Hayley’s not looking after her hearing aids

Now Hayley is growing up, Tiger mum has to persuade her to take on responsibility for aspects of her own life and health – but it’s not always easy…

Saturday night, in the garage…

Hayley is hiding in her room. I’m fuming.

I’ve just spent the best part of an hour trying to sort out her hearing aid.

Teenager girl taking off hearing aid

It doesn’t say anything about this in the hearing aid guides, nor the NDCS video about hearing aid maintenance and re-tubing.

The problem is this tube hasn’t been touched for ages. Hayley just will not remember to re-tube or even to clean them. I nag and nag, but she seems to think it’s acceptable to just keep wearing them as long as they keep working. The most she’ll do is put a battery in when it runs out.

You’re supposed to clean them daily, I tell her repeatedly. ‘Even every couple of days would be okay,’ I bargain.

But I swear I can’t remember the last time she did it. In fact I don’t think she’s cleaned them since her last audiology appointment three months back.

Honestly!

When I put that to her earlier she looked very sheepish, so guilty she didn’t even bother snapping at me in the usual full-on, hormonal teen fashion that is the default for so many exchanges these days.

So now here we are. I’d said wouldn’t it be nice if she went to her catering job tonight with nice clean hearing aids.

She apologised for being such a slob and we’ve agreed that they’re so old and brittle, she should re-tube them.

Except that’s turned out to be easier said than done. She couldn’t remove the tube from this one, so she gave it to me. I’ve tried. I’ve pulled and twisted, even warmed it up by pouring hot water over the end of the tube, but all to no avail.

Now I’m in the garage in the dark, in the freezing cold, hunting out a pair of pliers

I return to the kitchen with a selection of tools. I pull and pull with the pliers but the tube – which has become hardened and unpliable, so won’t ease off of the hook – just flattens and extends. I’m worried I’ll snap off the hook.

I persevere for the next 20 minutes, alternating with pouring boiling water onto the tube, scalding my fingers in the process.

Hayley ventures downstairs, chances a peek around the door.

‘Any luck Mum?’

I rant on again about how ridiculous this is, and she flees back up to the sanctuary of her room.

Right. I need a sharp knife. The only way I can see to do it is to cut a little slit into the top of the tube, but without slicing through to the hook beneath.

Another five frustrating minutes later and success – I pull the tube clear.

Now for re-tubing. I call Hayley down so she can be involved, and she gets on and snips the new tube into a sharp point to thread through the mould.

It’s done. She whisks off to work just in time, complete with hygienic hearing aids.

Now I’ve written it on the calendar in bold red, every three days: HHA – Hayley Hearing Aids. Clean them. She’s promised to do it.

I can’t believe other people do it every day – do they?

Why not comment below and let Tiger Mum know how often you or your child cleans their hearing aids?

Hayley’s not hiding her hearing aids

Sunday afternoon, at home on my mobile

Ping! Hayley’s posted more photos on Facebook from New Year’s Eve.

She went to stay with a mate for the celebrations – a sign of the times, Hayley being 17 now and it being far too boring at home with the folks.

The photos show Hayley and friends, a happy bunch, all glamour and smiles for their group shots.
teenage girl hearing aid
Scrolling through, I can tell that she was feeling confident as she got ready to party with her friends and others, friends of friends she’d never met before.

I know because her hair is in an ‘up’ do.

It’s often possible to gauge Hayley’s confidence levels by her hairstyle, up or down, tucked behind her ears or brushed over them.

I remember back to last year when she went to registration day on her Hospitality and Catering college course – out into the big world of strangers, beyond the smallish community where we live, where she’s been around the same familiar peer group since nursery.

As we got ready to drive to college that September morning, I noticed Hayley wasn’t wearing her left hearing aid (her slightly better ear). She had her hair tucked behind that ear and swept across to the other side, covering her hearing aid in her right ear (which is more severely deaf).

I asked her where the missing hearing aid was. Hayley shook her head, smoothed her hair further over her existing one.

“I don’t want people to know I’m deaf or wear hearing aids.”

This was a first. She’d worn them since the age of seven and never seemed to mind before; they were part of her.

“But why, love?”

“Because people treat you differently.”

Really?

“Yes mum – if they know you have something wrong with you, whatever it is, like special needs or even if you’re diabetic, they see you differently and treat you differently.”

But…

“Yes I know they’re going to see my hearing aids eventually because I have to tie my hair back and wear a chef’s skull cap.” Looking defiant now. “But I want to get to know them and make friends first, before they judge me.”

