I grew up in a French Canadian family. My grandparents and older relatives spoke French as well as English. They tried teaching me to speak French. "You have to rrrrrrrrroll your Rs", they'd instruct. " But that HURTS!" I'd complain, one hand clutching my throat.

Once at a family gathering, my mom and aunts were making Tourtieres, or Canadian Meat Pies. My aunts were rolling out the pie crusts and my Papa was teasing them, "It's too thick over here", he'd point to a corner of the dough. They'd yell at him in French and he'd burst out laughing. I asked my mom, "what are they saying?", wanting to be involved. She repeated it, but still in French. I still didn't understand, so she wrote it down. Now I pronounce things the way they're written. I eye the paper and struggle to sound out the words. "Mangeeee laaaa Merdeeee", I drawled. "No, you got to roll your r's, it's mange la merde", my mother corrected. "What does that mean?" I asked. "Eat Shit," she replied with a chuckle. "Oooookay" I muttered and eye-rolled at the group who now were giggling at me.

Then there was my experience with Spanish. When I was a teenager, my parents had a 32ft pleasure boat. We spent weekends and holidays cruising around Georgian Bay. It had an upper deck with a bench for driving, then there was the main deck with the main steering wheel and more seating room, then you go below to the kitchen, bathroom and bed in the front berth. We were all crusing along on the top deck when my dad asks "Can you get a music tape for me?" "Sure, what do you want?" I replied. "Hulio" I lipread him saying. So I climb down the ladder and down to the living area and pull out the big box of cassettes and start scanning the titles. "H...H...H...H...Dad!" I holler up, "There's no Hulio!" My dad then climbs down to me, scans the tapes and pulls one out. "It's right here" he says exasperated. "But Dad that's J, you said Hulio, not Julie-o" I complained. "It's Spanish, J is H" he explains. "Okay if J is H, then what's H?" I asked, confused at this new set of language rules. "Well it can be silent like 'ola, or a W sound, depending on the word" he clarified. "Oh so then it's not a Chi-who-ya-who-ya" I asked, sounding out every syllable. "Chi-WHAT?" he blurts out in confusion. "You know, small dog, big eyes, shakes a lot" I explained, cupping my hands to demonstrate the size. "That's Chihuahua" he sounds it out, while snickering and eyerolling at my previous prounounciation.

Fine, I give up on Foreign languages! I'll just stick with my struggle of English and Sign Language. Can't go wrong with signing, I thought to myself. I learned that was a naive guess, it turns out if you have the wrong hand shape, or it's in the wrong place, it's a whole different meaning! When I was at University, the guidance counselor told a funny story about when he was at Gallaudet University for Summer School Interpreting program. He finished a class and was walking outside and saw some Deaf friends sitting around chatting at a picnic table and he joined them. "Wow hot today?" he signed to the group. "Yes hot today" several signed back. "Lots of bugs around" he signed. "Really? Where? Where?" they asked while howling with laughter. He's puzzled by their reaction but continued to chat. Later on in the day while in another class, "Don't mind to help me" he signed to a hearing friend. "Sure, what is it?" his friend signed back. "I was chatting with Deaf outside earlier and I signed 'lots of bugs around'" he explained. "This is the sign for bugs", his friend blurted out while demonstrating the correct sign. "Oh, then what's this sign?" he asks while signing what he thought was the sign for 'bugs'. "Orgasm" his friend replied, snickering.

So yeah.....I have trouble with foreign languages.

I hope this video dispels the common myths about "Blind" people. 

When I was about six months old, my parents suspected something was wrong with my hearing. They made an appointment at the Children's Hospital and the doctor ran an "Impedance under a Sedative" test. He concluded that I had normal hearing in one ear and slightly abnormal hearing in the other. Well that turned out to be very wrong! I turned out to be profoundly deaf in both ears. When I was about two years old my parents believed that there was something wrong with my eyesight as well, after testing I received my first pair of glasses.

Years of testing and recommendations by doctor after doctor followed. Ideas such as "Don't wrap her in cotton wool" to protect my eyes, to "Don't ever let her learn Sign Language, or she'll never learn to speak" were the weirder ones I've heard my folks reminisce about.

The first time I knew I was deaf was at two years old. My folks took me to a place, some man stuck "things" in my ears and I could hear noise! For a while after that I followed everything with my eyes for I didn't dare move my head for fear that those "things" would fall out and I'd be hurled into silence again. I'd protest and cry at bedtime when it was time to take the hearing aids off and go to sleep.

