed socialist and feminist scholar, once said, “The single most impressive fact about the attempt by American women to obtain the right to vote is how long it took.” Yes, it’s true. As women, we fought tooth and nail to prove we had as much a right to have a say in who would be governing us in the White House and beyond as any guy ever had. And, obviously, we won. But what about the voting rights of Deaf individuals? Are Deaf people ever discriminated against in that forum? Well, let’s see what the facts say….

“Deaf people are indeed allowed to vote in every state of the union. However, very little information from the mass media and the government is accessible in sign language, and mass meetings/personal campaigns rarely have sign language interpreters available. Since many Deaf people have difficulty with English (it often being our second language and all), it must be assumed that written information in newspapers and/or flyers will be of limited benefit. Also, very few news programs on TV are captioned. So, even though Deaf people are rarely formally denied the right to vote, they are not provided the opportunity to make informed and independent decisions in political elections.”

Now, granted, more and more news programs and such now have closed captioning available. However, it is still important to note that, if a certain Deaf individual struggles with English, captioning ain’t gonna be a huge help to them, now, is it? So, a lot of it depends on the English skills of the Deaf individual, the availability of interpreting services, and other extenuating circumstances.

All that being said, I’d love to share with you my last experience in the voting arena.  I do have to admit that I’m not heavily involved with politics. In fact, I don’t do a whole lot of voting at all. OK, OK. I’ll just say it….I only vote when it’s a presidential election. Now please don’t go sending any mean or critical emails my way. I’m just being honest here. So, my last voting experience was, obviously, in the fall of 2008.

It was Obama versus McCain. Who would win the title in defending the great U.S. of A for the next four years? I was ready to have my say. Armed with a conviction that my vote did, indeed, count, and a mean piece of blank paper and pen, I was off to do my duty.

I arrived at the voting site and all seemed fine. A long line, of course, but I had expected that. As I stood there, checking out the other would-be voters to see whom I thought was on my side and who was a traitor to our country, I felt a sudden and complete sense of confusion as some portly man in a suit two sizes too small came around shouting and pointing. Immediately, as if he had a can of mace and a taser, everyone scattered to form various lines. I, however, stood there wondering what in the hell he’d just threatened people with in order to get them to listen so well and if it could be marketed in a can that I could purchase for use at home with my kids. Needless to say, I didn’t join any lines. In fact, I hadn’t the faintest clue what the lines meant.

After about 10 minutes of wandering the building, looking for someone to assist me, I found a kind-looking woman whom I thought might have an explanation. I hurriedly wrote a note on my paper asking what the lines were for and which one I might need to join. Her response? Blah blah blah blah blah. I hadn’t the slightest clue. Motioning to the paper and attempting to hand her my pen, she shooed me away and walked off. HUMPH! Two more similar attempts rendered me all the more baffled, so I decided to just jump in a line and see where it took me.

It took me, after an hour, to the front of that line. But was it the right line? To this day, I have no idea. All I know is, when I arrived at the front, some woman with a mustache that could rival Adolph Hitler and a demeanor to match, chomped on her gum and spat out directions that might as well have been delivered in Russian. I started to go for my pen and paper, but thought twice. That technique was getting me nowhere. So I simply opened my mouth and shouted (as I always do when I open my mouth—since I can’t hear a darn thing I’m saying), “I’m deaf!” Horrors of horror! You should have seen the deer-in-the-headlight looks I got from everyone around me! “Noooooo not that!!! Run away!!! It might be contagious!!!”

“Not a problem,” one worker said (OK, I have no idea what exactly he said, but I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt here, so work with me), and bent down to gather something very important for me. When he returned upright, he very proudly and dramatically plopped down an enormous book, evidently for my reading (or educational) pleasure. I wish I could tell you it was the wondrous adventures of some knife-wielding zealot who overpowers the powers that be. Alas, I simply don’t know. Why? It was in Braille.

