Finding My Voice: High School with Hearing Loss

By Skylynn Brown, Nevada H&V

Adolescence is challenging, but going through adolescence with a hearing loss is even more challenging. The biggest challenge I experienced in high school was navigating everything without any accommodations. Coming from a small town in Kentucky, I did not really know what resources were available to me, and honestly, I didn’t care to ask. I went through school mainstreamed with no FM system, no 504 plan, no IEP, nothing. I just attended class like my hearing peers and hoped for the best.

And for the most part, I did fine academically. But wow, the mental energy it took every single day was unreal. I could have powered the school with the amount of concentration I was using.

Teachers did not know I had hearing loss because I didn’t tell them, so when I missed a question or didn’t respond, they assumed I was ignoring them or zoning out. Meanwhile, I was sitting there thinking: “I promise I am not ignoring you…I literally had no clue you spoke to me.”

Group discussions were chaotic. Instructions I missed were countless.

The self-blame was heavy.

Finding Friends While Feeling Like a Tiny Fish in a Giant Tank

One challenge that did get resolved was making friends. For grades K-4 I attended the larger public elementary school, but then I moved to a very small school for grades 5-8. My 8th grade class had around 40 students. When high school started, most of my classmates went to a different school across town. Only 4 or 5 came with me to the large public high school, and we didn’t have any classes together.

Everyone else already had tight friend groups from middle school.

I showed up like: “Hi, remember me from four years ago? No? Cool, cool, cool.”

Once I joined sports and clubs, I finally found my people. Softball especially gave me confidence, and it was also where I started to let a few friends in on my “secret.” Because let us be honest, yelling instructions from the dugout does not help if I cannot hear you.

I mostly kept communication comfortable in smaller circles. Those friends learned to tap me first or at least not talk to me from across the room like we were in a dramatic soap opera scene.

But even in those moments surrounded by people, I sometimes felt alone.

Not because they didn’t care, but because I couldn’t always follow every laugh or inside joke.

Hair as a Hearing Aid Hiding Device

I was excellent at lip reading, but also excellent at hiding. I wore my hair down every single day like it was a security blanket straight out of a Pantene commercial, anything to keep my hearing aids from being seen. If someone noticed them, instant panic.

I had myself convinced that letting people know I had hearing loss was the end of the world. Looking back, it is almost funny how much work I put into pretending.

Plot twist: Pretending is way more exhausting than being real.

What I Know Now

I wish high school me knew that being different is not a weakness, it is a strength.

I wish she knew that advocating for herself was not annoying, it was necessary.

I wish she knew she did not have to shrink herself to make other people comfortable.

Today, I openly wear my hearing aid and cochlear implant (I was implanted after high school) and talk about my hearing loss. I ask for clarification instead of guessing, which is only fun on game shows. I speak up. I show up. I am proud.

Confidence does not magically appear. You build it, little by little, every time you decide: “I deserve to be included and understood.”

And I do.

And so do you.  ~

H&V Communicator – Winter 2026