McCoy, Shelby

To Hear . . .
by Shelby McCoy

Grade 10
Prompt Code: N10C
IST: Jennifer Derksen
Evaluator: Wendy C.
(read the Evaluator's comment and Connections)

****************************************

           You would never be able to imagine the intense depression of seeing peoples’ mouths move all day yet hearing nothing. To watch intently day after day and never really be able to completely enter into their world, the world of sound. This experience I have just described is one I have to live with for the rest of my life.
            I walk down the noisy, yet silent to me, street, feeling as if in my own universe, my own sound proof bubble. Finally I reach my destination, a small cozy coffee shop, a simple outing to meet with one of my long time friends. I’ve been working on my skills of reading lips, and this will be my first time going on an outing like this without someone to translate the entire conversation into sign language for me.
            I enter the shop, seeing above the door small brass bells, and remembering what they used to sound like, before I lost my hearing. I try to not let myself escape into a world of self pity, the world of “what ifs” and “why me?” I quickly snap out of it when I see a waitress headed my way. I begin to study her mouth, as she begins to speak. I make out her words, “May I help you?” Seeing that I am just standing there at the counter, I answer her embarrassed, “No thank you, I’m just waiting,” and quickly move over to where the barstools are. I begin thinking to myself, maybe I should’ve brought someone with me to translate. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea.
            I dreamily look out the window, watching cars go by, teenagers playfully trying to jump over parking meters, laughing and talking to each other. Not having a care, taking for granted their beautiful gift of hearing, as I used to. It’s amazing to think that all my life I was able to hear, and how now I would give anything to hear for just a day, even just an hour. You never really know how much of a blessing something is until you’ve lost it forever, and can’t ever get it back.
            My thoughts lingered on as I began to wonder if there was music in this quaint little coffee shop, and if there was, I dreamed of what it was like. I used to adore music, my every day was filled with it. I played the guitar, piano, was constantly singing, and could not help dancing to a catchy tune. All these now meant nothing to me, for I could not hear. The loss of one sense, just one, had drastically changed my life forever.
            My once fee spirit seemed now trapped, like a bird in a cage, unable to fly. I was now protected and rarely able to do anything on my own. Today my mother even dropped me off at the end of the block and was worried I would not be able to make it on my own from there! I was going mad with being watched so closely, afraid to be broken or hurt in any way. I longed with all my heart for people to treat me as they used to, but I knew too well that this was most likely a dream better off forgotten and given up completely.
            I was suddenly startled back into the real world as I glanced down at my watch to see that it was almost time for my mother to come and pick me up again, yet my good friend Elizabeth had not showed up still. Something must have happened that she not make it and was unable to contact me. Oh well, I wasn’t disappointed. This lovely coffee shop had been a good thinking spot for me. I had needed a rest like this. I slowly got up and went to order a cup of chai tea to take outside and wait for my mother to pick me up. I was proud of myself as I confidently ordered, read the woman behind the counter’s lips, and gave her the correct amount of money. I thanked her, and went out on the street to find an empty bench to sit on and wait for my mother to arrive. Just minutes later she drove up to the curb and beckoned me. I looked both ways and happily walked over to the car. I had made a choice that from here on out I was going to strive to be cheerful and make the best of my difficulties.

Writing Program Evaluator Wendy C. comments:

Shelby's essay, "To Hear . . . " is a wonderful example of how a narrative can simultaneously tell a personal story and touch on themes that are universal. Shelby draws the reader in right away by making a statement that few could refute, and ends the opening paragraph with a bang by letting the reader know that she, in fact, is living this reality that few readers could even imagine. It isn't just the topic that makes this reflective essay a success, though. Shelby's use of specific details and interior monologue give the reader a real sense of her personality and character, as well as the new world she now inhabits. Reading about Shelby's struggle and how she uses the experience to grow as a person can inspire each one of us, no matter what difficulties we may be experiencing.

Connections:

*Read Amanda Rubio's poem "I am, I am!" and Katherine Coleman's essay "My World is Probably Different" in Illuminations, the 2005-2006 Gorman Anthology, as well as Logan Kelly's "A World Without Sound" (December '06 Essay of the Month).

*After reading these writings in relation to Shelby's essay, consider them all together. What are the similarities and differences between each piece? How would you characterize the writer's voice and point of view in each piece?

*Shelby's essay expertly transitions back and forth between narration and reflection. This is a very important technique of the reflective narrative mode. Review the description of this mode in the Student Guidelines.