Anyway, my point is…I’d like to challenge the Cued Speech community to continue reaching out to other families and groups and help educate others about Cued Speech. I think that in the past several years, the exposure has grown and I’d like to see that momentum continue. I have a few ideas of how I’m going to reach out to families and fellow cuers, but I’d like to hear YOUR advice and suggestions for others who may be seeking similar direction. Perhaps tutoring children? peer mentoring with parents? a saturday outing with some families? e-mail communication and correspondence? any ideas? 

Happy New Year!

Who Uses Cued Speech? from National Cued Speech Association on Vimeo.

The link to the video should show up above, but if it doesn’t and you cannot play the embedded video, you can go here: http://vimeo.com/2439515 

Barb

The difference between having a CLT in class and not having one.

If you’re unable to see the video above you can follow this link. So, I hope you enjoy this demonstration and don’t forget to show it to the kids!

Barb

I was at a friend’s son’s Bar Mitzvah last weekend (I have just loved saying that phrase; such joy to use a double possessive). In a quieter moment, it was revealed through our conversation about Ben being deaf, and my friend’s relatives proceeded to ask questions. Can he hear? Is he mainstreamed? Does he sign? Wears what aids?

The Cued Speech conversation: “System designed to help deaf children learn to read and write, by conveying the spoken language in a visual form, and that visual form providing the ‘phonics’ of the spoken language, called ‘phonemes’ … The hybrid, using a manual system (like signing) but conveying the oral language (so really an oral approach). The genius of Dr. Cornet’s system — whatever looks alike on the mouth is cued differently; whatever is cued the same looks different. No ambiguity.” The Constant Educator.

And we haven’t even talked about the implant!

I truly welcome the questions, and love to talk about Ben; cueing; cochlear implants; the differences between oral, sign, and cueing; social adjustments; reactions of Maddie as a hearing sibling.

I have no expectations that people would know of cueing. What people know of deafness is usually mixed up with signing. So something other than signing, especially a system that uses the hands, is pure puzzlement to most people.

So while I sometimes have a tinge of disappointment that cueing is so under the radar, it provides a great opportunity for awareness and teaching.

Deafness is Ben’s story, his identity. The story of his parents and sister, his extended family. Cueing is part of Ben’s deafness. The cochlear implant is part of his deafness. Because cueing is our history, the now and future is literacy, Ben’s ability to read and write, to learn independently.

– Never heard of Cued Speech?
– Well, do a have a few minutes?
– Excellent, because I have a great story to tell.
– It is about a young boy — a human story full of drama and inspiration.
– My connection to the story?
– The Constant Educator, of course.

As I said in an earlier post, I needed to learn to rethink my own approach to language.  I have a tendency to speak very fast.  People are always surprised to learn I’m from the south, since my rate of speech is so fast.  It was very frustrating for me to try and Cue at a pace which would keep up with my rate of speech.  I think things finally clicked for me when I began to relate my breakdown of the words I would Cue, to the breakdown of words in music.  I’d played the piano since I was a child, and I’d sung in school and church choirs along the way, so reading music and reading the choral accompaniment to music was familiar.  At some point while I was trying to come into my own rhythm of Cueing, I realized that if I thought of the words as if they were the refrain from a song, it became easier for me to Cue. I’m not sure if this approach simply slowed me down enough so that my burgeoning Cueing skill could keep up, or if there is some other type of connection between the fluency of Cueing and the fluidity of producing music.  The two seemed like the perfect complement to one another though and it certainly helped me to progress in my skill.

(1) Can you ever really blend in when you are an outsider? Should you?

In the first day or two of our journey to Argentina, my daughter Maddie seemed oddly out of sorts when I cued to my son Ben, especially in restaurants or stores. She wanted us only to speak in Spanish, but that was impossible for Ben (and probably me too). I spoke with her in Spanish and cued English to Ben. But even when out of earshot of locals, Maddie seemed annoyed with my cueing to Ben. I soon realized that Maddie wanted to blend into the scene, and the cues were attracting attention and identfying us as “outsiders.”

I argued for using travel “judo,” and turning the situation around. Not being embarassed or awkward, but acknowledging your status and all it entails, and approaching situations with curiousity and goodwill. After all, although we were tourists, we were clearly curious and bold enough to visit, we knew the language and customs, and, on an economic level, we were spending money. Looked at this way, shouldn’t we be proud of our status? Weren’t we the intriguing tourists, Americans hearing and deaf, able to speak English and Spanish?

While the cues identified us as “not-from-here,” the cues enhanced our uniqueness as indomitable travellers. Why blend, when our difference is a source of pride?

(2) The butterfly effect?

Before heading to Buenos Aires, I had looked up the Spanish version of cued speech, called “La Palabra Complementada” and downloaded a Spanish language description from the web site of the University of Malaga, Spain, www.uma.es/moc (you can also find the web site via links at the National Cued Speech Association web site, www.cuedspeech.org). At the celebration of the 40th anniversary of cued speech in 2006, I had met the Spanish professors who have instituted cued speech in Spain, so knew something was out there. I read through the description so I could give it a whirl if it came up in conversation, and printed out the description just in case.

Arriving from the airport, we met the rental company representative and the actual owner of the apartment. I explained as best I could that we were not using a sign language but were instead using a communication system based on spoken language (I couldn’t lay my hands on the paper). Both listened politely, but the owner clearly did not grasp it.

On our last day, the owner came to check us out of the apartment (and return our deposit). She said that her daughter’s day care used some signs as part of its approach, and asked again about cued speech. I again described the concept of cueing and had, by then, found the printout describing cued speech in Spanish, the system of cues and its relation to the spoken language. She asked if she could keep the description; por supuesto, I replied.

One person in Buenos Aires, who might read the article and might bring it to her daughter’s preschool, and might discuss it with a teacher or administrator. Or maybe she only reads the article, and infrequently recalls our visit, and our cueing. Could her reading, her discussion, her memory of Ben, cause some educational butterfly effect? Could the beatings of our cueing wings, so to speak, cause a tornado of deaf communication in Argentina?

Not at all likely, I know. But sometimes I like to dream. And in the dream I see the butterfly effect of our cueing visit, and I cue to my courageous deaf son, “Can you believe it?”

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I think one of the most beautiful parts about this country is our freedom. Our freedom to choose and have a choice. We have a freedom to fall, make mistakes, and pick ourselves right back up again and keep moving. Isn’t it amazing that we have this freedom? You, as a child, a parent, a professional, or a grandparent, have just as much freedom to help determine the best communication strategy for you, one that works for you, not what works for your neighbor’s best friend’s brother-in-law.

My parents went on this journey without a support group because everything was “so new” back in 1983. But quickly, they found parents who were in the very same position: parents who were unsure of what they’re doing and constantly battling the forces of “you should be doing this, you should be doing that.” The thread that bound them all together was their perseverance, and willingness to stand up for what they believed to be the best practice for them, and their child. I’m speaking to young cuers when I say, stand up for yourself and be heard, speak, and be proud of your abilities as a unique individual. You’ll get a lot of respect that way. Don’t be afraid. Really. It’s the challenges that make us all stronger. The common denominator isn’t that we’re deaf, it’s that we’re willing to believe in ourselves.

Before I sign off, don’t let people make you believe that you can’t do what you want to do. The only person who can look out for you is you and your family.

What moments stick out in your mind, where you feel like you’ve had to stand up for yourself when it seemed hard, as a parent, a teacher, or a child?