We had the distinct privilege of being invited to speak at a graduate class at Northeastern University, taught by Dr. Nicole Laffan. We were thrilled to have had the opportunity to share our knowledge of hearing loss with aspiring professionals entering the audiology and speech/language pathology field. Our presentation focused on our hearing loss stories and advocacy work, but also provided a platform for me to compare and contrast my experiences with speech therapy as a student in the 1980s and what the reality is, for the better, for students receiving such service in the current day.
I was nervous, amped up, adrenaline flowing and by the time I stepped to my rightful place at the front of the lecture hall, I was ecstatic and ready to unfurl my teaching prowess to this unsuspecting group of full-grown adults – as opposite as my day to day work with the elementary aged crowd as you can ever find. I was confident that my infectious energy, animated teaching style, and booming “teacher voice” would be sufficient to capture the attention of the crowd.
So I refused the microphone.
And then the live captions failed to work on our presentation.
And we were handed a Roger mic which provides streaming through Bluetooth to hearing aids for a student – and that was low on battery. At least, when I remembered to use it.
The final blow was realizing that I needed to stay planted in one spot to ensure that my voice was picked up by the Roger mic. I shamefully felt a wave of embarrassment at my initial thought to myself being, “Oh for god’s sake I can’t teach in one spot!”
For someone who lives with a disability that requires environmental accommodations and modifications – I quickly realized that I am an inconsistent practitioner of my own preachings.
As the presentation continued, my mind was swirling desperately thinking about what other accessibility features I missed while designing this presentation. I wondered about how many students would have benefitted from printed out copies of our slides? How many students needed color contrast and maybe we could have done a better job with our slide designs? Should I have provided structured organizers for ease of notetaking like I do with my own students?
I recognized that I was not the primary instructor for these students, but it gave me pause as I look ahead to future speaking engagements and considered how I can change my materials and presentation to ensure equity in access for our content. As Oprah oft quips, it was indeed an “Aha!” moment.
My accommodation fails aside – I loved every second that I was in front of that class. I could have gone on for several hours. There was a novelty in being able to utilize every minute of an instructional period. In my real job, I usually have 40 minute instructional blocks with my students, and I am lucky to actively teach for maybe 20 of those minutes on a good day due to a myriad of factors that come with working with young children – laughter, body breaks, bathroom trips, and off-topic commentary. I loved being able to showcase my teaching talents to allow Brad a peek into how I have operated in my chosen profession for the past 30 years. I loved it.
There was an unexpected wave of emotions that hit me in the moment and during the hours that followed. I had to muster the courage to speak aloud about the traumatizing speech therapy experiences I had to undergo as a child in the name of improved aural training and articulation. I wrote a blog about it some time ago, and it will be released this week as well if you would like to read my first person account of my time with Mrs. S. and her salami smell.
As much as I can turn almost anything into a humorous anecdote, speaking it aloud was infinitely more challenging than sharing a blog post. I fought back my voice choking up when I displayed a photo of a school boiler room reminiscent of where I received my therapies. It was in that moment, as I stood fighting back tears for that little girl forced to sit with her back to the therapist amid a musty basement room with a buzzing boiler, straining to hear, that my heart broke and a surge of pride flowed through me.
Look at where that little girl ended up.
In front of a lecture hall full of newly minted professionals in the communication sciences.
Telling her story.
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