Ageless Passions by Karen Putz

Tag: hard of hearing

  • Decide That You Want It More Than You Fear It

    How many times have you held back because you feared something?

    I’ve been pondering “fears” lately.  Recently, I received a comment from a reader who is hard of hearing and struggling with anxiety– “Social groups are almost impossible at times,” she relates.   She has agreed to teach a weaving class in her community and is scared that she will have trouble getting through it with the communication challenges ahead of her.

    Boy, oh boy, can I relate.  Social situations, parties, group discussions– they used to strike fear inside of me and sometimes, they still do.   Communication in those situations becomes a rapid-fire ping-pong game– sometimes so fast that the ball is just a blur and you get nothing out of the game.

    I emailed the reader and this is what I shared with her:

    I can understand being scared about teaching the weaving class but let me tell you– you can do this!  At the beginning of the first class, be honest about your hearing loss and explain to the class what you need to make communication happen– that everyone has to face you when talking, to speak a bit slower and that if they need to get your attention– to raise their hand before they speak, etc.  It takes a tremendous amount of courage to do this but the rewards are great– students will adjust and you’ll have better access to communication and be able to share your skills with less anxiety about trying to follow everyone.  Communication is a two-way street but you have to teach others what you need to make that happen.

    In another email I shared:

    It’s ok to be nervous, just don’t let it prevent you from moving forward.  Face your fear head on.  My daughter sent me this picture at a time when I was dealing with some fears so I’m passing it on to you:

    Lauren sent me that photo during Women’s Barefoot Week at the World Barefoot Center.  She had no idea how timely that photo was.  I’ll have to back up a bit to explain.  In March, when I first went down to Lake Conine to learn how to barefoot again, one of the questions that I asked Keith St. Onge was, “Are there alligators in this lake?”

    Yup, that’s right.  I’m not too fond of alligators.  In fact, they downright scare the daylights out of me.  As long as they’re far away with a fence between me and their sharp teeth, I’m good.  When Lauren was in Girl Scouts, she came home with a picture of her holding a baby alligator.  I was very glad that I wasn’t there, or I would have had visions of the taped mouth coming undone and my little girl devored on the spot.   One year, Joe and I took the kids to an alligator attraction and I was happy when we finally left.

    Keith’s response to my question was simply, “Yes, but they don’t bother us.  The boat engine scares them away.”  I wanted to barefoot more than I was scared of the marine life, so off I went into the water.

    Then in the middle of Women’s week, I was sitting in the water after a barefoot run, waiting for the boat to come back and pick me up.   The boat was taking forever to idle back to me.  I turned around and stared into the open jaws of an alligator coming to attack me in the water…

    And then I woke up.

    That’s right, I had a nice little alligator nightmare.  I couldn’t fall back asleep for a long time after that.  The next morning, we did a photo shoot on the water.  I was sitting in the second boat, waiting for my turn on the water.  One of the gals pointed out an alligator swimming by.   The other boat began coming closer and the alligator disappeared.   I tried to put the image out of my mind, because I knew I had to get in the water.

    Come on, Karen, nothing’s going to happen.

    Well, what if I’m the first person to get attacked on this lake?

    Don’t be silly, the alligators are scared of boats, they’ll stay away.

    All too soon, it was my turn to get in the water and my legs were shaky.   I fell on my first attempt to get up and I tried to tumble around to get back up and finally let go.   David Small was driving and he asked me if I was nervous about the photo shoot.  I could only shrug– I wasn’t about to explain my silly alligator fears at that moment.

    Later that morning, I told Keith about the alligator nightmare and he grinned at me.  “Face your fears!” he told me.

    “I face my fears every time I get in the water,” I grumbled at him.  But he was right–when you face your fears, you move beyond them.

    But that night, I had another alligator nightmare.  This time, I was watching the alligator swimming closer to me and I tried to yell at everyone in the boat.  They were talking and laughing and too far away by the time the alligator chomped on me.   And then I woke up.

    Good grief.

