Future Reflections Special Issue: Low Vision and Blindness 2005
(contents)
Future Reflections
The National Federation of the Blind Magazine for Parents and Teachers of Blind Cjildren
Vol. 24 No. 3 Special Issue: Low Vision and Blindness 2005
Barbara Cheadle, Editor
ISSN-0883-3419
Table of Contents
Vol. 24 No. 3 Special Issue: Low Vision and Blindness 2005
INTRODUCTION
From the Editor
Low Vision, Blindness, and Federation Philosophy
by Barbara Pierce
WHO ARE WE?
A Definition of Blindness
by Kenneth Jernigan
Growing Up with Low Vision: An Interview with Dr. Z.
Elizabeth
by Nadine Jacobson
Why I am Choosing Blindness: Personal Reflections on the
Need for a Functional Definition
by Scott Feldman
Faking It No Longer
by Cheralyn (Braithwaith) Creer
I’m Albino, Legally Blind, and a Meteorologist
by Sam Herron
IN THE CLASSROOM
Common Visual Impairments in Young Children
Twelve Tips for Classroom Teachers
by Barbara Cheadle
Best Buy of the Year: New Book by Carol Castellano Now Available
The Problems with Vision Stimulation
The CCTV: A Personal Perspective
by Nathanael Wales
Reading Materials in Large Print
Low Vision and Monoculars
by Edith Ethridge
NFB Jernigan Institute Online Education Program—
Training on Blindness from the Blind Themselves
From One Teacher to Another: When Should
A Low Vision Student Switch to Braille?
by Alison Mckee
Why Megan is Learning Braille
by Marla Palmer
Slate Pals
TRAVEL
I’m Partially Sighted, and I Use a White Cane
by Peggy Chong
My Introduction to Sleepshades and Independence
by Craig Eckhardt
When the Light’s Not Right
Stepping Out
by Connie Bernard
Rehabilitation Training Programs for the Blind
Let the Freedom Bell Ring!
by Kathy Kennedy
Sleepshades
THE CRASH TEST
The Role of Parents in the Education of Blind Children
by Carrie Gilmer
Raising kids is very much like hiking up a mountain. Sometimes the path is clear; sometimes not. Sometimes the way is easy and pleasant; sometimes rocky and perilous. Sometimes an unexpected glimpse of the summit gives you heart and hope to keep going; and sometimes you wander lost in a fog, not sure if you are going forward or around in circles.
In 1979, my husband, John, and I embarked on such a hike into largely uncharted territory. We began the task of raising our adopted, two-year-old, and partially sighted son with the compass of the National Federation of the Blind (NFB) philosophy to guide us. I say “uncharted” because at the time, only a handful of parents of very young blind children were active in the NFB. The overwhelming majority of parents had either never heard of the NFB, or had heard about it from professionals who warned them to stay away from that “radical” group. If parents employed the Federation philosophy (and some did) it was out of a common sense approach to life in general, and not a deliberate philosophical choice backed by the loving support and mentorship of organized blind adults and other parents.
There were many times when I wondered if what we were doing was effective. Would it work? Would it make a difference? In a sense, this special issue about low vision and blindness marks for me a personal summit. Our son is now an independent adult with a job and a life of his own. Best of all, he is a man who is at ease with himself; whose use of visual and nonvisual techniques blend seamlessly into a way of functioning that is as natural and automatic as breathing.
The Federation philosophy made a difference for our son, and it can make a difference for your child or student, too. In this issue, you will find a practical road map, travel guide, road sign warnings, and directions, and a glimpse of the summit in the stories and suggestions provided by parents, teachers, and blind adults. Because a correct understanding of the Federation philosophy and approach is so important to understanding the perspective of the articles in this issue, I strongly urge readers to begin with Kenneth Jernigan’s “A Definition of Blindness” and Barbara Pierce’s “Low Vision, Blindness, and Federation Philosophy.” However, feel free to read the article at the back of the issue, by Minnesota parent, Carrie Gilmer, at any point, just be sure to read it!
One of the most annoying misconceptions about the philosophy of the National Federation of the Blind is the notion that committed Federationists are proud of their blindness and, if given a chance, would choose it over returned vision. Those who have heard and believed such statements are enraged, I think, because they consider it needlessly cruel to encourage the development of neurotic and twisted ideas in people who are already facing vision loss. Federationists, on the other hand, are frustrated when we are accused of holding such notions because, in fact, we don’t.
Learning to be unapologetic and to resist feelings of inferiority because of blindness is healthy and very different from being proud of the characteristic. It is as absurd to be proud of blindness as it is to take pride in being six feet four, having size five feet, or demonstrating an IQ of 145. One may be comfortable or not with any of these characteristics, but one can certainly claim no credit for possessing them.
A person might well take pride in developing his or her artistic ability, athletic skill, intellectual powers, or expertise in the alternative skills of blindness, but that is very different from claiming personal credit for a God-given characteristic. Of course, being only human (and therefore often a little ridiculous), people frequently take pride in their naturally wavy hair, quick reflexes, or green eyes. It isn’t surprising, then, that, in the process of evolving a healthy identity as a competent blind person, some of us act for a while as though taking pride in blindness were the goal rather than achieving self-confidence and effectiveness as a blind person.
Debunking the second half of the misconception is more complex. I don’t think I know a single blind person who would actually choose blindness above fully functioning sight, if the exchange were an actual option. In a world structured for and largely dependent upon sight, it is obviously more efficient to use sight to get things done. But such a choice is virtually never an option. Most people with a little residual vision are faced with the dilemma of either depending on very restricted visual data for doing tasks or mastering the alternative techniques for getting the job done. The pragmatic question these people face in situation after situation is which strategy would be more efficient. The emotional freight that such decisions carry can be heavy indeed. If one has never learned effective alternative techniques and if one has always depended on vision, then vision--even very poor or painful vision--often seems the easier and certainly more obvious choice. Family and friends reinforce this tendency every time they urge the person not to “act blind” because, after all, he or she can still see something.
Recognizing these pressures, experienced members of the Federation understand the importance of encouraging those with vision problems to get to know able blind people who are comfortable using the alternative skills of blindness. It isn’t that we prefer blindness; we just prefer efficiency, confidence, comfort, and success. For almost everyone with less than 10 percent of normal vision, this means using some combination of blindness skills and remaining, genuinely usable vision. Working out the combination is time-consuming and often emotionally demanding.
When members of the National Federation of the Blind say that we are changing what it means to be blind, we are in part dreaming of and working toward a time in which efficient blindness skills are not assumed to be inferior, when vision, and all that goes with it, is not held to be more virtuous, only more common. We are working toward a time when children with significantly compromised vision and adults losing sight will face life free of our millennia-long prejudice against tactile exploration and auditory learning and find it easier to embrace the learning of such skills. When all people accept the challenge of sharpening all their senses instead of concentrating on visual data only, the world will indeed be a richer and more interesting place for all of us, and those with partial vision will move more easily and naturally from visual to nonvisual ways of accomplishing the business of living. Then we will truly have changed what it means to be blind.
by Kenneth Jernigan
Editor’s Note: It may seem odd to begin a special issue about low vision with a definition of blindness, but sometimes the fastest route to a destination is not the most direct. As you read this issue, you will find the words low vision, visually impaired, partially sighted, legally blind (and maybe a few others) used interchangeably with the word blind. Over the decades professionals have often attempted to establish definitions for these terms based on a hierarchy of degree of vision loss; all of those attempts failed. In other words, there is no one accepted definition of, for example, “low vision” or “visually impaired.” But the National Federation of the Blind does not view this as a problem. Dr. Kenneth Jernigan, president of the NFB from 1968 to 1986 and an active leader of the organization right up to his death in 1998, explained it this way:
Before we can talk intelligently about the problems of blindness or the potentialities of blind people, we must have a workable definition of blindness. Most of us are likely familiar with the generally accepted legal definition: visual acuity of not greater than 20/200 in the better eye with correction or a field not subtending an angle greater than 20 degrees. But this is not really a satisfactory definition. It is, rather, a way of recognizing in medical and measurable terms something which must be defined not medically or physically but functionally.
Putting to one side for a moment the medical terminology, what is blindness? Once I asked a group of high school students this question, and one of them replied--apparently believing that she was making a rather obvious statement--that a person is blind if she “can’t see.” When the laughter subsided, I asked the student if she really meant what she said. She replied that she did. I then asked her whether she would consider a person blind who could see light but who could not see objects--a person who would bump into things unless she used a cane, a dog, or some other travel aid and who would, if she depended solely on the use of her eyesight, walk directly into a telephone pole or fire plug. After some little hesitation the student said that she would consider such a person to be blind. I agreed with her and then went on to point out the obvious-that she literally did not mean that the definition of blindness was to be unable to see.
I next told this student of a man I had known who had normal (20/20) visual acuity in both eyes but who had such an extreme case of sensitivity to light that he literally could not keep his eyes open at all. The slightest amount of light caused such excruciating pain that the only way he could open his eyes was by prying them open with his fingers. Nevertheless, this person, despite the excruciating pain he felt while doing it, could read the eye chart without difficulty. The readings showed that he had “normal sight.” This individual applied to the local Welfare Department for Public Assistance to the Blind and was duly examined by their ophthalmologist. The question I put to the student was this: “If you had been the ophthalmologist, would you have granted the aid or not?”
Her answer was, “Yes.”
“Remember,” I told her, “under the law you are forbidden to give aid to any person who is not actually blind. Would you still have granted the assistance?” The student said that she would. Again, I agreed with her, but I pointed out that, far from her first facetious statement, what she was saying was this: It is possible for one to have “perfect sight” and still in the physical, literal sense of the word be blind.
