Benefit? YES!

On Friday I went with Laynie to interpret for her rehab appointment, where a rep from Laynie cochlear implant company, Med-El, would be present. The woman showed up early, and they were chatting in the waiting room. One thing she asked Laynie was, "Do you think you benefit from having cochlear implants?"

Benefit? How do you quantify that. Laynie was surprised by the question and not able to answer it fully. The simple answer is YES. But how to explain why? It's especially tough when she's really not understanding much spoken language yet. (yet)

For someone who is hearing and becomes deaf, gets an implant, and understands when people talk, I think a CI would be such a relief. The benefit would be clear. Similarly, a young child implanted and learning to hear and speak, as many implanted kids do, would clearly benefit. But for someone in Laynie's situation, the benefit is less externally apparent. She shared an anecdote about understanding her mother say, "I love you," which made an impact, as well as a few small examples of ways that hearing aids and cochlear implants have been different for her.

At dinner later, we were talking about it, trying to think back on life before implants. After two years with them, it sort of feels like she's always been this way.

I was telling Laynie that I have a very clear memory of an instance when we were standing in a busy area on the BYU campus between classes. I had asked Laynie what she heard, as she happened to be wearing her hearing aid that that day. She said that she heard noise. I asked her to describe it. All she could say was that it was noise, that it was all one sound blended together, at a constant volume. People talking, construction nearby, cars passing... all one sound.

The other day we were in a restaurant, and she asked if there were kids around. I told her which direction, and she nodded knowingly. Later she asked if a table was being cleared nearby. She had heard the clatter of dishes. Not only is she distinguishing the sounds, she's identifying what they are. She can identify laughter in another room. Jazz music, which she hates. A piano amidst the din of a department store. A car vs. jetliner vs. prop plane vs. truck vs. motorcycle going by. Thunder. A baby vs. a toddler screaming during sacrament meeting.

In the kitchen today, Laynie's back was toward me. The microwave was in use, the fan over the stove was on, and food was sizzling in a pan. I don't remember what her attention was on... throwing away trash or something. I said her name at a conversational level and she turned to me.

With hearing aids, Laynie could hear some things, but she could only identify a few. Whistling. A drum. A piano, if she knew it was music and focused on it. But she couldn't tell a voice from a car going by. Not that she couldn't hear the voice. Everything just sounded pretty much the same.

Laynie is hearing quieter things. Today she heard distant thunder from inside the house. She hears all the speech sounds, including very quiet ones like H and TH. Today I whispered quietly from three or four feet away, just to see if she heard me... she did. With her hearing aids there was a whole slew of sounds she didn't hear at all.

Obviously hearing and understanding are two different things. Two different levels of the same thing. Hearing is the bottom rung of the ladder, and understanding is the top. Laynie understands some things when listening purposefully in therapy. But she also understands things occasionally outside of therapy. Just simple things like asking a question and not looking as the answer is given, listening for the yes or no.

Yesterday she was sitting next to me on the couch, telling me something--showing me something on the computer. I don't remember exactly. But I remember that I asked, "Where?" She told me what it was again. I said, "I know, but where?" She said, "Right here," and showed me. I didn't sign it, and she wasn't looking at me. She heard and understood. I asked her if she knew what I said, and she answered, "Where." She didn't realize that I didn't sign it until I told her.

Things like that happen every day. Just the fact that she uses her CIs every day, all day long, is testament to the benefit she receives. She likes them. They help her feel connected to the world around her.

Like many children with CIs, she's beginning to prefer sound over sight for some things. Sometimes sound is easier.

She was saying that she wanted to get a doorbell, because some people knock quietly, which is hard to hear (even for me, and I'm "very hearing" as she says) from the kitchen. We discussed getting a flashing light doorbell, which she's had before. We realized that she hasn't used one in two years! With her CIs, she doesn't need one. She hears a knock just like everybody else. She thought that she would prefer a doorbell that chimes rather than flashes. A flashing light can be easy to miss in the daytime, if you're not looking in that direction. But she could hear a chime from wherever she is, whatever she's doing. So she'll be getting a doorbell that chimes... and she found one that has a portable receiver with a blinking light.

That doorbell will be a perfect fit for a girl who's straddling two worlds. She's Deaf yet very much a person who hears.

The Right Thing

At new teacher orientation several years ago, as I began working in this county, one of the themes was Doing the Thing Right and Doing the Right Thing. Doing the Thing Right means following policies and procedures, which is important. Doing the Right Thing is exactly as it sounds.

This has stuck with me, maybe more this year than ever before. Maybe it's delaying re-evaluation to keep a kid on one more year so that she goes to kindergarten with an IEP. Maybe it's nudging an educator to qualify a borderline kid. Maybe it's taking the time to email a parent EVERY SINGLE WEEK despite never receiving a response and certainly never enjoying the same courtesy from her. And maybe it's teaching a student a few life skills that are not exactly on the IEP.

I have a little guy who walks between two worlds. He had no language exposure until well past age five. When he was nearly six, he finally began learning to sign. A year later, he received a cochlear implant. A year after that, a second cochlear implant. He is brilliant, but he is quite delayed in both ASL and English. And his parents do not sign and speak very little English.

This child wants to know everything. He loves to sign. He understands ASL better. However, he tends to speak (despite being understood less than half the time) and tries to gain meaning by listening, because he thinks that is the "right" way to be. He has unfortunately internalized that ASL is somehow a lesser language. No wonder: he gets that message from most of the adults in his life.

Sometimes this gets him into trouble, when he thinks he understands but doesn't. It also gets him into trouble, because he is an excellent little parrot, which makes people think he understands more than he does. And of course, he has perfected the "deaf nod."

One of his teachers is a grumpy person. It must be said: she is just grumpy. She is grumpy with her colleagues, and she is grumpy with students. If a child gives the wrong answer, they are often embarrassed by her harsh response. If they look away during a group lesson, they will be called out on it... again, embarrassed. And heaven forbid someone should not follow directions. My little guy has been mildly embarrassed in class more than once, as have most of the students. This teacher is well-liked by the principal, so there is not much that can be done from my end; the TOD is similarly powerless. Mostly she ignores our kids, which we like. Two of them are so low that she doesn't deign to work with them. Parrot is at the top of the class, so he is on her radar.

Something must have happened in that class last Tuesday, when I was not there. On Wednesday, a member of Parrot's family said that he does not want to go to school, that his teacher is mean to him and doesn't like him. The teacher of the deaf assumed that the child was referring to her, because she had scolded him that day for pushing in the lunch line and deliberately stepping on other children's feet. She explained this to the family member and didn't think much more about it, besides being a little bothered that the child thought she didn't like him.

On Friday, the child's family member came to the school to report that the child was really protesting going to school that day, saying that a teacher was mean, and he didn't want to see her. This time he said which teacher. You guessed it: Grumpy Pants. Not the teacher of the deaf.

I was not at this school Friday or yesterday. During lunch today, the TOD told me what the child had said, and I remembered something that had happened on Thursday. The TOD was in another classroom that day, and I was in with Parrot.

I was working one-on-one with another student when I heard the hubbub. Grumpy was upset with Parrot, much worse than ever before. Parrot is definitely one of her favorite students, but that didn't save him today. Grumpy seemed genuinely angry with him. Apparently he was supposed to do the first four items on the page and then stop. A line and the word "stop" were on the paper below the fourth item, and Parrot certainly knows what that means. I don't know if he was trying to impress her by completing the page--whatever he was trying, it backfired. She let him have it. Then she told him to erase his work on item five.

He must have been in shock. He appeared not to comprehend the direction to erase. He was told more forcefully, and the interpreter tried to help. I tried to sign to him that it was okay, just erase, and Grumpy gave me a Look. The interpreter told him again to erase. Grumpy moved on to another student. I asked the interpreter if Parrot had received the initial directions, and she said that he had. In fact, when he began working on number five, the interpreter reminded him that he was supposed to stop, and he waved her off. I didn't have a great deal of sympathy for him at that point, and I told him to erase number five.

When Grumpy came back around to him two minutes later, I guess he still hadn't erased. She became more angry and yelled at him again. To his credit, he didn't cry. I think I would have! Now I definitely had a great deal of sympathy for him. However, I didn't get a chance to speak with him about it.

