Inside the brick walls of Divine Mercy Catholic Elementary School, Marilena Iaboni sits in a small room deemed ‘the hearing centre,’ her laptop open, while she’s attempting to provide support to deaf students over Google Meet.
Virtual learning, she explains, has been a struggle for everyone however, it can be especially difficult when teaching children that already struggle in a normal class setting.
Her students have opted to stay home due to the uncertainty of the pandemic, leaving Iaboni in an empty classroom to provide support to them virtually.
The silence is frequent, apart from the clicking of keys on her keyboard and the static voices of fellow colleagues and students in the online classrooms.
“It’s challenging. There are no two days the same. Some days are good, some days are bad… Some days are frustrating,” she says thoughtfully.
She sits down at her desk wearing a plain outfit, and her back facing the window with the blinds drawn. I ask her why she didn’t have posters behind her or even a chalkboard since many other teachers had set up their online classes this way.
“When you’re working with deaf people, you have to be mindful of your background, and even what you wear, all the way down to nail polish,“ she says, holding up a hand for me to see her plain nails. “Any little distraction can act as an easy getaway.”
Masks can act as yet another barrier for teachers in the hearing centre since lip reading and facial expressions play a large role in communication with the deaf community.
“We do have these masks that have a clear cut-out and then the rest is material, but they’re very hard to breathe in,” she explains with a laugh, demonstrating how the plastic touches her mouth each time she breathes in.
The loud ring of the school bell alerts the start to a new day, and Iaboni is quick to jump to action.
She explains that she has to determine who will need the most help based on the subject they’ll be learning at that time, and join those classes first.
“They usually don’t need help with things like art, or gym, and stuff like that, but when it comes to the sciences and math, we’re there to support them.”
When Iaboni joins one of their classes, she listens intently to ensure she understands the lesson enough to reiterate it to them if needed.
“It’s hard online because I don’t want to type in the chat to call them out in front of everyone, so we sort of have to wait until our own time, or if we’re put in breakout rooms, to determine if they’ve understood it or not,” she says with a look of defeat.
On a positive note, each day they meet up altogether and go over anything the kids need help with, and let them talk about their day.
“I love it, that when they come to us and tell us, ‘I get it,’ ‘I understand it,’ ‘I don’t need any help,’ and they can do it independently. When they have that ‘wow’ moment, then that’s amazing for us.”
With a fond smile, Iaboni shakes her head. The kids have been with her since they started, and she’s watched them grow every step of the way.
“I miss them a lot already. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve seen them, but I’ll miss them more when they go on and graduate from this program.”