Harvard-Westlake’s Chase Klugo fights to expand hearing aid coverage
Every morning, Harvard-Westlake tennis player Chase Klugo’s house shakes like it’s in the middle of a small earthquake. His alarm clock, a big and bulky machine that’s Bluetooth-connected to the house’s fire alarm, rattles his room until he finally shuts it off.
Klugo’s moderate-to-severe hearing loss requires hearing aids to navigate life, a daily reminder that he isn’t like his teammates. Instead of forgetting his sneakers or a racket at home, Klugo might mistakenly leave without his hearing aid’s batteries.
He also worries about the California state government more than his SATs, college enrollment or his future in tennis matches, despite Harvard-Westlake winning the 2026 CIF Southern Section Division 1 boys tennis championship.
In Sacramento, Gov. Gavin Newsom is negotiating with the legislature to pass the 2026-27 budget by a June 15 deadline. Klugo wants to add language to the budget to include hearing aid coverage — an idea that, despite bipartisan support, has stalled on Newsom’s desk multiple times.
“It’s been instilled in me since I was young that it’s important for not only yourself to thrive, but your community to thrive,” Klugo said, sitting in his family’s house in the San Fernando Valley. “I find it insane how someone can be denied one of their five senses, and not only one of their five senses, but one of the most important senses that you could possibly have.”
Off the court, Klugo is quieter, more reserved. His coach at Harvard-Westlake, Robert “Bo” Hardt, described him as a 45-year-old man trapped in a 17-year-old’s body. Hardt reminds Klugo to go to parties and enjoy his high school experience, but it’s the furthest thing from Klugo’s mind.
Instead, he does community outreach for the about 20,000 deaf or hard-of-hearing children in the state whose hearing aids are not covered by their insurance. He works with Michelle Marciniak, the founder of Let California Kids Hear, to share his story.
California’s current $30 million plan, the Hearing Aid Coverage for Children program, had just 314 active participants as of April. The $6,000 out-of-pocket cost every three years of hearing aids can force some parents into debt or to delay or skip treatment, Marciniak said.
An insurance mandate would decrease the taxpayer money spent on the HACCP, reducing the number of children who need the program’s assistance. Instead, more private insurance companies would cover costs associated with hearing aids for children and young adults under 21-years-old, she said.
Harvard-Westlake tennis coach Robert “Bo” Hardt described Chase Klugo as a 45-year-old man trapped in a 17-year-old’s body.
(Courtesy of Harvard-Westlake)
Newsom has cited concerns about the precedent of adding requirements to California’s affordable care act insurance and raising prices for those who don’t need the hearing aid coverage, favoring expanding the state-funded program instead, according to Cal Matters.
Let California Kids Hear and Klugo have been steadfast in their response that insurance costs would be minimal and the state program falls far short of fulfilling needs throughout the state. Thirty-five other states require coverage of children’s hearing aids — through a state mandate for all insurers, their affordable care act insurance or both.
Klugo is persistent for a reason. Those most affected by any legislation can’t knock on state representatives’ doors or write letters to Newsom, he said. Deaf and hard-of-hearing children are more likely to achieve a high quality of life personally and professionally when hearing concerns are identified and intervened with before they’re 6 months old, according to the World Health Organization.
Children who don’t receive treatment for hearing loss are more likely to be at risk for developmental issues in speech perception, language, cognitive and social skills, according to the World Health Organization’s 2021 world report on hearing.
“These babies, they can’t tell their stories about what’s actually happening. I’m sure the parents are obviously furious and they can advocate, but they don’t have that experience of what it’s like to actually firsthand experience it,” Klugo said. “So I think it’s my job to do that.”
Marciniak has worked with hard-of-hearing teenagers like Klugo to spread awareness for nearly a decade.
“It’s a really heavy weight,” Marciniak said. “Every single person, every single year has supported this. It’s not a red, it’s not a blue issue. This is about a child’s ability to hear, and it shouldn’t be dependent on their zip code or their family’s income.”
“It haunts me.”
Tennis has been Klugo’s outlet to release the weight he feels on his shoulders sometimes, he said. An overflowing duffle bag of tennis balls sat by the front door, the only chaos in a tidy house. Klugo’s parents — Karen, a former tennis player in high school, and his father, a Penn State swimmer — each carried the genes that could lead to hearing loss. Neither, though, was affected.
Karen first found out about hearing loss when Klugo’s older sister failed a routine newborn auditory test. Klugo did, too. The family adapted to its new normal, and Klugo and his sister enrolled in athletic programs.
Still, Klugo’s hearing loss couldn’t be brushed away. In fourth grade, he was reading a book and had turned off his hearing aids. He only realized something was wrong when he looked at his teacher, whose face was drained. He looked around. All his classmates had pushed in their chairs, and he was the only one left in the classroom in the middle of a fire drill.
Not every situation is life-threatening, but most that Klugo encountered in school required self-advocacy. Sure, teachers needed to talk louder, especially when they turned around and Klugo couldn’t read their lips. But he also needed his friends to be more patient. Sometimes it took one or two times to understand what they were saying.
When the family moved from Ohio after his freshman year, Klugo’s self-reliance helped elevate the tennis team. In return, Klugo joined a built-in support system.
“He’s intense, but he’s good, and they respect the way he works, and that rubbed off on a lot of the team, too. It’s like a pro in his practice habits and his work,” Hardt said. Take his doubles teammate Aaron Chung, for instance. Chung speaks in a low, hushed tone, but to accommodate Klugo, he becomes a bit louder — though not too loud to give away their attack plans to their opponents.
“I told him that you got to speak up, because I’m not gonna be able to hear if it’s super loud and you’re very quiet,” Klugo said. “He’s typically a pretty quiet person too on the court, which has been cool to see him transform a little bit. He’s been doing a great job helping me out.”
After Chung and Klugo huddle, they line up on the court like two halves of the same body, moving in tandem as the balls ricochet off rackets. It’s a flow of squeaking of tennis shoes and the pitter-patter of the ball hitting the concrete court until either Klugo or Chung scores. The same teenager who drafts op-eds to send to places like the Times plots his next battle attack.
When either of the two scores, Klugo releases a full-chested yell in celebration, and they slapped hands, a rhythm that repeats until the sets are over, until the game is over. From a distance, his mom watches in the shade on the benches. His dad paces in the background.
Every so often, the sun catches on the small, clear wires of Klugo’s hearing aids. Otherwise, they’re shielded from the sun under his white baseball cap and his curly hair.
Klugo’s teammates help out with more than winning sets. Klugo’s Bluetooth alarm clock isn’t portable, and the hotel alarms ring too softly for him to hear. He can’t sleep in his hearing aids. The device will completely block the ear canal and cause a low buzzing noise that makes drifting off hard. So, when Harvard-Westlake travels, one of his teammates wakes him.
Klugo wears his hearing aids while competing, but even then he might miss something. Karen has watched her son accidentally miss his opponents saying something as he turns to get a stray ball.
Nonetheless, Klugo’s leadership as a junior on the team makes him a leading team captain candidate next season, Hardt said.
On the court, the well-spoken, thoughtful Klugo sheds any semblance of the person who takes time to answer questions and lists off numbers about hearing loss.
But, tennis doesn’t change who Klugo is, Karen said. The sport only amplified his personality.
“It’s helped me be a better person off the court,” Klugo said. “On the tennis court, too. It’s a game of who’s going to be better on that day, and I feel like the person who wants the most and is advocating the most for themselves is going to end up winning.”