When I told the TOD about this incident, she was disappointed that Parrot had willfully disobeyed a teacher but shocked that the teacher had behaved that way. Grumpy's responses were clearly inappropriate. I think she knew she was inappropriate by the look she gave me afterward.

The TOD and I brainstormed, knowing that we needed to give Parrot tools to handle situations like this. One issue we often have with this teacher is that she will say, "Look at me!" This prevents Parrot from looking at the interpreter--Grumpy will turn his face toward her. We have to be careful, because the child's parents would probably like this: they barely tolerate his having an interpreter as it is. I've certainly seen them jerk him around when he "doesn't listen."

We came up with a plan.

When Parrot came back from lunch, I pulled him in to the TOD room to speak with him. I let him know that Grumpy's behavior was wrong. Then the TOD and I had him role play similar scenarios: directions given without sign support, being yelled at for no apparent reason, etc. We taught him to raise his hand and get the TOD's attention. The TOD taught him the phrase, "Must interpreter please." We taught him to sign it and speak it. "Must" is one of his favorite words, which is why she used that. It's something he can understand.

As we ran through the scenarios, Parrot became more confident.

Then we explained that we love him and want him to come to school. If he didn't come to school, we would miss him and feel sad. As we told him this, he began to cry! He understood. Sweet little thing. After taking some deep breaths and drinking some apple juice, he went into that teacher's class, newly empowered.

So it wasn't on his IEP. So it didn't involve speech (much). So there's only a week of school left. Doing the Right Thing felt so good.

Listening Therapy Videos

Laynie recorded some listening therapy we did over the weekend.

First is the Ling 6 sound check. The sounds mm, ah, ee, oo, ss, and sh cover all of the frequencies of speech, so they should be checked before you practice listening. Probably should be checked every day. The point is for Laynie to hear them (like raising your hand when you hear a beep), but she can usually tell what they are, which is great.

In the next clip, Laynie is listening and saying the words she hears. She chose these ten common words, and we have been practicing them off and on for a few weeks.

Next is a list of words that has groups of words beginning with the same letter. Laynie might have the choices "pan, pail, Pete, pitch" and have to say which one she heard. It's not too hard, except that she hasn't heard the words before (or not anytime recently)--that makes it harder. She has to use her phonics knowledge and her listening skills to figure out which word I'm saying.

The last activity is me reading a book to Laynie and pointing out things that I see on each page. I don't think she's really listening to me read, because she's thinking about what I'm going to ask her to point to or say. Most people haven't really heard Laynie talk, but I can tell you that her speech has definitely improved. I should look for an old video of Laynie talking before implants, so you can see the difference. It's just amazing that she can imitate just using her hearing, without visual cues. In these videos, you can see Laynie using strategies, including narrowing down the choices by sound, focusing on one word at a time, and saying what she thinks she hears to check if she's right. So here is the train book. Oh, I split up the videos because someone (ahem) got distracted by a bird on the balcony and wasted some time. ;)

Laynie Is Making Great Progress

My spring break is this week, so I got to go to Laynie's auditory rehab session yesterday. She is doing so well!

Last week the therapist, K, told her that she is done with closed sets, because she is doing so well with them. K has been giving Laynie lists of words or sentences and saying them with her mouth covered. Even with lists of 16 words or 10 sentences, Laynie has been getting 100% right with only a few repetitions. It's too easy for her!

Laynie has been doing one open set task every week, the WASP list (sounds, syllables, and simple words that cover all of the sounds of English). K says something, mouth covered, and Laynie repeats it. This was pretty hard at first, but Laynie just finished the first list of 25 sounds/words, and she's on to the next list. She is really improving with being able to say what she hears. She uses some strategies that K and I have taught her, as well as a "cheat sheet" that K made for her during therapy showing groups of sounds that are similar, to narrow down her guesses to the right kinds of sounds. Sometimes her brain knows the sound and doesn't tell her what it means--she can say it but not know what she's saying. She is doing just amazing with this task. It's the same one K initially thought would be too hard for Laynie even to attempt, which she almost didn't include in the original assessment.

Yesterday Laynie did all open set tasks, which is what she will be doing in rehab from now on. She did the whole first WASP list, and she learned five new sounds/words from the next list. She whipped through them! Then she did a new task, which K warned would be much harder. She was going to say a short sentence and Laynie would repeat it. Or at least try to figure out how many words were in the sentence--whatever she could do.

K said, "I saw him." Laynie said, "I saw cat." K and I nearly fell out of our chairs! After we had recovered and K said the sentence again, emphasizing the last word, Laynie said, "I saw hat." She heard the /h/. Of course then she started trying to guess, thinking of all the H words she knows instead of really listening. When she got back to listening, she got the whole sentence right. Wow.

Then K added a word to the sentence: "I saw him yesterday." They worked on strategies like first focusing on how many syllables, then on a specific syllable, then on the beginning of that syllable, etc. Laynie got the word. K added another word: "I saw him yesterday afternoon." Using the same strategies, Laynie got it.

Then her hour was up! K explained that they will do another open set task in their next session, where K will show Laynie a sentence with a word or phrase missing, and Laynie will listen and fill in the blank. I'm sure she will do a great job.

Aren't you impressed?

I'm working on uploading some videos to YouTube of Laynie and me doing some listening therapy over the weekend. Hopefully I can add a blog post with those videos soon.

Mister Personality

One of the deaf high school students coordinated a deaf/hard of hearing ice skating trip, inviting the teachers, interpreters, and d/hh students throughout the county. It was surprisingly well-attended! There were two kids that the d/hh program head and I had targeted as really needing to attend: one because the parents need to see that talking and signing are not mutually exclusive; the other because the poor kid has no friends. He gets along great with everybody at school, but he's basically hidden away at home, playing video games and watching television. I think it's a combination of a cultural thing (acute embarrassment at disability) and being the only "kid" in the family--brothers are 17 and 18. He's 8.

Both of these kids came! I don't know how much success was had with the adorable little guy who desperately needs sign language (he has an unrepaired cleft palate and can't talk), because I was out on the ice with the 8-year-old. I was so happy that his oldest brother and his mother brought him. I think I've seen mom's face twice in the last two years. They are an overworked, poverty-level family--she doesn't have the luxury of taking off work to volunteer in the classroom or attend IEP meetings. But she is such a sweet person. Laynie got to chat with her a little, which I was happy about. She can see that sign language doesn't make you a bad person. Yeah, pretty much all of the elementary kids' families need this lesson. By middle school they start to accept the idea, and by high school they couldn't care less how their kid communicates as long as they will become a tax-paying citizen at some point.

So Laynie and my sister, Katie, who also signs, came to the little event. Katie hung with the teenagers or with me. I was kind of glued to little man, who at first was terrified, then clingy, then confident--but wouldn't let go of his stabilizer device. It was a metal, walker-looking thing that looks like this picture I found online:

But the kid was fast using that thing! As he began to get comfortable, he started chatting with the deaf students I passed, and with his interpreter, who was one of the few brave adults to get on the ice. I guess I should give little man a name. Let's go with Macarius.

Macarius is a great implant user, although he hasn't had them very long, just since he turned 7. But the noise level at the skating rink made it difficult for hearing people to communicate--you had to lean in to hear people. The hearing teachers were signing to each other to support speech (and of course to be polite). But luckily Macarius also signs, because the school district kind of put down its foot at not signing with a 6-year-old who knew five words.

He got quite the schooling in the basics of deaf cultural communication:

-Repeatedly signing someone's name sign does not get their attention.

-Vocalizing does not get their attention.

-Yeah, you have to wave your hand and get your little body in front of them so they'll see you.

-Just presenting your name sign is not enough. Everyone is going to ask you to fingerspell your name.

-And they're going to fingerspell their names. Get ready for normal speed fingerspelling, because they see an 8-year-old--they don't know you've only been signing for two years. And you learned from hearing. Sorry.

-If you want a turn in conversation, get those arms up when you see a pause. Nobody's going to say, "Macarius, what do you think?"

-"You have cochlear implants too!" is a conversation killer.

-Facial expressions will get you far.

Macarius had a bit of a crush on the d/hh program head's college-aged (I think) daughter. At one point, he told me to go on ahead, he was going to wait for her. Ouch! He loved racing with the college girl's hockey-player boyfriend.

