Posts Tagged: children



Jul 11

The Legacy of Lady Warnock

The short straw

We were deep in the bowels of Parliament and in the distance there was a small woman slowly making her way closer to us. She slightly hunched as if the weight of Parliament rested on her shoulders but her face was light and at ease. Her hair was bravely short and still moved in the howling gales that travelled the tunnels.

She introduced herself as Mary Warnock, a Lady of the House of Lords, a philosopher, a wife of the late Vice Chancellor of Oxford University, and author of the 1978 Warnock report.

If you are like me and born in the 1970s, you may remember that the 1980s began the period of mainstreaming, where a deaf child is placed in a classroom with non-deaf children without support (1981 Education Act: integration policy). When we learn, later in life, that the then Baroness Warnock wrote a report that introduced mainstream education; you can’t help feeling resentment.

“Margaret Thatcher didn’t like me at all,” she remarked with disguised pride. She was indeed a philosopher and knew her mind. But then she described her heroes, “Winifred Tumin was an inspiration and it made believe what deaf children could achieve. She was an excellent role model.”  The fact that she didn’t need to address all of these people with ‘Lady’ in front of the names was a reminder of where I was and who I was talking too. But she was approachable and inquisitive, she sped through her questions until we reached a comfortable dialogue.

“I went to a school in Wales that taught English and Welsh at the same time, the children were dreadfully confused. I never really took to bilingual education and never supported it.” I felt a twinge that made me want to respond but she wasn’t talking about education of deaf children, but a bilingual school for Welsh non-deaf children. So I moved the discussion to the importance of BSL and English in all deaf children’s lives, a point she agreed with.

The Warnock report was primarily about needs and matching an education to the needs of the child. “Even a child with a severe disability deserves an education. I met a child who learnt the desire for choice, for a radio to be further away or close by, or preference of one menu over another. Learning that one can have a choice is an education; it might not be the National Curriculum but it is what that child needs.”

But it went wrong. The implementation of the Warnock report mistakenly made the assessor of needs, the author of the child’s statement, also the budget holder. The assessment no longer became about real needs, but about budgets. She plainly wrote her criticism in an open letter. Children were being pushed into a budget appropriate educational system that was unsuitable for the child. The system should have made it easier for parents to ensure their child receives the best education, in fact became a source of frustration. Parents regularly sat in court rooms: sometimes to an extent that it was normal for a parent to attend a tribunal 30 times during the course of the child’s education.

That day, Michael Gove released a report that sought to challenge this discrepency. After 30 years of struggles to give the child the education they require, one can imagine how parents will be feeling. Their reaction was to create an ‘informed choice‘ policy.

If you talk to the leading organisations representing parents and teachers of the deaf in the UK, you will be familiar with ‘informed choice’. There is a continuous ongoing dialogue between them to protect the interest of the parents and challenge the autocracy of the budget holder. ‘Informed choice’ has served its purpose and now parents have, or will have, a greater say in the educational decisions of their child. But this policy creates another hurdle.

Informed choice is designed to meet the needs of the parents, or that of the family, and the needs of the child is tailored towards that need. But one forgets that a child does indeed turn into older children, into teenagers and, eventually, into young adults. In the period of transition from childhood to adulthood, the young person begins to make their own decisions. But without a choice made available to them initially, there isn’t a decision to make.

The report that Lady Warnock first intended has now come to its fruition. A child will be assessed to their needs and an education will be fit for purpose. The 30 tribunal hearings per child per 18 years must become a thing of the past; parents should be spending their time and money being parents. But Mary is also a protector of children, “I am a parent and I will make decisions as a parent, but my children may have a very different view to me. I don’t think parents should always have the ultimate decision.” I realise her legacy is yet over. I remember her mantra, “every child deserves an education, even to make the most basic choices.” It includes the choice to have deaf friends, to speak and/or sign, to have Deaf role models, have a relationship with the Deaf community and/or with their non-deaf family.

