I Listen With My Heart:
The Story of a Young Lady With Central Auditory Processing Disorder

Hi!

My name is Lara Harding! I am 25 years old, have blue eyes, brown hair and freckles. Oh yeah, I also have Cerebral Palsy and Central Auditory Processing Disorder. (CP and CAPD for short!) Neither one of my conditions gets me down, not very much anyway.

Frankly, my CP has been easier to deal with than my CAPD. "Why", you ask? Well...Cerebral Palsy is usually a very obvious neuromuscular disability. I have a moderate case of spastic Diplegia. Let me explain the medical terms I just used, please. Neuromuscular means that this condition affects the parts of the brain (the headquarters of the central nervous system) that control the way your muscles respond to the messages your brain is sending out. This also can affect balance and eye-hand co-rdination. Spastic means that I have a higher than normal muscle tone. Consequently, my muscles are always tighter than most people. Through physical and occupational therapy, I have learned to relax some, but it will probably never be typical of the way most people are. Diplegia means my lower half of my body is more involved than my upper torso and arms. However I have some trouble using my arms and I can only punch the keyboard on this computer with two fingers and a thumb. One lesson I have learned through my quarter of a century is you can learn to deal with anything with a positive attitude!

I was mainstreamed from first grade on, after spending two years in special education. No one could figure out what to do with me, because of my obvious intelligence and lack of motor skills. In first grade, my teachers decided I needed to learn typing. This was because I did not have sufficient motor skills to make my writing legible at that point in time. We moved to southern Ohio the summer before I began second grade. The instructors at my new school deemed it appropriate for me to begin to learn to print in earnest. This was one of the hardest challenges my CP ever threw my way. No one knew of the struggles my CAPD presented at that time. People who knew me told my mom that I had a low frustration tolerance. They did not know the half of it.

Because of the so-called problems that people with Central Auditory Processing can have, I could not understand any of my teachers, friends, or even my dad at church. (My father is a pastor!) “In the beginning was the Word.” Not for me! His sermons sounded "Donald Duckish" to me. When the congregation sang the popular hymns, I could understand the tune but the words were all mumbled or ran together. I could not participate in the singing, even though, I had learned to read when I was five. Mom brought toys to play with, so that eased my boredom somewhat. When I was twelve, the toys disappeared. Now, I had to learn to sit still and not squirm throughout the mind-numbing rambling at church. Believe me, this was a really difficult thing to accomplish. I hated Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, Wednesday Bible Study, etc...

The only way I absorbed any information about my world was in quiet solitude. My mother, and sometimes father, became my primary instructors. After Mom taught me how to read, books became my lifeline to information. Even now, I would rather sit alone with a spellbinding story than to visit friends. I did not have many friends, because their romp and play games were so noisy. I could not understand any language in the presence of background noise. (I still can’t. Staff Day where I work is the bane of my existence! More about that later!)

I had not as yet mastered the art of lipreading. It is a very difficult skill to acquire. Trying saying beach and peach in front of a mirror, they look exactly the same don’t they? I could lip-read Mom, Dad, some of my relatives, and a few of my friends if they would look directly at me. Most of the time, they did not do this. It was not something they knew I needed. I did not even know that I could benefit from this accommodation until I was about 15.

When completing my homework assignments Mom and I would sit across from each other at the dining room table. When I became stuck, she would look at the source of the difficulty and assist me in finding ways around it. She did not do my assignment for me. For example, she drew grids around the numbers when she copied my math problems, so I could keep everything straight and complete the computations successfully most of the time. Also, we would look up definitions of any new vocabulary I encountered. I would write the new words and definitions out each week. This was how I practiced my new found writing skills. We continued this when I started to learn cursive. Mom kept a scrapbook of these words, then I could refer to them anytime I needed to refresh my memory. I became an outstanding student at school with my mother’s careful tutelage.

The summer before third grade, Mom brought a set of multiplication flash cards. We practiced all summer. When third grade began, I had all the facts memorized through twelve. I could beat anyone at “Around the World” a game where each student stood by another student’s desk while the teacher held up a flash card. The first one to blurt out the answer could advance to the next student’s desk. I almost always could come out as the last one standing.

