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by Amy Pogrebin “Mother, if you could look back, what would be the one thing that you wished you had known about hearing impaired children?” I once asked. “Hope. I would have liked to know that there was definitely hope for you when I first found out about your hearing loss,” she replies thoughtfully. “This is why whenever I see parents with a small child wearing hearing aids, I walk over to them and tell them that you are successful and their child will be too,” my mother beams. “When we found out that you had a hearing loss, we were completely at a loss. We didn’t know anyone who had a child with a hearing loss. We didn’t have anyone to turn to,” explains my father. Growing Up I was two years old when my parents were told that I did, indeed, have a hearing loss. Eventually we went to the University of Iowa for testing where they explained to my mother and father that I had enough hearing to learn to speak with the help of hearing aids. By an odd coincidence, the audiologist who tested me had trained under Doreen Pollack. My parents decided right then and there that I was to learn how to speak. This was a difficult time for them because at that time, during the 70’s, very few schools taught oral language to hearing impaired children. Many schools did not teach oral communication until the hearing impaired child was older. Either that or they believed in whole language (now called Total Communication). Whole language is comprised of oral and sign language. My parents were adamant and insisted that I was to have the same opportunities as a hearing child did. One of the few places at the time that supported my parents’ philosophy of speaking without sign language was the Listen Foundation. I was extremely fortunate to have Ms. Polly (may she rest in peace), the founder, pave the way into the speaking world for me. I spent my elementary school years here in Denver at Carson Elementary School, a public school that caters to both hearing and hearing-impaired children. I was mainstreamed for half of the school day in the regular classroom and spent half of the day in special education for the hearing impaired. My parents were my advocates and insisted, demanded, fought that I be treated like a regular child. They had taken the chance, the risk to put me in these classrooms. I did very well in mainstream classrooms with the help of a microphone that the teacher wore and an FM system that I wore. Because of my parents’ belief that I could succeed, I have since gone to college and, after graduating, went on to receive post-baccalaureate credits and a teaching certificate. If you were to ask me, “How did you do it?” I would say that the first and foremost important insight would be that my parents believed in me. They went against many people who thought they were insane for putting me in regular classrooms and not learning sign language. It is true that the child’s first teacher is his or her parent. “Amy, you can be anything you want to be. You can be a lawyer, doctor, anything. I don’t care what other people say,” my father frequently reminded me. Because of my parents’ strong beliefs, I never saw myself as separate from hearing people. I saw myself as an equal. I demanded that I be treated like everyone else. This is not to say that growing up hearing impaired in a hearing world was easy. It wasn’t. This is not to say that challenges never arose. They did. I Teach! Today, I’m 31 and I teach. “Oh, wonderful, you teach sign language?” ask many strangers that I meet in random places. “No, I teach hearing children but am very sensitive to children who have special needs,” I patiently reply. I have made a decision to become a mainstream teacher with the hope that one day that I will bring more hearing-impaired children into the mainstream classroom. I value all children and want to see all children in my classroom succeed. People often wonder how on earth, if I don’t hear very well, can I possibly teach hearing children. How can I understand them? I do make several accommodations so that I can teach. On the first day of school, I have the children sit on the floor, while I’m sitting in a chair facing them, and begin a discussion of what they do know about people with a hearing loss. It’s quite amazing what they know, “My grandfather has to wear those things in his ear so he can hear us,” one child says while pointing to her ears. “I have a cousin who can’t talk and her mom uses her hand to talk to her,” another child responds using her hands as if she were signing. “I’ve seen someone wear those things behind their ears, what are they?” another child asks with a questioning look on her face. After we talk about what we do know, I read them a story about hearing impaired children. I would then explain to them that they must, must, must always look at me when they’re talking so that I can read their lips. I explain to them that I might not always hear them call my name and that they may need to tap on me gently. I explain to them that I might not understand them the first time and they may have to repeat things again. Next, I introduce them the FM and microphone. I explain to them that it helps me hear a LOT better. I would then be very quiet and whisper that it’s very, very expensive and that they need to be very careful and need to make sure that the person whom they are passing the microphone has a firm grip before they let it go. We then each take turns holding it and passing it around. They think it’s very neat to hold the microphone. I explain that when we have a class discussion, the person who is talking will speak into the microphone so I can hear the comments clearly. They now understand the importance of one person talking at a time. Fortunately, one of the best parts of the teaching training I received from San Francisco State University was how to work with children of all abilities. They strongly encouraged us teachers to work often in small groups. This benefits both the students and me. The students learn better in small groups and I can communicate better in that kind of setting. I also use the overhead projector a lot. This allows me to face my students at all times so there can be a fluid discussion. I allow my students to come up and demonstrate what they know on the overhead so that I can visually be sure that they are on track. I also will pick one child who seems to be the most responsible to be my phone messenger. I train that person how to answer the phone properly and relay the message to me orally. That student will reply for me on the phone to whomever they are speaking to. If the school has a loudspeaker in the classroom, I will pick one student a week to relay what the speaker is saying as part of the classroom jobs. I also write a very detailed letters to parents explaining to them how I function. I invite them to watch me in the classroom. I also suggest to them that if they have a computer available that they should use the e-mail system if they want a speedy reply from me. I encourage them to come talk to me in person if they have concerns. I have had parents write me notes to which I respond by hand. If they need something right away, they know that they can always talk to the school’s administrative assistant who will write down the message. Teaching hearing children has been successful most of the time. Naturally, there will always be people who worry that their child might not understand me or I them and they want to pull their child out of my classroom. However, I have heard several times during my teaching career how glad parents are that their child has me as a teacher because it will teach her or him tolerance and to understand how people who have challenges can overcome them. Having me as a teacher teaches children many things: compassion, tolerance, patience and trust. I have never had a student who didn’t want me as a teacher. And, by golly to all of you parents of hearing- impaired children, I’m living proof that we hearing- impaired people can do it!
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