Wednesday, October 9, 1996

Bringing A Soul To Life: Interview with Debra Hindlemann Webster

Hillary Webster, now 14, is an active child with large grey eyes, and inch-long brown hair.  She was born with multiple congenital anomalies:  Tube-fed (gastrostomy) since birth; a breathing tube (tracheostomy); impaired fine and gross motor control; autistic tendencies.  Hillary has massive cranial nerve damage  (nerves which control the operation of neck, face, sensory, vocal and eating abilities).  She is Deaf, she is learning disabled, she has Tourette Syndrome.

Hillary has been kept alive with the support of 5 life-support machines, and she requires 24 hour per day medical care.  She can experience touch and sight, but she cannot smell, taste, nor hear.  Although she knows some sign language, she has a major language disorder.  Yet, despite the challenges, Hillary’s mom points out that “she is bright, strong-willed, and has been raised as a well child:  She lives at home, she goes to public school, and she has friends.”

Always looking for ways to encourage her daughter to respond to her environment, Debra Webster had read that therapeutic riding often proved beneficial.  She felt that what it offered—a sense of locomotion, control, and bonding—were worthwhile pursuits.  When Hillary turned 5, she was enrolled in a weekly therapeutic program.

Debra cautions:  “It’s difficult to specifically gauge the effect that the horses had upon Hillary because she cannot express her thoughts as others do, and speak for herself.  However, there is every reason to believe that her riding experience helped enormously.”

It was her mother’s goal to provide Hillary with the opportunities which could be gained from riding.  The animals were available to demonstrate the sensation of locomotion, and Debra reports, “The horses’ movements beneath Hillary were as though they were her own.”   Hillary began to walk. 

Hillary had been involved in physical therapy since her birth, as well as the more recent therapeutic riding; it is impossible to say which form of therapy contributed which ingredient, or which was the more influential.  Yet, after 2 years of riding, Hillary was able to walk independently—she had finally understood the process.

Riding definitely helped Hillary to gain a sense of control and self-esteem.  Sometimes Hillary would start to cry when she was first put on the horse, but when her mom or dad asked if she wished to stop riding, she refused.  She insisted on continuing her lessons.  Riding gave her the feeling that she was someone special; she could finally do something which none of her friends knew how.

Hillary took lessons for 6 years, and her mother states that Hillary looked forward to the relationship she shared with the animals.  She treasured the grooming, the saddling and unsaddling, the feeding time.  It was soothing to both Hillary, and her mount.  She enjoyed watching the animals for hours—especially their lips and whiskers (how they moved when they ate).  Perhaps it was because Hillary’s facial muscles were paralyzed; perhaps it was because Hillary could not eat by mouth.  Whatever the reason, she was fascinated.

Possibly the most important aspect gained by Hillary from therapeutic riding was that she made friends with the horses.  She allowed them into her withdrawn and silent world, and they helped her to understand how to reach out and relate to others. 

Hillary made significant strides in her 6 years with the therapy.  She experienced the Special Olympics and multiple horse-shows.  She was able to win ribbons—something that field-days in public school could not accommodate for children with multiple disabilities. 

As the years have gone by and Hillary has matured, her experiences have broadened and her interests have narrowed more to those things where she can do her best.  Riding has become less of a priority, replaced with art, computers, and picture books.  

“Even though her interests have changed, there is every reason to believe that therapeutic horseback riding was a significant influence in her life,” said Hillary Webster’s mother.  “The animals encouraged my daughter to accept the challenges of movement, of increased self-confidence and self-esteem, and of increased empathy with other living beings.”


Wednesday, September 1, 1993

Deaf Capitalizing on Cultural Pride: Editorial for National Association of the Deaf (NAD) Broadcaster

catwalker/shutterstock.com
America's Deaf community adopted a capital "D" to promote self-respect.  Tired of the old image that deaf people are disabled, the silent culture has come up with its own powerful identity, insisting that "Deaf" begin with a capital "D."

"A basic rule of English grammar is that all proper nouns are capitalized.  That's any specific person, place, thing, or idea--including Deaf life," said Mary Elstad, former teacher at the Colorado School for Deaf & Blind.

Tom Willard, editor for "Silent News," a national Deaf newspaper wrote, "When 'deaf' is not capitalized, it generally refers to...a physical disability. When it is capitalized, it denotes deafness as a cultural trait...as Hispanic or Russian is capitalized."

A person can be one, the other, or both.  The first is circumstance; the second is commitment.

It has become evident that Deaf people have pride in their own way of life. Popularity of the National Theater of the Deaf; Gallaudet University students choosing their own Deaf president; increased demand for use of American Sign Language; closed captioning of films and television programs; these are strong indicators of a thriving culture.

Mourene Tesler, executive director of Denver's Center on Deafness and activist for the Deaf said, "We think of Jews and Japanese--not jews and japanese--as peoples with their own languages, TV programs, theaters, newspapers, and schools.  They have their own styles, senses of humor, behaviors.  They are separate cultures existing within the mainstream.  The Deaf world is no different, and expects the same recognition."