Compréhension écrite : Hands That Speak

When a new boy joined our class in the middle of seventh grade, our

teacher introduced him as Itay and asked us to look at him when we spoke. At

first, I did not understand why. Then she explained that Itay was deaf. He

could read lips a little and wore a hearing aid, but in a noisy classroom he

missed most of what people said.

For the first few weeks, Itay sat alone at break. Nobody was unkind to

him, but nobody really knew how to talk to him either. We smiled, we waved,

and then we went back to our own friends. I felt bad about it, but I told

myself there was nothing I could do.

Everything changed on a school trip to the Galilee. Our bus broke down,

and we waited by the road for two hours. Itay was sitting near me, so I took

out my phone and typed, "Boring, right?" He laughed and typed back a joke

about our teacher's huge hat. We spent the rest of the afternoon writing

messages to each other. I discovered that he loved football, drew amazing

cartoons and had a terrible sense of humour, just like me.

Typing on a phone was slow, though, and I wanted to talk to him

properly. That evening I searched online for Israeli Sign Language lessons.

I found free videos made by a deaf teacher, and I started learning ten signs

a day. The alphabet came first, then simple words like "friend," "eat" and

"tomorrow." My hands felt clumsy, and my little sister laughed at me while I

practised in front of the mirror.

A week later, I walked up to Itay at break and signed, "Good morning.

How are you?" His face lit up. He corrected the way I held my fingers, and

then he answered so fast that I understood nothing. We both burst out

laughing. From that day on, he taught me a few new signs every break, and I

helped him with the parts of the lessons he had missed.

Then something unexpected happened. Other students noticed and wanted to

learn too. Our teacher invited a deaf instructor to give a short course

after school, and twelve students joined. Now at least half our class can

have a simple conversation in sign language, and Itay is never alone at

break.

Learning a new language has taught me more than words. I used to think

that being kind meant smiling at people. Now I know that real kindness

sometimes means making an effort to meet someone halfway. And I gained a

best friend, who still beats me at football.