    Lauren’s photo came that day.  “Decide That You Want It More Than You Fear It.”  I laughed when I saw the photo– laughed at how uncanny the universe is in delivering nuggets of wisdom into our lives.   She had no idea about the fears I was juggling that week– she simply saw the quote on someone’s Facebook status and decided to turn it into an inspirational picture.

    So the next time you face something that scares you or fears that hold you back from something you want to do, decide that you want it more than you fear it.   The next time I jump into Lake Conine, I’m not going to give alligators a second thought.

  • The Last IEP Meeting

    It hit me like a ton of bricks this week when the school counselor remarked, “This is the last IEP meeting for David.”   I looked at my son sitting next to me.  How did the time fly by so fast?  He was a little toddler when Joe and I sat in on his first IEP meeting.  David had just turned three and was diagnosed with a profound hearing loss just a short time before that.  I had attended many other IEP meetings as an advocate for other families, but it was a whole new ballgame to sit in the IEP meeting as a parent.

    One of the hardest things for me to do was to put him on the bus for a 45-minute ride to school.   It was hard to trust someone else to drive my child, hard to trust someone else to care for him and protect him.  I didn’t like the bus driver, a young man who seemed distracted.  My gut feeling kept telling me that something was wrong.  A few days later, I went to get David off the bus and spied a half-smoked cigarette on the floor.   That was the last time that bus driver picked up my kid and I requested an aide on the bus after that.

    David attended a school with a deaf program for three years.  In kindergarten, the supervisor came up to me and told me that they felt the best placement for David would be in his home school district.  I struggled with that view, because I grew up solo in the mainstream– I was the only kid with hearing loss all the way up until I met Shawn Haines in high school.  Then it was solo and a friend.  I didn’t want that for my kid.  I wanted to make sure he grew up with deaf and hard of hearing peers.  So at first, I balked at the suggestion.  Joe and I had days and days of discussion, wrestling with the decision.  Should we fight to keep him in the deaf program or should we try the mainstream option?

    Finally, we came to the conclusion that we would give the mainstream option a try, with the intention of putting him back in the deaf program if it didn’t work out.  From day one, I was determined to make sure he had a different experience than what I went through growing up.   Our subdivision had built a brand new elementary school right across the street from our house and it was just about to open up.  I went in and introduced myself to the principal, Randy Vanwaning.  That turned out to be one of the best moves, because Mrs. Vanwaning stayed on our side throughout the whole elementary school experience.

    There’s a saying that I learned at a MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) conference years ago:  “Bloom where you are planted.”  Once we decided that we were going to mainstream the kids, we kept that philosophy with us.  We made the best out of it.  I volunteered at the school and in the school library so that I could get to know the staff and the teachers.  I went into class and read books to the students using sign and voice.  I became involved with local playgroups and neighbors.  The school hired an interpreter whose parents are deaf.  Mrs. Mac is still interpreting today for Steven.  Mrs. Mac started an ASL club at the school.  The music teacher embraced sign in every single concert that the school put on and Mrs. Mac volunteered her time to teach the students one song per concert.  Many of the students signed the school song at assemblies.

    There were many experiences along the way that were challenging and it wasn’t always easy. I teamed up with Janet Des Georges to write The Myth of the Perfect IEP as a result of those challenges.  I often reminded myself that it would have been the same in any environment– it’s the nature of the journey and of life.   There were times when we questioned our decisions and explored options and considered changes.  One of the most difficult IEP meetings we ever had was David’s transition to high school.  A staff member felt strongly that we should keep him in the home district.  We felt differently– we wanted David at Hinsdale South, where he would have deaf and hard of hearing peers as well as a mainstreamed education.  We couldn’t come to an agreement at that meeting.  That was a meeting where tears were shed– I’ve had a few of them over the years with the three kids for different reasons.   We worked out that agreement and it paved the way for a smooth transition for Lauren as well.

