The three council representatives listened to us as we stood up to get our points across. We all shared our concerns for our community. Then a reporter and photographer arrived from the local newspaper, surprising everyone. We were angry, as the Mayor did not attend or take any interest in coming to the deaf centre himself (although there were many photographs of him with deaf people upstairs in the conference room).They did not answer our questions, but the photographer took pictures and the journalist wrote down what we were saying.
The council representatives said they had taken everything into consideration and there would be more meetings. Further meetings did follow, and the final one was to be at the town hall. At the meeting the Mayor read out which buildings would be saved and which would have to close. Only a few of us attended, and we waited anxiously. The Mayor has a relative who is deaf and I was praying that the deaf centre would be saved, but it was on the list of those to be closed. One representative said it could be moved to a small building where the library used to be.
The following week we were allowed to go and see for ourselves, and it was obvious that a lot of work would be needed. After looking around I felt that the government had robbed our community of a nice building which was accessible. When it had opened in 1983, a lot of deaf people had given up their time to build it and decorate it to make it into a home for us. We had our own bar, where we could drink and chat on Friday evenings. The building had been refurbished about a year before the decision was made to close it. We had got a new roof on the main building and a new kitchen, car park and computer room for deaf people to take courses. There were toddler groups on Tuesday and Wednesday mornings and social workers would be there if any deaf people needed help. Pensioners could meet on Thursday afternoons for coffee and a chat or to play bingo.
A lot of money must have been spent on the building - I saw it myself as I was working there. It was a nice safe area, opposite the lovely park and easy accessible for deaf people who needed to use the bus. Where was I going to be working? I still had three classes and I was told that I would be moving elsewhere. But I did not have a car anymore and working in the evenings most buses don’t run after six o’clock. Luckily I still could work at the deaf centre one evening, but I could work at different places other evenings and I could get a lift on Monday evenings and still work at the deaf centre on Tuesday mornings and evenings.
When all the courses had finished for the summer, I would not return to work at the deaf centre again after working there for thirteen years, so I was sad to see it go. Returning after the summer break, I discovered that the council no longer offered yearly payment for my job but now only paid for the times I worked, and the payment for the students would be a lump sum payment, whereas previously it was monthly. This meant fewer people would be willing to pay all at once for the full course, and the government continued making more cuts. I then had to wait to see how many people would enrol. I was then given one class and less pay. And I was still attending the Job Centre.
What was I going to do now? I was still getting no help from the work programme or the Job Centre. My sister suggested I should work for myself, and found a company that helped people to set up their own businesses. We attended the first meeting and she explained the situation, and the lady said she would see if I could get off benefit and work with her till I could work for myself – brilliant, I thought. At the next meeting the lady called the Job Centre on my behalf, only to be told I could not receive help from her because I was on a work programmed. She said she would be happy to help me in her own time, for which I was very grateful. I went to see her on my own and had to write everything down on paper as they could not provide an interpreter. I found it difficult, but I was determined to try, and looked forward to working for myself and not having to attend the Job Centre any more.
As the weeks progressed the lady asked if I could borrow some money from a member of my family to help to fund my business. I asked my brother David, and he was more than happy to lend me the money. Once I had spent the money on some things I required I sent off the receipt, and when I received the funding money I was able to return the loan to my brother. I was hoping my business would be paid off, while I was still attending the Job Centre.
CHAPTER NINE
Looking back
My son Philip and his fiancée Beth, who I like very much, have been together now for five years and I am the grandmother of two beautiful grandsons, Archie, aged three, and Ben, two weeks old as I write this. When Archie was one and half years old Philip and Beth wanted me to babysit and I said I would love to but could not because of my deafness. ‘I have an idea’ said Beth, ‘here is the baby monitor. If Archie cries, the colour on the monitor goes from green to red.’ I said I could put it near the television and keep an eye on it. Good idea so I did babysit for the first time, but I have to confess I kept going upstairs to check! The monitor works and I have babysat a few times since.
My job involves teaching British Sign Language. I teach level one basic signs, which the student has to learn to finger spell, greetings, locations, family, buildings, food and drink, work. Slowly the student learns how to communicate with basic signs. Some learners do it for jobs or new skills, others for family reasons. If they pass the first level they can go on to do level two.
I remember a lady who wanted to learn because her grandson was deaf. I asked her about her job and she told me she was manager for a delivery firm employing staff on computers. I asked her what she would do if a deaf person applied for a job in their office and she said ‘absolutely not!’ Yet she was attending the classes to learn to communicate with her grandson. British Sign Language is not a language you can learn in 30 weeks. It takes many years to become proficient and accurate.
British Sign Language is used by more than 70,000 deaf people in the UK, and it’s the preferred language of the deaf community. It is a language in its own right with its own vocabulary and structure of grammar, expressed through movement of hands, body, face and head. Not every English word has a corresponding sign in BSL, so the interpreting process involves using a different vocabulary and grammatical structure. Like two-thirds of the world’s languages it has no written form, but it is just as valued as any spoken/written language.
