Tag Archives: disabilities

Closed Captioning the world

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Having a hearing impairment means that I’ve gotten to know closed captioning rather well. I also know that closed captioning isn’t always accurate.

In the report of three airplanes in a near collision, I read “gnarly hit” instead of “nearly”. That would be a gnarly situation, all right.

From an interviewer to the subject: “I have a cupful of things to ask when we get back from this break.” Cupful? Couple. Or was this a take-off on the saying a thimble-full?

Oh, dear, this one is rated R. Alert! The anchor said something about a celebrity getting “…her piece of the pie.” The captioner, unfortunately, translated the phrase into the celebrity getting “…herpes…” Oops. Major oops.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, working quietly in my new cubicle, I kept thinking I heard my cell phone ringing. I keep my phone in my purse in a locked drawer, so it’s unlikely I’d hear it, really. But I’d hear that buzz and think, “Did I turn off the ringer and not the phone? Maybe it’s a fire drill. No, no one else is moving. We can’t be in a drill.” Was it the printer/copier? No, that was still a fairly quite machine. The solution to the mystery was on a table next to the copier/printer. The fax machine is closer to my cubicle than to the one that sheltered me last year – just close enough that I catch a hint of it beeping,buzzing, and then chugging away.

Even as the secretary was grumbling about the overwhelming number of faxes we were getting, I was laughing because I actually noticed. She couldn’t resist; she joined in and laughed, too. My world is a hearing world, and I’ve learned to face that world with an open mind and a sense of humor.

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Mitt, Mitt, Mitt.

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Dear Mitt;

May I call you Mitt? After all, you’re not really earning my respect these days. The first name will have to do.

Microphones off or on, Mitt, you must think about what you say. Or maybe, just maybe, you really did think about that statement. That’s what scares me. It was, after all, full of your favorite terms. It had a number – a percent, no less! It described a segment of the population that you see as beneath you, which showed clearly in your choice of words. Let’s see.

-dependent on government 

Mitt, I work in the public sector. Does that make me dependent on government? My children attended public schools, and my daughter attended a state university. If that makes us dependent on government, then I guess we fit the profile. By the way, your perception of middle income? Way, way high. We ordinary public school teachers don’t even dream of reaching your estimate of $250,000.

-think they are victims

No, Mitt, I’m not a victim. I’ve been through a lot in the recent past, including a long (unpaid) medical leave from my job (see above). I’m a disabled adult and I wear two hearing aids, but I’m not a victim, Mitt. I’m a survivor. .

-entitled to health care

Health care, Mitt, is a right, not a privilege. Here’s where we differ. No one should have to wait seven months to see a specialist. No one should have to turn down a necessary prescription because it’s a Tier 3 and the co-pay is too high. No one should have to turn down medicine in order to buy food. Which brings me to —

-entitled to food

What exactly are you saying? That people should starve? Have you ever watched a child wolf down his school-funded breakfast on Monday morning because he hasn’t eaten all weekend? No, I didn’t think so. Or – maybe you did mean that hunger doesn’t exist, much less actually matter. (Uh, Mitt? That “Let them eat cake” quote wasn’t really Marie, but she lost her head over it. America still has peasants who have no bread, make no doubt about it.)

-entitled to housing

Once again – are you saying that a home is optional? Home doesn’t have to be fancy. An apartment, a room in a shelter, space in a relative’s basement – housing takes many forms, as does homelessness. Mitt, I’ve seen it firsthand. Have you? Frankly, having a roof over one’s head is not optional.

“My job is not to worry about those people.”

Really? If you don’t worry about them, who will? We public school teachers (you know, the ones that Scottie-in-Madison calls Thugs) worry about our students. We worry about their families, and we worry about the village that raises them. It’s a village where we worry about each other, and then we take action. If you’re not worrying, I’m sure you’ll take no actions that might make a difference to anyone on your list. A list, by the way, that includes nearly half of the voters in the United States.

No wonder those voters stick with Barack Obama. It’s not because we’re entitled, but because President Obama has earned our respect. And that, Mitt, makes him entitled to another four years in office.