I then put a final question to the student. I asked her whether if a sighted person were put into a vault which was absolutely dark so that he could see nothing whatever, it would be accurate to refer to that sighted person as a blind man. After some hesitation and equivocation the student said, “No.” For a third time I agreed with her. Then I asked her to examine what we had established.
1. To be blind does not mean that one cannot see. (Here again
I must interrupt to say that I am not speaking in spiritual or figurative terms
but in the most literal sense of the word.)
2. It is possible for an individual to have “perfect sight” and yet be physically
and literally blind.
3. It is possible for an individual not to be able to see at all and still be
a sighted person.
What, then, in light of these seeming contradictions is the definition of blindness? In my way of thinking it is this: One is blind to the extent that the individual must devise alternative techniques to do efficiently those things which he would do if he had normal vision. An individual may properly be said to be “blind” or a “blind person” when he has to devise so many alternative techniques--that is, if he is to function efficiently--that his pattern of daily living is substantially altered. It will be observed that I say alternative not substitute techniques, for the word substitute connotes inferiority, and the alternative techniques employed by the blind person need not be inferior to visual techniques. In fact, some of them are superior. The usually accepted legal definition of blindness already given (that is, visual acuity of less than 20/200 with correction or a field of less than 20 degrees) is simply one medical way of measuring and recognizing that anyone with better vision than the amount mentioned in the definition will (although he may have to devise some alternative techniques) likely not have to devise so many such techniques as to alter substantially his patterns of daily living. On the other hand, anyone with less vision than that mentioned in the legal definition will usually (I emphasize the word usually, for such is not always the case) need to devise so many such alternative techniques as to alter quite substantially his patterns of daily living.
It may be of some interest to apply this standard to the three cases already discussed:
First, what of the person who has light perception but sees little or nothing else? In at least one situation he can function as a sighted person. If, before going to bed, he wished to know whether the lights are out in his home, he can simply walk through the house and “see.” If he did not have light perception, he would have to use some alternative technique--touch the bulb, tell by the position of the switch, have some sighted person give him the information, or devise some other method. However, this person is still quite properly referred to as a blind person. This one visual technique which he uses is such a small part of his overall pattern of daily living as to be negligible in the total picture. The patterns of his daily living are substantially altered. In the main he employs alternative techniques to do those things which he would do with sight if he had normal vision--that is, he does if he functions efficiently.
Next, let us consider the person who has normal visual acuity but cannot hold his eyes open because of his sensitivity to light. He must devise alternative techniques to do anything which he would do with sight if he had normal vision. He is quite properly considered to be a “blind person.”
Finally, what of the sighted person who is put into a vault which has no light? Even though she can see nothing at all, she is still quite properly considered to be a “sighted person.” She uses the same techniques that any other sighted person would use in a similar situation. There are no visual techniques which can be used in such circumstances. In fact, if a blind person found herself in such a situation, she might very well have a variety of techniques to use.
I repeat that, in my opinion, blindness can best be defined not physically or medically but functionally or sociologically. The alternative techniques which must be learned are the same for those born blind as for those who become blind as adults. They are quite similar (or should be) for those who are totally blind or nearly so and those who are “partially sighted” and yet are blind in the terms of the usually accepted legal definition. In other words, I believe that the complex distinctions which are often made between those who have partial sight and those who are totally blind, between those who have been blind from childhood and those who have become blind as adults are largely meaningless. In fact, they are often harmful since they place the wrong emphasis on blindness and its problems. Perhaps the greatest danger in the field of work for the blind today is the tendency to be hypnotized by jargon.
Dr. Betsy Zaborowski is the Executive Director of the National Federation of the Blind Jernigan Institute. Her life is full of activity and accomplishments. She also has a deep personal commitment to expanding the opportunities for all blind individuals of all ages. In an interview for Future Reflections magazine, Dr. Z. (as she is commonly known) talked about growing up as a low vision child, about visual and nonvisual techniques, about parenting low vision children, and about some of the education goals of the NFB Jernigan Institute. Here is what she said:
Q: What is your eye condition and has your vision changed over the years?
Dr. Z: The cause of my blindness is bi-lateral retinal blastoma (cancerous tumors in the retinas of the eyes). I was born with this condition and I had one eye removed when I was a baby. The other eye was treated with radiation until I was five years old.
When I was younger my vision was 20/100 with glasses and I could read regular print. In my thirties I had some problems with my eye and I lost some additional vision. This made it impossible to read print for any length of time, so I started using auditory methods and I began to learn Braille: I was in the middle of my graduate studies at the University of Denver. This is when I found the National Federation of the Blind and began to deal with myself as a blind person.
Q: Were you placed in the regular education classroom?
Dr. Z: Yes, I was in a regular classroom. I tried to use large print books when I was very young. I remember the books being very big and very heavy. It turned out that I didn’t really need them; I could read the regular print at a satisfactory level for many years, but I read it very slowly and did not read as much as I could have had I learned Braille at that time. I also needed to hold the print very close to my eyes and I experienced fatigue because of this. As I got older, the headaches came as the reading demands increased. I functioned as a low vision student for the first twenty-five years of my life: holding print very close, using a lot of magnification in my corrective lenses, and, occasionally, using one kind of magnifier or another. (This was before closed circuit televisions--CCTVs--were available, but if they had been around at that time, I probably would have used them.) I started using recorded materials when I entered college in my twenties, but I also continued to struggle with print.
Q: Did you feel different as a child?
Dr. Z: Yes, I did feel different as a child. For me it had more to do with wearing heavy “coke bottle” glasses. I held on to the crazy notion that if I wore the glasses all the time people would not see me as that different. You know, when your vision is that impaired there is no way of really hiding it; it’s there. I lived in a very small town and everybody knew that I had visual limitations.
I was told that I was legally blind and that was the term that I always used to tell people about my vision. Now as I think back on it, I think that probably was a better way to define my eyesight. I do not think that I would have been comfortable with the term visually impaired. As a child, I did not think of myself as impaired because I would try and do anything. My parents also encouraged me to be independent. I did everything the other kids did with the exception of driving.
Q: Today, what do you consider yourself? Are you blind, visually impaired, legally blind, partially sighted, hard of seeing?
Dr. Z: When most people hear the word blind they tend to think of totally blind people and all the misconceptions and stereotypes that go along with that. Because of these negative stereotypes, people with some residual vision may not think of themselves as blind and may resist learning the nonvisual techniques. But being blind does not mean being less than--it simply means doing things differently. Those with low vision must know that many of us in the Federation have some vision, but we also see ourselves as blind people.
There seems to be this thinking that one has to fit into the sighted or blind world, but in reality there is only one world and we all live in it.
Today, I consider myself a blind person. I came to that understanding in different dimensions through my relationship with the National Federation of the Blind (NFB). I have always been a blind person. Even when I was younger and I could see more than I can see at present, I was a blind person. I consider myself a blind person more today because I use alternative techniques: Braille, the long white cane, screen-reading software, and electronic speech notetaking devices. I seldom wear my glasses; they hang around my neck mostly. I do use a CCTV, but only to fill out a short form or identify mail. I do not use it to read anything of length because it is very taxing on the eyes. More and more, I use my vision less and less.
Q: As a low vision child, were you at all excited and hopeful about your future?
Dr. Z: I think I was excited about my future. I did believe that I could do a lot of things. I was pretty successful in school. When I first went to college I was really frightened. I remember thinking: “Can I really do this? Can I make it on my own? Can I compete in a post secondary environment?” It was scary, but I was successful in undergraduate work and obtained my masters right after. And then I was a school guidance counselor for a number of years.
My work was interesting but as my vision began to deteriorate, so did my work. I had difficulty in reading handwritten notes from teachers. Counselors have to deal with so much reading and writing and, at that time, I did not know anything about nonvisual techniques outside the ones I naturally adopted. The reason: I knew no blind people. It would have been very beneficial to have known blind teachers, counselors, and administrators who could have given me tips on how to do my work nonvisually instead of having to depend on my vision.
I ended up quitting my job and moving from Michigan to Colorado to get my doctorate in clinical psychology. That’s where I found the NFB. Since then, I have had my own counseling practice, taught at a university, and now I am developing and administrating research and training programs for the NFB.
Q: What advice do you have for parents who have concerns about what kinds of jobs or careers their children might be able to do as adults?
Dr. Z: I think it is important for parents to be exposed to successful blind people so that they know firsthand that blind people are doing all kinds of jobs today. That’s why parents should attend our annual NFB convention and the seminars that we offer. It is then that they can come to realize that their children can have a bright future.
We are very fortunate in this country that there are wonderful opportunities for the blind--if the blind person is prepared. That is a big IF. My experience in getting jobs meant that I had to be a little better than the next guy in order to convince the employer to hire a blind person. I had to work a little harder, dress a little better, and talk a little faster. Today, the opportunities are better, but it is still a challenge. You have to have confidence in yourself or no one else will. We (blind people) must be able to sell ourselves. But the younger generation must also realize that they cannot do it alone. They must seek out other blind people that they can talk to and get advice and support from.
Q: Let’s talk a little about the Jernigan Institute. What are the goals for the Institute?
Dr. Z: The Jernigan Institute is a center of innovation. This is the first time in history that an organization of blind people has founded, and is operating, a research and training center. We are developing programs in a number of areas including technology, education, employment, and rehabilitation; programs for senior citizens, and a state of the art research library named after the founder of our organization, Jacobus tenBroek. I think what is different about this facility is that the model programs, the research, the training--all of it comes out of the experiences of blind people. We are directly responsible to our membership.