He kept asking me HOW?? as I was skating.

Watching the deaf teenagers try to communicate with him was a rude awakening for me. He couldn't understand much of what they said. "Do you go to a school for the deaf or mainstream school?" Right, like he knows what mainstream means. I modeled answers for him to imitate when needed, and I think they thought he was dumb. Again, two years of learning language! He just doesn't know much. He did learn a new sign and English word while he was there: hockey.

Mom spent the first hour fretting at the sidelines, trying to get Macarius to wear his jacket over his fleece sweatshirt. Of course he was way too cool for that, and he told his mother that the heaviness of the coat would make him fall. (Same kid who argued that he doesn't like to do homework while the moon is out--could you tell?) It honestly is not cold at all when you're skating--I wore a light fleece and no gloves and was fine. Laynie had explained this to Macarius' mom using gestures, and she understood--but you can't keep a worried mom down. Finally I took pity on her and showed Macarius that I had on a tee shirt and fleece. "See? Two. You how many?" He immediately put on his coat. Mom thanked me profusely, nearly crying with relief.

During a Zamboni break (he watched the ice become smooth and said, "Oh, no, now I'm going to fall!"), I made him talk to the cleft palate kid. Just to show that the kids in our program talk. I fingerspelled the other kid's name, and Macarius spoke it aloud.. correctly. It's a weird name, but Macarius is my little phonics champ. Boo-yah. He tried to say hi and stuff. But the other kid was pretty boring for Macarius, since he doesn't communicate, so Macarius went off to stalk the college girl.

When Macarius' mom told him it was time to go (before everyone else was leaving), he was NOT a happy campter. But the Zamboni came out five minutes later and I called it a day, which mollified him. Mom and Brother were trying to get me to meet them at the rink again, because the child obviously had a great time, and they could see that he has a natural talent for skating. He could have ditched the stabilizer thing 30 minutes in.

I told them maybe I'd go skating with them again (how could I just outright say no?), and Macarius suggested tomorrow. Or March 31. Haha. I told him March 31 is a Thursday, and he has private AVT on Thursdays. Older brother suggested next Saturday. Oh, boy.

"Interactive"

You know how four-year-olds go through the "why" phase? Why is the sky blue? Why do we have fingernails? Right, so one of my first graders is in that stage of language development.

I got a chance to chat with him after school, keeping him distracted during a meeting with his parent. He is always fun to chat with, and today was just like every time I talk with him... except that the assistant principal was listening. I don't think she has ever talked with him (well, she doesn't sign, and you kind of need to in order to have an effective conversation with him), and she was floored by how "interactive" he is.

What is that dark stuff in your teeth and how did it get there? (fillings)

Why does hair turn gray?

Does that mean you're a grandma? (yes, directed to me--guess I'll have to flesh out his concept of "grandma" meaning mother's mother, not just gray-haired woman)

How do lava lamps work?

Will it be dark at 6:00?

Why don't french fries make you grow tall?

Older brother has a big computer--is that because it ate a lot?

Do hot dogs count as meat?

And he informed me that he cannot drive because he cannot see over the steering wheel. And that he doesn't want to turn 9 because he really likes the number 8.

He made an impassioned plea for doing homework on the bus (his bus ride is like 45 minutes) instead of at home. He gets grumpy doing homework because he doesn't want to do it when the moon is in the sky. The moon means it's night time. Night is for sleeping. He asked me to explain that to his father.

Related to our gray hair conversation, he told me that his mother dyes her hair and asked me how much hair dye costs. (He's really interested in how much things cost.) Like $25? I told him it's about $10 if you want to do it at home. But it's more like $100 if you go to the salon. Palms slapped against his cheeks, he exclaimed, "One hundred!" then whispered, wide-eyed, "Oh my god."

Who I Am

Somewhere out there is a little boy going through the evaluation process for special education. I'm not testing him, but a good friend of mine is. She's a special educator, and when she gave him the usual test for reading, writing, math, and content, she was just blown away by what this first grader could do. By what he understood. He enjoyed word play and interesting math problems. He was certainly the highest child she had ever tested, and then she told me that he had scored 141 on a nonverbal intelligence test that the school psychologist gave him. Apparently everyone in the special education system was blown away by this. I thought, That's cool. But personally, I'd be disappointed with that score.

Before you go thinking I'm a Snooty Sneech... well, don't jump to conclusions. I just didn't think 141 was that impressive. The day after this conversation, the special education team leader came into the room I share with the educator who tested the child. I was the only one there. As he dropped something on her desk, I commented, "I hear little Gary (made up name, of course) had a rough day today. Couldn't handle the change in the language arts schedule or something." He responded, "What else is new? By the way, did you hear about his IQ score?" He went on to point out, "Gary is as different from regular kids as your kids are, just in the opposite direction."

First off, I corrected his assumption that deaf kids have mental retardation. I mean, 141 is to 100 (exactly average) what 100 is to 59. That's MR, as it was called until last year when it changed to intellectual disability and everyone began pretending that they had never used the "r" word in their lives. But although "my kids" do not have terribly low IQs, they do have abysmally low language abilities. One scored right around 55-60 last year... so I know what 59 looks like, and it's LOW.

Although I was disgruntled at his casual dismissal of my students' intellect, the sped master got me thinking. Actually, he set my feet on a path I should have gone down long ago.

If Gary is that different from regular kids... no wonder he can't get along with them. I mean, he has emotional disabilities (crying in the coat closet, freaking out at changes in routine) that are over and above his giftedness, but even discounting that, what could he possibly have in common with regular kids? Think about it. How much do regular kids enjoy playing with intellectually disabled children? I can tell you from experience: not much. It takes some persuasion to get typical children to play with my students who have Down Syndrome or what have you. The intellectually disabled child doesn't understand what the peers are saying, doesn't get the games they play. Similarly, an intellectually gifted child wouldn't enjoy playing with regular kids who don't understand what he is saying and don't get the games he wants to play.

I borrowed a book from the library entitled When Gifted Kids Don't Have All the Answers. I did this partly because I was interested in the topic--but I'm interested in most topics. Well, really I was in the education section because I wanted to brush up on special education law, and I happened to spot this book, thinking, Maybe I can give [special educator friend] some ideas for writing Gary's IEP.

Reading this book, I saw myself on every page.

The book presented a list of 14 general characteristics of a gifted children, with the caveat that gifted children will demonstrate many but not all of the characteristics.

1. Shows superior reasoning powers and marked ability to handle ideas, can generalize readily from specific facts and can see subtle relationships; has outstanding problem-solving ability

2. Shows persistent intellectual curiosity; asks searching questions; shows exceptional interest in the nature of humankind and the universe

3. Has a wide range of interests, often of an intellectual kind; develops one or more interests to considerable depth

4. Is markedly superior in quality and quantity of written and/or spoken vocabulary; is interested in the subtleties of words and their uses

5. Reads avidly and absorbs books well beyond his or her years

6. Learns quickly and easily and retains what is learned; recalls important details, concepts and principles; comprehends readily

7. Shows insight into arithmetical problems that require careful reasoning and grasps mathematical concepts readily

8. Shows creative ability or imaginative expression in such things as music, art, dance, drama; shows sensitivity and finesse in rhythm, movement, and bodily control

9. Sustains concentration for lengthy periods and shows outstanding responsibility and independence in classroom work

10. Sets realistically high standards for self; is self-critical in evaluating and correcting his or her own efforts

11. Shows initiative and originality in intellectual work; shows flexibility in thinking and considers problems from a number of viewpoints

12. Observes keenly and is responsive to new ideas

13. Shows social poise and an ability to communicate with adults in a mature way

14. Gets excitement and pleasure from intellectual challenge; shows an alert and subtle sense of humor

The list was quite an eye-opener for me. Because the list IS me. (Mm, I don't know about #13--not sure if I had "social poise" as a child, but I know that I saw adults as equals.)

The funny thing is that I thought I was normal. I just thought other people were dumb when they didn't understand things as readily as I did.

