Jonathan Whipple was sitting by the fire one afternoon holding his 1-year-old son, Enoch, on his lap. Jonathan noticed that when he spoke, the toddler didn't turn toward him as a child normally would. Concerned, Jonathan kept raising his voice until he was nearly shouting, but it wasn't until he touched Enoch's cheek that he got the baby's attention. The magnitude of that afternoon's revelation was fresh in Jonathan's mind years later when he wrote in his autobiography, "It never entered my heart … that he was deaf."

Jonathan had a farm in Ledyard in the area known as Quakertown, named somewhat misleadingly for a religious sect that was more like the Baptists than the Quakers. The Rogerenes, as they were called, disapproved of state mandated religion, alcohol, war, the second-class status of women and slavery. Their founder, John Rogers, had been assertive, not to say obnoxious, in proclaiming these beliefs. Often reviled, even persecuted, by their contemporaries, they lived in small rural enclaves like Quakertown and Quaker Hill.

Given the year (1826), the isolation, and Jonathan's lack of formal education, what this father accomplished was remarkable.

Jonathan approached the challenge by always looking directly into his son's face when speaking; he taught Enoch to read lips and stood close to him to take advantage of his residual hearing. Soon his efforts were rewarded with the child's first words. Later when Enoch attended public school, Jonathan tutored him at home so he could keep up with his class. Much to his father's delight, Enoch became "an intelligent talker."

At one point Enoch was taken to a teachers' convention in Hartford and tested for his speech and lip-reading ability. The famous educator, Horace Mann, who was present, was so impressed by Enoch's performance that it influenced the decision to establish the Horace Mann School for the Deaf in Boston.

Enoch led a long, successful life; he married, had a farm and owned a blacksmith business. It was said that he spoke so clearly that few of his customers ever guessed that he was deaf.

But this positive outcome didn't end with Enoch. Zerah Whipple, Jonathan's grandson, was so convinced that others with hearing problems could benefit by his grandfather's methods that he opened a school in the Whipple home. The first student arrived in 1869 followed by other pupils from all over the country. Soon the farmhouse had to be expanded to accommodate the school's growing enrollment. When the addition was outgrown, the Whipples purchased the late Silas Burrows' mansion (on today's Oral School Road) and relocated the school which became the Mystic Oral School for the Deaf.

For more than 100 years the school survived despite chronic financial troubles and challenges regarding its methods. There was periodic pressure to consolidate with the American School for the Deaf in Hartford, an option that was especially controversial because the Hartford school taught sign-language, not spoken language. At one point none other than Alexander Graham Bell weighed in on the matter, saying that both schools and their methods had value.

Once the children were even take by train from Mystic to Hartford to demonstrate their capabilities before a state committee. Everyone was nervous. There was a lot at stake but the children did well, encouraged apparently by some bribes from worried chaperones.

The school finally closed its doors in 1980. It was renamed the Mystic Educational Center, but that too closed in 2011.

Today it's hard to discern any vestiges of Silas Burrows' home in the building; the original dwelling was probably obliterated during one of the major renovations. However the Whipple farmhouse, where it all began, still stands on the Colonel Ledyard Highway not far from Whipple Road.

Next month we'll stay on Oral School Road and meet Silas, a friend to freedom fighters and U.S. presidents.

Carol Sommer of Waterford is a self-proclaimed history nut. She writes a monthly history column inspired by local street signs.