Our first initiative was a science academy. We held summer sessions in 2004 and 2005. The one for older kids, Rocket On!, is conducted in partnership with NASA. These kids learn about rocketry and then they launch a rocket. The other academy, Circle of Life, is geared to middle school kids. These students study all aspects of sciences that relate to life: marine life, plant life, human life, etc. The Academy’s mission is to stimulate the minds of blind students and let them know that science and math can also be an avenue of learning for them.
We also have an early childhood initiative, online courses for teachers and parents of blind children, and so much more.
Q: Why should future educators of blind and low vision children seek out guidance or training from the NFB Jernigan Institute?
Dr. Z: That is a very good question. In this whole low vision and blindness arena there is a tremendous emphasis on vision. Maybe it is natural for medical experts and low vision specialists to focus on augmenting vision, and the NFB is not opposed to that. Using CCTVs, magnification, or corrective lenses is acceptable if a person can use such tools efficiently. At the same time, there needs to be an emphasis on teaching those individuals nonvisual techniques, technologies, and strategies.
The nonvisual approach has to have the same value as the visual approach. That is why those studying to work with the blind, especially in education, need to come to us, because we specialize in the nonvisual approach to low vision and blindness. We want a smorgasbord of approaches and techniques for low vision people to use at home, in school, and on the job.
I remember a discussion I had with a gentleman who argued that low vision individuals should be taught to use their vision. I asked him why should you have to teach someone to use his or her vision? He went on to give the example of a low vision person walking into a dark theatre. He thought that this person needed to be taught to not go charging down the aisle, but to wait for his or her eyes to make the adjustment. I agreed that, indeed, this was one strategy. Another strategy, I suggested, would be for that low vision person to carry a white cane so that when the lighting suddenly changes, the cane could be used instead of awkward delays and uncomfortable squinting.
When I started using the white cane it was challenging because I had sufficient vision to see people’s reactions to it. They stared or moved their children out of my path of travel and that made me feel uncomfortable. But I persisted because I found that the cane made me more effective. I could look at my companions when we walked down the street together; I could walk down a flight of stairs with my head held high. There is real value in using the combination of vision and the cane. Those are the things that low vision experts should learn and then teach their clients.
Q: What advice or guidance do you have for parents who are considering, but not yet convinced about, Braille, cane travel, and other blindness skills training for a low vision child?
Dr. Z. Most parents like to enrich the lives of their children. Parents can think of blindness training in nonvisual techniques as enriching the life of their child. The concept is simple: exposing blind children to Braille, cane travel, and technology for the blind is the equivalent of exposing a child to theatre, dance, and foreign languages. It increases their awareness and gives them options.
Q: In conclusion, what other advice do you have for parents?
Parents should not shelter their blind child, but encourage independence and active play. All children need recreation and room to make mistakes; all of us have, at some point, skinned our knees. Research suggests that physically active children have better mental capacities. Karate, judo, swimming, and wrestling are all great sports for low vision kids. Parents should find a physical activity that their child can be successful at, but also encourage the child to try different things.
Parents should also encourage the low vision child to use her sense of touch. When I cleaned my mother’s house, she taught me early on that I had to check it with my hands. My mother had an incredible fashion sense. She taught me to feel the textures in fabric. She didn’t have to look at the different wools to find the better quality wool, she felt them! To this day, when I shop, I touch everything I look at. The combination of using vision and touch gives more information than using residual vision alone. And why force a low vision kid to look at everything in his environment when what he sees is not an accurate image or the process is painful?
Most importantly, parents should put their child in contact with other partially sighted, competent blind people. Children find comfort and encouragement in knowing they are not alone; that there are other people like them. This helps them realize that they can live full, normal lives. In our organization, we have a history of being able to connect parents to competent, well-trained, blind role models; men and women with many different interests and experiences.
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Adoptive Families Needed for Waiting Vision-Impaired Children
The World Association for Children and Parents (WACAP) is seeking loving adoptive families for beautiful children from around the world. Currently we have 26 children with various forms of vision impairment ranging from mild to significant. WACAP has been placing children in loving adoptive homes since 1976. WACAP has adoption programs in six countries including China, Korea, India, Russia, Thailand, and the United States. Xiao Min, born in February of 1997, is outgoing, friendly and full of life. He loves music, singing, and playing the drums, all of which he does very well. He dreams of attending a music school, and though his music, “bringing happiness to everyone in this world.” Xiao Min is blind but he doesn’t let that stop him from living life to the fullest. He has a wonderful dream, now all he needs is a wonderful family to help him make his dreams come true. For more information, contact:
Debbie Sweetland
Family Finders Recruitment Specialist
WACAP, World Association for Children & Parents
(206) 575-4550, fax (206) 575-4148
www.wacap.org
by Nadine Jacobson
Parenting is a challenging and rewarding experience. When my husband Steve and I adopted Elizabeth, she was one-year-old, and she changed our lives for the better forever.
My husband and I are both blind. We use white canes for travel, and we read Braille. I have light perception now, but as a child I was able to see much more. However, I never saw well enough to read print.
When Elizabeth came to us, she was diagnosed with a visual condition called optic atrophy, and the doctors thought her acuity was about 20/1400. As she aged, it became obvious that she could see much better than that. Now, her visual acuity tests at 20/125. She is not legally blind, but her acuity definitely puts her in the category of visually impaired. She is unable to see things at a distance, she reads print, and she has also learned Braille.
In her speech below, she refers to being afraid of balls. That was three years ago, and she has improved. Just last week, she came home and proudly told me she’d hit a home run in softball. She uses and enjoys her vision, and that is a good thing.
As parents, we also teach her other ways to accomplish things she cannot do using vision. We encourage her to ask for information when she can’t see something (the menu on the wall of a fast food restaurant); we show her how to use her hands to find objects when her vision is not useful (cleaning under her bed); we gently insist that she tells her teacher when she can’t see something in the classroom (writing on the board, overheads, scientific or sewing demonstrations, etc.); and we have taught her how to use smell and touch for cooking and cleaning. (She is becoming a very good cook.) We take pride in watching her grow in confidence and skills.
As you can see, it is important for a visually impaired child to learn how to speak up and not be ashamed of letting people know that she has low vision. The NFB has helped us with that in many ways, and one of those ways has been in providing Elizabeth opportunities for public speaking. A few years ago, Elizabeth was asked to speak on a youth panel at a seminar for parents at the National Federation of the Blind convention in Louisville, Kentucky. Her speech was later reprinted in Future Reflections (volume 22, number 1) along with the speeches of the other panelists. The theme was, “The Serious Work of Play.” Here is what she said:
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Hi, my name is Elizabeth Jacobson. My dad’s name is Steve and my mom’s name is Nadine Jacobson. I live in Edina, Minnesota. I’m going into fifth grade and this is my tenth NFB national convention. I’m ten years old and I go to Concord Elementary School.
I like to pretend a lot. I like to pretend house and school. When I play house I like to pretend I’m the mom and my sister, Catherine, is my daughter. Sometimes I make a car out of chairs. I like to do this because I won’t be able to drive a car.
I also like to play school. I usually play this with my old school supplies and workbooks, too. I like to play this because I want to be a teacher when I grow up and teach at Concord Elementary School.
I also like to play store. When I play store, I like to be the cashier. Sometimes I also like to play camping. I play this with my sleeping bag and play tent. When I was younger I liked to play restaurant.
There are a lot of things to do outside like playing basketball. Our family has balls that have bells inside them. I also like to do switch board, which means it turns from a scooter to a skateboard. We got a volleyball net just a few months ago. There’s also a park nearby. It’s great to hang out at. My next-door neighbor has a trampoline that they let me jump on. They have a swing set my sister and I can play on, too.
Inside I use my karaoke machine that I got at Christmas. My sister and I do puppet shows and plays for my mom and dad. I’ve had sleepovers. One time we played hospital. Another time we watched movies and made the sounds we heard in the movie. My mom and I play scrabble. One time I beat her.
At school we play kickball. I used to have somebody kick for me because I didn’t like to have balls come at me. But that all changed when I tried to kick it by myself. I kicked it hard and high. I was proud of myself.
Sometimes when we’re on the bus my dad thinks of a character from TV, a movie, or a book, and we try to guess it.
Thank you for letting me talk at the parents division meeting.
I hope you like my report and that it is helpful.
by Scott Feldman
Editor’s Note: This article originally appeared in the Braille
Monitor, the monthly publication of the National Federation of the Blind,
and was later reprinted in Future Reflections, volume 16, number 4.
The author is a man who has given the definition of blindness a lot of thought.
Scott Feldman was a graduate student in clinical psychology and a member of
the Chicago Chapter of the NFB of Illinois when he wrote this reflection about
his journey into self-understanding:
“But that’s not you--you’re only print-impaired.” It was my best friend Amy speaking, and she was clearly concerned about me. Until recently I suppose that I thought of myself in this way as well. My visual problems first manifested themselves after extended periods of reading, and reading print was the first activity that I eventually had to relinquish, in my early twenties. Even today, several years later, I could force myself to read a small amount of print in an emergency, but I would pay the price with accommodative spasms. When I try to see things at near distance, my eyes lock, as in a muscle cramp, and later double vision and a throbbing headache set in as my eyes struggle to relax. I do not like pain, nor do I like setting myself up for failure. Since 1990 I have listened to my books instead, and I write with a speech-adapted computer.
Last year I began to learn Braille because in many situations speech is an inadequate substitute for print, such as when I have to give a lecture or presentation from notes. Braille is coming slowly, and materials in any accessible format are hard to come by. Only five percent of printed material published each year is converted to speech or Braille. So I most certainly do feel print-impaired.
