“If you could restore your hearing, would you?”

The first time I thought about this scenario, I hesitated.

As I’ve mentioned in another post, I grew up with the impression that deafness was this great obstacle to be overcome, to be excised out of my daily life as much as possible. To boot, I grew up in a very religious community that was big on faith healing. My mom, especially, prayed regularly for my hearing to be restored, and I went along with it as a kid. So when I started reading news articles about new advances in treating hearing loss…

By all rights, I should’ve responded with a resounding “yes.” But I didn’t. I was afraid that I would be changing myself. This, even though I’d already gotten a cochlear implant and knew that it didn’t take anything away; it just gave me more access. Whether I wanted it or not– mostly not, for most of my formative years– deafness had already shaped my identity. So, when I thought about taking that away… I paused.

But when I dove deeper into it, I realized that regained hearing couldn’t erase my past experiences, which helped shape the perspective and strengths that I have now. I would still think and feel “deaf,” if that makes sense. It wouldn’t make me un-learn ASL or Cued Speech, or stop hanging out with my d/hh friends; why would I have to give any of those up just because I could hear?

On the contrary, when I started speech therapy last year, I started using my cochlear implant a lot more– I mean, really paying attention to sounds around me and picking out what made people tick when it came to music and spoken language. And things started falling into place, and my world broadened just a little bit more. I stayed me, but now I had more access to the hearing world, and more potential to speak for myself without having to go through interpreters or transliterators. And to me, that’s a good thing.

The Bilingual-Bicultural Dilemma

I’ve studied at least five languages. I majored in English, and minored in American Sign Language and Mandarin, including a four-month study abroad in Beijing. In high school, I dabbled in a semester or two of Latin and Spanish. (I highly recommend Latin as a starter language, by the way; it’s an incredibly useful key for any Romance language.)

The one constant in all my language studies was that at some point, you must immerse. Bar none, that’s the best way to improve your proficiency. Even my ASL instructors stressed this, and mandated that we had to attend at least one Deaf event per semester.

Yet, the one glaring exception seems to be deaf children learning English. Most bilingual-bicultural (Bi-Bi) programs I’ve seen address this by establishing ASL as a base language, and teaching all or most classes– including reading and writing– in ASL with written support.

There is some truth to this. Even with hearing aids and cochlear implants, deaf children don’t have the same access to spoken language that hearing children do. The bulk of our language proficiency comes through incidental learning, and for most people, it’s via auditory means. For deaf children, though, their primary mode is usually visual.

Hence, establishing English proficiency for deaf children is a toss-up between two general routes: either some variant of Signed English, which is much more faithful to English structuring, but tends to be functionally less complete as a language support; or American Sign Language, which is a complete language in and of itself, and as a result does not follow English structure.

The paramount objective is to establish a complete first language, ideally from fluent speakers. It’s much easier to pick up on other languages when you have a solid foundation in a base language. However, multilingual speakers will also tell you that the best way to increase your proficiency is full immersion– not just reading and writing, but also daily conversation with other native speakers. You can go only so far in studying a second language through your first language before you hit a roadblock. While proficiency is still very much doable– I’ve seen it several times, especially among prolific readers– it does get much harder. In my experience, you have to reverse-engineer. A lot.

How, then, do you reconcile these two paradigms in deaf education? By now, you know my answer is Cued Speech. It’s an 100% visual mode of communication that accurately represents spoken language in real-time, so hearing parents can act as complete language models for their deaf children without butchering ASL to fit English structure. And on the flip side, deaf children can attain full immersion in English, whether that is their L1 or L2+ language.

I’ve stated several times that Cued Speech would be the perfect addition to any Bi-Bi program. ASL would stay ASL, and English would stay English, and students would get the benefit of learning how to think in not only two languages, but also two different modalities.

“Deaf Person Hears for the First Time” Videos

You know those emotional YouTube videos of someone’s cochlear implant activation, usually ending in happy exclaims and tears of joy. Friends have shared a few of these on my Facebook wall because I have a cochlear implant too, and really, I don’t mind. Joy is a good thing to spread, and I generally applaud more additions to our bionic army.

If you have any familiarity with the d/hh community, though, you know there are mixed reactions. Some of them get pretty heated. (And the Titanic sprung a leak.) In fact, there was an article on Wired a while back titled, “Why You Shouldn’t Share Those Emotional ‘Deaf Person Hears for the First Time’ Videos.” I disagree somewhat with that article, by the way. So, here’s some middle-ground perspective.

The thing to remember is that these videos are usually of late-deafened individuals who want to hear again, or babies who have no clue what’s going on. The impact will be somewhat different for those who, for whatever reason, don’t regard hearing as a big part of their lives.

I became deaf at eighteen months, so I have always relied far more heavily on sight than sound. When I got my implant at ten years old, my reaction was, “Oh, I can hear more now. Cool.” That was it. I can’t miss what I’ve never had. I’ve also known several late-deafened people who found that they just didn’t really miss their hearing that much.

These videos also don’t show the time and effort that goes into post-surgery recalibration, because you often have some neurolinguistic programming to overcome. It’s not an instantaneous process.[*] As a result, they can give off the mistaken impression that the cochlear implant is a “cure” for deafness. It’s not. It’s an incredibly useful tool, but it doesn’t restore hearing as most people know it.

[*] However, it’s also not the burden that some anti-cochlear implant detractors have made it out to be; I spent one night in the hospital and went back to school after three days, and that was in 2000. CI surgeries have advanced immensely since then, to the point that it’s usually now performed as an outpatient procedure. I also resumed speech therapy as usual, just with a different focus.

ALL THAT SAID. Don’t let anyone guilt you into not sharing or liking these videos. Usually they’re intended to share the original poster’s happiness with the world, not to be hurtful or malicious, and that happiness alone is worth celebrating. The important thing is to keep them in perspective.