FAV QUOTES:
One of the hardest fights a deaf man has to fight is to live in a world where every single day someone is trying to make him hear.
As opposed to overcoming deafness, this book expresses the joys of finding deafness.
An old Zen saying applies here: Empty your cup so that it may be filled. Deafness emptied my cup.
Nearly every weekend I would find myself in the same predicament: My college friends would stop by on Friday night, raving about a great party I couldn't afford to miss. I'd politely decline, citing my responsibilities a work the next day. They, in turn, would cite my responsibilities as a beer-chugging party animal.
At that age, children are naturally egocentric; I couldn't help but think that the other kids were receiving the same warped input as I was. I didn't really believe at the time that something might be seriously wrong with me.
When hearing parents (in my case, grandparents) first learn that their child is deaf, it can be very overwhelming. It is a shock, a tremendous shock, and it sets off a reaction that is similar to the stage of grief (shock, denial, anger, depression, the whole works). The difference is, they are not grieving a dead person. They are grieving for someone who is very much alive, and in the process can greatly influence that person.
Unbeknownst to them, the mixed message I received was, "We love you, but deafness is a horrible condition. You've got to be fixed." What are the psychological implications of such a message? To me, it meant I had to deny who I really was, and that somehow I had to pretend that I could hear. It meant I had to brown-nose hearing paper, act like them, act like I understood them, and remove myself from anything associated with deafness. In other words, sign language was verboten. I was told not to sign and I respectfully complied.
How can you blame people for wanting what they truly believe is best for you?
No matter what I say, the question always remains: How could a deaf child be surrounded by so much deafness in his family and not internalize it as part of his own identity?
It's hard to answer questions you don't understand.
The teachers were not content with just answers; they wanted more questions.
Whether amusing or annoying, we owe it to our children to answer as many of their whys as possible. When we take the time to do this, children internalize crucial information. This greatly enhances their overall development in terms of thought processing and general knowledge acquisition.
Many sounds are next to impossible to decipher no matter where they originate. For example, 'b', 'p', and 'm' look virtually identical from a lip-reading assessment. If Ben is one of the men who got a new pen, it's going to take me awhile to figure it out. If Mark went to the park, or if mom is the bomb, I'm scratching my head. Is that Matt at bat, or is it Pat? Pass the aspirin, please.
Human interaction is a blessing; it is such a waste to discriminate.
I was deaf. I grew up with a blank slate that allowed me to see things from a more neutral perspective. In other words, deafness emptied my cup. Thanks to deafness I can see the different religions simply as they are, without any bias. It has helped me learn so much about people--both the good and the bad--and I literally thank God for deafness.
If these were the twilight years, why shouldn't they enjoy every minute of it?
I was close, but never equal.
Eventually I got a part-time job as a supermarket clerk. It was okay, nothing fancy. To me, it was the end of the road. Since this job was not that bad for a deaf guy, I made it my career goal. Maybe someday I could manage the general merchandise department, who knows. Even if that never happened, I was still doing pretty good--because, everybody, sing along with me: Not bad for a deaf guy.
I realized I could routinely accomplish what I had once thought was impossible.
But the martial arts had succeeded in teaching me a valuable lesson; I learned that when we bear down and put our minds to it, we can accomplish anything.
Remember, we're talking about a naïve deaf kid who still had a lot of growing up to do. The words girls, beach, keg party, and bear bong still held a lot more appeal than, say, it's time to start thinking about what you want to do with your life.
We were forever young, at least until we hit twenty-one.
Couldn't these people just leave me alone? Couldn't they stop poking around in my ears? Although I never really spoke up when I was younger, deep down inside I always wished that people would stop obsessing over my ears. I simply wanted them to appreciate me, the whole person. Couldn't they stop trying to fix me and just accept me for who I was? That was all I ever wanted.
You've passively accepted everything that's ever happened to you. You didn't have a choice. You were alone in the hearing world, but it's not like that here. At Gallaudet you can be anything you want. You can speak up for yourself. -Vijay
I realized that in the hearing world, I'd grown accustomed to the futility of it all. Namely sit down and shut up; wear your hearing aid; never mind, it's not important; I'll tell you later, just do what your teacher says.
I didn't know what I was missing--that's what I now tell everyone who argues against my belief that deaf children should have the opportunity to interact with others like themselves. I have had many non-culturally deaf people tell me that they are doing great in the hearing world, getting by on oralism and never signing, and that they are happy and successful doing so. I, too, was once like that. I was proud of my status as the only deaf graduate of GFS; I was proud of my job at the supermarket; I was proud of my ability to interact with hearing people quite well. And I just didn't know what I was missing.
I often zoned out. I was a space cadet, and a frequent flyer at that.
We learn how to live life, the most important lesson of all.
Never be satisfied; strive for more. -Ms. Childs
There are countless wonders in this world, and countless ways to enjoy them.
Let us enjoy what we can, and don't worry about what we can't. I feel that we're better off celebrating our differences instead of imposing our values onto each other.
The cure for deafness is our deaf children... Tolerance and understanding are the best lessons we can teach our children... -Chris deHahn
Deafness is a disability that is so unique, its very nature causes a culture to emerge from it.
I can't emphasize enough how much it means to have a sense of belonging. People need to realize that there's a big difference between "fitting in" and "belonging." Fitting in is something I did when I immersed myself in the hearing world. Fitting in requires effort. It's exhausting and you can also argue that it's not really genuine because to one degree or the other, it involves trying to win other people's approval. Belonging, on the other hand, is a far more rewarding phenomenon where you can kick back, be yourself, and know you are accepted.