Noise Annoys

By Kathi Mestayer

There I was, pumping gas into my car outside a convenience store, lost in thought. Then, the harsh yammering started. “Come inside for pizza and chicken wings! You can pick up candy and evil-carb junk food! Diet soda for a caffeine fix! Whaddya waiting for?”

The moot mute button

It was hard to pinpoint the noise at first, since I have an asymmetrical hearing loss. But I quickly located the source… a speaker on the gas pump. It had a mutilated “MUTE” button on the right side, which looked like it had been pressed about a hundred thousand times. So I optimistically joined the ghosts of muters past, pressing hard, harder, again, one more time, trying to make it shut up. No dice.

My peace of mind had been hijacked! If I’d had the option of swiping my card again to make it stop, I would have!

I glanced around, stressed, helpless, and furious. I got into my car, opened the glove box hoping for an ice pick to drive into the heart of the speaker, and saw a tube of sunscreen. As I headed back to the pump, my brain worked out a plan:

“Squirt the sunscreen into the speaker!”

“But they can see you from inside the convenience store! You’ll get arrested!”

“Actually, that could be an interesting adventure. Imagine the headlines!

‘Woman arrested for trying to get silence a gas-station speaker.’”

I could blog about it!

So, I took that tube of sunscreen, aimed it into the middle of the speaker, and squeezed until it was empty. Haha! The speaker was still shouting at me, but I could picture the sunscreen working its way into the speaker, choking it into silence.

Everybody Hates Noise!

When I emailed Seth Horowitz, author of “The Universal Sense: How Hearing Shapes the Mind,” about my ice pick idea, he replied that it would have been a waste of a perfectly good ice pick.

I had to agree. In his book, Horowitz writes, “The targeted use [of noise], from louder ads to deafening store music, is an important and often misused sales and marketing tool.” It can backfire, creating strong negative impressions of the business, product, or space. In fact, the only time I ever visited that gas station again was to take the photo for this article. And I didn’t buy any gas.

And sudden, loud, unexpected noises are likely to cause a hardwired stress response in our brains. In a recent essay in The New York Times, “The Cost of Paying Attention,” Matthew B. Crawford asks himself, from the noisy chaos of an airport, “Why am I so angry?”

Volume Optional

Noise doesn’t have to be loud to be disconcerting. Last year, in my art class, two fellow students were chatting quietly at the next easel. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they were just close enough, and just audible enough, that my brain would not quit trying. My brain, which often gives me feedback in this kind of situation, said, “You sure you want me to give up? It might be something interesting! I know I’m going to get it in the next couple of words!”

I was just starting to feel the frustration of trying, and failing, to understand the conversation, as I turned off my hearing aids. My own personal “mute” button.

There’s More of Us Out There

Lots of smart people are recognizing public-space noise, and attention piracy, as a real problem. In “Ambient Commons: Attention in the Age of Embodied Information,” author Malcolm McCullough writes, “Silence remains necessary for individual and especially cultural sanity. This is why modern cities enforce noise ordinances. You have a right to free speech, but not to amplify it from the rooftops all night, as if the air were an inconsequential void.”

And in his book, “The Unwanted Sound of Everything We Want,” author Garret Keizer chimes in: “In the end, after all the physicists, musicologists, and social theorists have had their say, there are only two kinds of human noise in the world: the noise that says, ‘The world is mine,’ and the noise that says, ‘It’s my world too.’ We need to quiet the first and make more of the second.”

And those who don’t take note of those wise words could end up with sunscreen in their speakers.

This is adapted from Hearing Health magazine staff writer Kathi Mestayer’s work on BeaconReader.com. 

New Beginnings

By Margaret

Like many of you, after a fun-filled, active summer, my children are looking forward to their first day of school. With my first child, now entering the 1st grade, things were pretty seamless when she started big girl school.

This year my second child is starting Pre-K and while I have the same excitement (and anxiousness), I also have an extra set of challenges to prepare for; Emmy has hearing loss and will be in a mainstream classroom.

