Tamsyn
Content Warning: These stories are about violence, abuse, neglect and exploitation and may include references to suicide or self-harming behaviours. They may contain graphic descriptions and strong language and may be distressing. Some narratives may be about First Nations people who have passed away. If you need support, please see Contact & support.
Tamsyn, mid-40s, is Deaf and uses Auslan.
In primary school, there were a few other Deaf kids in her class. The teacher didn’t use Auslan, expecting them to lip-read.
‘We had to sit behind each other, facing the front of the room, and try our best,’ Tamsyn told the Royal Commission.
At the end of lessons, the teacher would test the class. Covering her mouth with her hand, she repeated similar words, such as ‘bear’ and ‘pear’ or ‘six’ and ‘sixth’.
Tamsyn would have to ‘wildly guess’.
‘Every time I guessed wrong, she would smack me hard across the hand with an object.’
‘It was exhausting. I was always physically in pain and it was very emotionally distressing. Looking back now I realise this was abuse,’ she said.
‘I am still traumatised by these experiences to this day. It means I am still upset and triggered whenever I have to lip-read.’
In high school, Tamsyn wasn’t allowed to attend English lessons and instead went to a language class.
‘Do you know why we couldn’t be part of those classes? Because the Deaf students’ literacy skills were so far behind those of the hearing kids.’
The language teacher didn’t try to teach them what they missed. Instead she used signed English, repeating very basic literacy exercises.
In classes with hearing students, Tamsyn had no access to interpreters and no support.
At university, Tamsyn learnt about essays for the first time. She was shocked and disappointed teachers at school had had such low expectations of her.
‘I really missed out because of how Deaf kids are taught, and this caused me to lag far behind my hearing peers for many years.’
Following university, Tamsyn worked in Deaf education.
‘[One] workplace had a very strong “hearing culture” – all of the staff were hearing. No-one was interested in Auslan. The only way to communicate with other staff was to email them, or write notes back and forth.’
One staff member had a particularly negative attitude to Tamsyn. She would talk down to her and never treated her as an equal.
‘Her behaviour caused me a lot of harm.’
Tamsyn tried to book interpreters for staff meetings but was told no interpreters were available. When she complained, they told her that her meetings were not a priority – interpreters were needed at hospitals or police stations.
‘I would miss out on vital information, and I would fall behind. It was such a disappointment to me. I was often upset. I became unwell. This was not an easy time in my life.’
Following a review, the school asked all staff to commit to learning Auslan. But staff made excuses, saying they were too busy and had too much to do.
‘Everyone gave up on the idea and no-one could be bothered going. This created a lot of communication barriers for me in that workplace. I felt physically sick from the stress … I lost all of my confidence.’
Tamsyn said it hurt so much because the organisation was a disability organisation specifically funded to provide services to Deaf people.
Disclaimer: This is the story of a person who shared their personal experience with the Royal Commission into Violence, Abuse, Neglect and Exploitation of People with Disability through a submission or private session. The names in this story are pseudonyms. The person who shared this experience was not a witness and their account is not evidence. They did not take an oath or affirmation before providing the story. Nothing in this story constitutes a finding of the Royal Commission. Any views expressed are those of the person who shared their experience, not of the Royal Commission.