Being legally blind at the same time and not being able to see beyond my five foot boundary of vision, I just assumed that everyone had "hearing boxes" like mine. I attended an Oral School for preschool and all the other kids had them. If I saw a kid without one I just guessed they didn't get theirs yet, and because I didn't see any adults with any, we must not need them when we grow up.

My parents reaction to finding out their child is "disabled" wasn't so much as shock, but more disbelief, sadness and a lot of worrying. They remember when they told the rest of the family, their parents, brothers and sisters, that there wasn't much of a reaction except make me more "special" to them, but insisted I not be treated differently.

Well, it turns out I'm just as crazy as they all are heh.

The class I hated most in school was Gym. The Gym teacher never bothered explaining the rules of the games to me. So to compensate, I hung back a bit and observed the other kids playing and guessed at what was happening. I remember watching a game, which turned out to be indoor soccer, figured okay the game is to get the ball with my feet only and then kick it into the goal. So I joined the game, chased the ball, saw my chance and kicked the ball into the goal. I saw some classmates cheering and I felt good until another classmate came up to me and scowled, "Nice going idiot, you just scored in your own goal!" 

Another game was Dodgeball which I never understood. All that ever happened was I'd just run out to the playing field and get hit by a ball. "You're OUT" everyone yells at me. "But I just got here!" I'd protest.

One of my most embarrassing childhood moments happened in Gym class. We're all required to go to the changing room and change into shorts and T-shirts. This particular day, for some reason, I was running late and I didn't want to upset the teacher and get into trouble. I just quickly changed and entered the Gym. I was re-strapping on my hearing aid (remember the big clunky bugger), and walking toward the gathered group. I glanced up to see my teacher having what looked like a Tourette's spasm. She's obviously yelling at me and flailing her arm back and forth in a shooing motion. I was confused until a classmate ran up to me laughing and plucked out the front of my shirt and I saw the pretty pink bow of my undershirt. I was horrified! I spun around and raced back to the changing room! After getting my T-shirt on and redoing my hearing aid, I sat on the bench a good while, contemplating whether I should go back out to the Gym or just return to the classroom and wait for Gym period to end. I finally decided to head back out to Gym because I felt that repercussions from the teacher would be worse than the humiliation from the classmates.

In the Deaf High School, I still hated Gym. Sure, the rules of the games were explained clearer this time, but the layout of the Gym didn't help my poor eyesight at all. Along the top edge of the walls on opposite sides was a row of windows. Anytime I had to look upward during an activity I was greeted by bright white glare that blocked my view. Any airborne thing, an incoming basketball, a spiked volleyball or a flying shuttlecock, I didn't see. So there's been countless team sports that ended in frustration, hatred and hurt. I vividly remember a volleyball game, I was up front against the net. The top line of the net was in direct line with the windows. I glimpsed the ball heading toward my direction, but I lost sight of it once I looked up at the top of the net to see if it was coming down on my side or their side. Sure enough, that ball bonked me right in the face! "Why didn't you get it!" A flurry of hands signed as my teammates protested. "The light was in my face" I tried vainly to explain, signing slowly. "It's cloudy out! It couldn't have been that bright!" One student signed. "It was right THERE stupid bitch" another student signed. For the rest of the game, the other team aimed all their shots towards me, and my own team aimed their serves directly at me.

So of course I was picked last for any kind of Gym activity after that. "Find a partner" the Gym teacher instructed. I'm the last one standing, until a classmate runs into the Gym late. "You're with Tracy" the teacher instructed which was followed by a protest. "Not HER" they'd wail. "Doesn't matter! GO!" the teacher snapped back. "Shit shit shit shit" they'd mouthed as they slowly walked towards me with a scorned look on their face. My heart sinks lower and lower as I desperately try to please them to no avail.

I learned a valuable lesson about bullies once after Gym class. It was in the changing room and I had to use the bathroom at the same time as two of the "regular" bullies. After I was done I plucked some toilet paper out of the "single serve" toilet paper dispenser that only lets you get one sheet at a time. At the same time I heard the familar noise of someone else plucking out some sheets too. When I exited the stall I was ganged up on by the girls. "You use too much toilet paper" one girl snarled at me while signing for the other girl. "What? I only took a few sheets" I blurted in defense. "No it wasn't! I heard a whole bunch!" she snapped back. "I don't need a bathroom monitor" I sarcasically said, pushed past them and went back to class. I finally learned it wasn't personal. They're going to find any excuse, rhyme or reason to bully me. From then on I didn't let it affect me anymore and soon the bullying tapered off and stopped as they were not getting the reactions anymore.