While I was mainstreamed in the public school it was overall a bad experience. The irony of it was that I was pretty popular with the kids and staff there - I worked and participated in many of the clubs, was on the honor roll and took GT (now I think it is called AP) courses, etc. I won lots of awards and scholarships, including a full scholarship to Harvard. On the surface I was the model student, deaf or hearing, and everyone seemed to receive me well - academically and socially. I was not permitted to use sign language, although my circle of friends made up signs to communicate with me when nobody was watching. Also, I used signing to participate in choir. Other than that I was strictly oral, in an all-oral environment. Even the TV wasn't captioned because they wanted me to use my oral skills and not depend on the captioning (pffft). But inside I was so hurt, frustrated, and very angry. I hated myself. I hated the world that I was thrushed into. I had to work so many hours just to keep up with the pace in the classroom. I worked so hard to be just like the hearing kids in my class. And I was failing even though people kept telling me how wonderful my speech and my grades were. To me those comments were like telling a girl she throws pretty good for a girl.
One day I was presenting a paper at this place to compete for a scholarship. All of the students were deaf, from across the state. I took the time to try to sign the paper for the benefit of the other students who were deaf, but it had been years since I used ASL so I was rusty. But something happened. After the presentations and when we all were seated to eat dinner before the annoucements, etc. I realized something. I actually understood what they were saying. And I wasn't trying so hard.
I am deaf. Like them. And I understood. I belonged, even for a moment. And when I laughed at a joke, it was real - not the fake laugh to pretend I knew what was being said.
I went back to my public school that week but everything was different. I realized that for the entire day I didn't understand one single person. Not one. I stopped fake laughing. I stopped trying so hard to read lips and to catch everything. The next week I was with a select group to fly to Washington, D.C. for one week to learn about the White House and all that. The organization roomed me with deaf students. And I got to use an interpreter for the workshops. I was astounded at how much I was finally able to understand and to finally fully participate in something. That Monday when we all came back to school, I didn't go to my first class. Instead, I emptied my locker. I took my books and walked into the counselor's office. "I quit." I told her flatly. She looked at me, shocked. She tried to reassure me, but I was adamant about my decision. I offiically dropped out of high school, with a GPA of 4.0. I quit not only school. I quit pretending to be hearing or to act like a hearing person.
My parents, teachers, and the poor shocked counselor decided it was a phase that I was going through, so they would give me a few days to get myself together. A few days became a week...then 2 weeks...and then a month. I was serious. Finally several of my teachers came to my house to meet with me, along with the counselor. They all were in tears, wanting to know what was wrong with me. So I explained to them about my perspective of a deaf student in all hearing school. I told them if they wanted me to get a dipolma, it must read *the name of the deaf school in my home state*. So finally I was admitted to the deaf school (which at first they didn't let me in because my grades were too good - I had to fight my way in) and those last two years were the best years of my life. I finally belonged. I was finally deaf. And it was okay. Ironically in spite of all the years of using my voice to speak, it was at the deaf school when I finally found my true voice.
(Sorry, this was a bit longer than I meant for it to be).
That really answer the question of "Do you have problems during high school years?".