Every child deserves the right to experience everything the world has to offer, so when the time is right, they can lead their own future. Because that is an ‘informed choice’.



Jun 11

Requiem Mass

The road in the death valley

While the unfinished Requiem Mass by Mozart in D Major plays in the background, the telephone rings. My partner, Marco, picks up the phone. “Can I speak to Mr. Walker?” It was a forced jovial voice.

“I am afraid John can’t come to the phone, although he is here. He is deaf. Would you like me to pass on a message for you, or I could relay the conversation between you and him?”

“Oh, I am so sorry for you news,” came the sympathetic tones.

“I said, deaf not dead. John can’t hear.”

“I am so very sorry.”

There must be a few companies out there who think I have passed away. Will I be waiting for someone to come round with a bunch of flowers or a card of sympathy? Or be stopped at the immigration desk asking if I am the real John Walker.

Yes, deaf and death are homophones to a lazy speaker who would pronounce ‘th’ with a ‘f.’ But this phonological analysis only scratches the surface, there is a cultural reality of how ‘deaf’ is perceived.

My Grandmother was at her deathbed. She lay in coma after a heart attack and two successive strokes; the doctor prepared us to expect her life to come to an end. She was 78 years old and lived a good life. She was the oldest of 7 siblings and was the family matriarch.

I was told by the doctor, as I sat beside her, that I should speak to her. Puzzled, I asked why. It is thought that hearing is the last sense to go, she might be able to hear our conversations and words of reassurance. When my parents left the room to get a cup of coffee, I stayed behind and spoke of the memories we had and the things we did as a family, only to clammer up when they returned; I felt embarrassed. You must remember that I was only 19 years old at the time and it was bizarre to talk to someone who couldn’t respond.

The idea of sound and hearing being the final frontier of human existence places a lot of emphasis on the relationship between hearingness, or the lack of it, and the impending death. The statistics are quite strong, 2/3 of over 75 year olds have a hearing loss. A large proportion of the 4 million deaf and hard of hearing people in the country are elderly. There are several conditions that give rise to hearing loss, such as osteoporosis; the weakening of the bones such as those in the middle ear that lose efficiency to transmit sounds to cochlear.

It does make me wonder why people refer to deafness as a ‘serious condition’. The loss of hearing, in mid life, coincides with the loss of family, work, social networks and relationships. This ongoing chain of consequences, when one’s life breaks down, leads to a sensation of a downward spiral closer to the ‘final conclusion’. It must be terrifying and haunting to have a hearing loss as the doorway to one’s mortality.

A friend who worked at M&S noticed a difference in the customers’ reactions. When she didn’t understand a customer, she says “Hi, I’m deaf, can you say that again?” The customer just ups and walks. Her strategy was to change what she says, “Hi, I can’t hear very well, can you say that again?” And the customer stays. Deaf doesn’t only mean dead but also dead end. There is a deep reference in society about how one reacts to the word. If the common reference to deaf-life is over the age of 65, is it not surprising?

Even some parents of newly born deaf children associate deafness with mortality. When the parents receive news from their child’s neonatal hearing test, they react with shock when they realise the child they had is not the child they have now. In a sense, the previous child ‘died’ and there is a different child in front of them. It takes time to get their head around the idea that they have a beautiful child with a promising future.

There is something important about bringing a child to life, there is a process of preparing that child for adulthood in order to set them free into society. Free to influence the world as they see fit. This is what happens to those children who seek opportunities, including opportunities in the Deaf community. They realise their social capital as bilingual/bicultural individuals who can function in both the Deaf and hearing worlds.

My previous thoughts about the insider and outsider dichotomy shows here too. Society considers deafness as a loss of capital, a loss of worth, whereas Deaf people see deafness as a capital gain, an increase of worthiness. This is where the conflict reigns. I, for one, am not prepared to live my life with my own mortality as a constant reference point, I am here to live just as I am.

I go to the radio playing the Requiem and give Marco a sharp look, I switch it off. “Another few more years before we get to this stage.”

Photo by s.alt