Wow. She’d really thought this through. My heart gave a little ouch, thinking of her preparing for the big day meeting all the other new students. Most teenagers would be feeling self-conscious pangs of doubt, wondering how they measure up, how they’ll fit in. She had an extra insecurity to wrangle with.

And I can’t fault her thinking. She’s right, people do make judgements. Who am I to instruct her to bold it out, stick with what is righteous, when this is the real world and not a politically correct one.

Anyway, within a week Hayley was comfortable enough to go back to two hearing aids, hair scraped back for kitchen duty. She’s made good friends who accept her and her confidence has grown.

And that’s what shines out in the party photos…

Please note photo is not of Hayley.

Hayley gives as good as she gets!

Hayley’s growing up and developing a thicker skin. Increased confidence from being at college and plenty of stick from her brothers over the years have matured her nicely, making sense of humour failure much more a thing of the past.

Friday night, in the kitchen…

“Are you completely mad?” A question for Hayley from younger brother Harry, who’s exchanging ‘d’oh!’ looks with older brother Lee, before both of them double over laughing. Hayley is of course the butt of their humour. That’s brothers for you, deaf sister or not.

“You really think there’s a horse in the fridge?” splutters Lee. Hayley shoots them each a glare, but it’s only friendly fire. She’s too busy getting ready for a Christmas party with her college mates to care about their mickey-taking.

Teenage-girl-smiling

“Well that’s what it sounded like,” she says, with dignity and a withering look, taking advantage of their incapacity by whipping a big slice of pizza out of their boys’ night in takeaway box.

Someone had just said something about the sauce being in the fridge and Hayley thought they said horse. Hayley shrugs it off. She’s come a long way. In some ways I think her deafness and the challenges that arise from it have been character forming, toughened her up some, and that’s no bad thing. Her brothers of course should know better. Deafness doesn’t make you stupid or crazy, it just means you can’t hear accurately and it’s not funny.

But the problem is, sometimes the resulting absurdity is funny, even though I’m certain that’s not politically correct. Luckily Hayley sees it that way too. Being able to laugh at yourself has to be one of the best defences, as well as an appealing trait. And it’s all good practice for the idiots you meet in this life.

I recently had a jarringly unfunny incident while at the opticians. In conversation it came up that I write this blog for NDCS. The professional’s witty riposte? “Pardon?!” followed by riotous laughter at his own joke. I just stared at him. Unbelievable. It was meant to be harmless ‘fun’ but laughing just because someone’s deaf is clearly not funny.

But worse than this was an advert in one of the free mags that plops on the doormat every month, and it keeps coming back to me, because it was so insulting. It was a page selling ‘invisible’ hearing aids, and the premise was that hearing aids are an unsightly embarrassment. The text included a reference to no one having to have ‘banana-like’ things in their ears. It was truly outrageous, at the level of childhood name-calling, insensitive, damaging and wrong in every way. The magazine disappeared into the recycling bin and I didn’t get the chance to complain, which is probably why it keeps bugging me.

But I think there’s a vast difference between such insensitive insults and life throwing some ridiculously absurd moments at you.

Hayley agrees. And she gives as good as she gets. “Enjoy your saddo night in, losers!” she smiles, and sashays out the door.

Please note image is not Hayley

Beating the bully

Hayley has been thriving at catering college, taken to it like a duck to hoisin sauce. Now something’s stirred things up and Hayley’s panicking…

Tuesday morning, at the computer

‘Mum, what am I going to do? It’ll ruin everything!’

It had to come. The transition to college had run too smooth since Hayley started in September.

But this is a nightmare. Yesterday Hayley came rushing home, slamming the door behind her like the enemy was after her, hell bent on her destruction. Which is kind of true.

Teenage girl covering her face

A bully from Hayley’s old school had turned up like a bad penny, transferring onto her course then being put into Hayley’s tiny learning group of four.

And to add insult, this enemy is not especially hell bent on her destruction, not one of her arch enemies, just a casual bully who takes mild pleasure in humiliating her.

For the last year of school This Girl made a point of ‘hilariously’ addressing her as Laura, some poor girl in their year who was obese and a figure of ridicule, because she said Hayley looked like her.

It ruined Air Cadets for Hayley when this bully joined. Hayley had been there three years, loved it, earned respect from other cadets and the officers. It was a boost from the struggle she had at school academically and socially.

But then This Girl arrived, started the bullying name game and succeeded in corralling off a friend Hayley had made there, then shutting Hayley out.