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Disabilities in the workforce

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I wear two hearing aids. They’re tiny but powerful digital electronic devices that tuck behind my ears and feed sound into my middle ear. This technology makes a huge difference in my life. My hearing loss is an important part of how I face the world: how I work, how I use a phone, how I listen and interact with others. It’s not all of me, but it is part of me.

In 2011, I jumped through a series of hoops to document my disability for my employer. I have a great job, and I’d like to keep it. This emotional obstacle course was tough on me, though. Phone call after phone call, email after email, fax after fax, one office visit after another – all this to keep working in my field. When I finally met with the last doctor on the list, he expressed surprise that I had handled my own accommodations for most of my working life and my education. He was impressed that I knew of a position that would suit my abilities, and even more impressed that I’d already gone ahead and gotten the job. He documented my hearing loss and made his recommendation: that I keep my position teaching virtual school.

I’ve never kept my hearing loss a secret from employers and coworkers. Unfortunately, honesty can be a dangerous policy at times. Discrimination against disabled people still happens, despite the Americans with Disabilities Act. However, there is hope for improvement.

Today’s young adults grew up side by side with their disabled peers. Disabled or not, they’re friends, classmates, and teammates. Coworkers is a natural next step.

The number of disabled veterans from the Iraq and Afghanistan wars calls attention to the issue of employment. These (mostly) young men and women want to pursue rewarding careers and support their families, just like their peers. They are a large and visible group that can’t be easily ignored or put down. These newly disabled join those blind or deaf from birth, those handicapped by illness or accident, and those with unexplained challenges.

Now is the time to be inclusive. Now is the time to look forward and make reasonable accommodation an everyday occurrence.

I fear a Romney-Ryan presidency. Both Romney and Ryan have already voted for laws that minimize women’s rights. They support Voter ID laws that present obstacles for low-income voters and people of color, those who do not have ready access to paperwork or the money to procure the necessary documents. Romney and Ryan would move our country’s philosophies backward, not forward. Romney’s actions and speeches show him to be out of touch with the mainstream, and I consider myself, hearing aids and all, part of the mainstream.

Barack Obama will move us forward. He recognizes that all people are created equal, regardless of gender, race, disability or sexual orientation. He believes in hard work earning rewards, and he supports policies  that will support the middle class. Under the Affordable Care Act, insurance companies cannot refuse to accept me just because my hearing loss is a pre-existing condition. Based on his record, President Obama is the leader who will best support disability rights in the workplace.

Information regarding increasing numbers of disabled veterans from Senator Tom Harkin on Huffington Post. 

 

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A Woman’s Place

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Dear Hillary (Clinton, naturally;);

I admire your work as Secretary of State. Heck, I’ve admired you since you refused to sit home and take a supporting role to your governor husband! Bake cookies and host teas? Only if it’s a house party to support my favorite candidate, and then I’m willing. But back on topic, I understand your decision not to run for president again. Let me know when you choose to mentor a successor: I’ll be there to support her and vote for her. Woman, you are amazing.

— Still a Feminist after all these years

Dear Paul (Ryan, of course);

I am a person. When you draft a bill you call “personhood”, remember that women are people, too.

— Firmly Female

Dear Mitt (Romney – are there any others?);

You’ve established a history as one who looks down on others who are not like you, whether that difference be long hair or blindness. You’ve also established that you did not respect teachers, even those who taught you. Well, Mitt, I am hearing impaired and a teacher. In order to get my vote, you’ll need to show that you do, after all, respect teachers and people with disabilities. I wear my hair long, too. I hope that’s not a problem.

— Daring to be Different

Dear Entrepreneurs;

When I was growing up, I saw a tee shirt that proclaimed “A woman’s place is in the House — and the Senate.” Add the White House to this design, and you’ll have a winner.

— A Potential Investor

Dear Mr. President;

Thank you for recognizing the complexity of the health care labyrinth in the United States and taking the first steps to make that care more accessible to all.

To your good health; Daisy

Hey Rush;

You, sir, have less of a brain than the Scarecrow of Oz. At least he did a great deal of thinking. I’m not sure you think at all. On the other hand, I’m sure you don’t.