This might have been the end of the story, except for one, well, two little problems. To begin with, there are many other things besides print that can get too close for my comfort: people’s faces, a kitchen counter or dining room table, or a Rembrandt, to name a few. I suppose that you could say that I am face-impaired, food-impaired, and art-impaired as well. Better, let’s say that I am functionally blind at near distance and leave it at that. This is where I was several months ago, after much kicking and screaming--not to mention a year-long depression that nearly sapped my will to live.
Life is not fair, nor is it simple. At present I get around without the assistance of a cane or dog. Walking outside is one of the activities recommended to me by my visual therapists because it allows me to gaze into the distance and relax my focusing system. (A world-renowned neuro-ophthalmologist who first diagnosed my condition as “severe accommodative and convergence insufficiency” suggested that I become a forest ranger. When I said that I wanted to be a scholar, he asked me if I would mind if he prayed for me. I did not.)
If you are sighted, you may be aware of relaxing your eyes, particularly when you are walking along, lost in thought. Your eyes do not fixate on anything in particular but take in the general environment. You perceive gross forms, color, and most definitely movement. You do not crash into things. This is how I have gotten around for the past six years. It works, except for the fact that I cannot make out street signs or other such niceties of modern travel. To be precise, if I squint through the various overlapping images, I can sometimes make out street signs, but then I get back into that same painful cycle that I described earlier.
So traveling is the second little problem. I was not aware of it while in Los Angeles for graduate school, where my range of independent travel was effectively limited by my busy campus schedule and inability to drive. Nor was it a problem when I returned to Chicago on a leave of absence since I know the city very well, having spent the latter part of my childhood and my adolescence there.
But this past October I traveled with my family to London and Paris. It was a lovely trip, especially because of the English theater. During a side trip to Stratford-on-Avon, I scalped a ticket to the Royal Shakespeare Company’s performance of Macbeth. I sat next to a delightful old woman who had been coming to Stratford for decades. She recalled the glorious days when the likes of Richard Burton were members of the company. The lights went out, and we fell silent, expectant. At the end of the performance, she asked me whether I had enjoyed it, not being able to make out the individual actors. As it turned out, I had enjoyed the performance more than she because I had been able to focus on the poetry, while she had difficulty getting beyond her aggravation at the inauthenticity of the costumes and stage set. (At one point, to her horror, the gatekeeper lit a cigarette.)
It was walking around on my own in London that made me realize how compromised my ability to navigate new places visually has become. The first day I went out I squinted at the street signs painted on the sides of buildings to make out where I was. I did not enjoy the theater that evening or the following afternoon because my eyes reminded me, in no uncertain terms, that I had mistreated them. A couple of days later, I wanted to venture north to visit the Folk Institute because I am very fond of Irish music. My parents said that it would be no trouble to go with me, but I felt that it was important to figure out how to travel there independently. The influence of the National Federation of the Blind was in full evidence here. With the help of an excellent map--and my parents’ eyes--I familiarized myself with the general layout of central London and with the specific route I planned to take. Then I set off for the Kensington underground station, our local base of operations. To make a long story short, after a few wrong turns and requests for directions from a couple of polite Londoners (they are so polite), I found the place. Happily, I returned to the subway with four new CDs in hand, the result of a thoughtful introduction to the institute’s collection by another extremely polite Londoner.
My travels the following few days were much the same. Instead of asking my eyes what street I was on, I asked someone more reliable. As you might suspect, this strategy failed miserably after we took the newly constructed tunnel under the English Channel to Paris. Being a native English-speaker and a sometimes Spanish-speaker, I couldn’t even begin to formulate the appropriate question, let alone understand the response. To the extent that I walked around on my own, such as when my parents indulged in a visit to a museum, I traced large circles around prominent landmarks.
As I sit here in my new apartment in Minneapolis, staring out into an impossibly early snowfall, the little question of how to navigate an unfamiliar city blossoms into a preoccupation. Besides the question of how to map out the city, pinpointing the places that hold special interest for me (such as a folk music club or dim sum restaurant), I wonder how I will shop for necessities. Twice now my refrigerator has gone empty before I asked a neighbor with whom I am acquainted for assistance shopping. Of course, I could walk into the grocery store and ask for customer service, but I am not blind, right?
Actually, Amy, I suspect that you and I are wrong. It is true that I do not meet legal criteria for blindness, which are based on simple indices of acuity and field of vision. I am not a low vision candidate--I have plenty of it. It just doesn’t seem to be working for me.
True, many people have strong negative stereotypes about blind people, into which they will try to lock me if I identify myself as blind in public by using a long white cane, for example. They will see me only as a blind person. But I have seen much more in many of the people I have met through the National Federation of the Blind. When I am in their company, rather than feeling ashamed of who I have become, I feel empowered to work to create a more positive image of blindness. I am starting here.
by Cheralyn (Braithwaith) Creer
Editor’s Note: Cheralyn Creer was a single woman and a special education teacher from Bountiful, Utah, when she gave this presentation to the 1998 National Convention of the National Federation of the Blind (NFB) under the title “The Blind in the Teaching Profession.” The speech was later published in the Braille Monitor and in Future Reflections, volume 16, number 2. (I changed the title to one that more closely captures the essence of the struggles Cheralyn describes as a partially sighted child and young adult.) Today, she is happily married, a new mom, and a state and national leader in the NFB. She has also moved up the career ladder. She currently provides technical support, training, etc. about sensory impairments and other disabilities to local school districts as an Education Specialist with the Utah State Office of Education. As you read Cheralyn’s story below, you may find it helpful to consider the following questions: 1. What visual techniques did Cheralyn use before she met the NFB and went to her first NFB convention? 2. What visual techniques did she use afterward? 3. Did she give up visual techniques, add new ones, or both? 4. What nonvisual techniques did she use before and after her introduction to the NFB?
I was born to a family of ten children. When I was one-year-old, my mom noticed that I held books close to my face and that I watched TV with my chin on the TV table--there are still teeth marks on the edge of it to prove it. My dad and some of my brothers and sisters dismissed it as a bad habit. None of them wanted me to visit an optometrist for fear we’d find out I was going to be different, need glasses, and be made fun of. As well-intended as my family was, they were afraid of my vision or the lack of it.
I fell into that fear by pretending I was no different from anyone else. We found out that I had “extreme myopia, a lazy eye, and astigmatism.” I got glasses when I was almost two and contact lenses at four. They helped, but just hid the problem. When asked if I could see a deer at the side of the road, I pretended I could. I endured backyard vision screenings, playing catch with a brother who was convinced that the harder he threw the softball, the more likely I’d be to see it. When watching a movie or play, I laughed on the cue of the rest of the audience, pretending I knew the punch line without admitting I needed an explanation. It goes on and on.
My scheming worked for years--or so I thought. In school I pretended to read as all the other students did in class. I pretended I could take the quiz written on the chalkboard or overhead projector. Although I was a relatively hard-working student, I allowed my grades to slide and allowed myself to accept being less than I was.
One experience I had during this period of pretending to be normal still haunts me. I had just proved my ability to perform in an advanced English class in the seventh grade. The transfer was made, and soon I was involved in a group presentation on The Red Badge of Courage. My turn to present came. It was accompanied by an all-too-familiar anxiety attack. I looked at my notes and then at my peers and decided it just wasn’t worth the humiliation of holding the paper at the necessary reading distance, the end of my nose. Instead, I chose an alternate route to humiliation. I attempted to read my notes at the normal distance. The student next to me (as well as the teacher and the rest of the class, I’m sure) sensed my difficulty. This student began whispering my notes to me like a parent to a timid child performing for an audience. I dismissed my frustration with a laugh here and there between my disjointed prompts. Finally it ended. I hoped I could now put the experience behind me. But that wasn’t possible. The adolescent devastation was there to stay. My teacher didn’t let it go either. She called my parents to find out if I was able to read. She thought I wasn’t intelligent enough for her class. Dad made the necessary excuses, and I was able to remain in the class. Unfortunately the memory also remained. Trying to be normal wasn’t worth the pain.
This faking continued until my vision decreased significantly in my eighth-grade year. The issue could no longer be ignored. I saw a specialist and was finally given a label. “I have cone dystrophy,” and soon thereafter I was able to say, “I am visually impaired.” The second label came after being introduced to special education and a dear friend named Carol. She helped me face my fears of admitting there was a problem and helped me to make adaptations. This was a huge step in my life. I no longer allowed anything to keep me from getting straight A’s.
I still had a lot of learning to do by way of admitting to myself that I couldn’t do things the same way as others around me. I even got a driver’s license. (I guess legally I could drive, but realistically I was crazy to try--especially when I cheated on one of the vision tests.) Driving lasted for only a few years until I’d put others and myself in danger too many times. Giving it up, as much as I needed to, was devastating. I remember other periods of devastation, sitting in classes and other situations with tearful eyes, wondering why I was so stupid and why couldn’t I do things the same way as the students or friends around me could. All of this in an attempt to be normal. It too wasn’t worth the pain.
College wasn’t a huge adjustment. I entered Brigham Young University as a special education major with two scholarships and the same old insecurities. I learned quickly that I couldn’t depend on Support Services for Students with Disabilities. Classes weren’t easy, so I had to start developing my own adaptive techniques. With each semester I learned techniques that would make the next one even easier. I got my own readers; I learned to rely on descriptions while using binoculars to distinguish objects in slides or on the board. I figured out that I could read print on certain colors more easily than on others, so I began using colored transparency sheets to lay over the page I was reading. Through this I gained confidence, but I still avoided computers at all costs.
