A stunning work of journalism and memoir that explores the intimate truths of the silent but articulate world of the deaf. In American Sign Language, "train go sorry" means "missing the boat." Leah Hager Cohen uses the phrase as shorthand for the myriad missed connections between the deaf and the hearing. As she ushers readers into New York's Lexington School for the Deaf, Cohen (whose grandfather was deaf and whose father was the school's superintendent) she also forges new connections.

A “remarkable and insightful” look inside a New York City school for the deaf, blending memoir and history (The New York Times Book Review). Leah Hager Cohen is part of the hearing world, but grew up among the deaf community. Her Russian-born grandfather had been deaf—a fact hidden by his parents as they took him through Ellis Island—and her father served as superintendent at the Lexington School for the Deaf in Queens. Young Leah was in the minority, surrounded by deaf culture, and sometimes felt like she was missing the boat—or in the American Sign Language term, “train go sorry.” Here, the award-winning writer looks back on this experience and also explores a pivotal moment in deaf history, when scientific advances and cultural attitudes began to shift and collide—in a unique mix of journalistic reporting and personal memoir that is “a must-read” (Chicago Sun-Times). “The history of the Lexington School for the Deaf, the oldest school of its kind in the nation, comes alive with Cohen’s vivid descriptions of its students and administrators. The author, who grew up at the school, follows the real-life events of Sofia, a Russian immigrant, and James, a member of a poor family in the Bronx, as well as members of her own family both past and present who are intimately associated with the school. Cohen takes special pride in representing the views of the deaf community—which are sometimes strongly divided—in such issues as American Sign Language (ASL) vs. oralism, hearing aids vs. cochlear implants, and mainstreaming vs. special education. The author’s lively narrative includes numerous conversations translated from ASL . . . a one-of-a-kind book.” —Library Journal “Throughout the book, Cohen focuses on two students whose Russian and African American roots exemplify the school’s increasingly diverse population . . . beautifully written.” —Booklist

Please note: This is a companion version & not the original book. Sample Book Insights: #1 Our family lived at the school because our parents worked there. Our mother taught nursery school, and our father was the director of child care. They knew every inch of Lexington, and they seemed to have a deep connection with it. #2 My family lived at the school for seven years, from when I was a baby until I graduated high school. I grew up knowing only two types of people: deaf or hearing. I was used to cultural differences, even within my own family. #3 My father’s family is from Lexington, and I have many memories of going to events there as a child. The last prolonged moments by the door grew out of a hunger for connection. #4 I grew up thinking that I was deaf, and that Lexington School for the Deaf was my home. I took it for granted that Lexington was a special place, set apart from what lay beyond.

A short, concise book in favor of honoring doubt and admitting when the answer is: I don’t know. From the acclaimed author of No Book but the World and 2019's searing new novel Strangers and Cousins. In a tight, enlightening narrative, Leah Hager Cohen explores why, so often, we attempt to hide our ignorance, and why, in so many different areas, we would be better off coming clean. Weaving entertaining, anecdotal reporting with eye-opening research, she considers both the ramifications of and alternatives to this ubiquitous habit in arenas as varied as education, finance, medicine, politics, warfare, trial courts, and climate change. But it’s more than just encouraging readers to confess their ignorance—Cohen proposes that we have much to gain by embracing uncertainty. Three little words can in fact liberate and empower, and increase the possibilities for true communication. So much becomes possible when we honor doubt.

A high school girl, her father, and her math teacher: through this unlikely trio, Leah Hager Cohen charts the complexities of the human heart as only she can. Esker (she prefers to go solely by her last name) is a thirty-one-year-old high school teacher at the Prospect School in Brooklyn who, after various heartbreaks and disappointments, has found a quiet resolve in her lonely spinster routine. But when a mysterious fall leaves her star math student injured and housebound until exams, Esker begins tutoring the precocious teenager at home. And soon, much against her will, she begins falling edgily, haltingly in love with the girl's father. Charged with Esker's own irreverence and wit, Heart, You Bully, You Punk sweeps us irresistibly into her profound and wistful struggle to unite the rest of her self with her unruly heart.

A lush, gripping, psychologically complex novel that asks: How much do siblings owe one another? At the edge of a woods, on the grounds of a defunct “free school,” Ava and her brother, Fred, share a dreamy and seemingly idyllic childhood—a world defined largely by their imaginations, a celebration of curiosity and the natural environment, and each other’s presence. Their parents, progressive educators, believe passionately that children develop best without formal instruction or societal constraint. Everyone is aware of Fred’s oddness—the word “autism” is whispered—but his parents’ fierce disapproval of labels keeps him free of clinical evaluation, diagnosis, or intervention, and constantly at Ava’s side. Decades later, Fred is arrested for a shocking crime, and Ava is frantic to piece together the story of what actually happened. A boy is dead. Fred is held in a county jail. But could he really have done what he’s accused of? By now their parents are long gone, and the siblings have fallen out of touch, which causes Ava considerable guilt. Who is left to reach Fred? To explain him and his innocence to the world? Convinced that she alone can ensure he is regarded with sympathy, Ava tells their enthralling story. A writer of enormous craft, Leah Hager Cohen brings her trademark intelligence and storytelling to a psychologically gripping, richly ambiguous novel that suggests we may ultimately understand one another best not with facts alone, but through our imaginations.

The parents of a child born without hearing describe their efforts to reach across the barrier of silence to teach their daughter to speak and enjoy a normal life.