This year marks the centenary of the founding by the Dominican Nuns of the School for Deaf Girls at Cabra, Ireland. Today that school is one of the largest and most successful of schools for the deaf in the world. Two years ago the New Zealand Dominicans opened a Catholic school for deaf children at 15 Dover Street, Island Bay, Wellington. The following article by E.C.M. records the impressions of a Wellington journalist who visited the school recently. The work is growing steadily and both needs and deserves the generous support of the Catholic people. In order that NO deaf child in this country should be deprived of thorough Catholic training and tuition, Catholics everywhere should gladly do whatever they can to aid the Sisters in this grand work.
To look at them they seem no different from other happy, healthy children of five to seven years of age, starry-eyed and eager. That is just what they are, in fact, but with a difference. They are deaf. They were born deaf, and here at St. Dominic’s School for the Deaf, at Island Bay, Wellington, they are being taught, from the age of five years, to overcome this unfortunate deficiency. Here with infinite tact, patience and understanding, the three Sisters who make up the teaching staff, are putting into those little lives something that has been denied them.
Without that careful teaching and gentle encouragement these children would face a silent and somewhat empty existence, lacking the full comfort of human contact and friendliness, and deprived of that completeness of living that should be everyone’s right. In short, the door to a new world is being opened to them, and they seem to know it.
VALUABLE CONTRIBUTIONIn their own unobtrusive way this school and others like it are making a contribution of immeasurable value to society. They are fitting these handicapped children to take their place in the community as useful citizens, and to that extent the community is the gainer.
In the happy surroundings at St. Dominic’s, with its sunny classrooms and dormitories, twenty-one little tots, as yet unaware of their defect, find that life is full of fun and interesting discoveries. It is opportune at this point to recall that the Dominican Nuns established their first school for the deaf children exactly 100 years ago. They were the first nuns in the United Kingdom to qualify for this special branch of education, and their first school, the Cabra Institution, was founded at Cabra, in Ireland.
In the hundred years that have passed their influence has spread throughout the world. Eighty-three years ago they opened a school for the deaf in South Africa; in 1875 they opened their first Australasian school; and on March 5, 1944, the first Catholic school for the deaf in New Zealand, St. Dominic’s was opened by His Grace Archbishop O’Shea. The people of Wellington, irrespective of creed, helped to establish the school. A large house with good grounds was obtained, and detached classrooms were erected for the twelve foundation pupils. These were outgrown by increasing needs, and further additions were made, until today a substantial block of buildings marks the site of the school.
DUMB BECAUSE DEAF
At one time it was the fashion to describe the congenitally deaf child as a deaf-mute, but as education of the deaf progressed it was found that children who are born deaf are, in the majority of cases, only dumb until they have been taught to reproduce speech.
And this is what is being done at St. Dominic’s. These little tots are being taught to speak, and they may re-enter public at school until they are 17 years of age. By that time their training will have been finished, and they will be ready to earn their own living. Naturally their choice of vocation is limited, but there are very many positions in which their manual skill and keen minds can find profitable expression.
There are three classrooms at St. Dominic’s, graded according to the stage of learning of the pupils; each with its polished floor and gay visual charts is a bright and attractive place.
When I visited the school the kiddies – the girls in their navy blue uniforms and white blouses, and the boys in grey – were assembled in class, and a more cheerful and intelligent lot of children it would have been hard to meet. To the ordinary observer they were normal children, neat and tidy, a little restless, and with a twinkle in their eye. If this was school then it was obviously good fun.
There was one quality about their demeanour, however, that immediately asserted itself. That was their alertness. Those bright eyes never missed a thing.
The Sister spoke in a low conversational tone: “Margaret, have you your reader?”
Margaret, a pretty little brunette, aged six, flashed back a responsive and understanding look, smiled and dived under her desk for the book. She took it to the Sister. Margaret is a Wellington pupil.
“Jean,” said the Sister to a slight rosy-cheeked miss, “come and read this for me.” Jean marched forward, but shyness overcame her, and Sister asked Clare, a confident and beaming little lady, to name the pictures of animals and other objects in the book.
It was no trouble to Clare, who comes from Christchurch. Keeping her eyes intently on the Sister’s lips for her instructions she made with her own lips sounds she would never hear. Her pronunciation was a tribute to the effectiveness of visual aid training.
It was Jean who, at the almost whispered instruction of Sister, went round the room pointing out with a ruler the various coloured pictures named. There was no hesitation. I had the impression that Jean had heard every word Sister had said.
Then there was Edwin, a little half-caste Maori, who knew his drill well. He watched the teacher’s lips, and it was no difficulty to him to pick out a motor-car, a horse and a plane.
Collectively the children obeyed commands with a readiness and understanding that were astonishing. Whether it was to get their cardigans on, or to assemble for the march to the play-room, one found it difficult to believe that they were not children of normal hearing.
MODERN METHODS
The Sister told me that they were all very quick and anxious to learn.
“We have to teach them to make the elementary sounds at first,” she said. “The child is shown how to use his sight and his sense of touch to take the place of hearing.”
“Yes, they are very good. They are more attentive than the normal child. They have to concentrate more on what the teacher is telling them.”
The Sister said that the average child was not long in picking up the sounds of letters. They realised they were being helped, and responded accordingly. They managed the letters of the alphabet all right, though most of them found the vowel “e” and the consonants “b,” “k,” and “g” hard to master. After they had learned the letters they were taught their own names and small words. Their written work was good, and they were very proficient at manual work, such as knitting.
The system in modern schools like St. Dominic’s is fully oral. The use of sign language is out of date, and has obvious drawbacks. Gestures however, do enter into the attempts of one child to communicate with another, but they spring from entirely natural impulses.
SPIRIT OF JOY
At St. Dominic’s the pupils are mostly boarders. They come from various parts of New Zealand—Southland, Blenheim, Wanganui, Christchurch, Ngaruawahia, and so on.
With their bright dormitories and their tidy beds, their spick-and-span dining room, and their large playroom, with its hosts of toys, there is created an atmosphere of comfort and cheerfulness. This, with the bright academic side of their existence, imparts to this little community a spirit of joyful living that is a delight to behold.
It is good to know that there are those who, in their own quiet and unsung way, are prepared to devote their time and skill to repairing this unfortunate imperfection, thereby opening up for their little charges the prospect of a more spacious and productive future.