    At David’s last IEP meeting, I sat and thought about all of this as I watched him talk about his experience at the “Explore Your Future” camp to the VR counselor and the district representative.  I sat in awe as I watched him share his views of what he wanted for his future– this little boy of mine has turned into a young man– when did that happen?   I thought back to preschool, and how he cried during the Christmas show that the teachers put on.   The teachers tried to encourage him to say his lines, but all he did was sit in his chair and cry while the other kids took turns saying and signing their lines.  I look back at that time and laugh, because I have a son who can get up on stage and put on a show now.  Go figure.

    For a long time, I was the parent teaching the child–guiding David through life and sharing what I wanted him to know.  Lately, I’ve been aware of how much the roles have shifted, I’m learning things from my son.  When we head to the gym together, he teaches me things about muscle development and he becomes my coach as he runs me through drills.  “Come on Mom, you have to do one more set”– which sounds a lot like the stuff I tell him at home:  “Clean the bathroom and sweep the living room.”  Just yesterday, he made a stir-fry dinner while I was glued to the computer and I was surprised at how delicious it was.  There he was, sharing his newly-made recipe with me and teaching me how to make a better stir-fry.

    I mentor families who are just starting out on the journey of raising deaf and hard of hearing kids and the beginning of the journey always seems so overwhelming, so impossible, so challenging.  “Hang on to every bit of time that you have with your child,” I tell them.

    Because before you know it, in the blink of an eye, all of a sudden, the last IEP meeting arrives and you wonder how it went by so fast.

  • When Fear Holds You Back

    “You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”

    This quote by Eleanor Roosevelt is something that I remind myself of every now and then.  Fear is often the emotion behind the reason we hold back.  “What if…”

    One of the hardest things for me to do with my boys was to let them play football.  It wasn’t that I detested the sport (slamming others to the ground, ugh!), it was the idea that they could lose more hearing by butting their heads into someone else’s.  We have a family history of people losing their hearing from knocking around our heads:

    For many years, my family was unique when it came to stories about hearing loss. Everyone in my family, for five generations, was born with hearing in the normal range. My Mom started losing her hearing as a teen. She became deaf at the age of 27.

    “I was at a family BBQ and all of a sudden, I realized I couldn’t hear anything,” Mom shared. “I could see that lips were moving, but no sound was coming out.” Just like that, my Mom became deaf. Her five siblings also were deaf or hard of hearing.

    I have four older siblings. My sister, Linda, was almost three years old when she fell off of a chair and hit her head on the corner of a baseboard. Later that week, my Mom noticed that she wasn’t responding to people. She began to stop talking. She was diagnosed with a profound hearing loss. My brother, Dennis, grew up with normal hearing and at the age of 36, he was hit on the head by a wooden beam at work and woke up in the hospital with severe hearing loss. My sister, Jeanie, grew up with a unilateral hearing loss and around the same age as my mom, began losing more hearing. In her mid-forties, she slipped on a rug and became profoundly deaf. My brother, Kenny, developed a moderate hearing loss in his late 30’s.

    I became very sick with a high fever as a child and my parents believe it was that illness which triggered my hearing loss when I was in elementary school. My first hearing aid was given to me when I was nine– but I only wore when at school. I found that it caused headaches and tinnitus and I often took it off after school and never touched it during the summer. When I was 19, I was water skiing on my bare feet at a high speed and fell sideways into the water. For weeks, I thought I just couldn’t get the water out of my ear. I had become profoundly deaf. From that point on, hearing aids were a constant thing in my life. Years later, my brother Kenny also lost some hearing from barefooting.

    Whenever I would share my family’s story about how we all became deaf and hard of hearing, people would be incredulous at the events that lead to hearing loss. “Y’all need to stop banging your heads,” one person remarked.

    Joe and I had long, deep discussions about whether or not to let the boys play football.   We both agreed that we didn’t want this gene to hold our family back– after all, my Mom went deaf in the middle of a conversation–she had done nothing to provoke the hearing loss.   My sister did not agree with our decision, she felt we were taking too much of a risk in allowing the boys to play a contact sport.  The kids have always known they could lose more hearing at any time, but I didn’t want them tiptoeing through life.

