A recent article about Memphis Oral School for the Deaf in Tennessee, USA, has sparked outrage amongst the deaf community.
The article was written to indicate how the school had finally reopened since the Coronavirus pandemic began and described the measures they had taken to stay safe. Controversially – however – the piece showed a photograph of masked deaf children sitting with a masked teacher in front of them.
The writer also went on to say, “sometimes instructors cover their mouths to make students listen.”
To say I was shocked was an understatement. Why would you cover your mouth when you’re teaching deaf children who naturally lipread? Doesn’t this automatically set them up to fail?
Delving more into the background to the school’s philosophy, I discovered from their website that their teaching methods centre around ‘learning to listen’ which isn’t too dissimilar to the methods first initiated by Alexander Graham Bell.
Bell’s belief in Oralism as the sole communication method for deaf people has been divisive, to say the least. His intention was to teach deaf children to speak in order to integrate into hearing society and he also believed that along with avoiding sign language, deaf people should be kept apart to prevent the propagation of hereditary deafness.
As the Memphis Oral School for the Deaf also clearly states several times that no sign language is ever used, members of the deaf community have spoken out about their concerns for the welfare of the deaf children at the school and fears of a strict ‘Alexander Bell’ regime still taking place.
On a personal note, I am very concerned.
I am not against those who do choose to communicate orally – I often do so myself! – but I find wearing a full mask and thus preventing deaf children from lip reading, gauging facial expressions and being forced to ‘listen’ to be quite cruel.
Listening, for those who don’t have full hearing, is hard work. Having constant amplification in your head and learning to tune out irrelevant sounds – as any hearing aid wearer or CI user will tell you – is exhausting.
Using visual cues such as sign language, lip patterns, gesture, this takes so much pressure off the deaf learner and enables them to channel their energy into learning on an equal level with their peers. It frees up energy they can use to acquire language, develop emotionally and socially too.
I am concerned that by focusing so much on learning to listen – which is probably an impossible task for many – that the children are spending so much time and energy trying to fit in to a mould of a ‘hearing’ child – something that they are not – which will have enormous emotional and psychological consequences.
I wonder how these children cope without their hearing aids or cochlear implants? How do they manage at night time, unaided? As much as you try to teach a deaf person to listen, you can never get away from the fact that they are actually – deaf.
I did attend an oral boarding school for the deaf here in England. But under no circumstances was I ever expected to ‘listen’ or to follow a member of staff without being able to lipread. Most of our staff members would use gesture or very minimal sign – to clarify a word for example – during classes. The thought of a teacher wearing a full face mask and expecting me to ‘listen’ is actually terrifying.
Back at primary school, I remember how my Teacher of the Deaf used to test my comprehension. She would say a list of random words and I’d have to repeat them back to her. When I was lip reading I got 100% correct. When she sat behind me to ‘force me to listen’, I got zero. Nada. Nothing.
It wasn’t that I wasn’t listening, it was that no matter how loud my hearing aids were, the amplification could never reach the level my brain needed in order to understand the speech sounds. I remember sitting there, feeling foolish for not being able to pick up a single word and the exercise doing nothing for me other than making me feel inadequate.
Another time, I visited an audiologist because I needed my hearing aid re-tubed. She asked me to look away as she spoke into a microphone and told me to tell her what she said. I told her it was pointless – I am profoundly deaf and when I’m aided, all I can hear is low frequency vowel sounds. She proceeded to ‘test me’ all the same and I refused to take part. I felt humiliated and outraged.
What these experiences have taught me is that a lot of the time hearing professionals will try and make you be like them; to listen and talk like a hearing person. Over time this can eat away at your self esteem as you realise that you are different and you’re fighting an impossible battle.
Listening and talking ‘correctly’ takes a lot of effort for a deaf person. It doesn’t always come naturally. Why are we the ones that always have to change anyway? How about, instead of expecting deaf people to behave in a ‘hearing’ way, hearing society comes and adapts to make our lives a bit easier? Aren’t we a world full of people with differences, anyway?
As I said earlier, I am not against being oral. I use speech and I lipread as well as using BSL. But I am PRO choice. I am all for supporting deaf children to thrive, no matter what communication method they choose to use.
But as very young deaf children are being made to sit in front of a masked teacher with masked peers beside them, I don’t see anything other than a lifetime of struggle ahead of them.
To read the original article, see here:
Brian Rawlinson
August 10, 2020
To give these teaching professionals some idea of what’s wrong with this ideology, why not get them to experience ‘deafness’ by plugging up their ears with a sound deadening material for a day or more, that restricts what they can hear to something that the majority of us fellow deaf or hoh experience without choice, then they might just get a small view into a deaf/hoh world!
I was always referred to in my school reports as always looking around in class, as you may have guessed I attended mainstream school), of course I looked around, I was looking at whoever was speaking to try and follow what that individual was saying!
Fred Trull
August 10, 2020
The silence from the “deaf community” has in fact been deafening.
Henry Kisor
August 11, 2020
I’m an oral deafo and a retired newspaper editor/writer. I suspect very strongly that the photographer for the newspaper simply decided that a photo showing everybody being masked was dramatic and had no thought for the larger implications. And so everyone flung themselves out of the room, flung themselves on their horses, and rode madly off in all directions.
Mary Pat
August 11, 2020
Can someone reach out to me! Thanks 🙂
Helen Clark
August 11, 2020
This article very much reminded me of my own childhood. I was educated orally in mainstream schools and was always being told that I could do better if I just tried harder to listen to what was being said. I wasn’t told that my hearing ability was very different to that of my classmates, and I didn’t know at the time that it wasn’t always my fault when I couldn’t follow something. As I’ve grown older I’ve kept on trying hard to find ways to listen better, but have also explored other ways to mitigate and conceal my hearing difficulties.
But I think perhaps my experience was good preparation for the difficulties I’m encountering during the COVID-19 pandemic.
I can cope reasonably well in face to face meetings and conferences, using lip reading, and my microphone-assisted hearing aids. But I do need to see the face of the person who is speaking for this to work for me. This summer, I have found that scientific conferences that I would have liked to attend in person have instead been held as virtual events, and I just can’t hear well enough to take part aurally online. In some cases text captions have been made available to me, and when these work well, I think they are great.
But I’ve been finding that some organisations won’t consider providing live text captions for their webinars and conferences. I guess they think I just need to keep on trying harder to listen better, if I want to take part… it’s almost like being back at school…