In 2006, I began working at Advocates, a series of group homes in Framingham. It was here I experienced first-hand how technology can make a difference in the lives of the Deaf and hard-of-hearing. On my first day I was introduced to a television with a miniature box above it. Curious, I asked Lisa, my supervisor, what it was.

“You’ve never seen one of those before?” she signed, a puzzled look on her face.

“No, I haven’t,” I replied.

While Lisa was surprised that I was unfamiliar with the device, she explained that it was a video-relay service. One could call a number, and an interpreter would bridge the communication between the Deaf person and the hearing person he or she was trying to reach.

“That’s incredible,” I said. I was stunned. This was a bridge between the Deaf and hearing that utilized the Internet line to broadcast live video back and forth between its audience.

The idea of this bridge isn’t new, however. Deaf people’s abilities to communicate have evolved wildly since Alexander Graham Bell’s hearing aid and telephone. The TTY – a device that allowed deaf people to communicate over the phone through a typewriter that interpreted a signal system that reminded me of Morse code, seems archaic today, especially when you consider how many text messages are sent each day. It is not unusual for a form of technology designed to benefit a group or subtype to work its way into the mainstream.

When I was a teenager, my parents switched to a digital, cordless phone from the old rotary one. Aside from the convenience of being able to take it out to the pool deck to avoid missing incoming calls, there was the added benefit of being able to mount it to the wall. However, when my parents called to make sure I had come home from school alright (they were helicopter parents before the notion was conceived), I would not pick up. They scolded me, saying that if I wanted to be an adult I was going to have to respectfully and politely answer the phones. I didn’t want to admit the truth: I simply could not hear the ringer from my bedroom, nor could I hear on the phone if I wanted to. Here was an invention that could help bridge that gap.

Hearing aids are remarkable inventions. They really are. Those who would otherwise be on the outskirts of society, shunned, are now able to communicate with hearing individuals and express themselves in ways unheard of before. However, they were not able to let me cradle the phone close to my ear and listen to the speaker on the other side of town, the United States, the world, without whistling fiercely. On those rare occasions when I could hear the person on the other side, it was some telemarketer or useless wrong number, and any victory I might have felt from hearing them was lost. While many today lament how technology has taken over our lives, for those who cannot hear, the reliance on technology does not come from a desire, but from a need. The video-relay service was developed as a response to that need.

“What about if you want to communicate with someone who is Deaf?” I asked.

Lisa simply pushed a few buttons, and less than a minute later a face appeared on the screen. Lisa introduced the man as Paul, a supervisor from another group home. This was how Deaf people communicated now, Lisa and Paul said. Many Deaf people had these video relay services in their homes.

I am not sure how I envisioned communication between the Deaf and hearing had evolved up until that point. I might have guessed any communication between the Deaf would have to be through email, and the times most of us spent on our computers utilizing emails back then was pretty much minimal.

However, my initiation into the new world of Deaf technology wasn’t over. A few minutes later I heard a buzzing sound. I wasn’t sure what it was, and my first guess of its origin isn’t fit for print. Instead, it turned out to be a Blackberry, and this was the first time I was introduced to the world of Smartphones. I had seen them once before when I was an aide at Newton North High School, working for the Deaf program, but this was my first time experiencing how easy it was to communicate using it. Each program had one, but I quickly learned that the majority of Deaf people working at the houses had one and had been using them for years. The Blackberry was supposed to be carried with you if you left the group home on an errand or had one of the clients who lived in the house with you.

While many people desire to have as many technological gadgets in their lives as possible, I resisted getting a Blackberry, and the main reason was because: 1. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with my boss being able to contact me 24/7, and 2. I could see how this could turn into an addiction. I’d already seen a few interpreters reprimanded at Newton North High School, and I was determined not to become a statistic. Perhaps add a third: it was 2006, and I wasn’t entirely convinced I needed something like this in my life.

Over time, however, my resistance wore down and I purchased one, a used one, from a friend. Instantly, my productivity soared. Not only was I able to connect with friends and family who used Instant Messaging, but I could connect with the Internet and various other agencies within the group home’s community for help or for suggestions on how to deal with various situations that came up in the group home.

In many respects, the Deaf made it fashionable to be texting all the time before the rest of the world caught on. It was not unusual for me to have lunch with a Deaf friend and watch her spend half the lunch texting on her phone with her parents, who were babysitting her daughter. This was 2007, and texting etiquette had not yet been invented yet. It is 2015, and while texting etiquette has been developed, it is rarely followed.

My journey with technology wasn’t over, however, though I have long since left that group home and started teaching in 2010. Even at the age of 30, I was still wearing analog hearing aids, and it became increasingly obvious this was not going to work in the classroom. When the analog ones went on the fritz, I was forced to look into the world of digital hearing aids. What fascinated me was not just the hearing aids, but the ‘candy’ that went along with them. The hearing aids were Bluetooth compatible, which meant my iPhone could broadcast straight to them. The same went for phone calls. And while I still struggled with hearing over the phone, this was more because of the various accents I was hearing rather than the quality of the hearing aids themselves.

We take technology for granted. It comes naturally as we integrate ourselves with it further and further. In years prior, those with hearing disabilities lamented they were missing out on the digital world. Now that is simply not true. By incorporating these various forms of technology into our lives, we can become more productive members of society, and show the world that being Deaf is not something to be ashamed of, and that we can do all that our hearing counterparts can if we try.