Page 2 of Love Lessons

Landon caught another flicker of motion by the door and looked up. Mrs. Eaves was standing there with a small, polite smile on her wrinkled face, her reading glasses hanging down on a beaded chain. He hoped she hadn’t been there too long.

He got along with her alright as a colleague, which was fortunate because they were the only two teachers in the Deaf education program. But they didn’t always agree on teaching methodologies.

He didn’t think she was a terrible teacher--she was completely adequate--but he couldn’t wait for her to retire next year and hopefully make way for a more creative, engaged teacher to take her place.

The principal wants to talk with us, she reported. He’ll meet us in my classroom in about ten minutes.

Landon indicated that he’d be there and then turned back to Sabina to chat for a few more minutes about her project. She left in a much happier mood than she’d arrived.

Then, he crossed the hall to Mrs. Eaves’ room and took a seat on one of the student desks. That was another thing about Mrs. Eaves. She had her students sit in rows in those wretched desks with the connected chairs.

Since Deaf students couldn’t have conversations or discussions with people they couldn’t see, that pretty much summed up her teaching style. Worksheets, quizzes, and the teacher as the authority in the front of the room. He knew that technically she moved the seats around sometimes for discussions and partner work, but the fact that she had her students put them back into rows at the end of each lesson said a lot.

How’s Sabina been in your classes? she asked.

She’s been great! We were just talking about an independent study, and her physics project was really strong.

Mrs. Eaves frowned, the creases in her sagging jaw growing deeper. Well, she’s been stirring up trouble in here. She keeps leaving her hearing aids at home.

Landon felt a flash of anger, but he kept it inside. Maybe she doesn’t feel like she needs her hearing aids at school, he suggested calmly.

He sure didn’t care if the kids wore them in his classes. He didn’t wear his, either. Because, news flash, that’s why they taught classes in sign language.

Mrs. Eaves gave him a look. They’d had this conversation before and agreed to disagree. He kept his face impassive, not wanting to get into it again. What else is she doing?

She keeps sneaking in other books to read.

Landon felt like he wanted to bang his head against the wall. Is she finishing her worksheets first?

Usually. But she didn’t yesterday.

Landon was trying to formulate his reply, something along the lines of “isn’t it awesome that the students in your reading class love to read” with some polite version of “maybe they’d pay attention if they weren’t bored out of their skulls,” but he didn’t get the chance.

Mrs. Eaves turned sharply toward the door, responding to some noise he couldn’t hear, and he turned as well.

“Hello, Principal McGillans,” he voiced. He assumed that Mrs. Eaves gave a similar greeting, but with them both standing so far apart from each other, he could only speech read from one person at a time.

“Mrs. Eaves. Mr. Dean.” She acknowledged them both. “I have some news that I wanted to share with you. Is now a good time?”

“Sure,” Landon replied. He didn’t have anything to go home to except more work.

Principal McGillans paused, as if trying to figure out what to say. Her shoulders rose and fell. It was unusual to see her even a little flustered since she was usually so unflappable. “I just got some news from the district office. They’re planning on reconfiguring some of the programs for next year. And… it looks like they won’t be continuing the ASL program here.”

“Is it going somewhere else?” Landon asked immediately. He’d chosen his apartment because it was close to work, but the district only had four middle schools and they weren’t that far apart.

“No… They’re actually closing down the program all together.”

That was insane. “What’s going to happen to all the Deaf students?”

“Well, there’s going to be one aide to interpret at each school for students who want to return to their zoned placements, and two here for students who don’t want to return.”

Landon was too stunned to even answer for a moment. He looked at Mrs. Eaves, and she seemed just as shocked.

When he finally answered, he tried to sound calm and reasonable. “But… how would that work? I’m not sure that I understand how you could have two aides take over for two full-time teachers and an aide. If the other schools only have one aide each, they won’t even be able to cover math and English for all three grades, let alone science and social studies and electives. Are you sure that’s what they’re planning?”

Principal McGillans did that deep breath thing with her shoulders again. “They’re hiring another speech therapist to work with the Deaf students in all four schools. The decision was that mainstreaming with hearing students would give them the most opportunity for age-appropriate coursework in the Least Restrictive Environment.”

He felt like he’d been punched, like her words were a physical pain. The students’ LRE--the placement where they could get all of the supports that they needed while still being as integrated as possible into mainstream classes--was determined by their Individualized Educational Plans. If the students had been best supported in hearing classes, they’d already be there.