Dorothy

Dear Todd (Akin, that is);

Are you serious? Where were you in biology class? First year health? Please drop off the House Science committee. You obviously weren’t in class when you needed to learn the basics.

– Teacher of Tomorrow’s Electorate

Dear Tammy (Baldwin);

I remember when you first ran for Congress and I wished you represented my district. Now you’re running for Senate, and I’m excited and energized at the possibilities. After meeting you, I’m even more impressed. I’ll continue to support your Senate race in any way I can.

-Wowed in Wisconsin

Dear Isaac;

Thanks for demonstrating to the G.O.P. that no matter how much money they spend, they cannot change the weather.

— Blowin’ in the Wind

Dear President Obama (I still love hearing that title!);

Thank you for publicly stating that you want the same opportunities for your daughters as anyone would for their sons. You set a prime example by installing Hillary Clinton as Secretary of State. I would expect no less from the leader of the free world.

Daisy, a Dedicated Democrat

 

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Dear Amtrak; Customer service is on the wrong track.

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Dear Amtrak;

You goofed. You made a mistake, and the resolution was far from satisfactory. In fact, it stunk. We found another way around, but it meant solving the trouble ourselves by… well, let’s start at the beginning.

We made reservations as a disabled person traveling with companion, and we asked for roomettes across from each other. The reservations were rooms 7 & 8. We checked in at the Denver station and confirmed our reservation: car number 632, roomettes 7 and 8.

Luggage checked in, ready to board, we approached the car attendant with our tickets. “We’re in 7 and 8,” we showed him. He looked concerned, almost panicky. “Um, you can have 8, but there’s someone in 7. I’ll have to talk to the conductor.”

Amtrak, we reserved roomettes together to be near our son, who is blind and has Asperger’s Syndrome, a high-functioning disorder on the autism spectrum. If he needed help at any time, including at night, he could simply knock on our door (Hence the “companion” role).

We dropped our gear in Amigo’s roomette, number 8, and went to supper. Chuck and I were very upset, and Amigo was beside himself with worry – so much so that he couldn’t eat. Chuck took Amigo back to the car early, and I settled up the bill.

The car attendant and conductor had placed us at the end of the car in one of the larger bedroom units. Maybe they thought the upgrade would mollify us; it didn’t. We needed, really needed, to be near Amigo. The distance between our rooms was not acceptable. Not at all.

We felt like bad parents accepting this poor alternative. We worried about his safety and his state of mind. Would he be able to find us if he needed help? He had his cell phone, but crossing the plains as the route did, phone signals were not guaranteed. Could he find the bathroom on his own? If you’ve ever been on a sleeper car, you know how much alike the corridor appears to a sighted person. Now try it blind.

Chuck bumped into the current resident of room 7 and got his courage up to ask the man if he would be willing to trade rooms for the night. He explained the situation, and the man (grudgingly) said yes. We switched, moving all of our gear to 7 and helping him migrate to the larger bedroom at the end of the hall. We informed the car attendant that we’d traded spaces, and all of us began to settle down for the night.

Amtrak folks, Chuck and I have ridden the rails in the past. We’ve enjoyed our trips and usually had service that ranged from good to excellent. This time, the situation was far below “good” level. There were other issues, too:

  • the dining car kept running out of food.
  • lunch menu was heavily abbreviated
  • coffee in the sleeper car was stale and even smelled burned
  • ice water in the car was empty, and bottled water unavailable.
  • Chuck had to change over our beds in the morning; the car attendant didn’t.
  • We requested a newspaper; Chuck found one for us, since the car attendant didn’t do this, either.
  • I couldn’t access the wifi on board. I gave up. By this time, making an effort was beyond my limits.

All of these smaller irritations might have been easier to handle had we not been overwhelmed by the room problem. Amtrak, what happened? How will you make sure no other family encounters the same problems we did?

The boys in profile, playing cribbage in Roomette #8

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What is normal? Who is normal? (Encore presentation)

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This post first aired in November of 2009. It still seems timely. Perhaps it’s just timeless. Here you go, another Daisy Classic.

“But you seem so normal!” It was a phrase in a post from Deafmom, a post she titled “You’re not really deaf, are you?” This one got me thinking – a dangerous pastime, I know.