I compiled the below list for how to handle the beginning of the school year for parents of children with hearing loss. Some are my ideas and others were passed on from other parents. I hope by sharing this list I can help anyone else who has a child with hearing that is starting school.

1. Speak Up: Before the school year begins, schedule meetings with teachers and administrators to discuss accommodations, such as classroom seating arraignments, note-taker services, in-class participation (i.e. repeating an answer of a classmate seated behind your child that s/he may not hear), and handling emergency situations, such as fire drills. If your child has an FM unit, this is a great time to teach teachers how to use it. It's just as important for them to know how to turn it on, as well as turn it off when they take bathroom breaks!

2. Teacher-Student Communications: It's important that your child feels comfortable and encouraged to communicate with their teachers when they feel they missed something said. Include your child in these meetings to help build that relationship, and as they get older, your child likely will have the best advice (and stories) to share.

3. Reinforce Good Practices, Politely: Kindly ask teachers to face your child when addressing the classroom. When writing on the chalkboard and talking at the same time, the teacher's voice is bouncing off the board instead of going forward, making it harder for your child to hear as well as lip-read.

4. Buddies, Not Bullies: Bullying should never be tolerated, however it sometimes comes up. Talk with teachers and administrators about how to mitigate tough situations and protect your child, without having your child feeling victimized and ostracized for having hearing loss.

5. Practice Makes Perfect: Develop a scripted answer for your child (and their siblings) when asked about his/her hearing aids and hearing loss. Not only does it put the parents at ease, but helps your child confidently self-advocate.

6. Show and Tell:  If your child mentions s/he received a lot of questions during the first week of school, ask their teacher to take five minutes in the beginning of class for your child to "show and tell" their hearing aids. Not only does it promote tolerance, but it teaches your child public speaking skills. 

If you have additional tips and suggestions for managing the start of school, please add share them in the comment box below or by e-mailing us at info@hhf.org.

How Can You Change the World, If You Can't Hear It?

By Zeid Malas

How many times have you nodded your head in response to someone whose words you couldn't really hear, no matter how many times they repeated themselves?

How many times have you felt complete isolation when you were among a group of people, whether it was hanging out with friends or a family dinner? Not because you were using your phone or social media, but because you couldn't really keep up with the countless conversations happening at once.

How many times did you do your best to avoid the phone, preferring to text because you were afraid you wouldn't hear the person calling or that you would miss important information being said? Do you know of the pain felt when someone you care about wants to talk to you through Skype, but you just can’t follow the conversation?

What about YouTube, music, lectures, and videos? Such as when you fail to understand what's being said because you can’t hear it and no captions are provided.

How many times have you hesitated or been afraid to ask someone to repeat himself because you felt bad for the times he needed you to listen and understand him? Or maybe because it would change how people thought of you?

I mean every word when I say "I feel you."

Age 11 after taking medicine

When I was 9 years old I woke up one morning only to realize that I had lost 99% of my hearing in both ears for no reason. It wasn't hereditary, it wasn't physiological—it just happened. What did I do? There wasn't really anything I could do... I just accepted it. I taught myself to read lips and body language in order to understand what someone would be trying to say. It was my primary way of communication and with it I was able to finish high school and reach college.

Sadly, my weakest point is electronic devices such as speakers, the TV, the phone… etc. I can hardly make any sense of what comes out of them which makes it very painful not being able to hear and understand someone when they call me. Especially when I'm an online gamer and my games sometimes require me to Skype with my group to coordinate our strategy, about which I end up being clueless.

I've dealt with hearing loss for 10 years now, until last May when I had surgery on my right ear to get a cochlear implant. I made a documentary showing my last days with hearing loss, the surgery, and finally my first moments/days after.

Even though this has been a challenge and complication in life, it made me different from the rest of my peers. It made me someone you remember, someone who my professors will mark as present without the need to shout my name, someone patient and full of empathy, someone who continually works hard to provide the best results because that’s the only way I know how to live.