Here is another example of how ignorant people are with me, even with simple matters. As I get older I find reading more difficult and I thought I had better have my eyes tested. Philip came with me and we went into a very dark room, so I could not see when I was being told to move my eyes to the left or right. My son explained and the optician agreed to leave the door a little ajar. All went well and he was very helpful and patient. He gave me a card and told me to return next week to pick up the glasses. A week later I went to pick them up and I gave the young lady the card and I said I was deaf. She gave me the ‘never met a deaf person before’ look and walked away to speak to another woman. She gave the other lady my card and said she didn’t want to serve her because she was scared, could she do it instead!
Philip’s story
My mother asked me to put my thoughts into words about growing up with a deaf mother, but I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t have a bad childhood and I don’t feel I was held back by my mother’s disability, I’ve never felt she was a hindrance to me. I suppose that’s why it is useful to put my thoughts into words, because of what a great job she did with us, especially on her own.
In primary school, I felt that my school mates had respect for my mother and her deafness. I was never taunted or bullied about her; in fact, they seemed to treat me better for it. That’s how I felt anyway. On the odd occasion when my friends would be invited round, I would introduce them to my mother and they would try their best to communicate.
My mother has given me some questions that she wanted to me to answer here, but I found them confusing. I will try to explain. Mam asked me how much of a pain it was that I couldn’t shout to her from upstairs while she was downstairs. She asked how much of a burden it was to have to
help her communicate with other people when we were shopping or she needed something. She also asked me how much it bothered me that my friends’ parents could hear and mine couldn’t. But I never knew anything else. I had nothing to compare it to. This is why I’ve never felt that I’ve been at a disadvantage in any situation.
Since Mam told me she was writing this book, I’ve reflected on my childhood and things have slowly fallen into place. For example, when Jamie and I played with our friends outside, Mam would want us to stay close to the house, but my friends could go and play in other streets. We were never allowed to play outside when it was dark, yet my friends could play on the front. If we ever wandered off, Mam would come and find us within minutes and send us home. Now I completely understand why this was. Mam couldn’t hear us playing outside, so she needed to be able to see us at all times.
I do have one particular memory that really sticks in my mind about growing up with a single, deaf mother. Jamie and I were about 8-10 years old when a new family moved in over the road. One of their kids was called Peter. He was about 13 and really tall, so Jamie and I looked up to him (pardon the pun). He made friends with a lot of kids his own age, but my friends and his friends all hung around the same street.
One day, Peter and his friends were taking the mick out of me and Jamie. I can’t remember what it was about, but we both came home quite upset. We told Mam what had happened and within seconds, her coat and shoes were on and she was out of the door looking for Peter. I remember looking out of the window and see her standing and shouting at him, which he and his friends thought was really funny. When Mam shouts, it doesn’t sound like someone shouting, it’s like a high-pitched scream. When she came home, she told us that she had told him off.
The next day, while we were out playing, Peter decided to have another go at us - again, I can’t remember why. Jamie and I were upset again and came home, but we didn’t want to tell Mam, as we knew she would go and find him again. We eventually told her because she knew something was up. She went out to find him again and she did. This time there were more of Peter’s friends there, all laughing as Mam gave him what for. For Peter, this was a great way to take the mick out of someone and it was obvious that he taunted us so he and his friends could stand and laugh at her. It’s the most painful memory of my childhood, because we were all powerless to do anything about it. He was surrounded by his friends and we were only small. I look back now and regret not trying to do more, but we were only kids and we were intimidated. Peter has probably forgotten that all this happened. It was over 20 years ago, but I still think about it now.
My father was never really good to us. Back then there were no mobile phones and texting, so there was no way that my parents could communicate other than face-to-face. Dad was supposed to have Jamie and me every Saturday and we couldn’t wait to see him. Every weekend was like Christmas to us, and we loved being with him. Every Saturday from 12.30pm, Jamie and I would sit on the window sill looking out of the window, waiting for him to come. We would have our coats on and our shoes by the door so we could dash out as soon as he arrived.
I remember the first Saturday that he didn’t turn up. We were sitting waiting for him and when he didn’t arrive at 1 pm, we assumed he was running late and just waited longer. But by the time 2 pm came, we were deflated and upset because we knew he wouldn’t be coming for us.
Mam could see that we were upset, so she would take us to the park and play games with us. She never said a bad word about him to us; she would just say that he must have been so busy he couldn’t come.
The following week Jamie and I again had have our coats at the ready from 12.30 pm, unsure if he would turn up, but excited at the same time. This time he did turn up, but Mam told us to wait inside while she went outside to speak to him. We could hear her shouting at him, but we couldn’t really understand what she was saying. All we wanted to do was to see him and go and play with him. We poked our hands through the letterbox to try and grab his hand while Mam was shouting at him. He was like a celebrity to us.