Along with others from school, she’s been on Hayley’s train each morning, attending another course at the same college. Hayley’s been walking a knife edge as the ‘Laura’ humiliation continued.

But to think she was now on the same course where Hayley’s made a fresh start is unbearable.

I had no intention of being involved in the nitty gritty of her college life, but I’d no choice. I emailed the lecturer, explained how Hayley had struggled with bullying issues throughout secondary school, which This Girl had been part of – and how even now on the train it was continuing.

Starting college had been the most amazing feeling for Hayley, a fresh start full of hope. Now she faced the prospect of the baggage following.

I acknowledged that it can’t be easy to please everyone, but I was talking about a girl who’d struggled, vulnerable because of her deafness – which for many children with hearing loss so often leads to isolation and social exclusion – and also social communication difficulties.

I said how in spite of the challenges, which had often left her utterly miserable and without friends, Hayley remains incredibly game and sociable. She’s been so happy at college, making new friends and getting on well, the clean slate with a more mature environment we’ve all desperately wanted for her.

I begged the lecturer at least not to have them in the same learning group.

And you know what? She emailed right back this morning saying she’d immediately take her out of Hayley’s group, that she’d monitor things and we should keep her updated of any problems.

Jaw dropping. I text Hayley. These people have already done more in one swoop than her school did for her in all her time there.

If you are deaf and being bullied, or if you have a deaf child who is being bullied, check out NDCS’s free resources.

A great start at college

College life turns out to be keeping Hayley pretty busy but also very happy

Saturday morning, in the garden…

I’m standing by the washing line pegging out flappy rows of little white chef’s jackets and aprons, making the most of this glorious autumn sunshine.

Hayley is four weeks in at her catering and hospitality course at college, and after the initial packed itinerary of welcome meetings, admin, food hygiene exams and general sorting out, they got down to work pretty quickly.

This has been the busiest week yet. Hayley and her fellow students have been cooking a range of delights for the restaurant at college, including pea soup, the vivid hues of which I’ve just about managed to get out of the chef’s whites (who was it thought of making chef’s uniforms white…!)

Teacher Helping Students Training To Work In Catering

And Hayley is in bed, having a well-earned lie in.

It’s been full on, very different from the school days that saw her home by 3.20pm each day.

She’s now got long days and an hour’s train commute, so most often she’s out the door by 7.25am, and likely not back in until 6.30pm. Then there are the early starts two days a week when they have to prepare food for breakfast in the restaurant, so she’s gone from here by 6.45am – before I’m even out of bed!

But the amazing thing is that she’s doing it. And she’s managing it all by herself – by that, I mean classes and college life too. And she’s happy. Bingo!

After all the struggles through school years – with her deafness, specific learning difficulties, slow processing skills, friendship and bullying issues, rubbish support from school – she seems to be not just coping but flying.

And it’s just as well because I’ve barely seen her to ask, let alone had a chance to offer help of any sort.

Whereas at school there’s still that umbilical tie to your offspring, communicating with teachers, flurries of emails about progress/homework/uniform, and you’re kept in the loop as the parent ultimately responsible – suddenly it’s cast off time. It’s all down to them whether they sink or swim.

We’ve managed only a few snatched little conversations or texts from the train, because she’s been very busy with her social life too, going out with new friends straight after college (yes!!).

But she can hear okay with just her hearing aids, in the small classrooms and apparently even in the huge kitchens; her lecturers make sure she knows what she should be doing. She seems to be able to keep up with note taking and understand everything.

She’s exhausted but she’s loving her new life at college, making great headway, no intention of sinking.

It was a bit alien, and worrying, not being able to grill her closely about how she’s coping, but as it turns out no there’s no need for me to be concerned or even involved. It feels strange but liberating to be free from micro managing Hayley’s life and she certainly seems happy with the situation.

Making sure Hayley’s needs are met at college

It’s a whole new phase of life for Hayley as she prepares for her first term at college. She and Tiger Mum are determined to make sure her needs will be met from the outset…

Tuesday morning, outside Hayley’s college

Hayley and I are walking away from the vast buildings of the college that will be her new base for the next two years. We’ve been to a meeting with Dan from the additional needs team. The college seemed keen on promoting the support they can offer, so that gives me big hope. But then, bearing in mind how the special educational needs co-ordinator (SENCO) at Hayley’s secondary school was full of talk when Hayley started – of the support they could offer, how Hayley’s needs would be communicated to her subject teachers – and how little of it came to fruition, I’m wary. At college there’s no involvement from the Teacher of the Deaf who assessed Hayley termly at school, so I found myself feeling quite business-like about asking exactly what support they can provide.

