Thriving Minds Student Matthew Ramirez Has Spider-Man Hearing

By Mario Tarradell, Public Relations & Marketing Manager

Matthew Ramirez wears Spider-Man hearing aids. They cradle his ears in a relaxed twirl of red, black and light blue. When asked why he chose Spider-Man out of all the super heroes, Matthew doesn’t miss a beat: “He has Spidey hearing sense.”

At 10-years-old Matthew has been forced to face the realities of hearing loss with the learned resilience of an adult. There were days when Matthew holed up in his room, refusing to put the hearing aids on. His mom Stevie Arrellano had to threaten punishment so he’d pop them in. She has “mom” sense. She knows what’s good for her super hero son.

Ten is a difficult age, no longer a toddler but not yet a teen. To endure it with a handicap can be daunting. Matthew is soft-spoken, somewhat shy. Yet he’s attentive, sweet and not afraid to speak when he has something to say. His eyes glow; they are at once expressive and determined.

Matthew is a fourth grader at Casa View Elementary. We recently sat together and chatted in the school’s cafeteria. He’s been in Big Thought’s Thriving Minds program for three years. He attended the 2015 Thriving Minds Summer Camp at Highland Meadows Elementary and has fond memories of being at “the big school.” His strength, his innate fortitude to walk against the wind that is hearing aids, special audio loops so he can hear teachers in class, and the scrutinizing eyes of fellow students is directly connected to the program. Thriving Minds promotes social and emotional development outside of the traditional classroom. The program supports the Matthews of the world.

Matthew loves soccer, a weekly part of his Thriving Minds After School experience. He can quickly tell you about his position on the team (defense/starter) and his favorite player (Portugal’s Cristiano Ronaldo, also known as CR7). When he takes to the soccer field he usually keeps the hearing aids in, even though the perspiration moisture can damage them.

I know nothing about soccer. I’m also five times Matthew’s age. But we are kindred spirits. I wore hearing aids for about seven years before graduating to cochlear implants. I am a bilateral, which means both of my ears are implanted. Everything that Matthew feels – the fear, the shame, the concern, the uncertainty – I’ve lived. We are kindred spirits.

The first sign of significant hearing loss in my right ear manifested itself in 2002. I was taking a walk, headphones on, listening to one of my favorite R&B albums. Except that I couldn’t hear it on my right side. I thought my headphones were malfunctioning, or that my audio player needed batteries. But in the back of my mind I knew it was me. The hearing loss journey had begun.

At the time I was a music critic at The Dallas Morning News. Music was a huge part of my life, not to mention crucial to my livelihood. The thought of never being able to hear music again was terrifying, permanently life altering. The hearing aids were welcomed, until I had to cover my first concert with them on. I became a 10-year-old boy again. I remember looking around just to see if anybody recognized me. Or worse, if anybody who recognized me realized I wore hearing aids.

That feeling amplified exponentially when I went through cochlear implant surgery, first in 2009 and the second one in 2013. I was downright paranoid at concerts during my initial year as a CI user. CIs are much more visible than hearing aids. They look like bionic contraptions resting on your outer ears and then magically hooked onto your scalp.

Nobody figured it out, or at least very few people did. But I made myself a promise in 2011: No more worrying, no more wallowing, no more fear. If you ask, I tell. If you notice, I confirm. I have nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I’m proud of myself. I endured two surgeries and countless months of learning to hear with prosthetic ears so that I can continue to enjoy music, hear my loved ones clearly, and hold my head up high.

So can Matthew. So will Matthew. During the moments when I had Matthew’s undivided attention, and there were many, I made sure to tell him that hearing aids won’t prevent him from doing anything. That’s something I had to tell myself repeatedly. They won’t stop his life. They will make him stronger. He will continue to do well in school. He will continue to love and fight and live with his brother and two sisters (and one more brother on the way). He will continue to be a “sweetheart,” as Judy Danielson, Thriving Minds Program Manager at Casa View Elementary, calls him.

Cochlear implants are likely in Matthew’s future. Hearing loss is a degenerative disease, a steady downward spiral. But his mom says he’s already met a little boy, a neighborhood friend, who has a cochlear implant. And now he’s met me. I am living proof that hearing aids and cochlear implants are tools for improvement, not crutches for deterioration.

Matthew is my new super hero, a kid with so much inner wherewithal that I’m awed to be in his presence. When we talked about what he likes to do, he quickly mentioned reading. His favorite book is Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney. Matthew, who has already experienced his share of teasing about his hearing aids, found refuge in the story of misfits trying to find acceptance in school. We talked about teasing and being teased, a central theme of the book. Matthew, who could certainly lash out at the kids that have ridiculed him, chooses instead to remain quiet. Teasing, he says, “gets you in trouble.”

What this pensive boy has already figured out is that putting somebody down doesn’t bring you up. He would rather rise to the occasion by tapping into his super hero powers, his hearing sense. Spider-Man would be proud. I know I am.