by Jody W. Ianuzzi
There are thousands of blind adults today (and the numbers are growing) who deeply regret that no one required them to learn Braille at a period in their lives when mastering it would have been relatively easy. Jody Ianuzzi is active in the National Federation of the Blind of New Hampshire and is a Silver Life Member of the United States Judo Association. She knows firsthand about limited opportunities and disappointed expectations. She is articulate and outspoken, and her message is compelling. Here is what she has to say:
I consider myself to have been functionally illiterate for most of my life! When I was growing up as a blind child in the public school system in Connecticut, I didn’t have to learn Braille; I could read print. I had a little eyesight, and with my nose in the book I could read my first grade primer. It was work, but I could make out the letters.
By the fourth grade the print began to get smaller, so I had to try even harder. In the seventh grade I was assigned to remedial reading classes because my reading speed was still at the third grade level. In high school I got all my work done; it just took me four times as long as my classmates. I loved learning, and I wove wonderful dreams for myself of academic success after high school.
I went off to college, but instead of succeeding, I fell flat on my face! There was no way I could keep up with the work load using the reading skills I had been taught. My totally blind friends had little trouble taking notes, reading, organizing their readers, etc. I told myself that I should have done better than they; after all I had some sight. But the fact was that I couldn’t study as a sighted student, and I didn’t have the skills to study as a blind one.
I am thirty-eight years old, and I am now learning Braille. It isn’t a difficult task. I love Braille! My reading time and speed are not limited as they are in print. I find Braille to be a refreshing experience with endless possibilities.
Reading print has always been like trying to listen to music on a distant radio station: the sound is so faint and there is so much static that it is hard to appreciate the music itself because listening is so much work. Reading Braille is more like sitting in a symphony hall. The music fills you without your even having to work. My well-meaning teachers thought they had made the right decision for me. Oh, how I wish I had learned Braille as a child.
My story is not unique or exceptional. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of blind adults now recognize that they missed out on a proper education. And the sad thing is that not much has changed. There are blind children today with less sight than I have who are being taught print only. Why can’t teachers make Braille special in a positive way?
Braille was originally based on a system devised by the French army to send secret messages at night. The night writing was later perfected by Louis Braille for use by the blind. Why not give children the feeling that they are learning a secret code?
The blind child can read in many places where his or her sighted friends can’t—such as under the covers without the use of a flashlight. You can even read your Braille book in your desk without your teacher’s knowing it. Why not make Braille fun!
If I could speak directly to today’s teachers of blind children, I would say to them, "Ask yourselves this question: in twenty years will your students be grateful to you for teaching them the skills they needed, or will they be learning them on their own and trying to make up for lost time?"