A different Chapter

So, I haven’t done one of these for a while, as we have been running smoothly with G and his language and supports. We found ourselves in a comfortable groove and although there have been moments, I could have reflected on and documented, they have just been that - moments.

Since February this year, we have no longer just had moments, but consistent problem solving and trying to find solutions for George now that he has officially entered his schooling years.

We put many hours of thought into the school of choice which we made our decision on in 2024. Many factors and options were explored in depth, and we chose his school based on academic standing, values, school LOTE, school size, school openness to inclusion and support, and proximity to home.

I have had my moments this year of “Have I chosen the right school?”, “Should I homeschool?”, “Should he go to Mosman Park?”. It’s very easy for me to have a doubt and immediately want to act upon that doubt, although that wouldn’t solve anything, so it goes back to strategic planning and asking the question, “Have I got the right supports in place? Am I missing any? What else can I do or explore?”.

Being so busy with 4 kids and full-time work though, it’s also very easy to go to bed and not think about it again until the next moment of doubt pops up.

Today has changed those moments, thoughts, and prolonging serious action to “Right, something has to change, and immediately”.

Today, a Mother’s Day event was put on at the school and was only for the kindies, so ages 4–5, and my gosh they were all so beautiful and made such a special morning for I’m sure all the family members there, including myself.

I don’t often get a chance to see George at school and how he interacts, although it becomes a very common question and interest to know how much he is missing during a busy and loud school environment - so today I did observe this.

What I noticed was:

• When the children were told to line up – G wandered around a bit until the teacher guided him by holding his upper arm.

• Children were told to stand with their back touching the stage – G stood around and looked around, then did it (copied the children around him).

• When “ready” to sing, G started a few seconds after – again copied those around him.

• The children broke into laughter a few times over speaker issues – G didn’t follow suit immediately, then began laughing with them although it appeared he didn’t know why everyone was laughing.

Basically, I noted George doing a lot of following and it appeared he didn’t really know what was happening. He certainly caught words that were being said, but it was clear that it wasn’t enough to know what was expected of him in those moments.

After all of the activities and excitement had moved on and the children were all playing with each other, the classroom teacher approached me and asked how I was, which led into me addressing the reasons as to why I had stopped bringing his hearing aids to school since the week prior.

My reasoning being that George was crying and refusing to go to school-on-school days. On week 2 of the same response, I sat him down and asked him why, and his exact words were “I get too tired”. I asked him if he would go to school if he didn’t have to take his hearing aids, to which he explained that he had to wear his hearing aids at school, and can I tell his teacher he doesn’t have to. I said that I would and he could have a break. Since this, he has not cried about school and is excited to go.

In response to this, his teacher expressed concerns that new behaviours have started to develop such as:

• Inappropriate language (toilet talk)

• Entering people’s personal space

• Being disruptive during mat time

• Not listening when asked to stop something

• Even trying to untie the teacher’s shoelace, which landed him in a time out that appeared to have no impact on him.

I explained that I am aware of the toilet talk and will certainly try to curb it - as G is around a lot of older children due to siblings, OSH club, and the children on the street, he does get exposed to this, although I will teach him where and when it’s appropriate etc.

I tried to end it on a positive and shared how on Monday George was reading 3-letter words such as CAT, MAT, ANT, POT, and she gave nothing, not an acknowledgement of his achievement – he is 4 and to be reading blew my mind, and to be a Deaf child reading at age 4 - WOW. But the teacher saw difficulty and problems.

I certainly left crying.

I think what is hardest about this is that people don’t see the struggles that not only the parents have gone through, but George himself. He is learning 2 languages that don’t work together at all.

English is with your ears.Auslan is with your eyes.

Different grammatical structures, meaning, syntax – everything is different and they go against each other in a large way. Me learning Auslan has been hard, but the hardest part has been learning to use my face and allow my face to move. That in English isn’t really a thing. If you wanted to, it could be pulled apart to find the similarities and connections, but they’re so different.

So, not only is George learning this, he also must learn to use his ears. When his aids are in, he is hearing noises that he doesn’t hear without them. He may not know what they are, where they’re coming from, or how close that noise may be to the object making it. We don’t know if George is experiencing pain, fear, or discomfort, so to force these aids on him I feel is unfair.

With that said, if he is in an English-speaking school with limited to no Auslan support and he won’t wear his aids, then what is the solution? How do we navigate this?

What gives me my biggest issue and concern with George’s school is that anyone can learn and be taught. His teacher will learn, and she wants to. She is a fantastic teacher and loves and cares for her students, she just doesn’t understand the hearing component yet and how that can connect to behaviour and gaps in language etc.

The most worrying part is that every year will be a new teacher and teaching that teacher all over again. Now that sounds scary and exhausting.

Is that even realistic and functional to do?

So, to end this reflection - or thoughts, or feelings, whatever these blogs are - I can see that I have entered a completely new stage of parenting a Deaf child. The supports and systems that once felt stable suddenly don’t feel stable anymore.

Now we rebuild. We rebuild supports, community, knowledge, and confidence. We continue learning so that we can educate, advocate for, and support George in the way he deserves.