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In Place of the Old-Fashioned Finger-Language the Deaf-Mute Child Now Learns The Use of His Voice and Reads the Speaker's Lips

IMAGINE living in a world of eternal silence, where sound is something as inconceivable and beyond understanding as sight to those born blind! Yet such is the fate of one child out of every fifteen hundred. That these deaf children need no longer be segregated in institutions and denied the pleasure of home ties and associations has been thoroughly demonstrated by a remarkable public day-school system of oral work. A few hours spent in such a school will afford the observer convincing proof that the absence of hearing no longer need deprive a child of speech.

The visitor who approaches a day school for the deaf at the regular morning hour will see pupils of all ages and sizes trooping happily into the building. Nor will he observe any marked peculiarities or difference in their appearance as compared with other schoolchildren. This also holds true in the assembly room where they gather every morning for their training in citizenship. As they stand to salute the flag, it is astonishing to hear nearly two hundred voices raised in unison. Even if the words were not already familiar they could be easily understood, the articulation of the pupils is so distinct and rhythmical.

How even deaf children learn to reproduce the speech they never hear is marvelous. In one class of beginners, the children may be seen grouped about the teacher for a lesson in lip-reading. All were totally deaf and, until they came to the school a few months previously, their repertoire limited to inarticulate laughing and crying. They knew no objects by name, not even the traditional "cat" and "dog," yet in a short time they not only "found" their voices, but learned the names of many objects also.

To accomplish this takes days and weeks of patient work on the part of both teachers and pupils. It is doubtful whether the task ever would be accomplished were it not for the love and sympathy infused into every word of instruction. Over and over again the children articulate consonants and vowels and combinations of letters.

"Maurice, say 'car,'" the teacher says. He does so but inarticulately.

"No, that will never do," says the teacher, smiling. "You must speak distinctly."

The child struggles manfully with the word, keeping his eyes fixed intently on the teacher's lips; but not until she thrusts her forefinger gently into his mouth, and lightly places his tongue back against his soft palate, does the child master the word.

When the children first come to school they have no idea of vibration, and the understanding has to be awakened. To accomplish this, the teacher sits with a guitar on her lap, grouping the children about her in a semicircle, so that they may watch the lesson closely. One child at a time stands beside her and places the palm of his hand on the guitar, keeping his eyes closed. The teacher twangs the bass string of the instrument and the moment the vibration ceases the child opens his eyes. A daily repetition of this programme with each child gives the desired results.

Both "k" and "g" are especially difficult for the children, as these letters are formed at the back of the tongue. As this member has never been exercised or developed by articulate speech prior to school days, it has to learn all these new labial games of hide-and-seek. That is why teacher is compelled to use the tongue-manipulator so frequently in the beginning, on the little new children. The tongue and palate that have never before had even a bowing acquaintance must be properly introduced by the aid of this small instrument.

It is a wonderfully interesting game to the children. Teacher gathers them all about her in their little low chairs, and hands each child a mirror, keeping one for herself. Then she sits in front of them and, with her mirror before her, shows the children how to keep the tongue very still by letting it lie flat in the mouth. This, she explains, is the first step toward getting control of the tongue.

After this period of relaxation the tongue is exercised more vigorously by thrusting it out as far as possible, then drawing it back quickly. Each child consults his or her mirror gravely, forgetful of everything but the tongue, which is constantly compared with the teacher's for the obtaining of flexibility, though they do not know it by that name.

The lip-reading of many of the pupils is so excellent, that they receive correctly the communications of their teachers from across the room. This was particularly noticeable in the two advanced classes, one of which will graduate this month. These pupils have not only developed unusual speech-reading ability, but they speak with ease and fluency.

"I learned to read the lips here," said one lad in the 8-A class. "I could not read them before," he added, distinctly, as he took his place at the board for an oral lesson in Bell's Visible Speech.

"A sound wave consists of condensations and refractions under waves," articulated a lad distinctly from the board explanation.

The 8-B class were having a reading drill in "The Blue and the Gray," which they recited in unison, with beautiful accent and rhythm. It was a remarkable piece of reading, considering the fact that the pupils are "deaf-mutes."

When the Board of Education of New York City opened this school two years ago it was looked upon as an experiment. Now it is recognized throughout the United States as an unqualified success. From an enrolment of forty-eight pupils in 1908 with ten classes it now has nearly two hundred pupils and nineteen classes, including shop-work, cooking, painting, drawing, and sewing. The first class to be graduated will be that of 1911. It is the aim of the school to qualify the pupils to enter the trades and professions, and to be self-supporting.

The principal chosen was a woman who had taught the deaf before entering the Public School system. All her associates were as carefully selected from prominent institutions for the deaf. In no other school in New York does one feel such an atmosphere of love and helpfulness. The classes are limited to ten pupils each, so each child has the benefit of individual work. The majority of the pupils come from within two or three, miles of the school, many parents having moved into the neighborhood to give their children the benefit of this day-school instruction in lip-reading. But some come a distance of ten miles or more daily. In many cases mothers bring their children from Brooklyn, Bronx, Queens, and Richmond, calling for them again when school is dismissed.

Statistics of the last year show that there are 12,000 deaf pupils in various schools in the United States alone. That the majority of these are taught by oral methods and read the lips perfectly, proves that they are not "dumb" on account of lack of hearing, but lack of instruction. The child usually designated as "deaf and dumb" has as perfect a vocal organization as the speaking child.