In church I spent many years after high school working in Primary with the children. At some point I was called to teach Relief Society (women's class), which meant that I was now going to the adult Sunday School class every week, as well as to Relief Society. I found that I really liked Sunday School--the teacher was great. I also found that other people don't understand everything they read. They needed the teacher to explain what many of the passages meant. I'm not saying I automatically understand everything, just most of it. I didn't know that was special until I was in a class with other adults, but I still didn't think of myself as smart or gifted. I thought I was the normal one. And I thought maybe I had a gift specific to the scriptures. I assumed that other people had difficulty just with the scriptures--I've since learned that people have difficulty reading works of literature, technical reports, journal articles, instructions, etc.

At the beginning of last year, I had two parents who became VERY upset with me when they didn't understand some information I had given them regarding their children's speech difficulties and how to do the homework. I thought I had written very clear explanations and instructions. I really didn't understand why they didn't understand--and why that made them angry. That situation came to mind following my colleague's comment about a gifted person being as different from typical people as a mentally handicapped person is. If a typical person wrote an explanation that made sense to them, would a person with severe Down Syndrome understand it? I realized that I would need to "dumb down" my language if I were to write instructions in the future. It also occurred to me (ahem, number 1, generalizing readily) that I should simplify my language in reports and on IEPs. I don't mean using jargon--of course I know not to do that. But apparently my regular vocabulary or syntax or something can be difficult for people to understand.

I noticed in Utah that people often couldn't understand me. I consciously modified both my accent and my vocabulary, because communication is really the goal. That was probably good, because my success with communication dramatically increased following that decision, but maybe I regret it a tiny bit. I got out of the habit of using words that I like, because they allow me to express myself with more precision. I'm kind of torn, because there's no point in using words that people don't understand... but I like those words! I like all words.

I thought everyone could remember the phone numbers of all of their acquaintances. I thought everyone could remember conversations word for word. I thought everyone could remember what their teachers said in class.

I didn't study in high school. I'm embarrassed to say that I didn't know how. But I didn't need to, so I never learned. Actually, I thought I did know how; I thought that studying was what I did when I read over my Latin vocabulary words while dashing to class. When I got to college, I thought I was dumb, because I didn't get As on all of my tests without studying and without going to class all the time. I gave up and quit going to class altogether, which didn't do great things for my grades. I finally got a clue when I went back to school as a 25-year-old. I learned that I could get As by writing the information again and again until I had memorized it. This worked for any amount of material, even pages and pages of truncated phrases. I found that memorizing how many details went with a topic helped, because I could picture where in the list each phrase should go. My method worked well for me. That was good, because to me, a B is an embarrassing failure. Even an A- is a disappointment--alright, I'll admit it, I see an A- as failure. And I don't think I'm wrong: I just think As are normal. Using my "write it out" method, I got straight As for 2 1/2 years finishing my bachelor's and throughout my master's program.

That made me happy, but not because I thought it was a great achievement. It was more like relief at having avoided failure.

I wonder if you might read this and think I'm being egotistical. Even as I write all this, I feel like a fraud, like I'm really not smart and will be "found out." Being as insecure as I am, I naturally enjoyed the section of the book that delineated the many problems related to giftedness, including:

-being impatient

-having difficulty getting along with less able peers

-wanting to move on quickly to more challenging problems, despite what the rest of the class is doing

-getting bored (welcome to my world!)

-driving you crazy with questions

-feeling that everyday class work is trivial and meaningless

-seeming scattered and disorganized

-taking on too many projects at once

-resisting direction or interruption

-talking too much

-seeming pompous or conceited--a "show-off"

-playing word games that others don't understand or appreciate

-burying self in books and avoiding social interaction

-getting bored with the regular curriculum

-resisting assignments that don't present opportunities for new learning

-getting impatient with peers for being "slow"

-disliking drill and practice

-wandering off the subject

-having tunnel vision, hating to be interrupted

-being stubborn

-having difficulty working with others (um, they'll just mess it up)

-seeming bossy and disrespectful

-being unable to accept help

-setting unrealistically high goals

-being perfectionistic

-lacking tolerance for others' mistakes

-fearing failure

-FEARING FAILURE

-FEARING FAILURE

-avoiding taking risks or trying new things

-becoming depressed

-being a loner

-having difficulty focusing on or finishing assignments

-having trouble making decisions

-seeing too much

-resisting sameness and routine tasks

-taking things personally

-feeling powerless to solve the word's problems

-becoming fearful, anxious, and sad

-having trouble handling criticism or rejection

I saw myself in many of those negative characteristics, unfortunately. I also learned that I'm a classic underachiever: I don't believe what apparently I'm capable of. It's only since reading this book that I think I may really be capable.

When I shared the book and my thoughts with Laynie, she got a little upset and wondered how we can be friends when we're so different. The chasm seems unbridgeable.

I don't have an official IQ score to report. I know that I tested into some kind of gifted magnet school when I was 6, but my parents decided not to send me. Whenever I take online IQ tests, they results are around 150. I think they highest one was 162 and the lowest was 145 (some tests ceiling out at 145 though--three standard deviations about the mean). I guess I didn't realize the impact of scores like that until sped man made that comment about little Gary. If you took 10,000 kids his age, he'd be smarter than all of them. But people definitely don't understand what that means.

The child's evaluation team held a meeting in my room the other day to discuss how they're going to handle this very unique situation (how to qualify a child who is far above grade level for special ed, which he certainly seems to need), and the psychologist made the comment, "He's using all his energy thinking about algorithms or whatever, so he probably doesn't have any energy left to respond when people talk to him." That's not what being gifted is about. It doesn't take energy to think about "hard" things. You want to think about those things, you enjoy thinking about them--it's not a matter of diverting energy from other things. You can do many things at once. I used to get in trouble in grad school for doing the crossword puzzle or sudoku in a couple of classes, but I was absolutely following the lectures. Those classes were too easy. I didn't need to use my whole brain to process what the professors were saying. In fact, when I wasn't doing the crossword puzzle to keep me grounded (for lack of a better word), I'd be totally out of class mentally, thinking about other things--things that interested me. That happened a lot in high school. I remember practicing the Greek alphabet backwards when I was bored in high school classes. I had already memorized it forwards. I'd practice writing the beautiful Greek characters--the teachers probably thought I was taking notes. I'd also memorize the posters on the wall.. the periodic table, Latin noun declensions, characteristics of poetry, math formulas.. whatever was around. I cannot handle boredom.

I laughed at one list in the book. It was called "The Ten Commandments that Foster Elitism."

I. Thou shalt be told that boredom is part of life and that easy, redundant work must be tolerated.

II. Thou shalt often hear classmates express frustration because the test was hard... when thou thought it was easy. (Ever been accused of being a "curve-wrecker?" Yeah.)

III. Thou shalt procrastinate on long-term assignments until the day before they are due... and thou shalt turn them in and get A's.

IV. Thou shalt hear classmates ask questions of thy teacher that thy teacher answered clearly yesterday. (haha)

V. Thou shalt receive numerous telephone calls from classmates the night before a test asking how to solve a difficult problem.

VI. Thou shalt consistently get good grades without having to work or study hard.

VII. Thou shalt know the answer to every question the teacher asks... and can answer the questions no one else can. (FYI: this annoys teachers.)

VIII. Thou shalt have thyself, thy grades, and thy work held up, by thy teacher, as examples to be emulated.

IX. Thou shalt be chosen first by the team captain for spelling, math, and geography bees.

X. In short, thou shalt have ample opportunity to believe that aptitude is equated with human value and that if thou art smarter, thou art better.

Five and ten really hit me. I had people become "friends" with me just so that I would "study together." Free tutoring! It took a few times before the pattern became clear: hm, this person always wants to hang out before a test. Number ten... This was made quite clear to me by a person close to me. I don't want to hurt her feelings by saying too much about it, but this is something that still plagues me. I have to remind myself that being smart doesn't make you a better person, that God loves everyone. That everyone has a talent.

Speaking of talents, let me be clear: mine are from God. Of course. I know that God gave me musical talents so that I could be of service at church. And thinking in music helped me improve my auditory processing as a teenager. That's a whole other post. I probably don't recognize all my talents or what I'm here to do. Today, as I knelt to adjust Laynie's ski boots for the fifth time, I thought, I'm a pretty good friend. That made me happy, and I recognized it as a talent. I'm not sure why I have the intellect that I have. It often does not seem like a gift. Maybe it's a trial.

