Going Deaf In Middle Childhood Part 6

When reading over my blog I can see that probably evening is not the best time for me to be writing. This time I will try it in the afternoon when my mind is more clear and not fogged from a busy, active day! Thanks to everyone for being patient with me.

There have been many thousands of words written hashing over the pros and cons of residential living for the deaf. 'Not only written words but mountains of scuttlebutt. I can say truthfully here that WHILE A STUDENT MYSELF, I never once saw or heard of anything untoward happening at my paricular school. About the worst thing I can recall is seeing a couple separated while riding the football bus for becoming a little too chummy!

I began the scholastic part of my education at the State School For The Deaf as a 10 year old in a room with other deaf students, all of whom were quite a few years older than I, most of them teenagers. I would have entered the 5th grade in public school, had I not become deaf, and that is what we were doing here, 5th grade work. I had 3 deaf teachers and one hearing teacher. The hearing teacher was skilled in Sign Language. (Even tho I was not!) We had a HOH gymnastics instructor that we all loved and admired, a beautiful lady who worked us hard. We were taught to march professionally, to tumble on mats and even to tap dance. I can even recall us gathering around a piano with our hands flat on it's top to pick up vibrations and being encouraged to sing! One of the deaf instructors, Mr. Hunter had gone deaf late in childhood himself, so he understood what I was going through, and sometimes he and I would share little jokes that would have gone completely over another deaf person's head.

My social education was a different story. For some reason I was never enightened on why the deaf have "messed up English". The girls tried to write to me on the dorm blackboard, but alot of what they said appeared to be almost gibberish to me. Pig Latin! It took me many years to figure it all out and learning sign language helped me understand more than anything anyone could have told me.

Our bedrooms were assigned to us according to our grade in school without considering age, so I was lumped together much too soon with hormonal teenagers. I attended teenage parties, went to football and basketball games while other students my age had to stay behind. I was told that my dresses were too short, my mouth too wide and that I needed a bra, long before I had anything to put into one!

My mother had always been a meticulous housekeeper, but SHE did the work! In the dorm in those days THERE WERE NO JANITORS. The students did all the chores, mopping floors, dusting, scrubbing bathroom basins, etc. And we girls also (in addition) had a "little sister" that we were expected to help dress and groom each morning. The early morning hours were frantic in the dormitory. I learned to sweat. At recess we would huddle in front of the bulletin board to take in the list of all the "poor housekeepers". And whomever was on that list had to re-do the whole job after lunch. I recall the mops were very, very heavy, the buckets full of water on wheels would tip over if you did not scoot them just right. Your bucket tipping over was no excuse for being late for school. And if your mop "turned sour" that meant you did not use enough bleach!

Once a week after school if we had been good, the dorm mother would unlock the candy cupboard and we would receive our weekly treat. If you hadn't "earned" your treat, the dorm mother would repeat in every revealing detail, in front of the whole group, WHY we could not have our candy that week.

To be continued