CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ms. Funnel and I entered Mrs. Joyce Campbell’s office—the nameplate outside the office door said so. Mrs. Campbell was going to be my interpreter. Her office was kind of small. Her desk sat by a window where the shades were drawn. Besides the desk she had some filled bookshelves, and in the center of the room a round table with four chairs.
I smiled and extended my hand. “Hello.” We clasped hands.
I wasn’t sure why, but I felt funny signing in front of people I didn’t know. It made me uncomfortable. Part of it was because I didn’t think I was good enough at signing. The other part was that every time I signed, I admitted the truth to myself. I might never hear again.
Mrs. Campbell nodded and began signing. Oral is good. Like Ms. Funnel, she signed slowly. Visual is g