At age 18

I know many think I've been suffering because of this, and that's what I thought for a while, too. Until I realized that—weirdly enough—it's actually a blessing that I lost my hearing, for it's what made me so different from most people my age. I'm not saying I'm better, I'm just saying I don't waste time relating music to my life, making sure everyone knows what I’ve had for breakfast each day, asking everyone to share and like my profile picture on Facebook, using countless hashtags on Instagram to get followers, retweeting every celebrity tweet on Twitter, or building a story every day on Snapchat.

Because of my situation, I've learned to observe, learn, and understand solely using bodily cues, and to adapt to any difficult situation or people I may encounter. I do my best to make the best out of any situation. I'm not saying I'm Sherlock Holmes... I'm simply saying I'm Zeid Malas!

I made my disability my greatest ability... What are you going to do with yours?

Les Paul, Wizard of Waukesha

By Sue Baker

Les Paul often said he learned everything he needed to know while growing up in Waukesha. I met Les Paul when I worked at the Waukesha County Museum, and wanted to put together an exhibit about him. We became good friends for what would be the last 10 years of his life (he died in 2009), and these are just some of the stories he told me.

Lester Polsfuss was born June 9, 1915, in Waukesha, Wisconsin, a city 20 miles west of Milwaukee, to a family with strong German roots. From the time he was a preschooler, Les was encouraged by his mother, Evelyn, to entertain. Les recounted how when he was 5 years old the Rotarians would lift him to a tabletop during their meetings so he could sing for them. By the time he was 8, Les disassembled a harmonica he was given to see how it worked. After reassembling it, he filled the family home with the sounds of endless harmonica practicing.

Radio was brand new when Les was growing up and he couldn’t get enough of listening to the guitar-playing country singers. When the singers came to town, Evelyn took Les to see them perform. Les wanted to be just like the guitar player Pie Plant Pete, and when the performer came to Waukesha not only was Les in the audience, he was dressed just like Pie Plant Pete, who performed in “Showboat” in a sailor suit. In fact, years later Les changed his performance name from Red Hot Red to Rhubarb Red. (“Pie plant” is another name for rhubarb.)

But playing his guitar and harmonica, and singing and telling jokes, was not enough for Rhubarb Red. As a teen, Les loved his guitar but he was sure it could sound better. After inventing a harmonica holder so his hands were free, Les pondered how to improve his guitar so he could hear just the vibration of the strings. So Les stuffed socks, rags, and a tablecloth inside the guitar. The sound was different but not quite what he wanted. Next, he filled the guitar with plaster of Paris—and that was the end of his guitar. 

Les wanted the densest material he could find to build a guitar so that only the strings would vibrate. He tried a two-foot piece of discarded iron train rail. He stretched a single guitar string down the length of the rail and plucked it. What sustain! It was crisp and just the string vibrated and it vibrated a long time. It was exactly what he wanted. He ran to share his great discovery with his mother. The usually supportive Evelyn looked at her son and said, “The day you see a cowboy riding a horse with a piece of rail…” Les knew she was right, but he also knew he had the beginning of something big.

Teenage Les was playing all over Waukesha and the surrounding area. He wanted to hear what his audiences were hearing so he built a disk-recording machine using a flywheel from his dad’s car dealership, a rubber belt from his dentist, and aluminum disks for recording. By now, Les was performing on the radio and his mother would capture his performances on his recording machine. 

Just outside of Waukesha was Beekman’s Barbeque, a popular destination. Les became a regular, playing for tips. Les was constantly honing his guitar playing. He built his own amplifier using parts of his mother’s telephone and radio. When someone in the back said they couldn’t hear his guitar, Les created his first electric guitar with parts from the family’s phonograph and another radio.

In the mid-1930s Les was playing country (hillbilly) music on Chicago radio stations as Rhubarb Red. He spent his nights learning jazz at clubs in Chicago and soon was performing with the musicians. It was in Chicago that he took the name Les Paul when he played jazz.

As a teen, Les played at Waukesha’s band shell, now known as the Les Paul Performance Center. It is being renovated in time for the centennial anniversary of his birthday this June 9.