“Um…I’m Deaf…not blind,” I said, handing back his reading supplement. The devil himself could not be as red-faced as this man became. But it didn’t stop there. Oh, no. I was then lead to a “special” voting machine. One that would “help me” with “the process.” I guess they assumed that, because I couldn’t hear, I wouldn’t be able to read a ballot and check a box either. So I sat down at this machine and decided to make the best of it. The only problem? You guessed it…it was a specially made booth…for the blind.

Needless to say I did get through the entire voting process and lived to tell the tale. And, also needless to say, I thank God up in heaven that I will not have to endure that process again till 2012.

Voting. Many fight for it. Others fight to just get through it. I represent the latter.

LIE FOR SURE -- DO I HAVE A GUN?

Bert: I got this great new hearing aid the other day. 

Chester: Are you wearing it now? 

Bert: Yep. Cost me $4,000, though. But it’s top of the line! 

Chester: What kind is it? 

Bert: Twelve-thirty. 

Hurt. Denial. Fear. Depression. Bewilderment. Anger. Disappointment. Resentment. Grief. Everyone who experiences major hearing loss as an adult goes through the entire array of emotions. Some days you’re ready to kill the cashier at the store, because you can’t hear the total or see the screen and she won’t write it down. Other days you laugh so hard you pee in your pants when your body-building friend tells you that, because his friends weren’t around, he had to do his sets all alone that day, and you misread “sets” as “sex.” Still other days you sit alone in your room, feeling completely isolated and left out—sure that you will never be able to have a “normal,” causal conversation again. You go through so many different feelings within even one day, that you start suspecting you may have multiple personalities.  

What you don’t feel, or even realize, is that what you’re experiencing is completely normal for anyone with such a major loss in his or her life. So, what do you do? How do you cope? Well, there’s a ton of suggestions available out there—whether you ask for them or not. 

“Learn Sign Language.”

“Practice lipreading. It can’t be that difficult.”

“Just get over it.”

“Join the local deaf community and get involved.”

“Eat green tomatoes on Wednesday at 6 PM.”

Like it or not, everyone seems to have an opinion. Problem is, most of these opinions come from people who have never experienced hearing loss of any kind. You’ve lived your entire life; you have dreams, goals, and ambitions; and then suddenly one day….POOF! Your plans disappear like your kids when it’s time to clean out the litter box. 

There are many options for dealing with late-onset deafness. No one size fits all though. But whether you decide to go this way or that way with your communication methods and life ambitions, there’s one thing that is a ‘must have’ in this situation: You must have a sense of humor about it.

          

Oh, it’s not easy. I never said or suggested that. However, without humor, all that’s left is quitting. And we don’t want you to do that! 

Perhaps you’re reading this and wondering how in the heck you are supposed to find humor in deafness. Oh, ye of little faith. It isn’t hard, actually. It’s there. You just have to have a clear head and an open mind to find it.

Take my friend, Sarah. Her hearing loss was gradual. At one time she was able to use an FM loop at our little church here in Michigan. One day, right after the morning service had started and the pastor began to introduce his new series about abstinence before marriage, she started fumbling with her FM system. She realized that the pastor had forgotten to turn his mic on. So, without missing a beat, she raised her hand, stood up, and asked the pastor (very loudly, as most late-deafened adults do), “Pastor, are you turned on?” Needless to say, it was an amusing anecdote to bring up at all subsequent church gatherings.

Then there was the story I was told about my Aunt Doris. She’d become deafened during a car accident over in England, had come back home, and decided to teach herself to lipread to help facilitate communication. Well, “facilitate” might not be the right word….

After a while of working on and honing her “skill,” she was soon put to the test at a family reunion. As the family gathered around to eat, drink, and be merry, Aunt Doris began to choke. Ever the fast thinker in a stressful situation, Grandpa Joe leapt up, and started slapping her on the back. A minute went by and everything seemed to be OK. Grandpa then lovingly leaned over, and very gently told her, “Big breaths, Doris.” Her response? “They used to be…” Hmmmm……….

