(Mar 12, 2008) Every morning a station wagon stopped outside JoAnn McClurkin's door in Winona. The driver had already collected Darlene in Vineland and Richard and Gary in Grimsby.
Together, the little band proceeded into the city, to a classroom above Gunter's Men's Wear on Barton Street East.
And there they began to learn how to listen, mostly with their eyes. They watched the lips of the people speaking to them, and watched their own mouth in the mirror, trying to mimic the teacher.
It was the '60s and that was preschool for those kids. They met there because, like all of them, the son of the shop owner was hearing impaired.
When the children were kindergarten age, the station wagon took them to Gibson School instead, just down the block.
Christopher Gabriel, who grew up in Burlington, went to Gibson School, too. His mother, like JoAnn's, had rubella, or German measles, in her pregnancy. That condition sometimes meant deafness for the unborn child.
That time at Gibson decades ago still matters to JoAnn and Christopher. They were sad to hear that the school, an imposing structure built in 1914, is to close this year. So they are organizing a banquet for all those who attended the hearing-impaired classes there.
Gibson was the place in this city providing that specialized education from 1947 to 1981.
Retired teacher Bob Adams had his first classroom of kids there in 1963. "We pushed for them to learn in a hearing world," he says.
Unlike today, sign language was not part of the mix. There was the lip-reading. The mirrors. Even tissue paper was a teaching tool. Students held a piece in front of their mouths. If they said the "puh" sound right, as in apple, the tissue would flutter.
And there were the bulky headphones that kids strapped on, uncomfortable devices after several hours. Some early versions required a child to wear a big battery pack on the chest, wires running down from the ears. Some kids got called spacemen.
The teacher would sit at the front of a soundproof classroom with a microphone and hope that something got through.
There were three classrooms in Gibson for hearing-impaired kids -- junior, intermediate and senior. Those classes served as homeroom, but the students were integrated into regular classes such as phys-ed and science lab each day.
Some children just did not have enough hearing to make the Gibson program work. Even with the headphones turned right up, they couldn't hear enough to pick up any language.
Those children were transferred to E.C. Drury in Milton, always a hard move for parents.
Adams got close to his students. "Those kids were great. They always kept in touch. I even went to their weddings."
The classes at Gibson eventually wound up for a couple of reasons. A vaccine against rubella became available. And better hearing aid technology meant more children could sit in regular classes.
JoAnn remembers how demanding the work was. "You got tired. But at the end, you felt better."
Friend Christopher says it was hard at first at Gibson. "We had to prove we fit in ... But without that school and those teachers, we wouldn't be successful in life."
They mention one advantage to being in a hearing-impaired class. When the teacher turned to the blackboard, kids could chat with classmates using their new lip-reading skills.
The pair has worked hard on organizing a reunion. There is a general open house for all Gibson students on Thursday, May 8, from 4 to 6:30 p.m.
But that's too short, so JoAnn and Christopher are setting up a dinner at the Essence Banquet Centre, just down the street.
At the educational archives, they got old attendance records. They used those to come up with a partial mailing list, but more names are needed. They have tracked down Arthur Gunter, son of that men's shop owner on Barton, and he's arriving from Rochester.
If you went to those hearing-impaired classes at Gibson, they would be glad to hear from you at hearingimpairedreunion@hotmail.com. The banquet starts right after the Gibson open house ends and costs $30. The deadline to buy tickets is April 4.
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