Learn more about the legendary Les Paul and the launch of the Les Paul Ambassador program, a partnership with Hearing Health Foundation to spread the message of hearing protection. The Les Paul Ambassdaors are guitarist Lou Pallo, saxophonist Chris Potter, jazz pianist John Colianni, and DJ and composer Chill Kechil who was in our magazine as well as in our blog. For the full list of events to celebrate Les Paul’s 100th birthday, see les-paul.com.

Sue Baker is the program director at the Les Paul Foundation. 

Hearing Makes Me Happy!

By Alex Mussomeli

By all accounts Alex Mussomeli is a typical elementary school kid; he likes art, music, sports, cooking, and video games. But what is phenomenal about Alex is how much he is comfortable with and unfazed by his hearing loss, and also how much, for a 10-year-old, he understands the technology that helps him to hear. Diagnosed with sensorineural hearing loss, Alex was fitted with hearing aids in both ears at age 3 months, and when he was 3 years old, he got a cochlear implant for his right ear. He continues to use both devices.

When his fourth grade teacher asked her students to write on a topic they know a lot about, Alex chose hearing loss and his hearing devices. The paper impressed the hearing-speech pathologist at school so much that it was shared on Speech4Hearing.com, a website that offers speech advice for parents of children with hearing loss. 

It also impressed us at Hearing Health Foundation (HHF). Here are some excerpts:

“There are two ways to help people with hearing loss hear,” Alex wrote. “One is a common way, a hearing aid, and the other way is not as common but is getting more common every day, which is a cochlear implant. I have both.”

“The reason people might need to get a cochlear implant is that they might not hear. They could be deaf or have hearing loss. The surgery of getting an implant can be a big decision. First the nurses give the patient sleeping medicine. Then, the surgeon drills into the skull. Next, the surgeon puts in a magnet. After the surgery you have to wait one month for the head to heal from the surgery.”

Once the healing period is over, the implant is turned on and it is programmed, or mapped, to fit the specific hearing requirements of the patient, and then the brain has to learn to process the sounds that the implant picks up and delivers directly to the brain via the auditory nerve. Nada Alsaigh, Alex’s mother, says Alex’s young age worked in his favor. “We were very lucky,” she says. “He was very fast learning how to use the implant to hear.”

“The way you hear with a hearing aid is like a first aid kit. The hearing aid assists the person in hearing,” Alex wrote in his paper. “An implant is better than a hearing aid because you can hear better with it. The reason is that the implant has a computer like processor that sends the sound through the nerve to the brain.”

Alex and his brother Joe, who is 12, are incredibly close. “We face challenges and we try to overcome them. This was a learning experience for all of us and made Joe more mature at a younger age. Joe is just a loving and supportive brother,” Nada Alsaigh says of Joe. The family treats Alex’s hearing loss as a part of who he is without defining who he is.

While thankful for existing technology, the family is also committed to helping HHF and its Hearing Restoration Project (HRP) find a cure for hearing loss and tinnitus. The HRP is on track to determine how to regenerate the inner ear sensory cells that, when missing or damaged, lead to hearing loss. The promise of a biologic cure for hearing loss could potentially remove the issues of adapting to hardware for Alex and the 50 million other adults and children in the U.S. who have hearing loss.

Smart and thriving, Alex realizes he is fortunate:

"Hearing makes me happy!” Alex says. “I am grateful that my parents got me a hearing aid and a cochlear implant. Someday, I believe that we will find a cure to have hearing cells come back to life! We can't give up hope! Hearing Health Foundation can help us find the cure!"

Alex's paper on hearing loss is availible in full, here.

Imagine...

By Kori Linae Carothers

Imagine for a moment that someone says to you, “Because you have a partial hearing loss, you cannot be a musician.” That happened to me. My name is Kori Linae Carothers and I am a concert pianist and composer. I was born with a hearing loss in my left ear—at least, that is what the doctors always told my parents.

When my parents and I found out I had a hearing loss, it wasn’t a big deal since I didn’t feel any different. I could hear with my right ear. I had a slight slur in my speech but other than that, I felt like everyone else! I loved to dance, sing, talk, dream, and listen to music. Just like most kids my age, I was busy and lived life with gusto.

