Can Hayley stand the heat of the kitchen?

Hayley has a new job and is experiencing the real world of work – but can she stand the heat of the kitchen?

Sunday night, waiting in the car

Here she comes, emerging from the dim light cast from the pub windows and climbing into the car. She’s happy, cheeks flushed from a hectic night in the kitchen, looking very professional in her black mandarin collar uniform shirt.

Hayley’s got a new job and she’s in her element. She’s a part-time kitchen assistant in a fine dining pub. On busy nights it’s pot washing and clearing up, on quiet nights the two chefs let her help with the food preparation so she can learn her trade. It’s a great job to go with her college course in hospitality and catering; the students are expected to find a part-time job to build their experience and supplement their college skills. The pay’s not bad either, and the girl is rather partial to earning money.

Teacher Helping Students Training To Work In Catering

I have wondered before now whether Hayley’s chosen career in catering will pose problems. A commercial kitchen seems to be a very noisy, hectic place with challenging acoustics: pots and pans clattering, food preparation equipment making a racket, blending, mixing and chopping, cooking food hissing, bubbling and crackling, and stressed staff under pressure, too busy to think about deaf awareness. There’s likely to be no time in the heat of the moment to make sure they turn to face a colleague with hearing loss in order for them to be able to lip-read.

It’s something that’s been an undercurrent of concern but of course I’ve never voiced my worries to Hayley. Where there’s a will there’s a way and I’m sure there are many deaf chefs and other kitchen staff who manage really well.

Hayley’s been in the job for two months now and it doesn’t seem to have become a problem. It’s a very small kitchen, though a very busy one, so that probably helps. And the chefs are kind, friendly and patient and so far they’re really pleased with Hayley’s progress. She’s willing to learn and enthusiastically gets on with all the tasks they set her. And she seems to pass muster when the kitchen’s at its frenzied peak, when the food orders hit the fan and the chips are down, so to speak.

Though Hayley did surprise me when she came home shocked by some of the ripe language and outbursts that fill the kitchen when the going gets hot.

“Hayley, have you really never watched any of the chef programmes on the telly?” I ask her.

“Well yes but that’s on the telly,” says Hayley. “And the chefs are really nice so I didn’t expect it.” Not that she’s bothered, just surprised; she finds it quite funny. And none of it has been directed at her so far, so that’s a bonus!

Hayley’s loving being in the real world of work and she knows what to do if she can’t stand the heat – but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.

Please note image is not of Hayley

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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.

Deaf awareness at Christmas

Day after Boxing Day, busy Christmas household

I knock gently on Hayley’s door and peer round to see her sitting up in bed, duvet pulled up to her chin, headphones on.

“Thanks Mum.” She smiles gratefully, taking the hot water bottle and paracetamol I give her.

She’s not ill, just suffering from a headache and taking some time out away from the madness.

If there’s one thing Hayley loves it’s Christmas. She’s very sociable, loves parties, adores her little nephew and young cousins and is addicted to chocolate – what’s not to love!

But over the years I’ve realised it’s not the easiest time for her, as deafness brings extra challenges when there’s so much going on and an onslaught of guests.

Christmas dinner

There’s the obvious increase in chaotic noise levels, with everyone chattering at once, making it hard for Hayley to follow. She often ends up with a headache from her hearing aids amplifying all the extra noise.

And many of the visitors are people we don’t see too often so they are not deaf aware, and this adds to stress and sense of exclusion for Hayley when she can’t easily join in.

One likely flashpoint is the dinner table. Mealtimes with a dozen or more people crowded round, all talking over the clatter and scraping of plates is a minefield for Hayley.

As well as the din she struggles to follow the pinball nature of the conversation ricocheting around the table, as well as not being easily able to lipread because she can’t see everyone’s face.

So she often misses bits or perhaps the main point. Someone – usually me, her dad or her brothers – will stop to explain to Hayley what she’s missed. It makes for an interrupted flow of conversation, which we’re used to, but visitors don’t always understand or show patience and consideration towards her.

Hayley often ends up feeling excluded, leaving her very frustrated and giving her self-esteem a bit of a hammering, even more so when she picks up on the exasperation of some guests.

We of course want to avoid these situations, but don’t want to make a big deal of it which would embarrass Hayley and make our visitors feel they’re being lectured, so it’s a tricky balance. We just tend to drop in deaf awareness tips casually and hope guests pick up on it and follow the example of the rest of us.

These seasonal gatherings of non-deaf aware visitors are also a prime time for over use of the ‘Oh it doesn’t matter’ response when Hayley says ‘pardon?’ It is a huge insult to someone who is deaf – the phrase is banned in our house – and likely to make her blood boil.

“If it’s important enough to bother saying to everyone else, then why aren’t I important enough to bother repeating it for me?” she quite rightly used to challenge her brothers.

They’ve grown up learning why it’s important and will repeat it to others who fall foul of the rule. Hopefully other guests catch on too.

One thing’s for sure, over the years things have got easier to deal with. We know that time out for a bit of peace and quiet is a good idea for keeping Hayley’s equilibrium.

And with Hayley and her brothers maturing, and perhaps deaf awareness messages getting through to the odd guest, the extra stresses and challenges of having a deaf child are definitely easing – shame I can’t say the same about the rest of Christmas!

Please note the image is not of Hayley.