This confidence greatly increased when I came in contact with Norman Gardner, Ray Martin, and their wives. They introduced me to the National Federation of the Blind just over two years ago. They came at just the right time. Relationships, my choice of major, and other serious decisions in my life left me doubting myself as I never had before. I was dragged to Anaheim, California, by Norm and Ray for the 1996 National Convention of the National Federation of the Blind.
It really was quite an ordeal getting me there. I was very scared. I had never traveled alone; I never did anything alone. (I went out of my way to plan for family members or friends to be with me wherever I went. I couldn’t even walk into church alone for fear I wouldn’t find the pew where my family sat.) Now this! Flying alone, navigating an airport alone, claiming baggage alone, coping with possible transfers alone. My dad never really liked the idea of my going places alone, and I knew I hated the idea myself. But I finally consented because there would be other people whom I had met once before on the same flight, and they were willing to help me.
Although overwhelmed, I soon came to know many people who have become some of my best friends and role models: Kristen Cox, Ron Gardner, Robert Olsen, their spouses, and Bruce Gardner. I began to learn that I had potential that I’d never given myself credit for and never let others see. I knew I didn’t have to be afraid anymore of who I was. I knew I would be more honest with myself and be able to let others see the real me. All of these feelings culminated at the banquet. I had heard all the incredible plans of the scholarship winners, and I realized I didn’t want to live any of the misconceptions that President Maurer referred to. Most of all, I knew my life could never be the same. The pretending and the fear had to end. I went from doubting my identity, my career choice, and even my self-worth, to craving independence that I’d never experienced before.
In fact, I was accepted to go on a study abroad program to London. This is where the craving began. By the end of the program, I was navigating and using the Underground or Tube (the subway system) independently. I loved the freedom of getting from place to place, experiencing the culture, etc., with the group or on my own if I wanted to.
Just one year after Anaheim I had school schedule conflicts that caused me to have to leave a few days late for last year’s national convention in New Orleans. This meant flying alone, transferring alone, claiming baggage alone, and getting to the hotel alone. This time, however, I had a much different experience. I looked at it as an opportunity and adventure to test some of my new travel skills and self-reliance. My friend Norm described it as an example of personal triumph and independence. What a contrast to the previous year. That convention only reinforced and intensified the feelings from the year before.
Back to school now. As required at BYU, I had opportunities to volunteer and later to teach in different classroom settings each semester in the special education program. I encountered frightening, stressful, and even dangerous situations. But, as my mom likes to remind me, a thought hit me one day near the end of my college career. I realized that I was capable of handling any one of these classroom situations. My traveling experience as well as experiences in my education soon helped me realize that I didn’t want to be the average blind person with the average job. (I think most of us have heard the quotation). I wanted to be the best! Doing the best job!
Before I found this determination, I had been terrified. I was convinced that I was crazy to think I could be a teacher. I dreaded applying for jobs because I just knew I would be a joke, walking into any interview. I had begun to talk myself into settling for a teacher’s assistant position. That way I wouldn’t have to be as responsible and could just follow in someone else’s footsteps.
But, as I said, my introduction to the NFB came at just the right time. I began using a cane (after leaving my lasting impression in college when I missed the barricades and stepped into fresh cement on campus), and I also began learning how to be up-front about my blindness in professional situations. I absolutely hated the interviewing process, but I kept at it. Suddenly the terror ended when I interviewed with some very open-minded people. I was amazed to find that I wouldn’t be turned down because of a disability but instead that I was hired; not only because of my accomplishments, but also because of the determination and sensitivity my blindness has given me. Soon I found myself tearfully saying good-bye to my parents (both natural and in the Federation) to accept a position an hour away in a junior high intellectually-disabled unit. Here was the independence I’d longed for.
I am fortunate enough to have a boss who is very sensitive to the needs of his teachers. He knew there was a possibility that I’d need some adaptive technology. So for Christmas he gave me a request form for the things I needed. Now I have a large computer monitor (my jumbo tron), with speech and enlargement software on the way (I can’t survive without the one thing I hated and dreaded in school--I’d die without my computer), and I also have a lighting system in my classroom that dims above my desk to make my reading and paper work more bearable.
I am also fortunate to work with amazing teachers who are willing to support and help each other whenever needed. They aren’t condescending in their offers to help. But I think they are still learning about me as an individual and about blindness in general. (I really confused them when I won the turkey at the Thanksgiving faculty free throw contest.)
It’s hard to believe I ever considered being merely a teacher’s assistant. I now have two full-time assistants and one part-time assistant working under me. I also supervise several students who get credit for being peer tutors in my classroom. My assistants understand my limitations (not seeing problem behaviors at the back of the room, etc.) and are able to follow my cues to deal with such situations. They know that I’m in charge, and I’m able to give them unique responsibilities that they might not have in a sighted teacher’s classroom. I find that this brings accountability and consistency to my classroom.
I can even recognize ways that my students benefit from my blindness. I’m sensitive to their feelings of inadequacy. I’m able to come up with alternative ways of learning the same thing. The concepts they learn are practiced and reinforced since I have to ask them to read or tell me what they are working on or what their answer is. I’m not afraid to admit, and even laugh, when I make a mistake.
I absolutely love my job! I never expected to enjoy being a professional so much. It wasn’t an easy road getting to this point, and I know the journey continues. I know I owe much of this to my involvement in the National Federation of the Blind. It was this organization that helped me gain confidence, self-respect, initiative, and courage to do the things I’ve mentioned. I was strengthened by the philosophy, the history I learned from reading Walking Alone and Marching Together, the leadership, the political influence I witnessed at Washington Seminar, etc. I will forever be grateful for what I have gained and will continue to gain from the NFB and the people and philosophy that make it what it is. I now hope to bring it to others so that it can dramatically change their lives, too. Thank you.
by Sam Herron
Editor’s Note: Sam Herron’s story was originally published in Insight a publication of the National Federation of the Blind of South Dakota, and shortly afterward reprinted in Future Reflections, volume 16, number 4. Parents and teachers might find it instructive to compare Herron’s description of the techniques he used in school to those he finds most useful on his job. Here is Sam Herron:
My name is Sam Herron. I work as a meteorologist with the National Weather Service in Rapid City and I am legally blind. Before I tell you about my current job, I’ll give some background information. My eye condition is the result of albinism, specifically oculocutaneous albinism. This is a genetic condition in which the body is unable to produce the usual amounts of melanin, or pigmentation. Albinism is typically linked to fair skin, very light hair, and poor vision. Due to the lack of pigmentation, the eyes do not develop normally before birth and during infancy. My vision is stable around 20/200 with glasses and I am very light sensitive. I also have a condition called nystagmus, which is irregular eye movement.
While growing up I attended public school and used large type books when available. However, I was not happy dragging around the large books, and the pictures in the large print versions were not very good. Most of the time I used a magnifying glass to read books and papers. I would sit close to the board, but often had to borrow a classmate’s notes or ask for the teacher’s notes. I became a very good listener and was forced to memorize a lot of information to keep up with classroom activities.
When I was in sixth grade we studied weather. I knew at that time that I wanted to become a meteorologist. I had always loved weather as a child--the sound of a thunderstorm, the feeling of the wind, and even the simple beauty of a sunny day. I enjoyed using maps and making measurements.
After high school, I attended the University of North Carolina at Ashville. I continued to use regular texts with a magnifying glass. I graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in meteorology in the spring of 1993 and was immediately hired with the National Weather Service. After a few moves around the country, I came to Rapid City late in 1995.
My job is visually demanding. As a weather observer, I have had to observe cloud types, precipitation, and other elements; read various instruments, and use a computer to enter these reports. When reading instruments I am able to use a magnifying glass. Most computer programs that we use have some flexibility in the size and colors for display. This is important, because I spend about ninety percent of my work time in front of a computer!
I spend a lot of time collecting and processing data. We receive reports from many volunteer observers around western South Dakota and northeast Wyoming. I quality-control these observations to ensure correct data and formats of the reports. Also, I monitor automated observing stations around the area, such as the Rapid City airport station, to make sure that the sensors are reporting properly.
A fun way in which we gather data is with weather balloons released twice each day. After preparing a battery-powered instrument which is about the size of a shoe box, I attach it to a large hydrogen-filled balloon and release it outside our office. The balloon is about four feet wide and six feet tall. As the balloon goes up through the atmosphere, reports of pressure, temperature, and humidity are relayed back to our computer. After the release, I quality-control the data and make sure that the information is distributed. The data goes to Washington, D.C., where powerful supercomputers generate forecast information.
Another big part of the job is analyzing maps and computer output to make forecasts. Regardless of what may be heard from some television personalities, we all use the same computer information, and our performance is very much based on the performance of the computer predictions. Differences in forecasts can occur due to the various levels of forecaster experience and knowledge.
The main mission of the National Weather Service is to issue warnings of severe or life-threatening weather conditions. Severe thunderstorm and tornado warnings are often issued based on radar information. We often record severe events and then study them afterwards, so that we can better recognize the types of storms that produce severe weather. The radar displays that we use are very detailed. However, computer technology allows zooming in on areas of interest and use of high contrast colors to assist with interpretation.
My work involves some direct contact with people. I have given talks about weather safety, such as what to do during a thunderstorm. Also, I enjoy providing weather information for people with travel plans or to those who just want a more detailed explanation about weather conditions.
