His Eyes and Ears: A Life Experience Essay

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The early morning dew is lingering in the air, the sunrise slowly creeps into the sky, it’s seven twenty-five am, and he has finally arrived. I hurry to the bus doors as they open, and I greet him with a big, sincere smile. His special grin that is engraved in my heart returns the gesture. His eyes dart to the ground as the sun’s ray sting his eyes. Shielding his eyes, I provide enough comfort for him to look up. I position my firm hand over his fragile hands offering guidance as we walk inside. He gladly accepts my hand, and together we climb the steps, and then stroll toward the door. Children of all ages greet us in hugs, high fives, and smiles. They direct a million questions at me. “Can he talk?” “What’s wrong with him?” “He talks…show more content…
As we wait patiently in the long cafeteria line for him to clasp his tray of mouthwatering food, he starts noticing everyone is a different gender. “Girl,” he signs as he points at a student with long blonde hair. “Boy,” he signs as he directs his hand in the other direction towards a short brown-haired student. Although he can determine the gender of each child, I want so badly for him to know each child is more than their gender. I want so badly for him to be capable of giving each child a sign name. He just doesn’t realize that each person has a name that identifies them as a person, different from all the other boys and girls. “Apple juice or orange juice, which one?” I ask him in American Sign Language. “Apple juice,” he decides. Wait, did he just decide something for himself? I think twice about what he just signed. Yes, he did! I am filled with pride because he has finally made a decision all by himself! Never before had I seen him make a decision independently. He places the apple juice on his tray, grabs his cereal and milk, and with my assistance, we arrive at our chairs. Breakfast is eaten quickly, and we depart from the cafeteria. “Next?” He signs to me asking what activity is next in the routine. “First, we go to P.E. Then, we go to class.” “Dance! L’s Mom,” he signs back asking if he will get to dance with Landon’s mom, the P.E teacher. “Yes,” I assure him. We proceed to the gymnasium. As we approach the door to walk outside to

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