Normal = neuro-typical, non disabled.
Normal = typical, following the norm.
Normal = expected, unsurprising.
Normal = cool forehead, no fever.
Normal = just another sheep following the herd.

Is Normal good or bad? Is Normal something in between? Is Normal static or a constant state of change? Is Normal a comfort level, don’t rock the boat, or is Normal that’s-the-way-we’ve-always-done-it?

  • Does Normal have an IEP (Individualized Education Plan)?
  • Does Normal need an adapted cell phone?
  • Does Normal stay in the background or insist on action?
  • Is Normal pink, red, or mauve?
  • Does Normal get on the right track, just stand there and wait to get run over?
  • Does Normal slow for yellow lights or speed up?
  • Does Normal walk to school or take her lunch?

The last one is the really telling question. “Normal” in the sense of non-disabled or neuro-typical is a label that doesn’t really make sense. It implies that the disabled person is someone out of the norm, out of the mainstream, off the track. It implies that the person with a disability isn’t one of the crowd, sticks out, doesn’t belong.

“Normal” doesn’t need to be eliminated from the language. Normal is, after all, a city in Illinois. But all of us, not just the so-called Normal folk, need to think before we speak. Telling a disabled person that they are not Normal is inaccurate, hurtful, and just wrong.

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What’s Goal Ball? (Encore presentation)

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What’s Goal Ball? I asked the same question. Amigo explained the playing techniques, but I still couldn’t picture it. I looked it up online and found out that goalball was developed after WWII as a sport for blind veterans. Today the unique game is part of paralympics, and many schools for blind students have a competitive team.

Amigo’s team lost a close one, a heartbreaker of a game in overtime, to eliminate them from the conference competition. The coach arranged an informal scrimmage with the team from Iowa so that both teams could play a little more. These pictures are from the scrimmage.
First: Amigo is not sleeping. He is in ready position with his arms and legs stretched out to cover as much space as possible. If the ball comes his way, he will block it.

You may have noticed the gear. Players wear hockey shorts, the padded kind, along with knee and elbow pads. All players also wear covered goggles or sleep shades to eliminate any residual vision they might have. The goggles prevent a player with some vision from having an advantage over a totally blind competitor. All players compete totally sightless.

The ball itself is soccer ball size, hollow, with bells inside it. Players track the ball by listening intently. They keep track of their positions on the court by calling for a “tap” – a player to slap the floor. In this photo, Amigo is the right wing. The girl in the middle is the center. Before he rolled the ball, he called, “Center Tap!” and she slapped the floor so he could hear where she was and plan his throw. All this happens quickly; the team must get rid of the ball within ten seconds.


Here goes the throw – or more precisely, a roll. If the ball appears a bit blurry, that’s because Amigo rolled it quickly. In fact, he rolled it so low and so quickly that the bells were effectively silenced – a technique that makes blocking difficult. He scored on this one. Yeah, Amigo!

Goalball. It’s unique, it’s fun, it’s competitive. And when the competition is over, the team members socialize with an awards ceremony and a dance. The tournament? Great. The opportunity to socialize with other teenage blind athletes? Priceless.

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If I had a patron saint —

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If I had a patron saint, it would be — that’s not easy to say. My desktop calendar often lists historical events and trivial facts, and the patron saints turn up now and then.

St. Timothy is the protector for those with intestinal ailments. My entire family could fall into that category more often than not.

St. Francis de Sales is the Patron Saint of authors, teachers, and (are you ready for this?) the deaf. Bloggers don’t have a Patron Saint – yet – so I’ll stick to Sales.

Given the current political climate in Wisconsin, the “divide and conquer” philosophy in the Governor’s mansion, I wondered (in my own liberal and ecumenical fashion) – could there be a patron saint of politicians? According to a less than scientific Internet search, I came up with St. Thomas More. Thomas studied law at Oxford and eventually became Lord Chancellor of England. Cool, eh? Sir Thomas More is also known as the patron saint of lawyers. In that vein, we should note that he was tried and convicted of treason and beheaded in July of 1535.

