MIRACLE-MAKERS.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LVIII, Issue 14344, 24 October 1910, Page 7

MIRACLE-MAKERS.

THE DEAF CHILD’S TRAINING. Ancient proverbs keep marvellously sharp points. The old statement that a prophot lacks honour amongst his own people, each day finds fresh application (says the Christchurch Press). Miracles are being wrought slowly and painfully, but successfully by patient men and women. They are devoting the best years of their lives to the grand task of giving an equivalent of hearing to tho deaf, and giving speech to those that were dumb because they had never heard tho sound of a voice. They work for the child’s sake. If you have seen the children look at them you know that they are not without their reward. Yet few know of the wonders they perform; they do good and talk not of it. Those that know, realise that their work speaks for them. Ihan it, they could gain no greater praise. On the slope of a little sandhill, in the wash of the warm spring sunshine, X found the deaf children and their teacher. It was a Sunday, and regular work was, of course, suspended. As ‘die talked to me they watched her lips, reading them and smiling because they knew she was speaking or them. They carried on conversations, making no sound; with thopi the movements of the lips are everything. I hat is tho difference between them and the rest of tho world—the great world of the men and women whom they call tno “hearing people.” _ “When a child first comes to us, said the teacher, “I put my hand beneath her chin and her hand beneath mine, touching my throat. Then 1 repeat the alphabetical ‘a,’ which phonetically is ‘ah-ah-ah.’ She feels the movement of tho muscles, and, imitating me, make tho same sound. X write ‘a’ on the board, and she realises that it is tho symbol of the sound. So we do the sounds of > other vowels, phonetically ‘oa,’ ‘op, and ‘ai.’ When she is quite familiar with these, having sakl and written them for two or three _ weeks, we take a piece of paper, giving her another, and Blow upon it. She docs this until she can blow silently—and that gives her the position that the lips must m to make tho sound of ‘p. Similarly, by blowing on tho hand she is taught how the ‘h’ sound can bo made. _ Afterwards she is shown how by sotting her tongue against the hack of her teeth and blowing, she can fay ‘t. Meanwhile she lias learnt to watch carefully, and already has realised that a result follows each effort; something attempted, something persevered with, means something achieved. W hen 1 roll my tongue against the back ot my top teeth, she does the same. She feels my throat and notices tho muscle movement. She imitates mo. Xt is the ‘l’ sound. It is the chance for a whole word. “After about three weeks she is able to enunciate the sounds that make the word ‘hoop’—that is tho first word the children say. As they say it they are shown a hoop, they are made to fool it, they are made to bowl it about, -o understand what it is. After .another lesson or so they can. say loop and ‘tool.’ They have given more than three weeks—sometimes far longer—lor three words. They have made the first tiny gap in the barrier that lies between them and tho ‘hearing people “In just such ways they learn the whole alphabet —all the consonants, first voiceless then voiced, one at a time. ‘K’ is so hard for them—the tongue has to go up. at the back of the throat. Sometimes it has taken a child three months to learn the Tv’ sound ; perhaps they may have to practice it holding the tongue with a pencil until they gain control of tho muscles. It and ‘Z’ are not easy, but sooner or later they learn them. It means patience for us and perseverance for them. That is She spoke as if it was nothing beyond the ordinary—as if it were as the paltry day’s work of average men and women. The children, standing ry talking in silence, looked happy. Xerhaps they scarcely understand the weight of their burden, or tho wonder of the miracle that is being worked in them. , . , For it is a miracle, though it happens slowly. Tho deaf are made to understand tho spoken word; those that were dumb, speak.. It is almost putting a soul into a child. It is the rending of a- great veal—the making rending of a great veil—the making visible of innumerable vistas. “’Hie first board shows them combinations of the vowel sounds, ‘a,’ ‘oo,’ ‘oa,’ ‘ai,’ ‘ac,’ with single consonants,” she continued. “They are taught to say them and write them. When that board is done with, they know nearly all the letters of the alphabet. After that we teach them short ‘a,’ as in ‘cat,' short ‘o/ as in ‘top/ short ‘i,’ as in ‘ship,’ short ‘u,’ as in ‘pup.’ A word like ‘dog,’ with a short ‘o,’ is hard for them, because all the consonants are voiced. When the second board is finished with, they begin to make sentences, and are given little object lessons. “A boot is the subject of the first lesson; It is held up and they all shriek ‘boot.’ Then they arc taught ‘That is a boot.’ So, with every word that they have learnt on the second board. As they see the thing, they sav what it is. They must see everything, touch everything, feel everything. ‘That is a Repeat—re-peat-—repeat. Again and again, and again. Always repetition, always patience. Always tho care that they shall make the sound correctly, for we know that if they speak badly it is our fault.