My love for life changed once kids realized I could not hear as well as they did. Partial hearing was a challenge to me growing up because I had to sit up front in the classroom to hear my teachers. When kids and adults found out about my hearing loss, the teasing began. My peers called me names like “deafy,” and more. What hurt the most was when people laughed at me when I did not get an answer right because I did not hear the question properly. My answers were often out of context.

When I told one of my music teachers in grade school I wanted to be a pianist, she laughed at me, telling me I didn’t have the hearing for it. What? Never tell me I can’t do something, because baby, I will prove you wrong! When I look back on those days I realize that while some of the teasing was cruel, I became a musician and found my true calling: composing and playing the piano.

Skipping forward many years when I got married, I gave up my music to be a wife and mom, but when my husband realized that music is such an essential part of who I am, he encouraged me to pursue it and I have since released four albums. My fifth album, “Fire in the Rainstorm,” is my first solo piano album, while the other four albums are electronic and acoustic albums.

I remember that my first live experience with other musicians was difficult, as I needed to wear in-ear monitoring ear buds in ears, including in my right (hearing) ear. At one of our rehearsals, when I mentioned how difficult it was for me to hear what the other musicians were doing, my friend turned to me and said, “You don’t have to do this.” Well, again don’t ever tell me what to do! I bought an Audio-Technica in-ear monitoring system, and VOILA, problem solved!

While I fully accept my hearing loss, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit being a pianist would be easier with full hearing. I have tried wearing a hearing aid, but with my type of hearing loss, it did not work for me. Recently I wondered if there are any organizations that are researching hearing loss, and what they were doing with that research, as I would love to one day benefit from a cure. With the help of a friend, I learned of Hearing Health Foundation. I was SO impressed with the mission: to prevent and cure hearing loss and tinnitus through groundbreaking research and to promote hearing health. This made me SO happy and I knew right away that I wanted them to be recipients of my PledgeMusic Campaign for “Fire in the Rainstorm,” and I will also be donating proceeds from the sales from the album.

I am grateful for the folks at HHF and for the hope they provide me and others with hearing loss. I know they will continue their groundbreaking research, but not without the help of you and me. I ask you to join me on the journey to spread awareness, promote hearing health, and contribute to their mission so HHF can continue their quest to prevent and cure hearing loss and other hearing disorders.

Feel the fire! Visit Kori on the web. Her latest album is also available for purchase on iTunes. 

Visual Learning, Visual Teaching

By Caleb De Vries

My hearing loss is moderate; I hear highs and lows well but it is the middle of the spectrum where most human voices fall where I have trouble. Conversations can be very difficult, especially in noisy environments.

I first received hearing aids when I was 15 but was teased for wearing them; I felt different and somehow less than my peers. As a result I didn’t wear them for many years and struggled to find ways to cope without them.

Caleb De Vries

This provided a challenge for me academically. I hid in the classroom, avoided answering questions, and as a defense mechanism I acted aloof. The gym was the one place where I really felt at home. I excelled in ice hockey, track, volleyball, and basketball. 

I spent hours by myself every day after school mastering ball handling and shooting skills for basketball, and stick handling, inline skating, and shooting skills for hockey. I was very passionate about learning new and creative ways to teach myself how to improve. This passion led me to coach a variety of sports and to pursue bachelor degrees in education and physical education.

I wore hearing aids during university classes but they did not help much, as they were not working well and were too old to fix. I couldn’t afford to buy new hearing aids because they are extremely expensive, but about two years ago my sister Nadine [who works for HHF] paid for my new hearing aids—and they have changed my life.  

Now when I teach and play sports it is very different; voices are much easier to hear and I do not have to spend as much energy trying to hear my teammates or students. When playing sports, I wear a headband to protect my hearing aids and to prevent them from falling out.

I am the program coordinator for Fit Kids Healthy Kids in Winnipeg, Canada. This is run by a nonprofit organization, Sport Manitoba, whose goal is to encourage as many kids to be active as we can. We aim to provide opportunities for children to develop the confidence and competence to participate in any activity and to ultimately become active for life.