I have not requested or felt the need for major modifications in my office. I do ask for simple things like having computers set up so that I can sit close to the screens comfortably. I also request the cooperation of co-workers to have the lighting set to proper levels. I benefit from my ability to work well with others and ask for help when needed. I believe that my ability to memorize and having enthusiasm for what I do have been the biggest factors in my success and satisfaction with my job as a meteorologist.
Editor’s Note: This information is reprinted with permission of the Visually Impaired Preschool Services (VIPS), 1229 Garvin Place, Louisville, KY 40203(502) 636-3207, <www.vips.org>.
ALBINISM
Albinism involves the absence or reduction of pigment in the eyes, skin, and
hair. It may affect only the eyes. Effects on vision may include decreased visual
acuity, photophobia, nystagmus, and strabismus.
ANIRIDIA
Aniridia is a hereditary condition where the iris of the eye is underdeveloped.
The effects on vision include decreased visual acuity, photophobia, nystagmus,
cataracts, and underdeveloped retinas.
CATARACTS
A congenital cataract is a hereditary condition in which there is opacity of
the lens. The effects on vision include decreased visual acuity, photophobia,
nystagmus, cataracts, and underdeveloped retinas.
COLOBOMA
Coloboma is a hereditary condition in which various parts of the eye may be
deformed. The effects on vision include decreased acuity, nystagmus, and strabismus.
CORTICAL VISUAL IMPAIRMENT (CVI)
Cortical visual impairment is a result of damage to the vision center of the
brain due to trauma, anoxia, or malformation. The effects on vision include
decreased acuity, nystagmus, and strabismus.
GLAUCOMA
Congenital glaucoma is a hereditary condition in which the tissue of the eye
is damaged from increased intraocular pressure. The effects on vision include
excessive tearing, photophobia, opacity or haze on the lens, buphthalmos, poor
visual acuity, and constricted visual fields.
OPTIC NERVE ATROPHY
Optic nerve atrophy is caused by damage to the optic nerve. It can be hereditary
or may result from trauma, inadequate blood or oxygen supply before or shortly
after birth, or hydrocephalus. Effects on vision include decreased visual acuity,
decreased central vision, decreased sensitivity in all visual fields, and nystagmus.
OPTIC NERVE HYPOPLASIA (ONH)
ONH is generally of unknown cause. It may appear by itself or in conjunction
with neurological or hormonal abnormalities. The effects on vision may include
decreased visual acuity, peripheral field loss, poor depth perception, and mild
photophobia.
NYSTAGMUS
Nystagmus is an involuntary, rhythmic side-to-side or up-and-down eye movement
that often accompanies other visual disorders.
RETINOPATHY OF PREMATURITY (ROP)
Retinopathy of prematurity is a condition in which the retinas are scarred due
to an unusual growth of blood vessels in the retina and vitreous. This is usually
found in premature infants, but may also be found in full-term infants. The
effects on vision include retinal detachments, severe myopia, decreased visual
acuity, and blindness.
For more detailed definitions and descriptions, the U.S. National Library of
Medicine and the National Institute of Health sponsors a medical dictionary
at: <http://medlineplus.gov/>.
by Barbara Cheadle
The following tips are based upon my experiences as the parent of a son with partial sight and are a revision and expansion of an earlier article I wrote for Future Reflections entitled “A Partially Sighted Child in the Classroom: Tips for Teachers.”
Let me begin with some background about my son. Chaz is totally blind in one eye (glaucoma) and has nystagmus, a cataract, and strabismus in his other eye. His visual acuity during his toddler and early school years was about 20/70, but that shifted to 20/200 (legal blindness) by the time he graduated from high school. He attended a Montessori preschool and a regular public school from kindergarten through high school.
It was never necessary for him to have an instructional assistant, or aide, in the class. He had an Individualized Education Program (IEP) and the services of an itinerant teacher of the blind (TVB), who provided direct instruction to him as needed and consultation to his classroom teachers and others as needed. He used regular print primarily in the class, but was also taught Braille and keyboarding by his TVB. (Getting Braille instruction for a partially sighted child at that time was unusual and would never have happened without the help of the National Federation of the Blind. But that’s another story. Today, the 1997 amendments to the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) requires that all visually impaired children be provided instruction in Braille unless an evaluation indicates it is not necessary now or for future literacy needs.)
Before he finished high school, my son was independent in making decisions about what alternative techniques to use and discussed or negotiated these individually with his teachers as needed. He went on to graduate from college with a major in Ancient Studies and currently works as an educator and sailor for the Living Classrooms Foundation in Baltimore, Maryland.
That’s the background. Now, here are the tips:
1. Before you do anything else, read the child’s IEP then ask the TVB and/or the parents to clarify anything you don’t understand about it. If the student does not have an IEP, he or she should have a Section 504 plan. If the student has neither, this is a serious oversight and I urge you to call it to the attention of the proper authority in your school system. In the meantime, with or without an IEP or Section 504 plan, you can still proceed with the strategies below:
2. Verbalize everything. All of your students will benefit if you read everything as you, or others, write it on the whiteboard or review it from a PowerPoint presentation or overhead projector. Even when you call on students for answers, don’t just point--say the names aloud. You can even occasionally rattle off several names, “Oh, I see that Kevin, Tyesha, Rachel, and Ryan have their hands up. Ryan, what is the answer?”
When doing a demonstration, it might help to stand close to the low vision student and to over-verbalize as you go. My heart still aches when I remember the time I observed my son in a fourth grade class. The teacher was demonstrating how to peel the thin membrane off an onion so the kids could put it under a slide to look at the cells. My son was totally lost and confused. If she had been more explicit in her language and had stood next to him (or him to her) and casually dipped her hand down for him to get a visual close up of what she had done, he could have proceeded with the other kids.
Kids with partial sight can see some things and not others, and sometimes what they can see will vary from day to day or hour to hour depending upon the lighting conditions, eye fatigue, etc. My own son loses a lot of vision in glare or overly bright light; he always does better in low light. However, some kids can’t see well in dim light. Observe your student and try to determine what works best for him or her. If you learn to verbalize everything as you go, you don’t have to worry about whether your student is having a good day or a bad day with his or her vision.
3. Please don’t ask your student “What do you see?” or “Can you see...?” Instead, observe the child, ask for his or her feedback about your verbalizations, and ask her how he or she prefers to manage certain tasks. A partially sighted child at this age very often cannot tell you what he or she can or cannot see. Remember that he or she has no idea what “perfect” vision is like. There is much in the visual world that the student is missing, and doesn’t even know he or she is missing. It takes time and training for kids with low vision to understand their vision, and more time to learn how to describe it to those with good vision. My son, for example, didn’t realize until middle school that other kids could look out the car window and see their friends waving at them from the sidewalk. He was upset because other kids thought he was being stuck up and ignoring them when they waved to him; he didn’t know they expected him to be able to see them. After all, he recognized his friends visually in the hallways. It was hard for everyone--including himself--to understand the quirks of his low vision.
4. Whiteboard work, PowerPoint presentations, overheads, demonstrations, movies, and materials on bulletin boards in and around the room will need consideration. Follow the IEP if it is clear and detailed. If not, work with the student, the TVB, and the parents to determine what techniques will work best for him or her. Your verbal descriptions and reading aloud of everything may be enough. On the other hand, he or she may need to be allowed to go close to read the material and copy it down. Don’t always make him or her sit up front, however, if he or she doesn’t want to. Let him or her move about the room as needed to read things. This should be done quietly and unobtrusively, and taken for granted as a matter of course. In other words: no big announcements to the class. If other students ask about it answer them honestly but briefly and move on to other topics.
5. Allow your student some flexibility to experiment so he or she can find out what works best for him or her. My son found that if he sat or stood next to the overhead projector, he could read the material on the projector slide without interfering with the projection on the wall. He always sat next to a friend in the back of the room when a video or movie was shown, and his friend quietly described any necessary action that wasn’t verbalized. He would stand close to the blackboard to read and copy down assignments, then return to his seat. Sometimes he would ask a friend, who would read it quietly to him. (It was best if he copied it himself since he could not always read others handwriting.) Although we didn’t call it this, he was doing what blind people call “using readers”--that is, live people who read materials to you under your direction and instruction. It’s no big deal, and often at this stage only takes a few moments and is especially easy to do when students are working in groups or pairs.
6. Touch is important. Your student’s education will be much enhanced if you actively encourage tactile exploration. Tactile clues help the student verify what he or she may see only imperfectly or perhaps not at all. Even older students, especially in the sciences, should continue to use their tactile sense for learning. When our son was twelve, we discovered that he thought that the large ears on goats--the kind that stick straight out from the head and are horizontal to the ground--were horns. We were at a petting zoo and he asked us why some of the goats had four horns and some had horns but no ears. Although our son could ‘see,’ he did not have enough knowledge about the world around him to accurately assess the information his limited vision provided to him. A lot of the time he was guessing.
Many tactile techniques are also safer--especially those used for cutting and measuring. This is most important in classes such as home arts (cooking and sewing), industrial arts, chemistry class, and biology lab (dissections). When cutting (or dissecting), for example, use the curled knuckles of the opposite hand against the flat of the blade as a guide. You can’t cut a finger this way because the finger is never exposed.
One caution: some children may be embarrassed to “touch” if they are the center of attention and other students are not touching. See tip number eight (below) and also consider how you might make activities more tactile for all your students.
