Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes

Ocean Blue Horizon

May 25th, 2019
I’m looking out at the great big blue pacific ocean. We are on our vacation, this time we headed south to Aptos. Our usual route is North to Mendocino. Its nice to be by the coast, to hear the waves crash, rumble below. I don’t want to get back into my car, I don’t want to see people or go to the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. I just want to sit in the vacation house or sit on the beach.

My whole world became clearer last week. With our visit to CSD and connecting with a whole big world Of people who have gone through and understand everything I have been thinking and going through the past five years. Imagine, all this time, all the things I wrote and said about my daughter and sign language, only a couple of close friends understood, one deaf, two Fiona’s DHH teachers who believe in sign language, although they use SEE sign. But that was OK, it was amazing and I am so glad we had that support. But that’s it. And now I have confirmed what I’ve been saying all along, Fiona and my family need to know sign. Beyond that even Fiona’s best friends need to know some for times when hearing aids don’t work.

Yesterday when I picked up Jack at his preschool, Fiona and Jack ran ahead of me and opened the gate. The head teacher was in the play yard and told Jack and Fiona to come back in the gate and wait for me. When I got to the gate the head teacher started telling Jack and Fiona that it was very dangerous, they could get hit, they had to wait for me, ect. She was about 12 feet from us. Fiona stood there sucking her thumb and holding her tiny. I asked if she understood what the teacher said and she “no”. Fiona heard nothing. This teacher has been trained by Fionas itinerant teacher. This is the preschool Fiona has been attending two times a week getting ready for mainstream kinder. I couldn’t believe that the head teacher could still be oblivious that there was no way Fiona could hear any of that important safety information from that faraway. And through a gate.

Questions were:

Is the head teacher that oblivious she didn’t consider she was talking to a child who was hard of hearing?

Did she think Fiona could hear her?

Even after knowing Fiona for so many years?

How much is said at that school to Fiona that they think she understands/hears but really doesn’t?

And is it hears or understands? What terminology should I be using when describing these situations?

And if this still happens at this school, something like this would never happen at Fionas early intervention TC preschool, how likely is it to happen at her mainstream elementary?

Adults constantly talk to Fiona and think she’s ignoring them. I used to say, “she can’t hear you” or “she has hearing aids” , but I kind of stopped doing that lately.

Our drive to Santa Cruz was long, only because parts were packed with traffic, but Fiona is a great traveler. She keeps herself busy and doesn’t get car sick. I thought if she did choose to go to school where everyone is deaf/HH and uses sign I think a long bus ride might be ok for her? I think she could handle it.

I hope we can figure out a way to add the support/ education Fiona needs at our neighborhood school. I really do. But I want more people in her world to learn sign. I think they should pick some kids in her class to learn. I think there should be ASL education and support built into the day and classroom. I really think there should be support for the whole family to learn ASL. Maybe thats the movement. Because currently, from my experience and it sounds like most deaf/HH people and educators experience ASL is not accepted or encouraged in mainstream classrooms or in general. It makes no sense.

The waves just came back into my consciousness. Jack and Fiona are still asleep. I wish we could all use sign all day and have a quiet time by the ocean.
Share this:
Tweet
Email
Print
WhatsApp
Like Loading…
If I don’t walk away sometimes, paint, charcoal, drawing, gets thick and turns into a mess. Walk away to a quiet place, to rest from the bombardment of muck in my brain. Before it jumps out onto my paper.

