Silent lessons speak clearly to class
BY KRISTA RAMSEY The song is called "Tell Me," and the third-graders in Janet Reusing's class at John Foster Dulles Elementary School not only sing the words, they "sign" them. Their fingers fly through letters and gestures as quickly as their tongues wrap around words. The class performs the lyrics, but it also lives them. Last fall, class member Felicia Schroeder transferred to Dulles in Mack. At 9, she is wiry, intense, friendly, smart and deaf. Her parents and teachers think mainstreaming - placing Felicia in a school with regular students - will prepare her for life in the real world, where hearing and non-hearing people live together. What no one predicted, exactly, was the effect Felicia's presence would have on the rest of the class. As she entered their world - the world of speech and hearing - they entered hers as well. In 15-minute daily sessions, Sheri Mathes, an interpreter, taught the class sign language. School words, first, like "lunch money" and (their favorite) the twirling of twisted index and middle fingers that signals "recess." Then sports, animals, hobbies. Words of friendship and common ground.
A smile for a nameFelicia learned to say her friends' names. Jillian, Sara, Alissa. Then she gave them new, sign-language names based on their personalities.Elle, who is known for her wide smile, is folded fingers circled near the mouth. Felicia herself, a cat fancier, is spiky whiskerlike motions above the upper lip. Now the hearing children are so fluent that their fingers unconsciously spell words as they speak (spelling skills have improved as a by-product). Now they look directly at people when they talk to them, and pronounce words clearly because they know some people read lips. Now they are clever at synonyms because they need substitutes for words they can't sign. And then there are the really big changes. The students have learned that they live in a world of disabilities and abilities, including the ability to find a way around an obstacle. Felicia showed them how. She plays the piano and sings without ever hearing a note. In music class, she stands with her hands on the piano, feeling the vibrations. She took the most first places at Track Day, set off by "one-two-three" counted on fingers rather than "Ready, set, go." In the class play, The Wizard of Oz, she was a wiggling, lovable Toto, who barked in just the right places after being tapped on the head by a classmate.
Hearing with the heartThis year, along with everything else they learned, Mrs. Reusing's students learned that almost anything can be overcome."What are your favorite sports?" Miss Mathes asks in sign language. A small girl gestures back, "Basketball." "You play basketball?" the interpreter signs again. "But you're short." "So what?" other students both say and sign immediately. "It doesn't matter. She's good!" Felicia has taught her classmates a great many things this year, such as how to "talk" to classmates across the room when no talking is allowed. But most of all, she has taught them what matters and what doesn't. Friendships matter. Differences don't. Hard work matters. Disabilities don't. Hearing with the heart matters. Hearing with the ears is optional. "Yeah, it was kind of a different year," says classmate Chris Center on the last day of school. He pauses. "It was more fun having Felicia in class. You got to learn some things from her." Krista Ramsey's column appears in The Enquirer on Saturdays. Write her at 312 Elm Street, Cincinnati 45202 or fax at 768-8340. Published June 8, 1996.
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