ven before entering the Oregon School for the Deaf (OSD), fourteen-year-old Eric had always felt like an outcast from his peers.

When Eric was born, his parents had no idea their child was deaf. As an infant, he turned his head at loud noises--just as any baby would. Little did his parents know Eric was merely responding to vibrations he felt through the floor. He learned to walk, played with toys and cried like other toddlers. But at age two, he did not speak as expected. Their pediatrician's explanation: Eric was a late bloomer. "Don't worry," their doctor said, attributing his silence to the fact that boys and second children can be slow to develop. The Hendersons accepted this explanation. After all, Eric had an older sister.

Six months later, Eric still had not uttered a word. Eric's mom, a nurse, grew restless. She took him to a specialist at Stanford University, near their Californian home. She finally received a reason for her son's silence: Eric was born deaf. Their pediatrician did not have the capabilities or specialized equipment to diagnose Eric with a severe hearing loss. It took the power of a technologically advanced medical center to diagnose Eric's condition.

he Hendersons were surprised by this news because their family had no history of deafness, but they put their energy toward helping their son. The specialist at Stanford fit him with ear molds for hearing aids. Eric disliked these new additions to his body, and flushed the first hearing aid down the toilet. He fed the second one to the family dog. The doctor fit him with another set of hearing aids. Eric finally adjusted to the uncomfortable devices. But they soon began working to Eric's advantage, reviving 70 percent of his hearing. Now that Eric could hear, he had to learn how to speak. When Eric turned three, he was accepted into an oral program. He was taught how to speak and read lips by interpreting vibrations in his throat and air movements from his mouth to form words.