Many of the families I work with are recent immigrants whose first language is not English. My hearing loss is beneficial in this situation because it has led me to be a very visual and physical teacher. As a child I had learned by watching my favorite athletes and studying their movements, not by hearing them explain how they execute a skill.

I do not know whether I excelled in sports because of—or despite—having a hearing loss. I had to try harder to hear my coaches and teammates but it also caused me to have a high level of attention to detail, helping me develop my teaching style. When teaching I take every opportunity to give visual cues and demonstrations. In some ways this type of instruction can level the playing field for those who have trouble understanding verbal communication, whether because of hearing loss or because it is a foreign language.

My perceived disability has given me the ability to become more empathetic toward the kids who struggle with poor self-esteem and a fear of failure. When I was young I believed that I wasn’t good at math or science. The truth is I never knew how good I could be at these subjects because I was too afraid to fail.

It is the same fear that I see in kids who believe they are not athletic. Most often they are just too afraid to try because trying presents the possibility of failure. Helping a child overcome this fear is the most rewarding part of my job; it is such an incredible sense of accomplishment to know that I play a small role in this crucial step toward their development.

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Playground Lessons

By Scott Swanson

It's 1982. I'm 4 years old, and the proud new owner of two behind-the-ear hearing aids. These things are monsters. Huge. A result of life-saving surgery I had two years earlier. My mother had to put them in for me every morning. At age 4, I had no clue that this stinks. 

In 1983 I started kindergarten. In the Pacific Northwest, where I live, rain is a way of life. You don't duck for cover just because there's precipitation in the air. This especially goes for recess. At my school, there was this woman we called "Grandma" whose job it was to oversee the playground. She was old, and she laid down the law. She also rewarded kids who picked up toys with sugar-free candies. Those things were the worst! But some of us enjoyed the nice gesture.  

One fine September day it was raining and as usual, we got sent to the playground. I was getting pretty deep into a game of Foursquare, or maybe it was Red Rover. Either way, I find myself being sent inside by Grandma. Back to my classroom I went. I'm pretty sure I thought I was in trouble. Was I hogging the ball? Being mean? I couldn't figure it out.

School ended later that day, and I walked home in the rain. I remember when I walked through the front door my mom and dad were chuckling. They asked me how my day was. I gave them a generic response: "Fine.” "How was recess?" "Dumb." "Why?" "Grandma sent me back to my classroom for no reason." More chuckles, and then my mom told me to have a seat.

She told me that the school called to say they very concerned for my safety. She explained to me that Grandma noticed my hearing aids. She also noticed the rain. She put two and two together. When water and electronics mix, people get electrocuted. Grandma must have thought she saved my life. My parents told the school that although they appreciated them erring on the side of caution, I was not in danger of being electrocuted. A little rain would at worst damage my hearing aids but definitely not cause me to lose my life. 

I still see Grandma from time to time in the grocery store. I think back to that day and I doubt she remembers. She was old to us then, let alone 25 years later. Most importantly, I know she had my safety on her mind, and for that I'm thankful. I'll always remember her as much as any teacher I had at that school. Gross sugar-free candies, and all!

Scott has moderate to severe hearing loss. At age two, while undergoing life-saving surgery, Scott was administered ototoxic antibiotics, which have a side effect of hearing loss. By the age of four Scott had enough hearing loss to require hearing aids. He initially wore behind-the-ear (BTE) hearing aids, but currently wears completely-in-canal (CIC) hearing aids. Scott is the only one in his family that lives with hearing loss.

Turning Tables for Hearing Health

By Chill Kechil

Chill Kechil is our latest Les Paul Ambassador, helping to educate musicians and others about the risks of noise-induced hearing loss and tinnitus. Here, the New Jersey-based DJ and composer describes how he has managed his hearing loss while building a career in the music industry.

I found out in high school through hearing tests that I had some high frequency hearing loss. This caused me to be very aware of protection at a relatively early age. I fortunately did not go to a lot of concerts and wore earplugs way before they became commonly used. 

