Michel and Laure have been married for three years and have a two-year-old son. Michel is deaf, but reads lips perfectly. Here, Laure and Michel share the challenges that can arise during a meal and offer some practical solutions. Laure has written this piece, but it reflects the wishes of them both.
When we're invited out together, I ask if we can sit Michel at a particular spot at the table. This often disrupts the host's original seating plan, but what once mortified me, I now do easily and without thinking twice. Our hosts have always been gracious about it.
The real difficulty remains: Michel needs to actually follow the conversation and take part in it.
Main obstacles to avoid
For Michel to grasp what's being said, there's no need to exaggerate your articulation. Just look him in the eye, speak slowly, and stay calm.
But the conversation itself requires real attention from everyone at the table.
Here are the main pitfalls to watch for.
One person dominates the talk throughout the meal. Gradually Michel loses the thread, and soon so does everyone else—each person drifts into their own thoughts.
People tell trivial stories and gossip about others. When you actually try to relay the conversation accurately to someone who can't hear it, you quickly realize how thin and uncharitable it often is. Michel's presence can help us choose topics worth discussing and lift the level of our talk.
Everyone speaks at once. Then it's impossible for me to catch the main points for Michel. Besides, he finds what sounds to him like noise exhausting. A crowded family gathering or reception can wear him out if he's stuck at a table where everyone is fighting to tell their story. When he leaves, he's deeply discouraged. That's why we never invite large groups to dinner, and we work hard to make sure there's only one conversation happening at a time.
It depends on all of us
When Michel is following along, his meal goes slowly: he can't watch someone's face and his plate at the same time. So every now and then we need to pause and let him swallow a bite.
Finally, it's not enough that Michel follows the conversation—he needs to be able to speak too. Before he says anything, he always checks that he won't cut someone off. When there are too many people, he often stays quiet because he worries his voice won't add much and that people might not understand him. One of us needs to draw him out by asking him about things he knows—our church or community work, his thoughts on a country he's visited, his take on current events, the latest tennis or rugby match, new discoveries in geology.
I once read an article called "Is a meal a chore or a celebration?" It depends on us. The choice is ours.
- Michel and Laure Morice, 1989 - Ombres et Lumiére no. 85
Michel's parents write
When Michel lost his hearing, we made an effort to speak more clearly, articulating each word carefully. We noticed that his younger brother naturally picked up this way of speaking—his first words came out already well-articulated the same way.
There are several details that help Michel follow and join the conversation. He needs to see people's faces and lips. The room must be well lit. Michel sits with his back to the window or light source (if it's electric lighting) so he can see everyone's faces clearly. We prefer a round or oval table.
At first, we stopped saying grace at the start of meals, since Michel couldn't participate. Now we say the Lord's Prayer instead.
- Jean and Paulette Morice