    Last week, I found myself facing a little bit of fear that surprised the heck out of me.  I was up in Wisconsin spending three days barefooting with Joann O’Connor. We were kicking back after a great day of footin and had just finished dinner.  Joann casually suggested that I try some wake crossing the next day.  All of a sudden, I felt like the wind was knocked out of me.  “I don’t know about that,” I said.  “After all, that’s how I ended up falling and going deaf.”

    Like I said, it surprised the heck out of me.  I had long ago accepted the transition from hard of hearing to deaf and was quite comfortable with my life.  There was a little tiny piece inside of me that wanted to hang on to the little bit of hearing that I had left with hearing aids.  I already knew what it was like to be stone deaf once the hearing aids hit the nightstand.  Was I ok with being stone deaf if I whacked my head again and all of it went poof?

    Joann and I discussed it and I told her if I lost the bit of hearing that was left, I’d be ok with it.  I still wasn’t sure if I was going to tackle any wake crossing though.  Heck, I spent the entire summer trying to conquer a deep water start and I just wanted to learn to get back up on the water.  I had spent the afternoon trying one deep water start after another with no success.

    It was 6:30 a.m. when Joann and I reached for the wetsuits and headed for the boat.  “Here, try the shoe skis,” Joann suggested.   No sooner did I stand up on the shoe skis then my feet went off in two different directions and I face planted.

    “Hey, you stood up too fast!” Joann explained.  I gritted my teeth and leaned back in the water for a second try.  This time, I patiently planted my feet and got up slowly.  I could see Joann grinning from the boat.

    I looked at the wake and all of a sudden I said to myself, “What the heck!”  I went for it.  I crossed over once, crossed over twice and by the third time… I was grinning back at Joann.

    “You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”

    Good ole Eleanor was right.

  • I Married a Good Man

    I was sitting in the car repair shop this morning with my laptop on a table, getting ready to join a meeting using the Z4 videophone.  Two ladies sat nearby and one of them began talking to me.  I looked up and said, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear what you said, I’m deaf.”

    She laughed and pointed to the hearing aids perched in her ear.  “I am too, she said with a smile.”   The other lady scooted over and we began talking about videophones and webcams and I showed them the Z4 from ZVRS and explained my job.  The lady with the hearing aids had to leave and I continued to chat with the other lady.

    “I’m Sally Goodman,” she said.  “I like to tell people that I married a good man.”

    I laughed. 

    “Well, I’m Karen Putz,” I said.  “I usually tell people that I married a putz.”

    She let out a big a laugh. 

    We talked and found some neat connections between us.  Her husband is hard of hearing and her brother-in-law and several other relatives are deaf and hard of hearing.  Her daughter is an author of several books, and currently working on a non-fiction book.  Her great-grandfather founded the town of Battle Creek, Michigan. 

    She asked me if I was born deaf and I explained the deaf gene in my family and how I went from hard of hearing to deaf after a fall while barefoot waterskiing.  She shared her story of being diagnosed with MS twenty years ago and how she worked her way out of a wheelchair and back into great health again.  We exchanged emails and a hug before parting ways.

    I’m always amazed at the folks that I cross paths with in daily life– I know these are not just chance encounters, but interactions that are rich with learning and growth. 

    Every day, that circle of life just grows bigger and bigger.

  • On Being Deaf

    On Being Deaf

    Someone asked me recently, “Do you wish you could hear?”

    I had to stop and ponder that one.

    If you asked me that question when I was nineteen, shortly after I became deaf from a fall while barefooting, I would have said, “Hell, yes.”  No pause.  No reflection there.  The answer would have been simple: give me full-fledged hearing and I will dance a jig until the end of time.

    I was born with hearing in the normal range.  I can remember my Dad telling me stories about a dog named Scamp.  My Dad worked double shifts, so I would crawl into bed when he arrived home and lie there while he told me stories.  I was about five or six when the warning signs began showing– I’d misunderstand a sentence or would ask him to repeat the words.  I grew up hard of hearing and had developed lipreading skills since I was young — I was firmly entrenched in the “hearing” world and knew no sign language.

