Our Common Uniqueness

[1] It is a tremendous honor to be here as part of this panel of distinguished colleagues. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would be in a position to share such personal information in a national venue such as MTO. To be included here is extremely gratifying on so many levels.[2] Three of my immediate family members have diagnosed disabilities, both physical and cognitive. I was born without a right ear, with an ear canal that is completely closed, so I have no hearing on my right side. Between the ages of 5-15 I underwent approximately 20 surgeries to construct a visible ear on my right side; this was strictly cosmetic, something that I wanted as a child and my parents supported. Throughout my life, I have never really felt handicapped, although I definitely felt I was different from the "norm" until I graduated from high school.[3] My mother and father always taught me that I could do anything I wanted to, if I put my mind to it. I was taught that I was special and unique, with my own set of gifts and abilities. I did get teased occasionally, especially when I would go to school with a big bandage around my head, but the teasing was always by kids who didn't really know me. I actually got teased more for being a good student or a "nerd" than I did for my disability.[4] Throughout my college years and until just a couple of years ago, I told no one in my professional circle about my hearing loss. I had an underlying fear of being kicked out of the music program, or of being denied a job teaching music, worried that someone might think me less than capable. Now I am comfortable sharing this information when there is a purpose behind it. I especially appreciate opportunities to share my story with students who themselves have diagnosed disabilities or who feel inadequate or self-conscious about their abilities in the classroom.[5] Though I don't really feel disabled, I do have a few limitations related to my hearing. My wife knows to sit on my left side when we are at concerts or at restaurants, because otherwise I am unlikely to hear what she says to me. In large social crowds, it is difficult for me to pick up on conversation, and everything tends to sound like a mishmash of noise. I have learned to read lips fairly well, and I sometimes have to look at someone's mouth in order to understand what is being said. Headphones don't work well for me when listening to music, unless all the sounds are coming through to my "good" ear. Honestly my one "good" ear provides everything I need for hearing. At Butler University I was hired especially for my experience and interest in aural skills, in order to supervise the aural skills program there. I now find that ironic, considering my hearing disability.[6] My experience growing up with this disability has led me to be drawn to people who are also considered different, or unique, or set apart for some reason. One of my best friends since second grade (going back 40 years) has severe scoliosis and spent most of his childhood wearing a back brace. He and I spent many days in gym class, sitting on the sidelines while the other boys were playing touch football.[7] As an adult I was drawn to adopt a child with special needs. My 15-year-old daughter Kelly was adopted as an infant. Kelly has Down syndrome, and at age six she was also diagnosed with Crohn's disease. Kelly struggles with speaking clearly so that others can understand what she is saying. She also struggles with math and reads at a third-grade level. She has managed to learn many skills, but it generally takes her a lot longer to learn them than it does most kids.[8] Kelly has great social skills and acts like an ordinary teenager. She is a gifted athlete, which is rather unusual for a person with Down syndrome. Her sense of direction is much better than mine. She often helps me in the car to get us where we need to go. She has an amazing ability to memorize a movie scene or a choreographed song, after just one or two viewings on DVD. …