I can still remember the many visits to my home from an assortment of people who were concerned with my hearing impairment, my cognitive development, my preparation for mainstream education in the public school system, and the combination of all these factors and more.
There was the lady who taught me sign language, the lady who helped me learn to say words correctly, the lady who asked me lots of questions about things I knew, some things I didn't know, and how to say a word, read a word, or spell a word.
My mom and my sister Amy were central participants in all of this activity.  Mom helped me practice developing the skills and tools that were supposed to give me an edge when it came time to attend school with my peers.  Amy (inquisitive and intelligent just like I was) enjoyed the activities, questions, and games that were always going on when one or more of the ladies came for one of their visits, and participated in practice activities and learning sessions frequently, although she was allowed to come and go as she liked.
I recall that Amy would often alternate between watching "Sesame Street" and coming into the kitchen whenever curiosity or boredom compelled her to sit in and watch or even actively participate when I was in a benovelent and tolerant mood or wanted company.
Dad liked to beat a hasty retreat to work whenever the ladies descended upon the house, and my baby brother Andy was too young to benefit from any of this advanced tuition reserved for his far more knowledgeable and wise three and four year old sisters.  He was a subject of great interest to the flock of ladies, since he too was deaf.  They'd often pick him up and play with him, developing more sophisticated visual games and cues as he grew older.  They continued to work with him just as they had with me, and when I was in the second grade, Andy joined my small H.I. class.
Along with me and Andy, two other children from the area were driven to and from Alpena for school each day.  Jacob was my age, and Jon was Andy's age.  We quickly became friends, and I still remember all the fun everyone had on those long drives to and from school.  Things were quieter in the morning, but the afternoons were very, very different.  Four children who've just gotten out of school but have to sit in a car for a half hour can be quite a handful.  Everyone wanted to sit in the back seat, and as the oldest, Jacob and I usually occupied two of those spots uncontested or if we arrived at the car before everyone else and happened to find one of the younger boys in the backseat.  They were promptly ordered to take a seat up front.  That meant that it was often up to random choice (and occasionally mild violence) whether Jon or Andy got the third and last spot in the coveted back seat.
Eventually, the front seat became the punishment destination for anyone unlucky enough to be caught misbehaving in the back seat, and we'd slowly pull over to the side of the road and the unfortunate offender would gloomily and dismally switch seats with whoever was lucky enough to be sitting in the front whenever something bad happened.
I recall lots of pulling over and seat-switching between Jon and Andy, who were just as inclined to misbehave as any other two boys their age would be in a similar situation.  A rule was also instituted that Jon and Andy were not to sit next to each other if they were both in the back seat, but had to be separated by either Jacob or I sitting in the middle seat.  Even that was no guarantee of good behavior on some days!
Eventually, things were sorted out and everyone had to take their turn sitting up front with either Jake or I sitting between Jon and Andy if the other was sitting in the front.