    I was miserable being hard of hearing. The struggle to lipread and understand people in group conversations was next to impossible at times. So I found my solace in books and in my small circles of friends who knew me inside out. Those friends accepted me so well and knew what to do to make communication happen.

    The last shred of what I could hear without hearing aids was gone the moment I climbed into the boat after cartwheeling on the water.  I didn’t realize it that day– I just figured I had water in my ears and it would subside.  It wasn’t until the day that I left for college that I realized that “being deaf” was here to stay.   I spent my college nights lying there in the dark and…  crying.  Grief was a heavy cloak that wrapped around me in the darkness.  I cursed the piece of electronic equipment that I stuffed into my ear each day which did nothing more than bring environmental sounds to life and made lipreading a tad easier.  I had already spent most of my life lipreading, but I could at least hear the sounds around me and turn when spoken to without the hearing aid.  After that fall, there was nothing but silence without hearing aids.  A blessing at night, indeed, when the roar of tinnitus eventually stopped.  But it wasn’t a real blessing until I was deep into the journey.

    College life was filled with deaf and hard of hearing friends; some who had arrived into the Deaf Community like me– with no knowledge of American Sign Language.  I spent my days learning to lipread the interpreters and match their lip movements to their rapid hand movements.  I took several ASL classes and slowly incorporated the language into everyday life.  Before I knew it, life had become a happy journey down this new road. I met Joe–also deaf–who later became my husband. We spent twelve years traveling with a deaf volleyball team and playing in tournaments.

    And then one day, I realized that I no longer grieved. Instead, I celebrated.  There was much to enjoy from this new life path– an amazing language, a wonderful community and a blessed acceptance that a deaf life was indeed full and beautiful. And…three deaf and hard of hearing kids.

    So, you can see why today, I pause and ponder the answer to the question, “Do you wish you could hear?”

    The answer is a complicated one.  On one hand, yes.  I close my eyes and imagine being able to hear what others are saying when I hang out in groups.  I imagine the sweet bliss of being able to go anywhere, anytime and have access to the audio jungle out there.  But there is the sweet bliss of being content with how my life has unfolded on this journey; because you see, becoming deaf didn’t rob me of life, instead, it gave me a whole, new, beautiful life.

     

    Karen Putz is known as The Passion Mentor.  Want to learn how you can live a PASSIONATE life? Schedule your 30-minute Passion Consult here:

    Schedule Your Passion Session

  • We are the World– in American Sign Language

    In early February, Jane Holtz and I dropped off our two Laurens at the Desales Family Center in Michigan so they could participate in a D-Pan weekend camp.  While Jane and I stayed in our pajamas all weekend and read books, our girls were having fun with Sean Forbes and a group of fellow campers.  They produced two videos, “We are the World” (below) and “Smile,” (coming soon) in a tribute to Michael Jackson and in recognition of the Haiti earthquake.

    Enjoy!

    Photos from the weekend:

  • Join the Z-Team at the Chicago Z-Fest!

    It’s been a busy year for the Z-Team– we’ve launched a new Z videophone: the Z4! Come and join the Z-Team at the Chicago Z-Fest on Saturday, March 20th from 5 to 8 p.m. at the Hinsdale South Cafeteria  at 7401 S Clarendon Hills Rd, Darien IL.  Pizza and pop will be provided. You’ll have a chance to meet folks from the Z-Team and learn about the four different videophones that Z provides.

    You can RSVP on the Zvrs Facebook page: Chicago Z-Fest

    And guess what, we’ve got some new services coming up– join us to find out what they are!

    Some photos from our visit with the folks from St. Louis Deaf Professional Happy Hour:

    See you at the Z-Fest!

  • Are You Ready to Leap?

