The Hearing Loss Spectrum, Between the Hearing World and Deaf Culture
July 10, 2015
Gene Therapy Restores Hearing in Mice
July 24, 2015The Before and After of Biology Class
Anybody who asked me about biology six years ago would know my unwavering response: “I hate biology and can’t wait for it to be over!”
Biology started strong with top grades, but within a month they started declining — a consistent trend in my science classes between ages twelve and sixteen, due to an increase in class pace and my hearing loss worsening. The teacher would use strange words I could not inference and lecture while drawing on the blackboard. The strain to hear in such circumstances often ended in migraine headaches.
I thought junior year would be free from this trend, after my surgeon declared me “cured” with the success of my ninth surgery. When it turned out not to be, I blamed my poor performance on simply being stupid, until I realized that my teacher’s voice fell right within my worse frequencies. The migraines should have been a dead giveaway, considering they had a knack for arriving right in the middle of biology class. Denial and my fear of permanent disability kept me from admitting I could not hear, causing me to not get a hearing aid until after biology came to an end.
Fast forward to the year after I graduated from college; I opened an invitation to my high school reunion, initially thinking that I did not want to go. My mind changed, however, when I saw the one of the classes alumni would be able to visit: “Ms. Warren: Biology.”
One thing I always regretted about not wearing my hearing aid sooner was the academic material I missed, and the fact that I could never return to that classroom again. Though it was only for a day, rather than a year, reunion gave me the opportunity to travel backwards in time, and truly learn the biology I thought I had lost forever. One Joan Jett jacket, fully prepared hearing aid, and front row seat later, I was ready for class!
The return to Ms. Warren’s class was certainly full of surprises — the two most obvious ones being that Ms. Warren’s hair grew to her shoulders blades from a pixie, and the elementary school students I taught in ninth grade were all teenagers. Among the alumni, I was the youngest in the class, and amid the students, I was recognized instantly for my wild dress. Both Ms. Warren and the students gave me a warm welcome, and opened the door to the world of genetics.
We began by observing single-allele traits, where the dominant gene in a heterozygous pair determines the manifested trait, unless there is a homozygous pair of recessive genes. Slowly, we meandered to incomplete dominance, where a heterozygous pair represents a hybrid of two separate traits. An alumna with a sister researching blood disorders became very excited as we discussed the most famous multiple allele trait: blood types. Every single student, alumna, and Ms. Warren secretly rejoiced when we dissected sex-linked disorders; boys, you are royally screwed for so many illnesses because of your Y (or should I say, “why?”) chromosome.
It was in this lesson that I found my greatest surprise: I was able to keep up, respond to questions, and even let bad biology jokes roll off my tongue. Ms. Warren’s voice had a clarity I had never known during my high school years. Regardless of where she stood in that classroom, I was able to mostly understand her voice. Gone was the strain that made me dizzy and sick. Destroyed were the feelings of stupidity that gripped my mind every time I even thought about science. I had accomplished what I had previously believed was impossible: going back to old classrooms, and retrieving lessons stolen by hearing loss. Once the strain to hear was removed by a hearing aid, biology class became quite fun, and a prime opportunity for smartly planned absurdities.
Alumni and students bonded over a class project, where we had to create our own species. My group and I decided to study Pikachu genetics, and we had lots of fun devising our own Pika-traits. In moments where the students struggled with concepts, I was often the one to re-explain them — something I never thought I would do in a science class.
With a hearing aid, I became the one helping other students, rather than the student who needed help just to understand. Together, the students and I laughed over the crazy Pikachu genes we created, but inside my own mind, I laughed with joy of being fully present in biology class. When re-telling this experience to my former classmates afterwards, I was met with reactions of amazement; one even said, “That’s so cool that you get to re-experience biology with hearing.”
Nothing can rewind time or make up for what I lost before I got my hearing aid. With that being said, biology class showed me how far I have come and how much I have gained in the past six years. Permanent disability was nowhere near as bad I believed it to be at age seventeen. Biology class is actually a lot of fun instead of a judgment of my value, intelligence, and worth as a human. Questions about class material were a prime opportunity for science jokes instead of a test to prove I could hear.
Though I know a lot of these fears originate inside of my mind, I would not have been able to confront them without a hearing aid. Returning to biology fully out as an intelligent disabled individual was a chance to gain confidence, release my fears, and truly enjoy the beauty of science. Now instead of hating biology, I will remember it fondly as a place where I confronted my past self, and read about it whenever I get the chance!