And then there’s my dear husband, Kenny. He’s hearing, you see, but because I cannot lipread and use sign language as my main mode of communication, he decided to learn it, too. Sweet, huh? Well, one day I was in a healthcare meeting with Kenny and three Deaf professionals. When one of the Deaf attendees told us that they would be cutting us a check that day, Kenny enthusiastically responded (in sign, of course): “That’s perfect! I can deposit the check right now!” Sounds good, eh? Only two problems: the sign he used for “perfect” was actually the sign for “penis,” and the sign for “deposit?” Well, use your imagination. All I can say is that it was very amusing to watch everyone in the room roar with laughter so hard that they were crying…all at my poor hubby’s expense. Thank goodness he’s a good sport!

Humor. There’s nothing funny about living your life as a hearing person and then being thrust into a world of silence, discrimination, and, sometimes, downright torment. There’s no negating that fact. But if you stop and try…really try…to see if you can find something in the situation (even if in retrospect) that can help make you smile, eventually you’ll find yourself agreeing with the old saying: “Life is short, so laugh it up!” Or, in lipreading, that might be: “Lie for sure. Do I have a gun?” Fitting, wouldn’t you say?

A TRIP TO SCHOOL

Yesterday morning, Kenny and I had the pleasure of visiting Byron Center Charter School to discuss deafness and hearing loss with the 5th and 6th graders. It was SO much fun! We didn't have a lot of time, but I signed (Kenny spoke) about terminology, myths, how we use all the neat technology, sign language (if course) and lipreading. I then gave them a paper with dB levels and what they can do to your hearing. On the flip side was the manual alphabet.

The thing I loved the most about this group was that they all had questions and many of them were so adorable. I met a boy who knew a friend who only caould hear six words. LOL They were specific words, too. I think he meant he could only SIGN them, but he was pretty adamant about the fact that he could only hear them. Go figure!

Many of the kids knew a little sign and were excited to share. I got asked the usual:

"Can you drive?"

"Do your hands get tired?"

"Can you work?"

"How can you talk?" (I spoke for a short time to describe something Kenny wasn't comfortable interpreting for me)

When I told them I could drive, one boy asked how I was supposed to hear a horn honking at me. I told him the truth: I'm a perfect driver and would never need to worry about that. LOL

All in all, it really made my day. Good group and good fun.

MR. HOLLAND'S OPUS

If you're like me, you think the movie "Mr. Holland's Opus" is awesome. And shame on you if you've never watched it. It's an excellent movie and an excellent example of how learning sign language doesn't necessarily hinder your verbal ability.

When they first find out their son is deaf, they go the medical route. You know, ENTs who say that they need to only speak and not sign. Well, that doesn't work because the boy can't hear anything and the parents can't communicate with him. Frustration abounds.

So they decide to check out a school for the Deaf that uses total communication. This (TC) is my preference. More about that later. Anyway, the mom and the son learn sign language and are able to communicate without any problems. The dad, on the other hand, doesn't take as much initiative (I think he's in denial and hoping the deafness will just go away). But the son uses sign language as a teenager. He doesn't speak, but that doesn't mean he can't speak.

At the end of the movie, you see the son grown up and speaking and signing at the same time. A great triumph for the Deaf community--we can rub their noses in it and say/sign, "See, I told you so!"

Let me be clear hear. I am not against the oral method. If the child is hard of hearing or moderately deaf and  hearing aids help, I say go for it. I would still add sign though. However, if the child is profoundly or severely deaf and benefits very little (if at all) from hearing aids, why not take the total communication route? To be honest, if I had my perfect situation, I would have the child in a school that taught ASL. But that's just me. I see TC as a very valuable way of helping the children understand things and still feel part of the group.

So let's see what you have to say. I'm sure there are plenty who disagree. Let's "hear" it!