    Last week, I hit the library in search of some books for a weekend getaway.  Jane and I dropped off our daughters at DeSales Center in Michigan for a workshop with Sean Forbes from D-Pan and we planned to hang at the hotel and do nothing but read all weekend.  While at the library, my eyes caught a title in the “Hot” books section: The Leap: How 3 Simple Changes Can Propel Your Career from Good to Great. 

    Hmmm, I figured, can’t hurt to know how to go from good to great where I’m at now.

    I spent Friday night wading through emails, Twittering time away, chatting with folks on the Z4 and watching the Comedy Channel.  “Ahhh, this is so nice,” I said to Jane.  “No one to interrupt me, no dishes to wash and a whole bed to myself. I could get used to this.”  Jane just smiled– she was deep into a Harry Potter book.

    Saturday morning found me submerged in the bathtub and I dove into ” The Leap.”  Written by Rick Smith, he describes it best in this paragraph:

    The Leap is a guide to personal evolution.  It’s a “good to great” manual for individuals, a book about aligning passions and skills, and about the amazing energy that gets released when we find our personal “sweet spot.”  All of us have a special place on the spectrum where the best of our ability intersects with what most inspires us.  Too few of us ever find that spot or even know it’s there. But it is there, and it’s magic.  This book will point you to it.

    And sure enough, it did.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Back in the bathtub, I dove into the first chapter where Rick describes a climb to success that ended up with him riding down the elevator after being let go by his company.  He had written a best-selling book, The 5 Patterns of Extraordinary Careers: The Guide for Achieving Success and Satisfaction and all of a sudden, he was facing the fact that his career had suddenly ended.

    Rick came up with the idea of putting together a company that would network the top well-known, highly respected executives in the world.  He named his networking group/company World50.  He faced opposition right from the beginning, with nay-sayers shooting down his idea left and right.

    His first customer turned out to be Carl Gustin.  Suddenly, I sat up in the bathtub and read on with even more interest.  Carl Gustin was the former Chief Marketing Officer for Kodak and Apple.  I had met Carl Gustin last summer in Las Vegas when he came to the Zvrs Team Week and gave a presentation.  He also sat through our each of our team presentations where we shared our marketing ideas. I could see that he was a little nervous at first, after all, it was his first opporunity to spend a day surrounded by deaf and hard of hearing folks with all the hands zipping through the air.  By the end of the day, Carl was laughing along with us.  “This company reminds me of Apple in the early days,” he told us at the end of the day.  “You guys have a lot of passion.”   Carl joined us all for dinner and I had the opportunity to chat with him and ask questions.  Soon after, he joined the board of Zvrs and has been with us ever since.

    After I finished the book, I took the “What’s Your Primary Color” analysis over at www.theleap.com.  I found myself smack dab in the middle of the spectrum, a gray-blue color:

    The book is filled with questions to explore– I’m saving those for later in the week when I can focus more on that.  I have some ideas of how I want to go from good to great this year, but I also learned that my work with Zvrs is right where I want to be– my passion and my talents are aligned with where I want to go.

    Now all I gotta do is…

    Leap.

  • Deborah Mayer, Life Coach


    Deborah S. Mayer, president and owner of Crossroad Solutions Coach, Bio:
    Deborah is a professional certified coach with training in leadership coaching at Georgetown University and Adler Professional School of Coaching-Arizona and is recognized by the International Coach Federation (ICF).
    Deborah coaches one-to-one and leads interactive workshops and retreats on life, transition and leadership development for both deaf and hearing communities.Deborah demonstrates a remarkable commitment to her clients’ growth and achievements. Deborah is a local and national educator, facilitator and a strong advocate for deaf children’s and adults’ rights. Deborah has a bachelor’s degree in deaf education from the University of Tennessee and a master’s in deafness rehabilitation and counseling from New York University. She holds professional certifications in rehabilitation counseling and rehabilitation administration from the Commission on Rehabilitation Counseling and the Post-Employment Training-Administration of Programs Serving Individuals who are Deaf, Late-Deafened and Hard of Hearing program (PET-D) at San Diego State University. Deborah is certified as a Deaf Mentor in Illinois and Parent Advisor in Missouri trained in the SKI-Hi Curriculum. Professional experiences include director/counselor in programs for deaf/HOH students at Lehman College and LaGuardia Community College, both in NYC, and outreach specialist for Relay Missouri. She provided MCPO/PEPNet with consulting, informational and training services. She taught graduate courses at Maryville University. Deborah loves learning, traveling, cooking, dancing, family life and beach walking.

