Over the next month, I researched schools that had deaf units. Methodist Ladies’ College had already reached its quota that year and was unable to accept another deaf student. The Victorian School for Deaf Children only offered signing, and we had already made our decision against taking that path. Yarra Valley Grammar School also had a deaf unit but was located too far away from where we lived. I was frustrated at the lack of options available.
The rest of the year unfolded. Li was finding Melbourne difficult – it was too quiet. After the glitz and glamour of America and the bustle of Beijing, it felt like a small country town to him. The speed of life was much slower and people were also more laid-back. We were both accustomed to moving fast and making things happen. I did just that, walking into the Victorian College of the Arts and accepting a part-time job on the spot to teach teenage ballet students.
While Dom babysat the kids for the night, I went to see Li’s first performance as Vronsky in Anna Karenina. What a night! I was thrilled and relieved that Australian audiences embraced him from the start, and I was confident that in time Li would come to like Australia.
Soon it was November and I was dreading the Sydney season when Li would be gone for two whole months. Thankfully, I had Dom for company. By early December, the Christmas school holidays had commenced and I was driving to Sydney – over 800 kilometres – on my own with the two small children. We stayed for a few weeks in an apartment in Manly while Li performed at the Opera House. Sometimes the children would play in the Opera House canteen while I peeked into the nearby studio to watch Li rehearse. An extra bonus was having the Heathcotes in Sydney as well. They stayed at Bronte, not too far away from the Opera House. The children and I often met with Kathy, Sam and baby Mia for outings to the beach.
After the Sydney season finished, we drove up to Brisbane to catch up with the McKendrys. This was my first Christmas with my family in Australia since I was sixteen. I had longed for this moment for so many years, and took great delight in seeing all the children and the cousins play together in the hot summer sun.
In the end, Shelford Girls’ Grammar School in the nearby suburb of Caulfield was the best choice for Sophie. I felt I’d hit gold in finding this school with its small classes – only eleven students in each, and there were no noisy boys. Not that I minded noisy boys – it was just that they would interfere with Sophie’s hearing.
Sophie’s behaviour, including her dark moods, continued to worry me terribly. I sensed they stemmed mainly from frustration. However, I gave Sophie’s new teacher permission to remove her from the classroom if she descended into one of her moods, explaining that she was not to put up with Sophie sulking in the corner. Sophie had to learn the consequences of her own behaviour. Thankfully it worked. Her dark spells were gradually dissipating by the end of the year. I felt so relieved and only hoped things would stay that way.
As Linda Daniels had helped me understand the difference between hearing and language, I wanted to find someone in Melbourne who was also trained in her method of AVT. To my dismay, I found that many were still trained under the old oral method relying on lip-reading. And yet Shelford somehow found a very special teacher of the deaf who shared Linda’s philosophy. Louise Paatsch had a lovely personality and was highly qualified. She seemed to understand the potential of a child with a cochlear implant, as well as her pushy mother! I was going to learn a lot from her.
I asked how Sophie’s first session went, and she said, ‘The lesson went fine, Mary. Sophie gets frustrated easily, doesn’t she? I can see that she knows what’s expected of her, but it’s very difficult for her. Today, she put her head down and her hands over her ears, and refused to listen or speak.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Louise!’
‘It’s natural, Mary,’ she said. ‘The important thing to remember is this: the first rule of developing children’s language is to take the child’s lead.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked. This was new to me.
‘Well, when Sophie slunk to the floor and sat under the table, quite elegantly, I must admit,’ she laughed, ‘I simply got under there with her and we worked on her speech and language there. It’s so Sophie could see I was on her side and she felt in control for once. Then we actually developed a very creative narrative together.’
What Louise said was an inspiration. I started to adopt the same approach at home. I was still a ‘tiger mum’, but if Sophie would be more receptive when we worked on her terms, then I was all for it.
One session a week with Louise wasn’t enough, so I asked if she could come to our home and teach Sophie one night a week, too. She agreed and brought learning materials that were appropriate for Sophie’s actual age – six – rather than her auditory age, which had now reached two. Soon Louise became a good friend and part of the family.
As Sophie was attending a mainstream school, in order to progress towards her actual year level in understanding, she had to do the work as well as her therapy sessions. School assignments in particular were a nightmare, as she wasn’t reading yet. I would panic! Thank God we had Louise to guide her through it.
While I watched Louise work with Sophie, Li would take care of Tom. Li was brilliant with him. Sometimes they would read books together for hours on end. Other times he would take him to the park to play. There was no TV during Sophie’s therapy time. No music or radio. Nothing that could interfere with her ability to hear and comprehend.
Although Sophie was still not reading, she and Tom loved Li’s Chinese fables, particularly ‘The Monkey King’ and ‘The Frog in the Well’. Sophie had started to say sentences, and could answer simple questions like, ‘Which cake do you want, Sophie?’ She would point, ‘Tha one!’ But the most charming thing she was now doing was saying ‘Coose me’ for ‘Excuse me’ when she wanted to speak. We loved it!
Beginning ballet lessons for Sophie was my next project. Ballet lessons were structured and students were to face the teacher. This set-up was almost like one-on-one teaching and I thought it would be something Sophie could manage. She started a Saturday class at the National Theatre Ballet School, close to where we lived. I explained her situation to the teacher, who promised to keep an extra eye on her.
‘Sophie, you’re going to a ballet class today, to learn how to dance!’ I told her excitedly on her first day. She smiled and was eager to get into her leotard. I took her in. Her implant in its harness stuck out under her leotard. I gave her a little wave as I left. All seemed to go well that first session, and thus began our new Saturday routine.
I inquired whether they needed any part-time teachers and I was hired immediately to teach on Thursday mornings for advanced students, while Tom was at kinder and Sophie at school. It didn’t matter to me that they didn’t pay much. It was an opportunity to further my teaching knowledge and to stay connected to ballet. Now, I had to learn how to plan and deliver structured classes, and to teach specific movements to the music. It felt wonderful to be back in the studio!
‘You are the best coach, Mary. You do have the gift. I have no doubt everyone will love you,’ Li encouraged me. Life was still frantic, but at least now I had something to call my own.