About a month after I got my new hearing aids, I was sent to a lipreading class at the local university. A preppy female college student who was majoring in speech pathology worked with me. I remember her well. Her smile was big and bright, but more importantly, her teeth were straight and clean, which I was secretly thankful for, since I would be watching her talk.
I had become more aware of people’s teeth now that I had to rely on lip-reading. I found myself suddenly disturbed when I had to focus on a mouth with yellowed or horribly shaped teeth.
It was worse when I had to watch people talk with their mouths full, or those who spit when they spoke. I was disgusted by how many people have thin strings of saliva in the front or back of their mouths when they speak that never seem to disappear. Yuck!
Fortunately, lip-reading this young woman wasn’t a repulsive experience. To her surprise, I got almost all of the words in all of the sentences correct. While I was pleased, I was not so surprised. My eyes had naturally been trained to focus on mouths, since I had been in choir for many years while in school. I had learned to keenly watch mouths full of song for correct diction and enunciation during my many choral rehearsals and competitions. My choir directors had worked endlessly to teach us how the shape of our mouths could produce different tonal qualities. I learned to read lips even when people weren’t singing, almost unaware that I was doing so. It had become an ingrained habit.
After my second appointment, my lip-reading instructor told me I didn’t need these classes and sent me home. I felt rather good knowing that my lip-reading skills were rated so highly, but in spite of my great scores with this teacher, I discovered that there were many challenges that prevented successful lip-reading of others.
For example, not everyone spoke as clearly or slowly as my lip-reading instructor did. I had a really hard time lip-reading people who had a mustache or beard. I really struggled if the speaker had an accent, lisp, or an overbite; and some people threw me for a loop if they talked through clenched teeth like former President Jimmy Carter.
Now that body art is an “in” thing, lip and tongue rings are the newest challenge for a lip-reader like me.
There were people who talked while munching food, chewing gum, biting on pencils, or sucking on cigarettes, making it impossible to understand what they were saying.
A number of people leaned on their elbows and put their hands on their chins or in front of their mouths while they talked, which completely blocked my ability to read their lips.
I was also extremely challenged in group situations when people would begin talking before I could see them, or turn away in mid-sentence and continue talking while I could no longer see their mouths. While in groups, many people talk at the same time.
Photo by: “Eric”
Having the ability to “over-hear” the conversations of others, they can actually keep up with the changes in subject and jump into another person’s conversation. I remember this. I wish I had eyes on the sides of my head. It is nearly impossible for me to lip-read or follow conversation in groups. This has been a difficult adjustment for me since, I am by nature, a social person and historically very comfortable in groups. I even preferred group gatherings. But now, I prefer one on one conversations or participating in structured group settings where the speakers have to raise their hand to take their turn. Sometimes, I wish I could give everyone a talking stick to pass around to the person who is speaking so I can follow. I hear it works well for family meetings!
Even when I do manage a clear view of the speaker’s mouth, I can not always read lips because so many sounds are made in the back of the throat or behind the teeth. However, I have managed by learning to keep a good sense of humor and occasionally poking fun at what I think people were saying. It is a coping skill, a sort of comic relief that has prevented me from spiraling into depression.
LaRonda,
[My own hearing loss and] inability to really communicate with others [has] imposed a sort of silence upon my world. Even though, I could hear noise around me, that’s all it was. Gradually it just receded into the background and I became accustomed to my sense of silence.
For a while I really grieved the loss of understanding, but then I came to appreciate it.
I couldn’t understand conversations around me, therefore I couldn’t eavesdrop.
I couldn’t eavesdrop, so I couldn’t form opinions or judgments about anyone else.
My critical thoughts [of others] diminished dramatically.
I couldn’t engage in conversations, so I couldn’t err with my tongue in speaking unkindly or thoughtlessly or impatiently, etc…
This was a huge burden off of my soul. I began to love the “silence” because my inner life became very silent. … When you can’t occupy your mind judging others, then your awareness of self is greatly heightened.
[Now that I cannot hear so well,] I am more content and peaceful within.
I just wanted to share that with you. I guess that there can be a blessing in all things.
Anonymous
Left by anonymous on January 22nd, 2007