A more complicated search revealed that government workers, those falling victim to the “Divide and Conquer” tactics, have a multitude of patron saints assigned to intercede on their behalf. Behalfs? I was raised Presbyterian; I don’t know the grammar of a patron saint. St. Homobonus, he who looks out for business people, joins St. Thomas More again in a reference to taking care of government employees and civil service workers.

I find it interesting that good ole’ Thomas shares responsibility for both government employees and the politicians who ultimately oversee them. If we Wisconsin workers had to look for divine intervention, St. Thomas More might be too conflicted to help. He wouldn’t know whether to divide or unite, conquer or compromise. Would he carry a protest sign, join the overpass light brigade, or install metal detectors at the Capitol to keep the cowbells out? Would he sign a recall petition, contribute to a campaign, or sponsor a television commercial? And how would someone with these responsibilities ultimately vote?

With so many decisions to make, it’s no wonder Sir Thomas More lost his head.

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Romney: none so blind

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My son, known to readers as Amigo, stands with his white cane and tells a good joke.

Mitt Romney, on the other hand, isn’t funny. Mitt is gaining notoriety for his bullying behavior in high school, behavior he calls “dumb things.” I’d take it farther than just dumb or dumber.

He allegedly cut off a fellow student’s hair. No matter what the reason, holding a person down while cutting his or her hair sounds like assault to me. If Mitt instigated this attack because he suspected the classmate was gay, this assault falls into the hate crime catalog.

Mitt might claim ignorance with the excuse that he was a prankster, one who was mischievous and liked to push boundaries. Gang-tackling a classmate and cutting his hair while he cried and screamed is more than pushing boundaries. It’s mean. It’s hurtful. It’s traumatic. None of the members of this wolf-pack can pretend they didn’t know they were hurting their classmate. I said he might claim ignorance; I didn’t say anyone would believe it.

There’s a sequel to this story we might call The Tale of Mean Mitt. While at the same privileged private boarding school, Mitt the Mean tricked a blind teacher into walking into a closed door – while other students laughed. He took advantage of a disability for his entertainment. .

So far we’ve established that the teen Mitt preyed on young men with long hair and took pleasure in the discomfort of disabled adults. Do you see where I’m going, readers? I’m sure you can.

I’m both a disabled adult and a teacher. I’ve taught long enough to notice that a person’s character shows in his interactions with those he considers his inferiors. Think about it. Teen Mitt didn’t respect people who were gay or people who were blind. The adult Mitt doesn’t respect people who are poor or people who are female. I’d wager a guess that he hasn’t changed his mind about long-haired men or disabled teachers, either.

Friends and family are saying Mitt “…doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.” I don’t believe them. I don’t want him near me or near my blind son. And I most certainly don’t want him in the White House.

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Teacher Profiling – hearing aid compatible version

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Ah, readers. You’ve come through for me in the past. I’m working on a post describing what it’s like to be a hearing impaired person teaching in a virtual school. Here’s my draft. Let me know what you think. Since I hit copy and paste, I’ve already made three changes. Five. Now I’ve lost count.

I entered the teaching field armed with a music degree, two teaching licenses, and two powerful hearing aids. The degree and teaching licenses got me hired; the hearing aids helped me thrive. My condition is a progressive loss, one that has worsened with time and will continue to change as I grow older. This loss is due to nerve damage, and hearing aids are the correct and only treatment. As my hearing loss worsened, I looked for an alternative to a traditional classroom setting, and Wisconsin Connections Academy attracted my attention. I was fascinated by the variety of families enrolled, the unique program, and the commitment to learning, and the enthusiasm for technology in education.

My hearing loss is only one part of who I am as a teacher. Sometimes I need small modifications, or reasonable accommodations as the law calls them. This was easy for WCA; all of the headsets are hearing aid compatible. My students and my coworkers take my hearing loss in stride.

At one time I taught students with hearing impairments – not as a specialist, but as their regular classroom teacher. The presence of a role model, a professional with the same disability they had, motivated these children more than any lesson I could teach. I hope that my current students see my disability, when they think of it at all, as an example that they, too, can succeed, no matter what challenges lie ahead.


Well, readers? I feel like it’s still rather stiff, rather bland. Help me out, please?

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