May 23rd, 2019
I had to walk away and let the paint dry. If I added charcoal and drawing and more paint and collage I would have ended up with mess. It was a struggle to get in my studio. I needed it so badly. I am an artist first. Lately I feel like an activist first and a housewife. And anxiety ridden. Fiona started to talk about how she didn’t want to go to Jacks school today last night. Then this morning she told me again, multiple times. She said it was too loud. Last night she said because she doesn’t have friends there. That her good friends are at Shannon’s class. I counted on the calendar last night, Fiona only has eight days left in her TC pre-school. She has a bit longer in Jacks school, but that she could do without. Fiona tried to take a stuffy and two very special snugglies she’s had since birth to class today. Technically the children are not allowed to bring stuffies or toys, but I asked the school to make an exception for Fiona. One day Fiona and I worked out a plan that when it gets too loud she can take her stuffy and go sit somewhere that’s quiet. The teachers agreed. I noticed her in the back seat of my car practicing her sign language on the drive to school this morning too. When I left her there I felt bad. I walked my dog in a daze. I feel in a daze now. I didn’t think this would happen again. I thought that I had been convinced by everyone that Fiona will do fine in a mainstream classroom. I had a great IEP, Fiona got really good services. But she doesn’t have a small class size, she doesn’t have any sign language education or support, and she doesn’t have a teacher educated to teach deaf/HH students.

Fiona is only five, she can’t explain to me what she wants or what it’s like to be her. But if she keeps complaining about a school being too loud and that no one plays with her after going there periodically for two years and going consistently at least two days a week for three months it scares me. There aren’t that many kids in the classes there, between 6-10 during snack, some playtime, and story/ activity time. At group and recess there are around twenty give or take. The teacher uses the FM sometimes, but since most of the time is spent in group activity, I don’t think it’s used very often.

What is true? What is not? And what accommodations for Fiona are disposable? What does she really need? I think my public-school district is doing the best they can in the constraints we are in. But will it be good enough? Is there any way to make it good enough?

I want to paint and write my second book. I want to be creative, but when I get this anxiety I can’t focus. All I do is wonder what decision is best? And I wonder, why do I feel like this? And why, before I visited Fremont did I feel like I was willing to try the plan we came up with at the IEP, where lots of things are great? Why did visiting Fremont cause so many doubts in me?

It brought back everything I’ve been fighting for for two years. All the e-mails I sent to the school district about sign language and Fiona’s hearing. All my documentation of what she misses on a daily basis. Then they said no to the sign language but assured me the accommodations she’s getting will suffice. I dropped my fight for the interpreter because there’s no SEE sign interpreters and Fiona doesn’t know ASL yet. But even with an interpreter it’s not going to fix the social part of the picture. But in the end, I gave up fighting for sign language in my public neighborhood school.

Everyone always says listen to your gut. My gut leans a way I never would have expected it to. And it all boils down to this level of Fiona simply going to school and having everything she needs. Fiona spending the day in an environment where things aren’t so heavily dependent on her hearing aids, which are great in only one type of situation. Where she can easily access what her teachers are teaching and what her classmates are saying. Where she doesn’t have to strain all day long, use the FM all day and trust that the teacher wears it correctly and faces Fiona when she is lecturing. Fiona will have to contend with background noise, that when I checked while I was doing my tours was really loud at times. And it may not be like that at the new elementary? It may be fine. That’s what the experts say. It’s supposed to be fine. But Fiona ask’s for clarification every time I say something unless perfect conditions for communication are present. Then I start thinking I’m crazy, like it’s my imagination. I can’t wait until Fiona can tell me from her perspective!

In the meantime, I’m just going nuts. Stressed again, worried, anxious, my backs tight, body stiff. I still have one hour to work in my studio. I will do that now. I need more creative time.
Share this:
Tweet
Email
Print
WhatsApp
Like Loading…
Going Crazy Again

