Audism affects everyone!

(Excerpt from NorthEast Florida Association for the Deaf website.)

In all my years of school, I have never cried in class; that is until last night. About a month ago, our ASL teacher had us read and sign an agreement that we would not use our voice in class. Over the past month, I’ve witnessed students using their voices, not to mention, text messaging (don’t get me started) and not paying attention.

I have felt frustrated with my talking classmates. Why? Despite their proficiency in signing, they insist on talking, as if following rules doesn’t matter, ignoring the teacher’s request. Often times, I would feel the urge to do something about it. But, I’ve learned, through experience, it’s better for me to stand back and just observe.

My ASL teacher is Deaf. (Yes, that’s a big “D.” Meaning she is “culturally/linguistically” deaf. Small “d” is “audiological/medical.”) She has repeatedly asked us not to use our voices in class. The agreement we all signed noted that if we used our voice we would be sent out of the classroom and we’d have to request to return with an apology. Part of me was frustrated that there wasn’t any follow-through on the part of the teacher. She knew people were using their voices. I attributed this to her being too nice. But, if she didn’t follow-through with the agreement, what was the point of having it in the first place?

Last night, my teacher’s weeks of tolerance finally ended. At the beginning of class she asked what respect meant to us. The room became silent. Finally. I sat there and listened. Her emotions ranged from anger, sadness, and disappointment. I was ashamed. I was equally embarrassed that my talking classmates put our teacher in this position.

Most of all, how can we be part of the Deaf community if we don’t respect those who are willing to share their beautiful language with us?

November 11, 2008 - Veteran's Day

I was there, with my Dad’s companion of fifteen years, when my dad took his last breath. On Veteran’s Day, it will be two years. Unlike other holidays, this holiday remains November 11, rather than on the closest Monday or Friday, and thus lands on any day of the week depending upon the year. Most of us will have the day off.

The last days of my Dad’s life started the weekend of Halloween. He loved the fall-- changing seasons--Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. He was not feeling well but stirred up enough energy to participate in The Gardens Halloween costume contest. Those photos are the last ones we have of him.

Something not often shared between friends, what exactly happens when a loved one is taken off life support? My Mom, when dying of cancer was able to come home from the hospital to live the rest of her days. She died in 1989. As her time neared, we knew it was soon because the nurse had trouble getting her vital signs. My Mom was physically weak but coherent. She never became unconsciousness; she knew she was dying.

Dad passed away at the VA in Westwood. He had been unresponsive for three days before his companion and the family understood what the next step should be. The time between taking him off life support and his last breath lasted a couple of days. Unlike what Hollywood portrays, it doesn’t happen in a one-hour episode.

Someone at my Dad’s memorial service asked me if it is harder to lose one parent or both parents. I have to say, at the time I thought it was an odd question. Yet, I think about that question every now and then.

When I lost my Mom, I was too young to really understand how much I’d miss her. I was still trying to find myself. I’m just glad I was able to spend as much time with her as I was able to that last year. There was a twenty-one year gap between my Mom’s death and my Dad’s.

Losing my Dad was not something unexpected. He was ninety years old and had lived a full life. I attribute this to the fact that he remained very active and for fifteen years was in a fulfilling relationship.

Death is a part of life. We can’t avoid it. It’s how we live that matters most. To me, it’s the golden rule.