7. Large-print and/or magnifiers might help, but are not always the answer. Usually regular print, as long as it is crisp, sharp, and with good contrast and no glare, is best. In fact, the worst thing you can do is give a low vision kid fuzzy, smeared, blurred, or faint copy--no matter how big it has been enlarged. My son used a combination of regular print and large print. In his IEP he was always given permission to take a good master copy of something to the copy machine in the office and to make an enlarged copy of it as needed. Of course, this didn’t help if he had a bad master copy, or if he had a substitute teacher who didn’t have good instructions (or didn’t follow them). That was one of his biggest complaints: a substitute who would give him a worksheet, or even a test, that had not been enlarged and when he told the substitute that he needed to go to the office to enlarge it, the substitute would refuse and tell him to “Do the best that you can.”
Hand-held magnifiers, a monocular, and/or a high-powered closed
circuit television (CCTV) system might also be used by the low vision student.
(My son had a hand-held magnifier but seldom used it.) Efficient use of these
aids requires patience, skill, persistence, and training. It is critical for
teachers to understand that these aids do not restore or correct vision to a
low vision person in the same way that glasses or contacts restore vision to
most people with common eye problems. Magnifiers are most effective when teachers,
parents, and the student understand the limitations of the devices and the student
uses them in combination with other nonvisual techniques.
Some low vision kids struggle with print when they really need Braille. It’s
much easier to learn Braille as a child than an adult, and children can learn
both. Your observations and recommendations do count. If your student is having
difficulties with print, or if you can anticipate that he or she will have trouble
when the print gets smaller and the reading demands increase, then please call
this to the attention of the TVB, the parents, and the IEP team. You might want
to remind the team about the IDEA Braille provision that requires Braille instruction
for blind and visually impaired children.
8. Don’t make a big deal about the student or the techniques used. Do be up front about it; just take the attitude that “Of course we do it this way because this is how it’s done in classes with blind or partially sighted students in them.” Don’t tolerate teasing or harassing of the student, but do so in the context that no one is allowed to tease or harass others for any reason.
9. Expect your student to take notes independently. One unfortunate trend in education is to provide a “scribe,” that is a live person, such as other classmates, to take notes for a visually impaired student. On some occasions this may be acceptable (taking a pop-quiz for example), but it is not necessary nor desirable for this to be the primary note-taking method for the average blind or partially sighted student. There are better, more independent, note-taking methods for both Braille-reading and print-reading low vision children to use.
My son learned to write Braille primarily as an alternative when he could not read his own handwriting. He had touch-typing instruction in third grade and began to use a computer to write his essays in fifth grade (and should have done it sooner). Before then he wrote as little as possible because it was hard for him to read his own handwriting, to check his spelling and grammar, and to make corrections. He did his math work and the true/false and fill-in-the-blank test items in handwriting, but used a computer at school and at home to do all other writing assignments.
Keyboarding instruction and access to a computer with accessible features for the blind is essential to all visually impaired students from the earliest grades on. If this instruction or equipment is not in your student’s IEP, it should be. He or she needs a fast way to independently prepare print materials for classroom teachers. Some schools provide laptop computers with synthesized speech and/or screen enlargers to blind and low vision students. Portable electronic notetakers for the blind are another common option.
10. Expect your student to do the work. Please don’t excuse him or her from assignments; think about the purpose of the assignment and adapt as necessary, but don’t exclude. For example, the student needs to learn how to use the dictionary, even if he or she can’t read the small print. He or she can learn, for example, to direct someone to read it to him or her. But to do that, he or she needs to know what information is included in a dictionary and how it is organized.
If the student isn’t getting the work done but he or she has the cognitive ability to do so, and you have eliminated other possible causes, then the problem is not the low vision; it’s lack of proper materials, adapted technology, techniques, and/or compensatory skills. Again, you can call this problem to the attention of the IEP team or to your supervisor.
11. Expectations matter. Although students who are blind or have low vision may do things differently, they are as capable of doing academic work as their peers. If we expect them to perform and provide them with the tools they need, they will do their work with speed and competency equal to any other child.
12. Attitude counts. My husband and I adopted the philosophy of the National Federation of the Blind (NFB) in raising our son: “It is respectable to be blind.” We decided that since his vision loss required extensive educational services (and would prevent him from ever driving a car), then he was, indeed, blind--not just low vision. That attitude made a world of difference in our acceptance of nonvisual techniques and in our son’s confidence and self-esteem. If his vision wasn’t sufficient for a task it was no big deal; there were perfectly good blindness techniques that he could use to get the job done. As he grew up, these nonvisual strategies became a part of his personality. For him, touching and listening is as natural and as automatic as looking.
Recently, my son and I were working together in the kitchen. My vision is not as good as it used to be and as I took my glasses off and put my nose down to look at my work, my son laughed and admonished me, “Use your hands, Mom, use your hands!” I had forgotten how much we had used that phrase when he was growing up! We were always encouraging him to trust all of his senses and not to rely only on his limited vision.
Chaz currently works in a high-glare environment (the worst possible condition for his vision): on the sea every day in bright sunlight teaching kids about ecology, sea life, and sailing on a 19th century Skipjack. He’s good at it and he loves it. I don’t think he would be doing this job today if he had spent his childhood trying to use his limited vision for all tasks and avoiding or trying to modify all high-glare situations. Today, he’s an adult with confidence, skills, and a job--and it all started with an attitude.
Title: Making It Work: Educating the Blind/Visually Impaired
Student in the Regular School
Author: Carol Castellano
Copyright: 2005, IAP-Information Age Publishing, Inc.
Pages: 227
Price: $25 plus shipping/handling
“This is the most useful book of the decade for parents and educators of blind
children. I will keep two copies on my desk at all times: one for my own reference,
and one to give away. It is that good, that important.”
-- Barbara Cheadle, Editor, Future Reflections; President, National
Organization of Parents of Blind Children
Making It Work is a complete how-to guide for the successful inclusion of a blind/visually impaired student in the regular classroom. Written in a clear, straightforward style, the book provides both the guiding principles and the nuts-and-bolts advice which will enable classroom teachers, teacher’s aides, school administrators, IEP teams, teachers of the visually impaired, and parents to create a learning atmosphere in which both the teacher and the blind/visually impaired student can thrive.
The effective teaching strategies and practical information offered will empower school staff not only to meet the challenges but also to enjoy the experience of having a blind/visually impaired student in class and will enable the blind/visually impaired student to be a full independent participant throughout the school day. Comments, advice, and inspiration from experienced classroom teachers who have taught a blind/visually impaired student are a unique and helpful aspect of the book. The resources chapter is extensive and includes information for blind/visually impaired students with additional disabilities. .
Topics included are:
“Making It Work is destined to be the definitive guide for years to
come on how to make the regular school education a successful experience for
blind/visually impaired children. With chapters flowing logically and full of
detailed, useful information, it will be an essential handbook for school staff,
specialized service providers, and parents of blind/visually impaired children.”
-- Joe Cutter, Early Childhood and O&M Specialist
To order, contact:
Information Age Publishing, PO Box 4967, Greenwich, CT 06831; (203) 661-7602;
www.infoagepub.com
National Center for the Blind Materials Center, 1800 Johnson Street, Baltimore, MD 21230; (410) 659-9314; www.nfb.org
Parents of Blind Children-NJ, 23 Alexander Ave., Madison, NJ 07940; (973) 377-0976; www.blindchildren.org
Editor’s Note: In a 1996 issue of the Journal of Visual Impairment and Blindness (vol. 90, no. 5, Sept-Oct, 1996), researchers and professors Kay Ferrell, Ph.D., and D. William Muir, M.A., raised questions about the efficacy of teaching visual perceptual skills in a piece entitled, “A Call to End Vision Stimulation Training.” In it, they state: “The cautions against using vision stimulation are significant. The main ones are 1) the research to support visual skills training is ambiguous at best; 2) the procedures violate the principle of normalization and diminish the self-esteem of children, families, and teachers; and 3) the training consumes time better devoted to instruction for real-life demands.” Unfortunately, many programs and educators have chosen to ignore these cautions and continue to practice and promote vision stimulation training. In the excerpt below from the Handbook for Itinerant and Resource Teachers for the Blind and Visually Impaired, published by the National Federation of the Blind, co-author Doris Willoughby discusses in more detail the problems of vision stimulation:
The Young Child’s Development
All the senses of infants and preschool children, along with other physical
and mental abilities, are in the process of development. It may be hard to know
just how much potential exists for a particular faculty such as vision or hearing.
In addition to the maturation of the faculty in question, one must also consider
the child’s ability to communicate. For example, a very young child cannot answer
a sophisticated question such as “Which lens gives a better focus?” even if
the meaning is carefully explained. He/she may not even answer apparently simple
questions accurately, due to fear, misunderstanding, a desire to please, etc.
Tests using letters are impossible for children who cannot read; even the “E”
chart is unreliable with very immature children.
Parents will naturally ask their children questions about what they see, in words they can understand. Parents will naturally teach children to recognize colors, to name the things they see in daily life, etc. Up to a point, it makes sense to say, “If they don’t try to use their sight, no one will know how much vision they have.”
Stretching to the Breaking Point
Unfortunately, a strong system of beliefs has grown up among many eye doctors
(chiefly optometrists)--a system of beliefs which stretches the idea of “vision
development” far beyond good sense.
Equipment, exercises, and workbooks (by Dr. Natalie Barraga and others) are promoted as “stimulating” or “developing” vision. They are promoted for older children as well as for preschoolers.
Advocates say these programs help students to make better use of existing vision. Promoters seem to imply, also, that vision will actually improve, although they avoid actually making that statement.
However, the authors of this Handbook, together with the National Federation of the Blind, are convinced that “vision stimulation” programs (as carried out by educators of the visually impaired) do not improve vision or the use of vision to any significant degree. Furthermore, overemphasis on such efforts actually does harm in a number of ways.
