- Joined
- Oct 31, 2007
- Messages
- 2,424
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Last night at the public library, I was on volunteer duty, returning books to the shelves. A young lady approached already speaking in a rapid and breathless manner:
". . . uh . . . you know . . . like . . . lost my book . . . your book . . . the library’s book . . . that was . . . you know . . . I mean . . . like due last . . . um . . . week . . . you know. . . ."
Held up my hand to stop her. “I’m deaf,” I said, also making the sign for deaf. “But I can speech read if you can go a bit slower.” By that time I had waded through her lip movements, shrugs, and facial contortions to understand that she was trying to say: “I can’t find my overdue library book. What do I do now?”
She then spoke v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y. “Is . . . uh . . . some . . . uh . . . one . . . some . . . body . . . you know . . . a person . . . that . . . ur . . . can . . . like, you know . . . talk . . . and . . . um . . . here?”
The last phrase could have been “can talk and hear” or “can talk here.” Who knows? But it was delivered with a deep frown, eyes darting around like she was looking for an escape route.
Anyway, I said, “Sure. I’ll take you to the checkout desk to speak to the librarian.”
She never smiled, never looked grateful, never offered thanks, but when we got to the desk, she said to the librarian (not to me, the retard), “He . . . um . . . like . . . you know . . . talks . . . um . . . I mean . . . real . . . um . . . good.”
Lots better than you, I thought, but didn’t say out loud. If you speech read, what are some of the barriers you encounter?
". . . uh . . . you know . . . like . . . lost my book . . . your book . . . the library’s book . . . that was . . . you know . . . I mean . . . like due last . . . um . . . week . . . you know. . . ."
Held up my hand to stop her. “I’m deaf,” I said, also making the sign for deaf. “But I can speech read if you can go a bit slower.” By that time I had waded through her lip movements, shrugs, and facial contortions to understand that she was trying to say: “I can’t find my overdue library book. What do I do now?”
She then spoke v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y. “Is . . . uh . . . some . . . uh . . . one . . . some . . . body . . . you know . . . a person . . . that . . . ur . . . can . . . like, you know . . . talk . . . and . . . um . . . here?”
The last phrase could have been “can talk and hear” or “can talk here.” Who knows? But it was delivered with a deep frown, eyes darting around like she was looking for an escape route.
Anyway, I said, “Sure. I’ll take you to the checkout desk to speak to the librarian.”
She never smiled, never looked grateful, never offered thanks, but when we got to the desk, she said to the librarian (not to me, the retard), “He . . . um . . . like . . . you know . . . talks . . . um . . . I mean . . . real . . . um . . . good.”
Lots better than you, I thought, but didn’t say out loud. If you speech read, what are some of the barriers you encounter?