As I began DJing and producing music, I became aware of many technology tools that help both protect and aid me in producing music. The most common technology app is the dB (Decibel) Meter that I have on my iPhone. I also had custom earplugs made that I use when the sound in a venue is loud. When DJing, I use headphones that are best at “isolating” the sound in the headphones and reducing the outside sounds. This not only protects my hearing but also allows me to mix the next song in my headphones before playing them over the sound system to the audience. When DJs wear headphones, this is what they are usually doing—mixing the next song into the current one that is playing. 

When composing and producing music, there are several applications that I’ve found helpful. The first is a volume limiter that I use on the output channel of the mix. This prevents the signal/sound from going too loud and becoming distorted, which could damage your hearing as well as the sound equipment. 

The second is the use of a visual EQ (equalizer) monitor which allows you to “see” the frequencies of the sound being played. This indicates whether there is too much or too little sound in low to high frequencies, allowing me to mix the music better for a better listening experience. In particular, since my focus is on the high frequency areas, I use the visual EQ to monitor too much signal in that range. (There are many types of EQ tools available but I think many producers use visual monitors in one way or another.)

I also learned that, although human hearing technically ranges from 20 to 20,000 hertz (Hz), most people don’t fully hear the entire range, and in the higher and lower frequencies they may only be able to sense that there is a sound being made. A common practice in producing is to use filters to cancel and smooth out sounds below the lower and higher ends of the frequency spectrum. This prevents signals in the lower frequencies from causing unnecessary vibrations or rumbles as well as preventing artificial, “fizzy” sounds at the high frequencies. The ear is most sensitive to sound from about 2,000 to 5,000 Hz, so this is where I try to focus on minimizing peaks in the sound levels. 

Chill Kechil is donating a portion of his music and apparel proceeds to Hearing Health Foundation. Support HHF and enjoy his music at chillkechil.com. Read more about Chill Kechil in the upcoming Spring issue of Hearing Health magazine, out in April.

'My Daddy Sleeps Loud!'

By Cory MacIver and Holly F. Pedersen, Ed.D.

My daughter Kaylyn enjoys weekend “campouts” in the living room. After one such event, my wife asked our daughter, “How was the campout with Daddy?” Kaylyn replied, “Good, but my daddy sure sleeps loud!”

When your child with a hearing loss can hear you snoring even without her amplification, there is no denying it. Kaylyn Rae entered the world 16 weeks ahead of schedule weighing 1 lb 9 oz. Our home-based early intervention services began when Kaylyn was released from the NICU at 6 months old. In addition to our audiological and medical appointments, specialists from the North Dakota Vision Services, North Dakota School for the Deaf, and Minot Infant Development made regular home visits. 

As a first-time father, the barrage of female providers into our home was intimidating to say the least. I found myself making excuses to be away during these visits, having my wife fill me in later. This was a frustrating time for everyone—I was not yet comfortable participating in the intervention visits and worried I was giving the impression I didn’t care enough to be involved. 

Our deaf education specialist, Holly Pedersen, and I began to communicate about this situation. We both realized that, while more and more fathers want and expect to be involved in their children’s lives, information about exactly how to do that when one’s child has a disability was lacking. This led to an ongoing partnership to investigate the experiences of fathers of children with hearing loss and how to engage them in the team when providing services.

One of our first projects involved a method called Photovoice, which involves using photographs to express one’s point of view. Dr. Pedersen identified relevant quotes from the available research on fathers and I selected personal family photographs that illustrated these concepts, and together we created a PowerPoint presentation using them.

Kaylyn is now 10 years old and attends fourth grade in her neighborhood school with an excellent support team. Kaylyn loves dance class, American Girl dolls, and being a big sister to our youngest daughter, Cady (age 2). My wife Kara and I enjoy the ups and downs of life with our family—it’s a wild ride, but we wouldn’t want it any other way.

Cory MacIver is an educator with Minot Public Schools. He and his wife, Kara, are parents to two beautiful daughters who both happen to have disabilities. Holly F. Pedersen, Ed.D., has worked with children and youths with hearing loss in early intervention, public, and residential settings for more than 20 years. Pedersen is an assistant professor of special education at Minot State University in Minot, North Dakota.

Read more about children and hearing loss in our Winter 2015 issue.