Saturday I went to a 'dodgebee' (dodgeball, only with a frisbee) tournament for a school I taught at sometime this month. I know the English teacher there and he lets me know when practice is. I've gotten to join in a few days here and there for training so I've spent a bit more time with these kids than I get to with most.
I sit on the sidelines talking with them until it's their match. They line up and we all high-five before they go out on the court. They're incredibly good at the game - I was so proud when they won. I couldn't make it to the next match, but I got a text today telling me that they took third in the national competition. I'm hoping to see them again soon.
As I sat in that gymnasium on Saturday listening to all that little team, I realized - though not for the first time - that I was basically deaf. The little boys chattered to me and laughed and commented on the game in front of us, and I smiled and strained to understand. But it didn't matter...I wouldn't have mattered if I was deaf because I would have experienced the same feeling - an outsider trying to break into the circle where they would be so welcome if only they could get in. I wonder how much they could have - would have said to me if only we could understand each other. Child-eyes might speak, but I know now that they can never tell enough.
I went out to buy dinner the other night and as I stood waiting for my rice, the cook and waitress were having an animated conversation about something and laughing over it- maybe a customer, maybe a kitchen incident. We exchanged smiles when they glanced at me, but I could see they realized I didn't understand. They can talk freely because it is as if I never heard their lively banter in the first place. I'm missing out on a world here...and one of the only consolations is the fact that I'm mostly unable to realize it.