A bright-eyed little lass, aged six, smartly picked up her book, stepped forward and placed it on the teacher’s desk. This sort of thing happens every day in every school, no doubt, but in this particular school on this particular day it had a special significance. For Margaret was stone deaf. Yet the teacher’s purposely low-voiced instruction registered immediately, because Margaret could tell from her teacher’s lips just what she was saying.
Margaret is one of some 21 kiddies, aged from five to seven years, who, for the most part born deaf, are receiving special instruction at St. Dominic’s School for the Deaf at Island Bay, Wellington, the first Catholic institution of its kind to be established in the Dominion. With infinite care and gentle encouragement the three teaching sisters there are putting back into these little lives a vital part of what they lack.
Deafness condemns one to a silent and somewhat lonely existence, the full burden of which is not always appreciated by people with natural hearing. The full comfort of human companionship is missing and the door to normal social intercourse is closed.
At St. Dominic’s an endeavour is being made to open that door, and to enable these handicapped children to enjoy the fellowship and fulfilment of life that should be theirs as of right. The children are taught the “art of speech,” and of lip-reading, and the school takes pupils from the age of five years to 17 years. By that time their training will have been finished, and they should be in a position to earn their own living. The choice of vocation is naturally limited, but there are many positions in which their manual skill and keen minds may find a profitable outlet.
The Dominican Nuns established their first school for deaf children a hundred years ago at Cabra, in Ireland. They were the first nuns in the United Kingdom to qualify for this special branch of education and in the century that has passed their influence has spread throughout the world. Eighty-three years ago they opened a school for the deaf in South Africa, and later their first Australian institution was established.
St. Dominic’s at Island Bay was opened just over two years ago by his Grace Archbishop O’Shea. A large house with ample grounds was obtained and for the pupils, who numbered twelve at the start, detached classrooms were built. Since then it has been necessary to add to the accommodation, and an imposing block of buildings now marks the school site.
In the cheerful surroundings, with its sunny dormitories and classrooms, the young folk get plenty of fun out of life. They are just like normal happy children, full of energy and inquisitiveness, and as they sit in class one would find it almost impossible — without prior knowledge — to imagine they were not fully equipped. A more intelligent-looking lot of children it would be difficult to find. Surrounded by the brightly-coloured visual aids, they take the lesson with eagerness, and for the most part are extraordinarily quick at learning. One quality that is perhaps more noticeable than others is their constant alertness. The bright eyes are focussed intently on the teacher’s lips waiting for instructions. When the teacher speaks it is seldom that she has to repeat herself with the advanced pupils, and collectively the children obey commands with a readiness and understanding that are astonishing.
At one time it was the custom to describe the congenitally deaf as deaf-mutes, but as education of the deaf progressed it was found that children who were born deaf were in most cases only dumb until they were taught to reproduce speech. It is a task requiring much patience and tact, but at St. Dominic’s the results are gratifying. One little miss, with a book of coloured pictures in front of her, named without trouble the various objects, her lips making the sounds her ears would never hear. Her pronunciation was a tribute to the effectiveness of visual aid training. Other pupils watching the teacher’s lips closely for instructions, obeying the almost whispered instructions instantly.
They are first taught the letters of the alphabet, which, with the exception of the vowel “e” and the constants “c,” “k” and “g” – the most difficult for them – they master without much trouble. After this they learn short words, the meanings of which are explained by pictures. The system is fully oral. The use of the old sign language is out of date. In their attempts to communicate with one another the children do make use of gestures, but they arise entirely from natural impulses.
Most of the children are boarders and are from various parts of New Zealand. Local children usually enter the school on a weekly basis. In their bright dormitories and spacious playroom, and the happy academic side of their existence, they live in an atmosphere of comfort and cheerfulness, a little community banded together by a common reason and for a common cause.
It is interesting to note that an investigation taken recently in Auckland as to the cause of deafness, a questionnaire sent to parents of deaf children showed that in over 50 percent of the cases the mothers had suffered a form of German measles early in the pregnancy. In another 10 percent, the children had meningitis, and hereditary deafness was also the cause in a small number of cases. In the remaining cases there was no traceable cause.
