Going Deaf In Middle Childhood Part 9

Dear Friends, I took time out to go to our farm and pick string beans from our garden and give the whole shebang a little TLC. We are also over burdened with zukes and lemon cucumbers! It looks like it will be a good tomato year. I hope you all are having a pleasant holiday weekend.

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Part 9, Going Deaf In Middle Childhood:

Soon after I became deaf, our dentist told my family stories about his experiences in the South Pacific while he was in the Medical Corps there. This was right after World War Two had broken out and there was a great deal of experimentation at that time with new "wonder drugs" that were being developed and and then later tested on the inhabitants of these islands. Our dentist claimed that there were many, many South Pacific natives who became "deaf as posts" as a result of these unproven new drugs. One of these new "potions" was Sulfa.

So, I must have been one of the first children devasted by so called wonder drugs. Dr. Skinner was a good man and used all of his skills to save my life. There were no hard feelings, even tho my parents' friends kept whispering, "Sue him!" How can you sue someone that saved your child's life?

So back in those days, the 40's state run deaf schools were not equipped to handle youngsters such as me. I was a new generation of Deaf. My fellow students looked upon me as some kind of a curiosity and for a long time I was an outsider living side by side with children who were culturally deaf, some of them with several generations of deaf ancestors behind them.

Time seemed to pass swiftly and I adjusted, still very much surviving as a square peg being pounded into a round hole. I made friends, and enjoyed having classmates go home to the farm with me on a weekend occasionally. Once I recall spending a weekend in Seattle with one of my classmates who resided there with her parents. My own parents frequently came to school during the week to attend basketball games and give me an encouraging pat on the back. This was one of the benefits of having a family living in the same town as the school.

After four years the school had taught us everything it had to offer. My classmates and I were ready to "graduate". I was 14 years old, my oldest classmate was 21. A year before we were to leave our "home away from home" many deaf acquaintances, the deaf teachers, and some staff began pestering me about attending Gallaudet College. At the tender age of 14, I was not interested in doing anything like that, I was still very much a teenie bopper! And hadn't I just spent the last 4 years of my life living away from my family? No way! Gallaudet was not on my list of priorities for the future. I refused to take The Test.

Less than half of my class from the state school went on to Gallaudet. The ones who did NOT became otherwise self supporting in many different vocations and all of them worked hard until retirement. One of the Gallaudet graduates married and she returned to Washington State with her new husband to teach at the same school we graduated from.

For myself, I went on to finish my education in the public school system, without such conveniences as interpreters and/or note takers, but happily living at home with my parents and two brothers. With the DVR's help, I later on attended a local Business College.

I went on to marry and have five children, all of whom turned out to be high achievers. My oldest son, who bore most of the brunt of having a deaf Mom while Dad traveled, is now a CPA and is Chief Financial Manager of a large school district in Washington State. Because of their extremely precise speech, all 5 of my children are called upon to make speeches. My youngest son, interestingly, graduated from Radio Broadcasting School.

After most of my children were out of the house, at the urging of my deaf mother in law, I returned to the state residential school as staff. There I remained for 25 years until retirement. I was well educated by the school during these 25 years, taking all classes that were offered and attending workshops regularly. We received college credits for all of the classes that we took. There is however nothing that can equal experience (and/or common sense).

During my later working years, I usually juggled 2 or 3 jobs. These included moonlighting as a Sign Language instructor for the local community college and working in a group home for emotionally disturbed deaf adults. The group home also offered workshops and training, mostly in the mental health field, which I throughly enjoyed. I love learning what makes people tick!

The next and final chapter, part 10, will be a prologue to my story here.

To be continued