I don't tell people that I'm smart. I usually try to pretend that I'm just like everybody else. Sometimes I say that I forgot something when I really didn't, or that I don't know the procedure for something when I do. Last week, I told my friend, the teacher of the deaf that I work with, that I think I'm gifted. On many occasions she has asked me, "How do you know that?" or "How do you remember all that?" I will deflect with, "I just looked it up for another student," or something similar. Last week she started to say, "Wow, you are gifted." Every time I did something she considered unusual, she'd point it out. Like when the mainstream class voted on their favorite Dr. Seuss books (they were creating a bar graph) and I noticed that a little girl raised her hand twice--and I knew which book she had already chosen. I knew which books all of the special ed students had chosen. That didn't seem unusual to me. I just remember things. Now the teacher of the deaf is convinced that I have a photographic memory, which I do not. It's hard to explain. Things just go into my brain and stay. It's not like I see a picture of them. Most of the time. I guess sometimes I can see pages from textbooks when I need information. But usually I just think and the information is there.

I had another insight this week. I now understand why deaf adults feel connected to or possessive of young deaf children. Every day I want to pull Gary aside and talk to him, help him understand himself. He's my people. I feel a surprisingly strong kinship toward him. I want him to have a better experience than I had. Maybe I should just let the regular people take care of it--let them chisel the corners off him so that he fits into the hole.

I know how all this sounds. I don't mean to be a jerk. That's why I've kept it to myself for... oh, my entire life. Not only have I kept it to myself, I've kept it from myself.

I suppose I'm a little late getting on the path of self-discovery. But better late them never.

You know my little mute student? I'm referring to the one who speaks ("in paragraphs," per mom) at home but gives everyone else suspicious stares when they try to interact with her. Right, that one. She's making great progress!

I think Betsy would be a good name for her.

Betsy makes comments to me during circle time, like, "My Dabby idoo!" Translation: My Gabby igloo. She's kind of hard to understand, but I'm not even bringing up articulation until she's comfortable with talking. I asked, "Oh, Gabby made an igloo like that one in the book?" "No, daddy." Daddy made an igloo for Gabby. (Go dad!) So she's volunteering information, which we call initiating; and she is answering questions, which we call responding. IEP goals, check and check. Betsy has goals to initiate and respond consistently with at least three different adults (not counting family).. and at least three different kids in the class. Well, that second part is not really happening, unless you count screams of, "No!" "Stop!" or "Mine!" while pushing/hitting/grabbing. It's a work in progress.

I just love this sober, perpetually stressed-out, little child. She got into my heart very quickly and is one of my favorites.

Here's a little gem from one of my deaf students. He gets into little obsessions, and last month it was pencils. They MUST be shark. After a brief glance at a pencil, he'd say, "It's not shark. I need to shark it." Maybe he was just looking for an excuse to use the totally cool, electric pencil sharpener. Whatever, I let him. Who am I to judge a boy's need for shark pencils?

Proud of My Boys

Earlier this week, my deaf kiddos went with all the first graders to a play, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. The classroom interpreter went up separately, because she wanted to look over the script and music beforehand. The teacher of the deaf and I rode on the bus with the kids.

So the kids had not seen the interpreter that morning when they got to school. We got them unpacked and set up with their FM receivers, and then it was time to get on the bus.

When we got to the theater and got our kids seated (in the third row, while their poor hearing classmates were up in nosebleed), arranging Oil and Water so they were not sitting next to each other... My superstar boy happily greeted the interpreter and watched as she and I discussed where she would stand. The theater company had her way off to the side, which is totally unrealistic--like a first grader is going to look away from the action on stage for a second. Hm, a dancing mouth, a talking dog, and a wolf that loses his teeth all over the stage... or the interpreter that I see every day. Yeah. We got that changed.

When the interpreter was set and the kids were positioned so they could all see her (no grown-up heads blocking them), Superstar waved to get her attention and signed, "Interpret? You interpret?" When she said yes, he smiled.

The poor child thought he'd have to try to make sense of the action without the benefit of language, like in other non-school situations. I don't think he realized that interpretation was even possible outside of school.

That was sad, but I was happy at the same time, because he demonstrating understanding of the concept of interpretation. Oh, how I have worked on that! Our assigned interpreter is frequently absent, which is sort of frustrating, but I'm making lemonade. When different interpreters walk into the classroom, three of the kids could not care less, but this child is always interested in learning their names (signs and spelling). He is quite outgoing, introducing his deaf peers and me to the interpreters. The interpreters are always charmed by this brilliant and very big-D Deaf child. And I take a minute to emphasize, "So-and-so is not here today. So-and-so will not interpret. Today we have a substitute interpreter. Whatever-her-name-is will interpret." I guess somewhere along the way, those explanations clicked!

On a side note, our most oral child shocked me while we were at the play. I had the two boys sitting near me, which gave me the little superstar and the oral boy, who happens to be visually impaired. And have fine motor difficulty. And appear generally clumsy and immature. He rarely signs, and when he does, it's usually inaccurate, such as "bathroom" with an A or N handshape, "fun" with an R handshape, or "math" that frankly looks like the sign for "celebrate." But he's always happy, and he's a lot of fun. He's also the noisiest deaf child you'll ever meet. He loves to ask questions, and any instructions given will be met with a quick, "Why?"

During the play, he kept asking questions, like, "Why that dog sad?" and "What the mom said?" so I encouraged him to watch the interpreter. And I shushed him. Frequently. I guess he really wanted to talk to me, because he SIGNED, "What next?" The child knows the sign "next." And produced it clearly.

He signed, "Mom what-do?" You know, the "do-do" sign, not the "action/doing" sign--as in, the correct sign for the context.

We have worked on answering "what doing" questions for over a year, using that very sign. He rarely looks at us, seems to depend completely on his CI for language. When his processor broke last month, he stared at us like he had never seen ASL before as we explained that we couldn't get it working and mom would have to call his audiologist. And he knows "do-do"!!! Little stinker.

The teacher of the deaf likes to remind everyone that this boy is more with it than he shows, and she is soooo right.

Little stinker.

Save the Mods for Somebody Who Needs Them

The other day I was giving a math test to two children. Bet you wouldn't expect an SLP to be giving a math test! We do a lot of role sharing. :) So I'm giving this math test to two of the deaf kiddos, and I had the visuals used in class available for them during the test. I was letting them work at their own pace and presenting individual directions for each item, and the boy got to the story problems the girl. I began to set out the visuals for "in all (+)" and "left (-)" but he shooed them away, tapping his head to indicate his intelligence and saying, "I know it, I don't need those. Give them to [girl's name], she doesn't know it."

Picture the sign for "ego." Yeah. But you have to respect his confidence!

Yay, She's Oral!

Sometimes I wonder how much my students with CIs hear--or more like how much they miss. One student that I like to call "Glued-To-Me" showed me recently how much guesswork she's doing on a daily basis.

A couple of weeks ago, I was reading (over several days) the Knuffle Bunny trilogy. I highly recommend these books, if you have not read them. In the first book, toddler Trixie and her daddy, who live in Manhattan, take their clothes to the laundromat, where they (gasp!) lose Trixie's stuffed bunny. The TOD and I spent some time discussing laundry and explaining what a laundromat is. We showed the children pictures, sequenced the process of doing laundry... I thought Favorite, Obsessed, and Oblivious had it, but Glued? You just never know. So I'm reading the book (using a combination of ASL, spoken English, and Sim-Com), and I got to the part where they go to the laundromat and load the washing machines. I asked the children, "Where did they go?" Favorite answered right away, signing "Laundry store," which was what I had dubbed the laundromat. Oblivious spoke, "Laundry." Close enough. I made Obsessed imitate my signs: "Laundry store" (she's not really a fan of communication). Glued's turn. Yes, she had seen/heard the answer three times (after I said it to begin with). I always ask her last, to give her a fighting chance at getting the right answer. Or at least close. And what, you must wonder, was her answer?

She signed and spoke... "Math."

Technically, she signed Math and spoke Mat. She can't say "th."

I guess you could confuse laundromat and math... if you completely ignored all the signing... sigh.

Today, we discussed Halloween, practicing describing words, such as, "scary ghost," "orange pumpkin," "furry bat." The kids were really into it. Every time you say the word Halloween, Glued says, "Hae-uh Tae-uh." Hannah Montana. Her costume. "This month is October. Soon it will be Hallo--" "Hae-uh Tae-uh." It's kind of cute how excited she is to be Hannah Montana.