While I was trying to poke my hand through the letterbox, I was thinking ‘Why won’t my Mam let me see my Dad?’ He only had us for four hours every Saturday and he didn’t really take us places or anything, but we didn’t care, we were with him. We obviously had no idea what was going on, but resentment against Mam was building every time she stopped us going outside while she shouted at him. We hadn’t seen him for two or three weeks and now he was here and we still couldn’t see him. Why?
Mam couldn’t explain what he was really like, we were still kids. That must have been to awful, for her to watch us fall over each other to get to him, knowing what he had done in the past.
When I got to about 14, I wanted to be with my friends more. They would go to town on Saturdays, shopping. I started to go with them, which meant I wouldn’t see my Dad, but Jamie would still go. I also started asking my Mam a lot of questions about my Dad. Questions like ‘How long were you married for?’, ‘What was he like to live with?’ and ‘Why did you split up?’ Mam couldn’t lie to me, and all her answers led to more questions.
Over a period of a few months, I went from wanting to be with him all the time to not wanting to be with him at all. It got more and more obvious to me that picking us up every Saturday was more of a chore to him than a pleasure. Most of the time, we would just sit and watch TV. Jamie didn’t know anything about the questions I’d been asking, but I did tell him that we shouldn’t see him anymore. Jamie didn’t take much convincing, because he was bored with sitting and watching the TV for four hours every Saturday too.
Then one day, he came for us at 1 pm on a Saturday. We had written a note to him - I remember it saying ‘We don’t want to see you any more’. I was upstairs in my Mam’s bedroom looking down at Dad’s car and Jamie went to the car, opened the door, threw the note in, closed the door and came back into the house. I was crying so much. Dad then started beeping the horn, but he never got out. He stopped beeping the horn and revved the car and wheelspun away. Jamie and I were crying, but we knew it was the right thing to do. Things just hadn’t been the same with him for a long time. I’ve always really wanted a father figure in my life, even to this day, but my dad had never really been a good example.
Mam never really had another partner because she was so focused on us. Throughout my teenage years, I got some help from my grandfather. He took me fishing and he also taught me how to shave. I once asked my uncle for some advice about girls too. That was really it.
I now have two boys of my own and I’m trying to be the best father I can be. In a way, I’m almost grateful to my father for being the way he was, because I feel that I know how to treat my kids better.
Jamie’s story
My turn now! I asked Phil if we should combine these statements as I felt we would be pretty much saying the same thing, but when I read his bit I said straight away, ‘let’s do it separately’.
I really remember the daft things, like when we used to play out and Mam would shout at us if we went too far down the road and out of her view without telling her, but we would be embarrassed when she shouted, because as Phil said it’s very different. On the other hand, if anyone said anything or took the mick then we would be very defensive! We would then have to ask her every time we went somewhere if it was OK first, as we didn’t want the same embarrassing shouting to happen all the time, but also out of respect as well.
In school I didn’t have any problems with having a deaf mother. Phil and I didn’t need to learn sign language as we would pick it up off Mam all the time even though she didn’t use it with us. However the school capitalized on this because they would make me get up in front of the whole class and teach them the ‘I can sing a rainbow’ song in sign language as we sang. It definitely has its positives, as I put on my CV that I can speak another language and whenever I encounter deaf people in my job I’m always the one that helps them as my colleagues run a mile!
Back to growing up. The
only thing that bothered me was the luxuries my friends’ parents could afford, as they had jobs. I felt it was difficult for us growing up and only being allowed to have one or the other of two treats, not both - for example if we went to the shop for a treat we couldn’t have crisps, chocolate and a drink, it was one only. Takeaways were very infrequent too. We had to save up to be poor - I’m joking when I say that, but it did feel sometimes like that.
I remember one year at school around Christmas time we had to bring in daft stuff like cans of fruit, boxes of chocolates, biscuits, that sort of thing for a hamper that was going to a family that was underprivileged. This box was HUGE and full of nice expensive food. I was happy that I was helping a less fortunate family out at Christmas. Some people (those with rich parents) brought presents in like cars, or dolls depending on the family we were providing for. I was so grateful that we weren’t as hard up as that family.
A few days later we were all at home and there was a knock at the door. I opened it first, then Mam came and Phil. I couldn’t believe my eyes - it was a man and a kid with a massive hamper full of all these things I have just mentioned, but from a different school. I felt so disappointed that we were now classed as the underprivileged ones. I was also grateful, don’t get me wrong, but I thought there must be a mistake! My Mam’s face lit up, and she was almost tearful. Phil was over the moon too, but I just took a step back thinking I didn’t want anything. I didn’t dare tell any of my friends!
Isolated World Page 11