Hearing in a Deaf World
My Story.
Part Five
One of the greatest differences in my personal experience of being the hearing child of deaf parents is the role reversal I sometimes felt with them. I felt that I was the one that needed to protect them, to keep them informed and alert them to what was happening in the world. I want to note that this kind of responsibility was never put on me by my parents – it came strictly from me and my child’s mind. In fact, when I related the story that follows to my mom as an adult, it brought tears to her eyes as she said “I didn’t want you to do that for me!” I knew that, but I wanted to do it.
When I was in elementary school in the early 70s, we still had Air Raid Drills, even as the Cold War was winding down. During an Air Raid Drill, all the children in my school were directed to either crouch under their desks or line up along the brick walls of our school with our coats over our heads as sirens blared. I asked my second grade teacher what this drill was for and her response was “In case we get bombed. This will keep us safe.” My first thought was “How will Mommy know that we are getting bombed? I’ll have to tell her so that she can be safe too.” My dad was at work and someone would surely tell him, but my mom? She was alone at home. I was terrified of something like this occurring and my mom not knowing. From that moment on, I began devising my escape route from the school to my home if there ever was an actual bombing. My mom needed to know what was going on.
When the sirens began, I would leave school through one of the back doors and run as fast as I could up the big hill to the main road and hope that none of the teachers or aides would see me and try to make me come back. I was so afraid of being caught that I used to practice running up that hill during lunch or recess and ultimately, one of the women who monitored us in the playground would blow her whistle loudly and yell for me to come back to where the other kids were. One of the Lunch Monitors once asked me why I always ran up the hill instead of playing with the other kids. I liked her because she was always smiling, she seemed very kind, and she always asked how my mom was doing, even though I wasn’t sure that they had ever even met. Because I liked her, I told her the truth about my escape plan and that I was practicing running all the way up the hill so that I could get home to let my mom know that we were being bombed. She teared up and said “Honey, you don’t have to worry about that!” I asked her how else my mother would know what was happening, but she couldn’t give me an acceptable answer. Instead, she just let me run from that day on, without blowing her whistle for me to come back.
Hearing in a Deaf World. The Series.
More to follow.