So we used this simple book, Boo Who?, to work on the describing and on answering "who" questions... TOD took notes. The kids LOVE this, because she writes down what they say. As always, I did the reading, using both languages (sim-com or consecutively). After the book, I was describing things and having them look on the board (or use their brains!) to figure out what I was talking about. "It's white and scary. It says boo! It can fly." Glued said, "Gote!" I turned to her to correct her articulation, only to see that she had signed it as well... and her little V hand was on her forehead.

She was saying goat. Not mispronouncing ghost. Goat.

I would think that she would wonder how goats fit into Halloween, but I suppose there's so much she doesn't understand that she's used to things not making sense.

I like CIs, because the kids like them. Oblivious was heartbroken and became practically catatonic the day he broke his in PE. He cannot handle silence. Laynie loves her CIs, doesn't go a day without them--even though she is and always will be primarily an ASL user.

But it worries me when parents have their kids rely only on the cochlear implants for language development, because they are NOT like hearing people's hearing. Many kids do very well, but there will always be things they miss, and I hate to see guesswork involved in education. And yes, I suppose that there is more going on with Glued than just deafness... most deaf kids would at least pick up on the signs. She's just so used to relying on her hearing, because that's what she did as a toddler and preschooler (family only signs when her CIs are off, preschool program was TC but heavy on talking). Plus, she's mainstreamed nearly all day. Although there is an interpreter around, I think very little of what the interpreter says is comprehensible to her--too advanced, trying to meet Obsessed and Favorite's needs, and their language is a couple of years ahead of Glued's. Glued is definitely more attuned to her hearing than her vision for language. And now for education. But her hearing is not cutting it!

I will say what I've said in the past: Deaf kids need ASL.

{stepping off my soapbox}

Now that I'm off my soapbox, I want to write an addendum entitled "Good Things about Glued."

-She is very responsible. If she knows what to do or where to go, she is all over it.

-She is always happy to see me, especially on Thursdays, when I come to her school just for the afternoon. I feel like a celebrity walking in, the way she exclaims "Haytee!!" and nearly hyperventilates. (My name is Hasting, in case you couldn't tell. ;)

-She becomes beside herself with excitement when we both have a ponytail on the same day.

-She feels guilty when she answers wrong (I don't know if this is good so much as endearing).

-She wants to mother the other kids, especially Oblivious. She can often be found herding him to where he ought to be. Or waving at us and pointing to him, wrinkling up her nose. "Mammin no wur." [Name] no work. Her artic is so bad, I'm not even worried you'd get his real name from that. Sigh.

-She has a decent moral compass for a 6-year-old (although she has been known to smack kids who don't follow her motherly directives... hehe).

-She loves to be helpful--passing out pencils is her specialty.

-She is understanding of Obsessed's moods, often shrugging and giving me a wry smile when Obsessed snaps at her.

-She always wants to hold my hand and sit in my lap. She is very direct about it, too, pointing at my legs and saying, "Ap," or threading her little fingers into mine. Unfortunately, I can't let her... but it's the thought that counts.

-She looks up to her big sister SO MUCH. Apparently, she will sit and do "homework" with Mom for hours, as long as sis (several years older) is doing hers.

-Her smile always brightens my day.

What a Difference an S Makes

I got to the school where I see my deaf kiddos yesterday during their lunch. I was waiting for a college student, who was coming out to observe me, so I hung out in the cafeteria, which is close to the front doors. Of course, my little Favorite came right up to me, as did Glued-to-Me girl (Obsessed with Speech and Oblivious were also there).

As a side note, Favorite and Obsessed got their math tests back yesterday. The ones I had administered on Wednesday. 95% and 90%. With no modifications! Standard issue district tests! Obsessed got moved from sped math to regular lowest math group math. Favorite was already there. And I spent most of math class yesterday trying to get her to look at the interpreter (TOD was out, and the sub was useless). Rolling my eyes. You'd think a deaf child would want to look at the person who makes sense, but she'd rather take the crumbs that fall from the general educator's hands. "Oh, she touched the number two on the board; I'll touch a random two on my paper." And she expects that the para will repeat any directions she missed (which would be all of them) and can't figure out by copying others, so she just ignores all the language coming out of the interpreter and waits for the Reader's Digest version from the para.

Anyway... Glued was trying to hold my hand and showing me her headband and how she put her lunch box on the cart, and Favorite came over to say hi. I'm going to differentiate between spoken and signed in this little story. It kind of matters.

I signed to ask him how he was, and he signed fine, and he spoke, "Obsessed!" and pointed to her. Well, he used her actual name. I signed, "Obsessed happy?" (Sadly, we're at the mercy of her moods.) He nodded, smiling. Then he frowned. He shook his head and spoke, "Obsessed bitch!" The lunch monitor (hearing, of course) gave me a "What do you people teach these kids?" look. He did NOT learn that at school! I said something to the para, who told me that he's been picking up vocabulary from his adult brothers. Hm. I went to where he was now sitting with Glued, and he looked at me and spoke again, "Obsessed bitch." I signed, "Obsessed what? Bitch?" He looked at me like I had ten heads. Of course he absolutely would not know the sign, since he sees signing only at school, and we would never swear in front of kids. Actually, we don't even swear when we're not in front of kids. I signed, "Word [spoken]bitch, [signed] not nice. Mean. Obsessed she friend." He shook his head and spoke again, "Obsessed bitch" while signing, "Obsessed speech."

Right. Thursday. Obsessed has speech. And it did relate to my original question of whether Obsessed was happy... Obsessed had probably been told scolded all morning for signing, "Speech! Speech! Speech!" during class. Yes, she signs with exclamation points. If you saw it, you'd agree.

I don't normally drill Favorite on his articulation, but I can see that there's one word we need to sit down and practice.

Presume Competence

Last night I went to special ed back to school night. One of my little first grade students was there! He showed me a shiny new iPod touch and emphasized, "Mine. Mine." I guess he got it for his birthday two weeks ago. He showed me the cool games, and I asked him if he was planning to play during the meeting, which he was. Back to school night is for parents, not kids.

We had an ASL interpreter there for a deaf parent who didn't show up, and the interpreter made the decision to stay for my little guy. It was really sweet how he watched the interpreter for a good 20-30 minutes, although the presentations were way over his head. Polite. One thing that was discussed during the meeting was a new buzzword in county, which we got from our awesome consultant for the year, Paula Kluth. The phrase du jour is "presume competence." Act is if. Act as if the child is already a reader. He will be. Act as if he already can walk. Maybe he will. Act as if she understands. Maybe she does. We've all heard stories of kids thought to have severe cognitive disabilities in addition to severe autism... Only to find out later that the child understood everything going on around her. Google Carly Fleishmann.

After the meeting, the teacher of the deaf and I greeted "our" parents, and while she spoke with little man's mother and adult brother (through a foreign language interpreter--enough people involved without me), I let my student show me how to lose at Street Fighter. And how to torture stick figures in StickWars ("Look! Blood!"). After a while, he went back to the home screen and noticed that the battery was less than half full. He said, "Oh! Eat!" and mimed plugging it in. I said (and signed--our agreement is TC with him, although I'd rather do a bi-bi thing of keeping talking and signing separate), "Power. It needs power." He got VERY annoyed with me, and said, "No, eat! Food!" I could not believe that this bright (though language delayed) child was being told that electronic devices need to eat. So I had to tell him that people eat food, machines like this use electricity, when you plug it in power goes through the wire and fills up the device's battery, etc. He said, "Power eat?" Close enough.

The reason I bring this up is because it is such a perfect example of presuming INcompetence. He could have understood power in this context--as much as any other first grader understands it. But in a culture where deaf=retarded (with all the connotations of that word), he doesn't stand a chance at being smart. Knowledge is kept from him by well-meaning people.

Treat them like they're smart and maybe they will be. That's presuming competence.

Small World

The deaf world (well, Deaf world) is famous for being small. In fact, I remember "small world" being a phrase I learned very early on in ASL, when the teacher showed us her old boss on the Signing Naturally video.

