Overcoming the Odds

An iPub Perspective Editorial

By Dr. Fawzia Mai Tung

Attending the wedding of a former student with hearing loss caused me to reflect on my days teaching him. I recall another student with hearing impairment. Such students often underperform in school without proper intervention. I’m touched to have helped these students overcome the odds.

Last night, I attended a wedding. Despite a full schedule, I canceled all commitments to be there and even brought some family members along to celebrate this great milestone in the life of the groom, a very special former student of mine, whom I shall call X. It was actually a double celebration, as the groom had also just graduated a week before with a master’s degree in data management.

At the reception, after the customary prayers and procession of family members, the happy couple took their seats on a beautifully decorated stage adorned with curtains and cascading red roses. We all took turns at the buffet and settled down to enjoy our meal, while watching a video showcasing pre-wedding images. Then, the father of the groom started the series of speeches.

A bride grasping her groom's elbow while he holds two glasses of champagne. — Image by Pexels from Pixabay.

He mentioned, for those who were not personally acquainted with his son, the boy had experienced nerve damage as a baby due to medication, which led to hearing loss. Consequently, from a very young age, he was forced to wear a hearing aid. The father continued, attributing much of his son’s present success to the unwavering support of two exceptional educators. He proceeded to name me, looking directly at me as he did so, and Professor Such-and-Such, who, I assumed, had assisted him throughout his university career.

Later, when the groom’s older brother took the podium, he, too, mentioned and thanked me, adding that, whatever good his brother might achieve, I would reap the divine reward for it, on account of my part in making him who he had become. That is when my eyes became moist and I lost a little of my composure.

The reason I feel compelled to write his story is because, without proper intervention, children who lose their hearing in infancy or early childhood end up performing far below their peers academically as well as face the possibly of an unhappy personal and social life. Since 1975, the trend has been to put children with hearing loss in mainstream classrooms. While studies have shown that such interventions do improve the child’s chances of academic success, on the ground, things are not that simple.

I must first mention another child with hearing loss I encountered at the charter school I founded. “Y” was brought in by her Iraqi father, a refugee. I asked him why he brought her to our school, which specialized in accelerated academics and college preparation. He replied that because they were Muslim and I was Muslim, he therefore preferred this school.

A small charter school has nowhere near the amount of support and resources a large public school can offer to special needs students. We were brand new, and, as such, a specialist had been assigned to give me training in the management of special needs students. He would come in 2-3 times a week for an hour each time. At the end of two months, we were done, and he asked me how many special needs students I currently had. “Just one,” I answered. “She’s hearing impaired.” He asked how old she was and how I had managed her so far.

A girl in pigtails raising her hand in the foreground, with two of her classmates at desks in the background. — Image by Anastasia Shuraeva from Pexels for Canva Pro.

Well, although she was ten years old, after a placement test, I decided to place her in the combined first/second grade classroom. Her IEP showed behavioral problems, though those melted away when she started progressing very fast in all subjects, and was at the top of the class in Arabic. She was a small child, and could easily pass for a tall second grader. Therefore, she did not look out of place among the other students.

I was hoping her progress would hold, and that by the end of the school year, I could offer her summer classes and advance her to the 5^th/6^th grade classroom the following year.

Unfortunately, a charter school is by definition a public school, and therefore must align with state guidelines.

The trainer informed me that I would now have to move her “with her peers.” I blinked. I asked, “With her biological peers? Or her achievement peers?” His countenance became steely: “You know what I mean.” Oops. I’d better not push his buttons any further. I moved her to the fifth grade.

The other “intervention” was to pull the child out of class three times a week to meet with a specialist who would help her catch up academically. The cost of the specialist was so high, it broke my budget. If I had had five such cases: I would then have made a profit, and three of them would have helped me break even.

They met in a room next to my office. The doors were open and I could hear everything that was going on. After her initial excitement, the girl soon tired of the sessions, slouched down in her chair, and would refuse to cooperate with the kind lady. It got to the point that, one day, the therapist knocked on my open door and gently told me that she didn’t know what to do since the student completely ignored her and was even speaking rudely to her. I had had enough. I marched into the room next door, squatted down, looked the student in the eyes, and said sternly, “Sit up! Listen here, you are going to work with this nice lady with full cooperation. You hear me? If she complains one more time to me, you won’t get to go on the field trip next week to see My Fair Lady. Got it?”

I know, this was not a scripted reaction. It’s not politically correct. It’s not what an educator says to a student. But, in her culture, it’s what worked. She immediately sat up straight, nodded energetically, and gave no more problems thereafter.

A young woman reading to a group of children. — *Image by FatCamera from Getty Images Signature for Canva Pro*.

However, in the classroom, things took a turn for the worse. She could not catch up with the rest of the class and was shunned by her classmates. When the students were given team assignments, no one wanted her on their team which exacerbated her behavior problems.

Fast forward to the private school I founded later.

X had enrolled in the combined 7^th/8^th grade. His father, a doctor, explained his situation to me, and added that his son had attended Islamic schools as a mainstream student and this was how he planned to continue. I did a placement test and Z scored at a 3^rd grade level in reading and writing. I accepted him in the 7^th/8^th grade as requested, but advised his parents to sign him up for private lessons outside of school hours, for I did not support the idea of pulling a child out of the classroom.

I observed him closely in class as well as in our private sessions. Two things stood out as clear issues. First, the hearing-aid seemed to cause a sort of blurred cacophony if more than one person spoke at the same time or if the speaker stood farther away. So if there was a discussion in class, he would zone out and retreat into his own world. He could only concentrate if one person spoke at a time, and then only if the person spoke clearly. Secondly, his amount of general knowledge, including vocabulary, was woefully inadequate. I realized that his only source of knowledge was schoolbooks. There is a kind of wide, all-around store of information that hearing people, acquire through daily interaction and simply being exposed to conversations, television, and just general “noise” around us. Such knowledge and information is unavailable to individuals who suffer from hearing impairment. He also did not read beyond school work—no magazines, no leisure reading material, and no encyclopedias. In our very first reading session, he did not understand the meaning of half of the words in a short 4^th grade level passage.

Our reading sessions were done with my laptop open, ready to search the internet for images of whatever we were reading about. I advised the parents to make sure he had access to a wide range of reading material, including reading at least one online article per day. I continued tutoring him privately even after he moved on to high school. I heard he attended university, but lost touch with him after high school.

Until this invitation to his wedding.

Let me be clear: I do not go to work seeking applause. In fact, during my earlier years as a medical doctor and later as an educator, I became accustomed to seeing my healed patients and graduating students leave without much communication afterward. It’s an inherent aspect of the professions I have chosen. Despite the deeply ingrained values of selflessness and dedication instilled in me since childhood, such acknowledgments, particularly in a public setting, do bring a sense of joy to my heart. I am delighted by the growth and achievements of individuals like X and the success resulting from my efforts.