The State School For The Deaf is situated on a bluff high above the Columbia River on some of the most prime real estate property in the county, perhaps in the whole state. It began it's life in a huge Gothic building dubbed The State School For Defective Youth.
By the time I arrived there it had become a deaf school and the grounds were a mish mash of various period buildings. Most were of red brick, a few of lighter brick and in the middle of the large, pleasantly green campus was the cafeteria. The school marked it's prominence with a huge red brick smokestack that reached high into the clouds.
I do not recall visiting the school beforehand, and it was summertime, anyway, no one was there. My first inkling that I was being forced to leave my warm, secure childhood home was when my mother ordered name tags that were soon sewed neatly onto each item of my clothing. Somehow my mother had secured a list of the clothing that I was required to have to be a student of a residential school. "Five of this, ten of that, one dozen of these" and so on. I think I had just become an expensive liability.
Even tho the State School For The Deaf was in the same town where my family and I resided, the school protocol required that students could only go home every OTHER weekend. The superintendent felt that the children had a better chance of adjusting to being away from home this way.
So I was dropped off into a new and frightening place, not to see my family again for two whole weeks. I recall nothing of arriving in the dorm, unpacking, putting my clothes away and being issued a bed, towels etc. My subconcious has this part of my story stored somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, perhaps where I will never, ever conciously have to think of it again.
I DO recall the first day of school and assembly in the "Chapel". The chapel was a dual duty room with a small stage and spotless hardwood floors that smelled of some kind of cleaning oil. I found myself sitting with other restless little girls my own age who resided in my part of the dormitory. On this day, I was sitting next to Betty, who was also a new girl. We thought for sure that we would be in a class together, and despite my lack of sign language, we both communicated that we were excited about sharing a grade and a teacher.
One by one the different teachers showed up smiling and selected the students that would be in their respective classes. Betty was chosen and left. No one came after me. Eventually I was called up and placed in a group of young teenagers, all of whom were at least 3 or 4 years older than I was. I knew no sign language, I had no idea what was going on. I was only 10 years old, perhaps someone had made a big mistake? My heart pounded with surprise and fear. What was happening here?
To be continued
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My heart breaks.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was a Houseparent back at WSD, in 1988, I worked with the little girls in the dorms who were your age when you first went to the deaf school. I remember the blank faces of the new girls who were dropped off at the deaf school for the first time, not knowing what lie ahead for them, just as you described.
I remember the brave faces the parents put on, only to walk away in tears.
I remember being there to hold the hands of the new little girls arriving and how the other little girls would encircle the new ones, like little angels offering solace.
I remember how they use to fight to take turns to hold the new girls' hands, sit with them in the cafeteria, stand next to them in line, and lead her around.
It was if there were 10 little "Wendys" in the dorm, vying to be the Mother of lost girls.
Placing a child in a deaf school is the hardest decision a parent can make. They want their child to have the the most appropriate and least restrictive environment for their education and they want them to have friends and to belong.
But if they live in another town, they are making a decision to give their child over to the care of strangers. The know that time and distance will separate them, and they grieve. I'm sure your parents did too.
After my days as a Houseparent, I went back to school and got a Master's degree and returned as a School Counselor. I counseled new children and families for nearly a decade on this issue. It's a tough one.
Today, there are more day students attending deaf schools as families are choosing to live in the same town so their child can come home to them daily and be a family.
By the look of it, it seems you didn't have that choice. I'm sure many can relate.
I'm totally engulfed in your story. I look forward to the next installment.
~ LaRonda
I am getting sad at this point. Boarding Schools seem like giving up your chance to be parent/have a parent.
ReplyDeleteLaRonda, there was no such thing as a "day student" in those days. The school was a boarding school, almost a true "Boot Camp" for the deaf.
ReplyDeleteI probably would have been much happier had I been assigned girls my own age, but because of the grade level I was in, my room mates were teenagers. They looked down on me as "a kid" and was I treated me accordingly. I always felt that I could not do anything right.
Bill, fortunately times have changed and the young deaf children are treated like humans instead of a herd of young cattle.