A couple of weeks ago, I interpreted for a woman who asked me listen to her hearing daughter and tell her if the child was pronouncing words wrong... and later one of my students brought in a "My Weekend" book with the very same child's face in all the pictures.

The LDS world is apparently also small.

I work on the Pals team, which includes special educators, paraeducators, and related service providers from different schools all over the county. A few years ago, when I started on the team, I found out that one of the paras was LDS. Actually, she figured out that I was, because I wore a BYU sweatshirt.

This past Saturday, I agreed to help set up for the Relief Society broadcast activity at the stake center. When I got there, they didn't need help setting up in the gym, which they anticipated needing me for, so I helped out in the kitchen. There were three ladies on the kitchen team. They were each at least old enough to be my mother and had known each other for upwards of 20 years, and it was hard for me to get a foothold in their chatter... until I heard one mention that at her school they did such and such. I asked if she works in Howard County.. yes..

me: Oh, so do I. Which school?

Deep Run Elementary.

me: I work at Waverly Elementary.

Oh really, what do you do there?

me: I'm a speech language pathologist. [getting ready to explain what that is]

So am I! I work in the RECC.

me: I work in the deaf/hh program and the Pals program. [she knows that Pals is a RECC program]

That's right. Not only do we work for the same school district and share the same profession, we even work in the same "specialty" of the RECC (meaning preschool/kindergarten). And we happened to be in that small group of people preparing food for the RS broadcast dinner.

It makes me wonder how many other members of the church work for Howard County. I know that they had another LDS freelance interpreter until she moved last year. When the interpreter coordinator first hired me and found out I was LDS (BYU on my resume gave me away), she told me that, as well as how much she loved LDS people. She had a great neighbor who was a member of the church.

When she hired me, I'm sure she thought, "Small world!"

Met Some Deaf Men

Yesterday, Laynie and I were at Arby's, and we happened to run into two deaf men there. One saw us signing and came over to ask if we were deaf. Laynie said yes, and I said no, I'm hearing. He said, "You're hard of hearing." I said no, I'm hearing hearing. So he said, "Oh, you're learning sign."

Eh? A minute ago you saw me signing and were convinced that I was deaf, or hard of hearing at least... now because of my hearing status you think I'm just learning? Deaf people are as biased as hearing.

These guys made me sad, though. The one who questioned my hearing-ness (and then my signing ability) said that he had graduated from the deaf school in Frederick in 1961 and worked 47 years making bricks. I cannot imagine doing such mind-numbing work for so many years. Now he is "retired" but still works there part time. And the other guy graduated from Frederick in 1984 and has worked at the brick factory ever since.

I had to laugh at the irony of running into deaf people (which seriously never happens) on the FIRST day that Laynie has worn her hair in a ponytail since getting her implants. Let me tell you, those blue and red processors and coils cannot be missed! The younger guy was really staring. Gosh. At least she's young enough that they might assume her parents forced her to get them and not lose her deaf "cred." What a complicated world.

Listen Up

The essentials: glasses, iPhone, CIs.

I said before that I have been impressed with the way Laynie has used her CIs all day everyday since getting them (February and August). It's especially impressive considering that she hasn't really benefitted from them since June.

In May, Laynie began having problems with her first CI, the one on the left side. She had pain during a mapping, and it caused problems after that with tingling, discomfort, and sometimes jabs of pain. Not really knowing what the problem was but assuming it was related to the amount of stimulation, her audiologist turned her down. When I say "stimulation" and "turned her down," I'm talking about electricity running through her cochlea, in close proximity to sensitive nerve endings. People are bound to run into problems with this sometimes.

The audiologist kept turning her down more and more, hoping that would solve the problem. It didn't. But things got quieter and quieter for Laynie. She was missing many speech and environmental sounds. She could no longer hear birds or bugs. She lost S, F, TH, and more. We stopped doing therapy in August, because it was just an exercise in frustration. And then, about two weeks ago, the tingling and discomfort stopped, pretty much overnight. A day or two after that, Laynie had a mapping session, her one-month mapping for her new CI. Her new CI was also quiet, because the audiologist wanted to keep them equal. It turned out that she had been hearing at about 60-65 dB. No wonder she was missing so many sounds!

At that mapping (about two weeks ago), she asked for more sound. She missed all the things she was able to hear a few months ago but had not heard all summer. She got her wish, with hearing levels at about 30 dB. But she feels like she started hearing even better a few days ago (funny that things will change a week or so after mapping). She still wants to hear MORE, especially on the right side. Her next mapping will be the first week in December.

See? Better.

Just for kicks, this is what fun, colored coils look like. I love that she chose blue for the left and red for the right. An audiologist's dream come true.

Now you see them...

Now you don't!

She definitely is hearing better since this past mapping. I can use a normal voice and she turns to me. And she hates my cough again, ha. Yesterday, she was asking why I-695 is so much quieter than I-795. I had honestly never even noticed. As we drove to Target this morning, I realized that she is absolutely right. The only thing I could think of was that it might be because I-795 is made of concrete, while I-695 is paved with asphalt. Her speech is improving again, as well. She's using more final consonants, making nicer vowels, and her /s/ blends are sounding quite good. She told me to STop today, which was dah or dop preimplant. It's so nice to see her making progress and hearing new things again, after her four-month plateau. I guess it's time to get back on the horse with listening therapy.

Yesterday, I saw Laynie checking out the Phonak website, comparing the different FM transmitters. She liked the ZoomLink:

Of course, she wouldn't wear that, so I don't know why she cares about the transmitter. That's for the person speaking to her. She would use the little plug in MicroMLxS or MLxi or whatever. I've been thinking about FM systems since playing around with one with Laynie a few days ago. It seems like it would be perfect for her, because she doesn't need to hear a lot of people at home, just me. It would be nice to have one while out, so that she would be able to hear despite wind, crowds of people, noisy traffic, etc. The world is just full of challenging listening environments.

Too bad those things are so stinking expensive!

Please

Parents, please sign with your deaf children.

Deaf children with strong signing skills have stronger English literacy skills (yes, compared with deaf children who speak).

Deaf children who sign have a more positive self-concept. That's psychobabble for feeling good about themselves.

Deaf children who sign are no worse at spoken language than their deaf peers who do not sign--in fact, they have better spoken language skills. FYI, language is where it's at in education. If children can't say their /r/ correctly, their education will probably not be affected. In my school district, we frequently do not pick up hearing children with /r/ problems, due to lack of educational impact. Language and the concepts learned through language will have a direct impact on every child's education. Why is it that parents are willing to buy the story that children can be bilingual in any combination of languages except ASL and English? Oh, right, because if they learn ASL, they won't be motivated to learn English. Foolishness. Engage your common sense and do not believe everything you hear just because a person with abbreviations following their name said it.

Deaf children who sign have better relationships with their parents and experience fewer communication breakdowns with their families.

Deaf children who sign can develop their brains from birth (or at least from identification of their deafness), instead of waiting until they are old enough to receive a cochlear implant. No, it will not make their brain develop in a way that will prevent them from learning spoken language. This is hogwash. This idea is propagated by those who stand to benefit monetarily from parents buying into it. There is zero research to back it. There is, however, research to back the idea that with the brain, if you don't use it, you lose it. A child deprived of language input (and don't tell me that hearing aids and lipreading provide adequate language input for an infant, because I will laugh in your face) will slowly lose their intellectual capacity. The brain is the most plastic and most rapidly developing during the first year of life. Unused neural connections are dying every day during the first year of life. The very year wasted waiting for a cochlear implant.

Deaf children who sign are able to acquire language in an age-appropriate manner. Deaf children do not have full access to spoken language, even with cochlear implants. That's why they need therapy to learn language, rather than acquiring language naturally. They do have full access to sign language.

Deaf children who sign are able to listen and understand spoken language using a cochlear implant or hearing aid.

Deaf children who sign are able to behave appropriately just as hearing children do. Just a quick story: a family I knew was told by a teacher of the deaf (who herself was deaf and raised orally) that they needed to stop signing with their four-year-old child, so that he would learn to hear and speak using his cochlear implant. The mother trusted this teacher and followed her advice. Within a few weeks, the child's behavior had seriously deteriorated, and his mother was at wits end with him. The oral program referred her to a behavior specialist. They worked on behavior modification. The situation dragged on for months as they visited with the behavior specialist often and even tried a pediatric psychiatrist. His mother finally followed her instincts and allowed him to communicate freely again. He was back to normal by the end of the week, and they were able to get rid of the rewards charts, tracking sheets, and time out chair.