    Tell me about your job– how did you get into this line of work?

    I entered the coaching field when as a deaf parent, I saw how effectively and quickly my deaf child enthusiastically responded to coaching techniques by a Parent Coach over traditional counseling approaches.
    I work with deaf and hearing individuals, families, groups, teams and leaders. Coaching sessions are anywhere in person, through videophone, webcam or video relay. I also give presentations, workshops, retreats and training sessions.
    If you are stuck at a crossroad in your life and dont know how to move forward, that is where coaching comes in.
    An advisor, counselor, psychiatrist, social worker or therapist usually focuses on the past to define current problems and tells you what to do. This is the old do-as-I say approach that deprives you of personal achievement. A coach enters a partnership  with you. You coach walks with you to discover the greatest in you. You will be empowered to create your own action plan and move forward to a fulfilling and meaningful life.

    What is the best part of your job?
    Reaching out to more people and see satisfying results.
    What are some of the challenges of your job?
    Geographical location and being visible.
    I find myself dealing with different people from all walks of life. Not one person has the same goal or desire to change.
    What was it like growing up deaf/hard of hearing?
    My generation was different than today’s generation as my deaf teenagers grew up with technology advancement.  We didn’t have captions, TTYs or even pagers. Cochlear implants did not exist yet. Education was through touch, feel and see.
    What advice would you give a deaf/hard of hearing person who is looking for a career like yours?

    I would advise deaf/ hard of hearing person to acknowledge if they are either people oriented person or hands on person before they take this job. The person would love being with people and understand the human mind and emotions with training in Human Services field before taking on coaching work.

  • Laura Nuccio, Restaurant Manager

     

    I work as a General Manager for Nibbles Play Cafe located in  Wheeling , IL.  It is a restaurant with play areas for kids ages one to seven to come and play while families dine, eat and talk away!!

    A few years after birth,  my parents found out that I had a hearing loss. Doctors back then didn’t think anything was wrong with me. My parents struggled with doctors– saying, “she’s not hearing us and responding.” My mom had german measles while pregnant  with me. Finally after going to kindergarten, the speech therapist said I had a hearing loss.  Boy, did we visit Northwestern so many times!  I’m glad I spent alot of time there learning the speech skill drills over and over.   I can read lips very well for the hearing loss I have and wear a hearing aid. This really helps my career and working with people who can hear.

    My job as a General Manager, I communicate daily with customers,  taking their orders ( remember, I have to try my best to understand the different languages) and it’s not easy to read their lips if they use a language other than English!  I communicate with my employees, my boss and they are all good to me– we get along very well. I use the phone but recently purchased a videophone with VCO built in.   This will make my life so much easier to communicate with the customers on the phone when we plan birthday parties!! I also communicate with different vendors when I need to place orders. I also communicate with children.

    We have deaf kids come to our restaurant and this really makes my day to see them! I am a former Hersey student class of 1981 and have welcomed Hersey’s job co-op program to come and volunteer to work at our place.  This gives them the experience to work in a real world and also having a “deaf” boss working there they really like that, but I try to explain it doesn’t happen everywhere you work!

    Growing up was challenging. You have people looking at you like you are from Mars, you speak funny….until they realize that you are deaf/hard of hearing.  You judge to see if people will accept you or not. You need to stand up for yourself and be strong and say I can do anything that people with normal hearing can do.

    Come and visit us at “NibblesPlayCafe” !!
    www.nibblesplaycafe.com

    my work email is :  laura@nibblesplaycafe.com