Joan’s eyes flicked over to Mom as she voiced for me. I watched Joan’s face fall a fraction of an inch before she gave an airy wave, saying, “That’s . . . okay. I just wanted to . . .”

I didn’t even bother trying to lipread the rest of what Joan was saying. I looked back to Mom and signed, NOT GROUP FOR DEAF?

Mom relayed my question to the others, and Joan’s daughter Casey answered, “Oh, I’m not deaf.”

I was so taken aback by Casey’s response that the only thing I could think of to say was, “What?”

Casey brushed back part of her hair to show off her tan colored CI and tapped a finger to it, saying, “I’m not deaf. I hear . . . fine.”

Helplessness wasn’t really the right word to describe how I felt when Casey said that. It was something more than that, something distressing, and I couldn’t put a name to it. Something was missing here, and I felt it almost like a physical ache.

Cochlear implants were great, sure, but take those away and you wouldn’t be able to hear. It was only with the help of assistive technology that you’d be able to hear. So what was so wrong about saying you were deaf? Not big D Deaf, but deaf—just not being able to hear.

DON’T KNOW SIGN, I told Mom, gesturing around at the group.

She agreed with a short nod, looking just as caught off guard as I was. She leaned over to Joan to say something, and whatever she said made Joan nod.

“Didn’t want . . . stuck in . . . bubble. Thought it . . . she learn . . . talk,” Joan said, glancing toward Casey, who was back to talking with the boy beside her.

There was nothing wrong with having a cochlear implant. Of course there was nothing wrong with it. But there wasn’t anything wrong with being Deaf either. I just couldn’t believe none of these kids had been taught ASL.

What happened if their CI somehow broke and then they were left without a way to communicate because they didn’t know sign? Not everybody carried around a notebook and pencil to jot down notes all the time. Wouldn’t you need to know sign language if there was even the slightest chance of that happening?

HEY. Mom waved at me to get my attention. WHAT’S WRONG?

NOTHING, I signed back.

I had nothing left to contribute to the conversation. I felt so wildly out of place here, surrounded by these freshmen with cochlear implants who didn’t know how to sign. Even at Engelmann I never felt so unsettled.