Neither-Nor: A Young Australian’s Experience with Deafness

30. Life in the Sane World

30 Life in the Sane World Marcia helped me with the telephone and also found me a training session with the Etwall Cricket Club and an interview to work as an English tutor. I turned up at the first training session desperate to prove my worth as a player and ended up that night desperate to remain standing after too many free beers from my new teammates, who were delighted to see my signature on a player registration form. Playing cricket made a world of difference to my emotional state. High on endorphins rather than nicotine, caffeine, or alcohol, I also had a social network that got me out of the house. The hospitality of the Etwall Cricket Club surpassed anything I had known before. We played on grounds that looked more like golf course fairways and in settings that would inspire poets to write home. While my individual efforts weren’t spectacular, I enjoyed the priceless experience that many a cricketer dreams of—playing in England, the birthplace of cricket. ❖ At the job interview, I outlined my tertiary qualifications and discussed methods of tutoring with my prospective employer—a thickset man in his fifties named Kenneth. Everything ran smoothly until he brought up the topic of my deafness. He had no shame and got a kick out of being patronizing. “Tell me, Paul, how much can you hear?” His schoolmaster tone gave me the creeps. “Well, I would be hopeless without my hearing aids. Thirty percent in both ears without them.” “So, you lipread, don’t you?” “Yes,” I wasn’t going to explain the elaborate art of speechreading. He would never understand. “I want you to turn around.” 199 “What for?” “I want to see how well you hear without looking.” “I don’t think that will be necessary,” I said, offended by this request. “Come on, show me.” I easily repeated what he had to say, “Paul, I’d like you to work for me.” I was concerned about the way Kenneth would market my services. He said that he had mentioned my deafness up front to prospective parents , which was fine by me, but why not mention my five years of university training first? I didn’t need the stigma of deafness impeding me when I went to meet the students’ parents—the introduction alone, for anyone, was difficult enough. I enjoyed working with my students. Most were first-generation British-Indians. All but two students were exceptionally intelligent—a blessing for any tutor. I tutored them in analyzing poems, stories, and novels, and in writing essays on the texts of William Shakespeare, Mary Shelley, John Steinbeck, and contemporary British poets. My sweetest victory came when I learned from Kenneth that all the parents were more than happy with my service. One mother asked if I could tutor her son in science and mathematics, an offer I turned down because it had been seven years since I had studied either. My favorite student was Daniel. He was one of those brilliant students who is easily bored with school assignments. I imagined that he would go on to become a lawyer with a beautiful wife and a house in London. On my last night of teaching, I was looking out of the window at swiftly moving clouds while Daniel completed his assignment on Irish writer Seamus Heaney. I heard his voice, “You’re thinking about something, aren’t you?” Caught unawares, I answered, “You’re right, mate.” He laughed, “Mate! That’s a very Australian thing to say.” With an exaggerated accent, I said, “Fair dinkum, mate. I’m a real Aussie digger, cobber.” He laughed and replied, “You looked like a writer when you were looking out of the window.” His flattery got the better of me, “Any particular writer?” “Lord Byron. Not exactly, but you have the same expression.” “Maybe I am mad, bad, and dangerous to know.” n e i t h e r- n o r 200 l i f e i n t h e sa n e wo r l d 201 He laughed easily then asked, “Did Lord Byron say that?” I smiled at his clipped English speech, “One of his lovers, Lady Caroline Lamb. Isn’t it a coincidence that I will be going to Newstead Abbey next week?” “Newstead Abbey? Is that near Nottingham?” “Yes. It is the home of Lord Byron.” “That’s what...