Students in a school hallway

Dan asked what support we wanted – exam access arrangements please (25% extra time and a separate room), we said, like she had at school. I explained that her deafness and slow processing skills entitled her to it. Dan said they’d give her a 45-minute writing assessment, then decide what support she needed. He said they’d put her on a six-week support trial initially, with copies of notes taken by the support and learning assistant (SLA) each lecture, plus help with assignments, then decide how much of it was needed ongoing.

So far, so good.

Battle-weary and wiser, I asked whether staff had any deaf awareness knowledge or training. I said I could send them some NDCS resources to help. He confidently responded that there were two BSL signers, and assistive technology. That’s great, but Hayley doesn’t use sign or radio aids. I tested the water a bit further, mentioning classroom acoustics. Dan said Hayley could sit at the front by the lecturer. I said there was more to it than that – Hayley needed to be able to see the lecturer’s face clearly so she could lipread.

I said deaf awareness was important; lecturers needed to realise that answers given by Hayley’s classmates in response to questions form part of the information everyone takes in – but would be lost on Hayley if they were sat behind her and she couldn’t see/hear them. A simple remedy is the lecturer always relaying the answers back to the class, so that Hayley too has the information.

Dan was clearly unaware of the issues, floundered a bit and said he’d never worked with deaf students before, so I again offered to send some NDCS resources, and he said okay.

As we walked to get our train afterwards, I expected a telling-off from Hayley about being difficult and embarrassing her, but was surprised when none came. “They seem much more helpful than school were,” she said, sounding hopeful. “Especially if they get the information.”

So that’s both of us that have moved on then. Cause a fuss, call them out. Don’t be fobbed off or assume they know best and will put everything into place. We made that mistake before.

Results day!

It’s GCSE results day, the moment of truth for thousands of 16-year-olds across the country. As Hayley goes into school to learn her results, Tiger Mother can only wait, bottle of bubbly and box of tissues at the ready, not knowing which will be needed…

Thursday morning, pacing the hallway

I’m trying to busy myself but can’t concentrate so I’ve given into wearing a path around the house, waiting for Hayley to come back from school where she’s finding out her GCSE results. I’m trying to be prepared for celebration and joy or commiseration and disappointment. Or all of the above!

Results day, I can’t believe it’s come at last. We’d pretty much put it to the back of our minds throughout the summer, it seemed a far-off distance on the hazy, sunny horizon.

Teenage Girl Happy With Good Exam Results

Then yesterday when the tension started hotting up, the ‘eek, it’s tomorrow!’ chatter among friends, family and classmates started building, it brought it sharply back into focus.

When I asked Hayley last night if she was feeling nervous, as many of my friends’ children confessed to, she just shrugged.

“I don’t really care anymore, I know I should but I don’t. As long as I do alright in Food Tech,” was the response.

Very down to earth and eminently practical – which is what Hayley is and why she’s heading for a career in catering and hospitality.

She doesn’t want to go to university, so why should she mind as long as she has what she needs to get into college to do her chosen course.

I’m fighting the impulse to run from the house, swallowing back little laughter squeaks of nervousness. I’m also practical, but I can’t bear the idea of Hayley being disappointed with dire fails.

The front door opens, she’s got the envelope in her hands. She’s waving it, she’s smiling, but she’s on the phone to her big brother Lee, who’s called from work to see how she got on.

“Well?!” me and her younger brother Harry shriek, crowding round her trying to get the envelope out of her hands.

So she clicks off from the phone and holds out the results letter.

She’s got two Cs (Food Tech and Art), a Pass and a Merit (in BTEC Science), plus a temporary Q (‘to be queried’ apparently) which is predicted to be a Pass (in Travel and Tourism), and a good IT supplementary exam which is a GCSE equivalent.

I make that just the right amount to get into her Diploma in Hospitality and Catering.

Phew! Big PHEW!

Okay, English was an E and Maths was a D – so close, all that hard work she put into it, it’s a shame. The tragic thing is it means it will stalk her for the next two years at college until she gets a C, the same for English.

But what the heck. Work in progress. The main thing is Hayley’s got what she needs to be on her way to the career she’s desperate to be in. She’s a very happy and excited chef in the making.

Big hugs, no tissues, the champagne is chilling ready for popping when all the family’s home.

Let the future begin…

Has your deaf child just got their results? Feel free to comment below :)

*Please note image is not of Hayley