Deaf children who sign are able to acquire age-appropriate social skills. Many professionals take it as a given that deaf children will need social skills training. It doesn't have to be that way.

Deaf children who sign are able to do everything hearing children can do. Think, learn, speak, listen, and achieve. Sign with your deaf children. They will thank you later.

I will step down from my soapbox now.

Thoughts on FM Systems

Many deaf students use FM systems, and many parents and professionals take it as a given that FM systems are always a good thing. I don't know. First, for the uninitiated, this is how it works:

A receiver like this one is plugged into the hearing aid or cochlear implant.

This is the transmitter. You wear it clipped to your belt or in a pouch worn with a sash, pageant-style. PE teachers often are not too into that look. Anyway, the microphone clips to the sash or to your shirt. The transmitter sends your voice directly to the implant (or hearing aid) via radio waves. You can set the receiver so that it only receives info from the FM transmitter (FM-only), which greatly reduces background noise and helps the child hear you better. You can also set the receiver so that it receives info half from the FM transmitter and half from the microphone on the implant (FM+mic), so that the child can hear others in the classroom, such as peers and paraeducators. The transmitters I use at work can work together, so that the child can hear two people teaching in the same room.

The benefits are obvious. Noise levels in classrooms can be excessive for hearing children, and it's even more difficult for deaf children to hear (that seems like an oxymoron anyway). Anything that helps the child hear better has to be good. But here are some potential pitfalls with FM systems:

- The whole "hearing two people teaching in the same room" thing is great... when they are both teaching the deaf child or children (by the way, I'm using deaf to mean deaf or hard of hearing here). If the class splits into groups and one teacher is with the deaf child and the other is with another group, the other teacher has to be conscious of her FM transmitter and switch it off. If you have more than one deaf child in the classroom and they are in different groups, the teachers would need to remember to change channels (each transmitter has several channels available) and resync. And if you have literacy or math centers with no adult facilitating, you would also want to turn off the FM. Teachers constantly have to be monitoring what the child might be hearing and whether the FM should be used during various times of the day. Keep in mind that teachers often have 15-25 children in a class, all of whom have needs.

- The child often needs to be on the FM-only setting to benefit from it, but that blocks out the other children's questions and comments. Teachers would need to repeat what the other children say.

- If the FM is not working properly or getting interference, the child might not tell you. My students certainly don't. They could be wasting instructional time.

- Teachers have to wear the device properly. This seems like a no brainer, but some people might put the sash/pouch on backwards, with the microphone on their back. Not kidding. Or wear it for an hour before realizing that it was never turned on. I'm not even talking about incompetent people (um, except maybe the microphone on the back), but people who are human and busy and overlook things.

- FM systems cannot help little kids during lunch, recess, and "centers" (free time)--the social times of the day. And trust me, the deaf child will not be able to hear during lunch or centers. Or indoor recess, which is often insanity. And even if an FM system could be used by many talkers at once and might be considered in a lunch or play situation, there's no way I would trust a 6-year-old with a $1000 device (yes, that is how much the transmitters cost). Especially not with food in the vicinity.

I do think that FM systems are good and often helpful, but they do not provide deaf children with the kind of access that many people think they do.

I had an opportunity to play around with an FM system with Laynie, which was fun. And informative. For example, she told me that when the microphone was in the middle of the chest (where people often wear it), she heard much less than when it was up near the collarbone. Laynie heard my voice quality, which was tending to go into fry, especially at the ends of my sentences. It was also scratchy, which I hope is just a regular sore throat and not from aspirating refluxate.. sigh. Anyway, that was interesting, because she could not hear that with her implants only.

When we did the Ling sounds, she said that /s/ was a little different, but "sh" was VERY different. The vowels and /m/ were the same.

Laynie thought that the sound through the FM was choppy, not smooth. As she used it more, she realized that she was hearing the stop-and-release-air sounds more (p, t, k, etc.). She also heard the high fricative sounds better (s, f, th). She especially noticed /s/. Probably because we say /s/ so often in English. ;) When I said "goals," while signing, she said, "You said goals, not goal!" This happened a few times with plural nouns. That was interesting and made me want to have an FM at home for her. I want her to have as perfect an auditory representation of English as possible.

Laynie said that having both implants on FM-only was much louder (better) than one on FM-only and the other on mic or FM+mic. FM-only on both implants was much louder than FM+mic on both implants, as well. When she was on FM-only and I put the transmitter several feet away and came up and spoke loudly near her implants, she could barely hear me.

We played Go Fish with animal cards, which we often do, and her pattern perception was better than normal. She was guessing words with the correct number of syllables and the correct kinds of sounds.

We read books and she did much worse with speech tracking than normal. She was hearing more syllables than she usually does, I think. It was messing her up.

FM systems are pretty cool technology. I wish they weren't so expensive, though. Receivers and transmitters are each around $1000, so a bilateral set-up with a single transmitter would run about $3000. Ouch. I do wish Laynie could afford it, though, because it would probably help her learn spoken English.

Literacy Research in Deaf Education

Summary and thoughts:

Luckner, J., Sebald, A., Cooney, J., Young, J., & Muir, S. (2005/2006). An examination of the evidence-based literacy research in deaf education. American Annals of the Deaf, 150, 443-456.

"People who struggle to read and write are much more likely than literate people to drop out of school, go to prison, or struggle to find and keep meaningful, satisfying work." Yikes!

This article was a meta-analysis of the research over the past 25 years or so that studied deaf literacy learning.

There are some deaf and hard of hearing students who read at grade level. Some become successful writers. But most have a hard time learning literacy. Here are some problems that people often say are the reasons deaf students struggle with literacy:

1. Less access to the phonological code. This relates to the Goldin-Meadow and Mayberry (2001) article. ASL has its own vocabulary, which does not relate to English phonology. Auditory/oral deaf children do not hear well enough to access English phonology.

2. Limited language fluency. Many deaf children are not fluent in a spoken or signed language when they begin school. Reading and writing depend on a language foundation (spoken or signed). Many deaf children have to learn to read and write while learning their first language at the same time.

3. Not enough literacy experiences in early childhood. Deaf children do not have books read to them as often as hearing children. Parents do not feel comfortable signing, have a limited sign vocabulary, or have trouble finding a way to position the child and the book and still make eye contact.

4. Delayed vocabulary acquisition. Vocabulary is a major key to reading comprehension.

5. Problems with lower-level skills. Many deaf students struggle with word recognition, syntax, and vocabulary comprehension. Because of this, they do not develop the independent reading strategies that they need, such as self-questions, activating prior knowledge, etc. They need to a foundation of lower-level skills before they can learn higher-level literacy skills.

So what can we do?

1. Explicit vocabulary instruction and practice with short passages. Tell them the definition of a word, show them a sentence using the word, and use computer programs to practice the vocabulary words.

2. High-interest literature. This study used "adapted classics," meaning classic books like Treasure Island that have been changed in grammar and vocabulary to fit different (lower) reading levels.

3. Instruction in ASL grammar and how to translate ASL into written English. Exactly what it looks like. Teach ASL grammar just as hearing students learn English grammar. Practice translating ASL into written English.

4. Teacher discussion of stories. The teacher discusses the story and teaches students to summarize, question, clarify, and predict.

5. Instruction in reading comprehension strategies. For example, teach story grammar (characters, plot, etc.) and locating details in the text.

6. Interaction. Communicate and play games using English. Real interactions are better than analyzing grammar. You can use email, chat rooms, and the internet.

7. Reading to young students. Evening group storybook reading had a positive effect on independent reading and interest in books.

8. Use of captions. Watching videos with captioning improved comprehension of visual information.

9. Intensified instruction. The teachers were given plenty of materials and space to teach just a few students each.

10. Use of word processing. Let students use Word (or another program) so that they can use spell checker.

12. Use of simple stories and word recognition practice with young readers. Exactly what is says.

13. Use of the general education curriculum. Teach them what the hearing children are learning.

14. Direct teaching of sight words and teaching of morphological rules. Again, this is exactly what it says. And morphological basically means word endings, like going, takes, walked.

Now go get them!