“They learn adjectives in the same way. Colours first. ‘The boot is—how?’ Not what is it like, but ‘bow?’ ‘The boot is how? —black.’ That is always the question—how ?’ Right through the whole course, the gaining command of words and phrases and sentences—it is always ‘how?’ “ ‘The boot has —what?’ ‘The boot has a heel.’ They learn the nouns as they learnt the adjectives, by question and answer. While this is happening they arc being taught from the third board, with its combinations of the sounds, ‘aw,’ ‘ea,’ *ow,’ ‘io,’ and ‘igh.’ At length they come to the board of double consonants and vowels, to such words as ‘sleep’ and ‘snow,’ They have difficulty with these, for they will give each consonant a separate and independent value—‘school,’ for them would bo ‘suc-chool.’ They cannot understand the slurring of letters. Remember they have never heard. “Then, ‘I can take off my boot.’ A verb, you see. ‘I can laugh,’ T can run.’ The action must fit the verb, each thing must ho acted, so that they may understand ; they must act it themselves, so that they shall remember. “During the first two years they have special lessons that the Director has written for thorn. Each lesson is on some object, and there are no more than half a dozen new words in any one of them. But each succeeding lesson goes so much further towards familiarising them with little words. “At the beginning of their second year they are taught a little arithmetic, counting with dominoes and counters.

It is slow going, for the numbers arc new to them, and they must learn to say them —speech oomes first, throughout ail the school. Each day’s work begins with a speech exercise. At the same time,,they begin to study geography, learning from a man ot Sumner. After they know the topography of the place where they arc, they pass to the world without. In the middle school thov are doing New Zealand and Australia. They are taught on broad principles; it is not the coastline but the people of a country, not the population of a town but the ■ factors, that have made it famous or prosperous. “In their third year they learn drawing and grammar. Tenses are troublesome things for them —tho pluperfect is almost past their comprehension; but they learn it. Again, it is repetition and patience. We teach tile present by asking, “Is it now?’’; the past by asiting “Before?” This is the usual dialogue;— _ Pupil; The ancient Briton is a hunter, . Teacher: Is the ancient Briton ncio now ? Pupil: No; finished. Teacher: Then it is the past tense. Pupil triumphantly: The ancient Briton “was” a hunter. As for the pluperfect, tho only way is to give them an example and let them repeat it. It must be gone over and gone over until they understand. Many things cannot bo explained; it is only by example that they can do shown. “In their last years at tho school they can sneak fluently and can read your lips, so that they miss never a word. They arc using ordinary school books, and tho journal issued by the Education Department. Speech still comets first, and each day moans another word added to their small vocabulary. In the* morning, those of them that have reached their fifth year at the school have to read tho newspapers, and are expected to be able to tell something of the nows in them. There are books for them, and they arc encouraged to road: but reading is at first little pleasure to them. They have to read with a dictionary beside them, for their vocabulary is very small compared with ours. Too often tho dictionary explains an unknown word by an equally unintelligible synonym; tho aid of a teacher has to be sought. In these days reading for them is a sadlytinctured pleasure—it reminds them that they are the creatures of their awful limitation. But as tho years go by these troubles diminish. Though often and often they must find words that baffle them, the context provides the senfio of tho sentence. So they enjoy reading. Again’ it has been patience and perseverance —always patience. Always perseverance. “When they arc nearly sixteen —they will have been with us eleven years if they have completed the full course, for if we are to have a fair chance they must come to us at five —they arc prepared for tho world outside, and ready to run irr life’s handicap beside the ‘hearing children.’ The boys have learnt something of carpentory and gardening, while the girls have been grounded thoroughly in domestic economy, Even the smallest girl has some little task assigned to her, and she must do it. Every big ~ girl docs t her own needlework, and •ttio mending for a younger girl. “Some of those' that have passed through tho school are working now on equal terms with ordinary people. One man has become a and is so expert in the-art of Up reading that his customers scarcely know that ho is deaf. Many of the girls have become expert tailoressce; others have become wives.” As the little girls walked, two by two, back to their homes, the Institute, the teacher talked of them. “I love the children. They aye quaint and strange, but they are much as other children—only they aro more observant. Thoir eyes render them tho .service that wo gob from our cars. They* remember little things. I know —yon-can see yourself—that they are happy. Tho world is not full of weeping for them, yet it makes mo sad sometimes when I have to tell them of the singing of the birds, of tho sounds they have never heard—can never hear. They realise that they aro a community apart. Only this morning a little girl said to me, T shall never marry a hearing man. I shall marry one of us. I shall understand him letter!’”