As I became older, the girls’ games turned increasingly to just conversation! I could never participate, because I would always require repetition. After the third or fourth "Huh", "What did you say?" or "What was that again?" ....The girls would sputter “Never mind!” or something like that. I would be left to my own devices once again. I would sit on the steps by the door with my nose in a book. Soon, everyone left me alone to read.

However, I became really good friends with some of my teachers! Adults are always more patient than your peers are! I was consequently always two or three years behind someone my age in social skills. The gap just increased with age. When I could not keep up with young women, my own age, I began choosing younger friends. This annoyed my mother, who did not comprehend that this was where I was at socially. It especially angered her that some of my friends were the “rejects” of the school. For example, during my senior year of high school most of my friends were freshmen. My mother was like, “Don’t you want to go see a movie with Alisha?”, one of the seniors in my class. No, I did not! 1. I would not be able to make out the dialogue during the movie. (This was before assistive listening devices were widely available) 2. If we went to an eating establishment after the movie, I would not be able to decipher the conversation going on around me. No, thank you very much! I did not want to endure that torture just for the sake of appearances!

I would rather read and listen to the radio. Songs that are popular tend to be repeated on a regular basis. If it was really quiet with no distractions, I could begin to make out the words to the songs by listening hard and by repetition.

The discrepancy between my academic and social life befuddled most people especially my parents. I left for college when I was 19. The college in question was 650 miles from my parents and had 500 students total. It was a nice change being on my own, but not even my mother had prepared me for the hell I was about to experience. I did not even know how to do my own laundry. Mom spent all of her time with me devoted to academics and my various therapies. That was not such a bad idea in theory, because it allowed me to graduate from high school with honors. What it did not do, however, was teach me domestic life skills that every person needs to know when they first encounter college life in a dormitory. My RA (resident assistant) taught me those first weeks I was college how to do my laundry. She also instilled in me that I would need quarters for just about everything! Pop machines, snack machines, telephone calls at the lone phone in the dorm, etc. I heeded her advice!

Academically I was sailing through my first semester with high grades in every subject. Socially I started out fine, too! I told everyone I was deaf and I read lips. People would slow down enough for me to catch onto what they were saying. This worked for about the first semester. My classmates caught onto the fact I could hear well. The fact remained; I could not understand conversation for the most part auditorily. I still needed a visual system like American Sign Language as an aide in comprehending what was going on around me! Because of what they had discovered, my friends dropped like flies!

I sank in a deep depression not wanting to participate in what I could not understand! My grades dropped and I stopped attending class regularly. I ate in the snack bar where it was relatively quiet when compared with the main cafeteria with all the chatter, clinking of silverware and the like. I could even attend to a conversation, provided I could see the participants’ lips to read them.

About this time the interim dean of students told me I could either go for mandatory counseling, or I could finish my work at home and not come back. Well, I had been attending weekly counseling sessions with her, but I did not know I was required to keep going to her office for these sessions. If I was told I never got it, and if implied it flew right over my head. Needless to say, I went to the local mental health center once a week for counseling with a counselor who did not have a known disability. Big mistake! I spent most of my time with her like I did with everyone on campus educating about people with obvious and hidden disabilities. That gets old really quick!

The next year the regular dean of students returned from her sabbatical, and I asked her if the old requirement was still in effect. I also wondered if I would be kicked out if I did not adhere to the requirement. She said no she did not do that! Thank God! I breathed a sigh of relief!

I was an elementary and special education major. My biggest dream was then and still is to teach other people like myself. I was discouraged from this profession because my eye-hand coordination was still not what was considered to be a typical schoolteacher’s. Also, I could not understand the students were saying to me, unless they were about three feet in front of me and I could see their faces.

I took the recommendation of my professors and I switched my major to psychology. I did not switch just for their sake alone! I became really good friends with the head of the Psychology Department. He would teach small classes and give me oral tests which he administered himself. Under him I knew I could make it, so that is what I did. You learn when you have obstacles to find ways around them any way you can!

If you would like to contact Lara regarding her story, please email me and I will forward your letters to her. My email is CapdFromTheHeart@aol.com

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