All the children did this except for one girl who was angry, her arms crossed, with an attitude of “I'm not going to do anything, don't even try.”

“It's because she's new here,” Graciela explained.

The rest ate what their moms had packed in their lunchboxes, a sandwich, some fruit, a granola bar. Every now and then, they turned to look at that man with the glasses who watched them closely from the rear of the class.

One of the children used a banana as a microphone and pretended to sing. A couple of children sitting next to him began to laugh. Their laughter broke the silence.

This struck me because I was certain this child had never heard a song. In fact, none of these children knew sounds. The boy was merely imitating something he must have seen on television.

“Ever since I was a little girl,” Graciela told me, “I learned that the only way I could feel like other people was by imitating them. When I went to Mass with my parents, I simply moved my lips without understanding what I was doing.”

The clarity of her voice at times hides the fact that she has been deaf for a long time, since she was a little girl – or maybe even before that. Her hands, accustomed to sign language, never stop moving, even when she uses her voice to communicate.

Graciela lived an isolated life, in silence. She knew she was different, but she didn't understand why. And within her family there wasn't a climate of understanding to help her comprehend the strange world that surrounded her.

It wasn't until she turned 39 that she began to interact with people like herself and learned sign language and lip reading.

This was the most important stage in her life, when she became independent. The more she learned, the more she realized how unjust society had been to her. They treated her like a mentally retarded girl, denied her opportunities, married her off, forced her to live a life that wasn't hers.

Nowadays, Graciela is 55 and the founder and principal of Apsor, a private, nonprofit school for deaf children in Tijuana. Some 40 students, small children to teenagers, attend classes every day.

Apsor is in a house that originally belonged to drug traffickers and was seized by the Mexican government, which now rents it out to the school.

Funds are limited and come primarily from donations in the form of scholarships for the students or equipment for the school. The last time I paid them a visit, there was great excitement among the teachers because they had received a computer, their fourth in 13 years.

In recent years, Graciela has been very busy attending conferences and talking about her life. Those who know her tell her that she should write a book about her experiences.

Although she would be the last to admit it, her life is inspirational. She has three adult children, all college graduates, and keeps her school open in the face of economic limitations and scant support from the Mexican government.

A book on Graciela Rascón's life would tell a story full of sadness and pain, like those of many other people; but it also would be the tale of a courageous woman who overcame the obstacles society and her family placed in her way. And who now devotes herself to ensuring other children have the chance to lead fulfilling lives, despite their disabilities.

By Luis Humberto
http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/features/20060302-9999-1c02luis.html