May 22nd, 2019
Jack is watching u-tube on the T.V., some monster truck thing. Fiona is watching a unicorn video on my i-phone. This is the second time I have let my kids, Fiona being the only one so far, watch u-tube on my phone. The reason this happened was because yesterday I downloaded Care Bear ASL for Fiona. She loved it until she went on u-tube and found a dress up unicorn thing. Super annoying. She likes it though. Today was difficult in kid land. Jack said he was tired and didn’t want to go to school. I needed to do yoga so I made him go for an hour. The whole time in yoga I thought about Jack. I worried the teachers were calling to tell me he threw up. I imagined him lying on the couch in the office. I tried to breath and stretch during my downward dogs and child’s poses, but felt stressed still. When I picked up Jack after yoga he looked fine. He was playing with friends and the teacher said he acted normal all day. After we picked up Fiona Jack said he didn’t want to go to gymnastics, he was too tired. Fiona cried. She was so upset. I thought it was unfair, that Jack could have just sat quietly by me and waited, while Fiona did gymnastics. I thought, he must be very sick. I parked the car at home and Jack said, “Tricked ya”.
I said, “What?’
“tricked ya, I’m not tired”
It put me in a bad, but withdrawn mood.
I also can’t stop thinking about Fiona and CSD. I got several responses from the paper I wrote from people I shared it with, and I talked to all Fiona’s teachers and my close friends and relatives. Not everyone, I haven’t had an in-depth conversation about it with some people who are very close to me. Some people said absolutely not to the idea of Fiona going to a bilingual school that is an hour and a half bus ride. But some people said do it! I am worrying, spinning, but I acknowledge I do this with big decisions. I never expected to feel this way. I was unhappy with the large class size here when Fiona’s mainstreamed. I was unhappy with the lack of sign language. If she stays here, I have to build in sign language lessons somehow. I still feel like it could be part of her public education because she legitimately needs to learn sign language. The hearing aids are great a percentage of the time. But there is a lot of time they don’t work well. In noise, in water, when her ears are infected, when a word is too hard for the speaker to say verbally so that Fiona can understand it. This is my experience.
I worked so hard on my IEP, and I was feeling free. Now it’s like I’ve been kicked back a hundred feet. I’m going to let Fiona make the final decision though. I have a date for her to spend a whole day at CSD this summer and she can start her neighborhood school in the fall, then Fiona will be able to verbalize what feels best, I hope. She’ll still be young. I wish I had my own expert to do an observation of Fiona in both places. Someone totally experienced but totally unbiased. Education is a trip! I can’t believe it’s hitting me like this.
The first battle was the local school fight. The Great Schools battle. The segregated school surprises. Realizing that some of the liberal democratic people I know and live by are perpetuating systematic racism by following web sites like Great Schools and not doing any research into the systematic racism of American schools. Then driving their kids’ miles away from their home to the whiter public schools, charter schools and private schools. This has all been a shocking, mind altering, depressing, learning period for me.
I stated that the most important thing to me was for my kids to go to our closest neighborhood school. Then I saw a perfect classroom for Fiona a million miles away. A quiet learning space where she will have the best chance at communicating with her peers and learning with a teacher trained to teach kids just like Fiona. Plus, she’d be bilingual. I wish Jack could go to a Spanish bilingual school, or ASL. It would be so cool for Fiona if Jack learned ASL. He said he will. He’ll have to learn with Fiona. Even Fiona’s best friends need to learn because at the pool Fiona and her friends can’t talk. They can’t play how they want to. They want to play imagination or with mermaids and they keep saying stuff to each other, they talk louder and louder, they yell and try to understand each other. Then Jack starts doing it, then me, then everyone’s just talking louder and louder and no one can follow anything that’s being said anymore. And we all go quiet for a moment. The last time I convinced the kids to get out of the pool and put back on their hearing aids, so they could play. It’s the same for the girls in noisy environments. Why am I stressing about this? I gotta stop. Fiona’s best friends will need to learn sign too if they want to communicate in all the places that hearing aids don’t work. But the schools so far away and she might not like it as much as I think she will.
“Fiona, you’re horrid, horrid, horrid” says Jack from the living room. A few minutes ago, he went and tried to grab an electronic stand that Fiona has the iPhone on. Sometimes he can be awful.
And every time I say something to Jack Fiona says, “What?”. I tell her what Jack said and what I said.
I must turn off these u-tubes. I’m going to go crazier. Tomorrow is a studio day. I can not wait to paint.
Share this:
Tweet
Email
Print
WhatsApp
Like Loading…

Ocean Blue Horizon

Share this:

If I don’t walk away sometimes, paint, charcoal, drawing, gets thick and turns into a mess. Walk away to a quiet place, to rest from the bombardment of muck in my brain. Before it jumps out onto my paper.

Share this:

Going Crazy Again

Share this: