Actions Speak Louder

   It is said that in a high school one can hear an average of about three thousand different sounds in one day.

I can only guess what those may be.

The sounds of a locker door being slammed shut, books being dropped, fluttering papers, all the different voices, the bells, or the intercom. It would seem a bit overwhelming, all the different sounds to decipher. I wouldn’t be able to tell you what it’s like however, you see, I’m deaf. I have been this way since I was seven, ever since the accident.  I can vaguely remember what things sound like. If I were to see an ambulance I could just barely remember the sirens that go with the flashing lights; maybe the bark of a dog or the song a bird sings. I can remember the basics, but not very well. Instead I hear through what I read. Yes, even though I’m deaf I can read. I can read very well actually considering it’s one of my only pass times. I can also write fluently. As soon as they found out, my parents made sure I would learn how to communicate in the easiest way for them. I had to learn how to read, write, and sign all before I was ten. It was tough, but at least now I know they can understand me.

 My impairment has not made it hard for me to function in the world. I go to normal public high schools. Unfortunately my inability to hear has for some reason shut me out of the rest of society. It doesn’t matter how well I can write or sign. No one wants to stop and take the time to learn sign language or read a note every time I have something to say. No one even takes the time to ask if I even know how to read or write. Just because I can’t hear it means I’m not normal, I’m incapable of learning, and therefore I can not be a beneficial friend or student.

 I was told that for a sixteen year old male I was exceptionally good looking. I never really believed this but I had to at least seem slightly appealing because every time I went to a new school, girls would come up to me and  I’m guessing try to tell me their names. I always pointed at my ears and shook my head. It was the same reaction every time, they would look confused for a few seconds, then came the realization, and finally, the wall comes up. The girl would give a fake smile, wave, and walk away. This is somewhat of the same reaction I get out of everyone who tries to meet me. I used to try and make them stay, but  in the end that just made the situation even more painful. I tried carrying around a notepad at my new schools and writing down what I wanted to say but my peers never wanted to take the time to read it or write back. “Let’s face it” my attempted friends would say, “your impairment is too much of a liability. I can’t really talk to you.” They never actually said that, but the way they acted, the way they faded away or avoided me after a few days spoke those words loud and clear. I began to just give up.

 I hated going to new schools, but the translators who would work with me would often have to move schools or they would retire, or get bored with their jobs. The results of this were that I ended up attending more than seven high schools during my high school career, six elementary schools and four middle schools. I hated moving schools. When I would stay at one school for awhile people would get used to me. I could be left alone in peace. There wouldn’t be any new people to watch do their best to be nice to me the first few days out of pity and then avoid me as much as possible and then finally ignoring me altogether. I could pretend like they didn’t exist just like they pretended I didn’t exist. It had been my opinion that it was better that way.

 However, I could have never guessed that my first day at Parkway High would be the day that opinion changed.

August 31

New semester,  new school…typical.

 I walked to my first our class with my head down. I didn’t want to stand out more than I already did for being the last person in the hallway. Most people who go to a new school would take this opportunity to walk down the halls with their heads held high, thinking to themselves, I own this school. Of  course most people give a damn about what other people think.

 To me, other people were just a fact of everyday life. I guess that way of thinking could make my life pretty lonely, but I didn’t really have a choice in that thought process. Most people just found me a fact of everyday life; more of an obstacle really. I made life just a little bit harder for teachers and my peers. The teachers had to find a way to get me to hear what they were saying without really hearing it. The other students had to cope with my being very different from them. The do-gooders of the school had to make sure that I was included in all of our class activities, or at least pretend I was. All the rest just did their best to avoid me. Sometimes that meant sitting a few seats away from their friends…God forbid.

 I didn’t mind being ignored. What I hated was going to a new school and watching the faces of all of the people who tried to talk to me fall in disappointment  when they realized I was deaf; It disgusted me. Sorry to not meet your criteria of the perfect guy! It just so happens you’re not all the great either! 

 Whatever, I just had to get through this week and then I would be left alone. I opened the door to my first class without any hesitation. I walked right up to the teacher, eyes straightforward.

 The teacher, who was an old man with glasses and a comb over , looked confused for a moment. “Oh you must be the new student! Now where did I put that class roster?”

 I didn’t actually hear his voice, but I guessed it was nasally and slightly higher in pitch. That voice seemed to fit his appearance.

 “Ah here it is! Levi Evans, am I correct?” I gave a slight nod. He turned away from me and faced the class. He said something but unfortunately I could no longer read his lips.

 I looked at the students to see if they could give me any indication as to what he had said. They were all, with exception to blondie in the back row and Mr. big bad thug in the front, staring directly at me expectantly. I looked back at the teacher who was also watching me expectantly.

Here we go “Could you repeat that please?” The teacher seemed slightly taken back by my voice. Unfortunately the inability to speak clearly was one of my most hated side effects of being deaf.

I didn’t need to look back at the students to know what their reactions to my voice would be. The jokers of the class would be mimicking me, the goody two shoes would exchange wide eyed looks between each other, and most everyone else would be snickering quietly.

 The teacher looked as if he was trying to remember something, “Oh yes! Levi! You are the one with the hearing impairments!” And now it starts. “I forgot that you would be in my homeroom, I’m so sorr…oh um wait…uh, I…forgot…that yoooou would beeee in myyyyyyy…err homerooooom…homeroom…uh… hooooomeeeeeroooooom.“ I watched him make a fool out of himself with his exaggerated hand motions and elongated vowels; typical response. Although I had to give him props, at least he wasn’t shouting on top of it. I nodded again and turned away.

 I walked to the furthest seat from the front and sat down. From this area I could see all the students whispering to each other and casting quick glances my way. Also the typical response. The teacher watched me for a moment in confusion, he quickly regained his composure. “Well class, even though Levi had a hearing impairment, he is able to read and write fluently so we can go through class as normal. But to help Levi out, we will be sure to take very good notes on the board. The teacher then turned around and proceeded to write everything he just said out on the board. Wonderful, I have a super paranoid teacher for my first hour. Luckily for me, and for the rest of the students, this phase of excessive note taking and paranoia of my inability to understand without every single thing being written down, would pass within the first few weeks.

 The rest of first hour was pretty boring at best. All of the students had to say their names and something fun they did that summer. I didn’t pay any attention until the guy in front of me stood up.I prepared for my turn. When he was finished Mr. Smith, our nasally teacher addressed me, “Levi, what was something fun you did this summer? Uh, I mean umm whaaaaaaaat waaaaaas soooooomeeeethiiiiiing…”

 Sigh…I took  advantage of the time that was given to me by his special way of communicating to jot something down on a piece of notebook paper. I turned it into a paper airplane and threw it to the front of the class. Mr. Smith stopped his excessive hand motions and picked up the plane while eyeing me disapprovingly.

 He unfolded the paper and read out loud to the class, “ The best part about my summer was not having to come to school, and you really don’t have to enunciate everything you say. In fact it’s easier to read your lips when you don’t.” 

 The teacher looked up from the paper and folded it in a neat square. “Excuse me for my ignorance Levi. If you have trouble understanding anything I say just let me know. And for future reference, please come hand me a note in person rather than throwing it. I do not allow paper airplanes in my classroom.”

 I had to find that last part slightly funny. What teacher would allow paper airplanes? I guess I just like to fit the teacher’s idea of me and act like a delinquent. The bell evidently rang because all the students started to get up from their desks and migrate towards the door.

 Mr. Smith appeared to be yelling out some sort of reminder to the students, but they all seemed like me, unable to hear.