The appropriate thing for a teacher to do is to explore, for practical reasons, the question of how well a child can actually see. Then the teacher should proceed to teach the child efficient techniques.
False Hopes
Parents of blind children, like parents of children with other disabilities,
usually find it very hard to accept the fact of the disability. They tend to
consult one professional person after another, seeking someone who will tell
them what they want to hear: “No, your child is not disabled.” Parents, therefore,
are extremely vulnerable to a promoter of “vision stimulation.” False hopes
are easily raised. Inappropriate expectations are easily encouraged. Development
of a positive philosophy on a solid basis (including the realization that alternative
techniques can be very effective) is easily destroyed.
Inappropriate Expectations
Despite occasional remarks to the contrary, advocates of “vision stimulation”
raise inappropriate expectations.
When the print-reading student who struggles with headaches, slow speed, and fatigue is given “vision stimulation” workbooks--then the viable alternative of Braille is forgotten. When a child whose eyelashes brush the page is pushed to discern huge capital letters--then the idea of reading print on a regular basis springs up. When a child walks hesitantly forward and is prodded to guess, “is that a tree?”--then the idea of traveling without a cane is solidified.
Poor Techniques Encouraged, Effective Methods Ignored
“Vision stimulation” programs encourage codified guessing. Typically, a few simple shapes are used and the child strains to distinguish among them--often despite the fact that she cannot see enough detail to recognize a given shape reliably. Print “reading” is applauded even when letters cannot be seen clearly, and even when only part of a word can be seen. All of this takes time which could have been used in learning to read Braille quickly, comfortably, and reliably.
“Vision stimulation” exercises for mobility teach students to
guess about their environment. Examples include:
· Slowing down for shadows on the sidewalk
· Noticing blobs of light and estimating them to be doorways, windows,
etc.
· Trying to see part of the traffic light if one cannot see all of it
· Watching for jagged lines which may indicate steps
· Assuming that if the head of the person in front goes down, there is
probably a stairway going down
Children and adults with low vision usually figure out approaches such as these on their own. They are unreliable and unsafe methods. For an educator or an eye doctor to encourage and codify such things is unconscionable. Such approaches encourage slow and unsafe travel, and discourage effective travel with a cane.
Misleading, Emotional Phrases
“The child (about five years old) walked up the steps unaided. He had never walked up steps outdoors alone before.”
This remark was part of a talk promoting “vision stimulation.”
Consumer education, sociology courses, etc., teach citizens to analyze statements made by merchants and politicians. The educated consumer is alert for propaganda, which may be defined as one-sided communication designed to discourage analysis. However, most consumers have little familiarity with the choices available in regard to techniques for the blind, and are not likely to analyze, as they should. Popular myth holds that the use of vision is always best, however inefficient
Consider a careful analysis of the remark about the child on the steps:
How do we know that “vision stimulation” is the cause for his walking upstairs alone for the first time? Other possibilities reasons include: his parents stopped being afraid; the child stopped being afraid; he was urged and expected to do it; he had reached an appropriate maturity level (note that we do not know if he has additional disabilities); etc. It is quite possible that he does not see any better than before, and does not use his vision any better, but is succeeding because of other factors.
A child of five could have learned long ago to go up and down steps safely by using a cane (or, for that matter, without one, by using other tactual techniques). Yet the speaker clearly implied that the reason this child had not done so is because he had not had “vision stimulation.” It is much more likely that he simply has not been allowed to go alone before.
Since the child has very little vision, he probably does not see the steps well. He may simply be holding the rail and proceeding tactually. Or, he may be using some of the visual guessing discussed above. In any event, climbing these particular steps does not necessarily mean that he can easily and safely go up and down steps everywhere by use of his vision.
Following are some other examples of emotional, slanted remarks often used in promoting “vision stimulation.” Each is followed by a comment (in brackets) by the authors of this Handbook.
“See how this child goes around things without a cane!” (Seeing some things visually does not prove that a cane is not desirable for efficient, speedy travel.)
“We will help him interpret a blurry world.” (Blurry vision does not need to mean “a blurry world,” if proper techniques are used so that one need not rely on vision.)
“He has greater independence and a better self-image by using vision.” (The self-image of a person trying to rely on inadequate vision is indeed poor. But it cannot be raised to normal levels by trying to compete on an unequal basis. Independence and self-image can be improved only by recognizing that it is respectable to be blind, and that using alternative techniques--which do not require vision--can enable a person to compete on an equal basis. Urging a person to “improve” the use of inadequate vision is a way to lower self-esteem, because he realizes he cannot possibly “do better.”)
“Now this boy is walking unaided.” (Unfortunately, this expression is often used to mean that a person has no cane. In contrast, we should regard the cane as one way of walking “unaided”--that is, without the assistance of another person. It is a better way than the use of inadequate vision. Here is an interesting comparison: A carpenter would not say proudly, “I did this job unaided--I didn’t use any of my tool!”)
“She is losing vision. It is important for her to have “vision stimulation” to build up her visual memory.” (A person losing vision should spend her time learning methods which will continue to work. There are other ways to learn besides through vision; one need not have a “visual memory” of something in order to understand it.)
What Really Works?
If a visually impaired person really has enough visual potential to perform
up to his/her general ability by using vision alone, then this will be demonstrated
in the context of regular daily life. If regular medical attention (including
corrective lenses) and the experiences of daily life demonstrate that the student
cannot comfortably and reliably do things as well as others do them, then alternative
techniques (not requiring the use of vision) should be taught. The student will
then be able to rely on vision if and when it is really best for a given situation,
and use other methods when vision is not efficient.
Reprinted from the Handbook for Itinerant and Resource Teachers of Blind and Visually Impaired Students, by Doris M. Willoughby and Sharon L. M. Duffy. Available from the National Federation of the Blind, (410) 659-9314, <www.nfb.org>.
by Nathanael Wales
Editor’s Note: Nathaniel Wales was a college student when he wrote this article for the Student Slate, a publication of the National Association of Blind Students (NABS). He has since graduated and currently works as an engineer for the State of California Department of Water Resources. When I asked Wales to update our readers on the techniques he uses today, he explained that he uses a computer with speech and an electronic notetaker with a refreshable Braille display. And for those who might find this information useful, he says that the cause of his blindness is congenital cataracts and glaucoma, and various complications arising from these conditions. Here is what he has to say about his personal experiences with the CCTV:
There was a night during the third grade when I couldn’t wait to fall asleep. The sooner I fell asleep, the sooner I would wake up and go to school. Then I could use this new machine that made print really big. My “vision” teacher, Bobbie, brought the machine to my school just for me to use. (From time to time, Bobbie visited my school, called me out of class, helped me with class work, and showed me how to use different magnifiers.)
On that big day in third grade, she showed me how to use this machine called a CCTV (closed-circuit television). It was about the size of a television and made the print in papers or books that you put under it look really big. There was a knob to adjust the size of enlargement or magnification, a knob to focus the image on the screen, a switch to make black print on white paper look like white print on black paper, and a switch to make the image look really weird and upside-down so you could use the machine with a typewriter.
The CCTV was a really cool machine. It made it easier for me
to read my schoolwork. It was so helpful to me that my grandparents bought one
for me to use at home. My vision decreased through the rest of third grade and
into fourth grade. Little by little, the print needed to be magnified larger
and larger. I began to use and depend upon the CCTV more and more. It became
the way that I got things done for school. I regularly spent several hours a
night using the CCTV to do my homework.
I developed many ways to make using the CCTV faster. For example, when I did
math homework I used the textbook, a sheet of glass to flatten out the pages
of the book (this made it easier to focus on), and the piece of paper on which
I was doing the homework. I put the homework paper under the CCTV, put the opened
textbook (with the piece of glass on it to flatten the pages) on top of the
homework paper, and focused the CCTV. Then, after I read the problem, I removed
the book (with the glass balanced on top) and put it next to me on my desk,
re-focused the CCTV on the homework page, wrote out the problem, put the book
back under the CCTV, re-focused the CCTV, and read the next problem. It was
slow but I got the work done.
In the spring of my fourth grade year, I had a surgery that improved my vision enough so that I wasn’t completely dependent on the CCTV. I began to use it in combination with high-powered magnifiers and enlarged photocopies of pages of my schoolbooks. For example, I now could put my math book next to me on my desk and read the math problem using a high-powered magnifier and write out the problem under the CCTV. I called the system the “Fast Glance System” because it was faster than moving the book back and forth and re-focusing the CCTV.
As I entered junior high, my vision began to decrease again. At that point, my vision teacher brought me a portable CCTV. This portable machine was always slower and I could never write under it, but it was better than nothing. I still had a full-sized CCTV in my English class and a full-color one in the library. My vision teacher got a few more full-sized CCTVs later that year, so I had two more: one in my math class and one for my social studies/science class.
In high school, I had CCTVs in four of my six classrooms, a
large color CCTV in the library that I shared with a couple of other visually
impaired students, and a portable CCTV for the two classrooms where I did not
have a full-sized CCTV. Outside of my class work, I was on my school’s mock
trial team all four years of high school, and I used the portable CCTV during
competitions at the counsel table in courtrooms.
In my sophomore year my vision teacher brought me a new portable CCTV that I
could use for writing as well as for reading. That was the ultimate. Sure, it
fit in a case that was the size of a suitcase, but now I could read and write
anywhere there was a table and a few minutes to set it up when I needed it and
a few minutes to pack it up when I was finished.
My parents and I were always interested in the latest adaptive
technology, especially CCTVs, screen-enlarging software for computers, and scanners.
We regularly went to vendors’ exhibits. During my sophomore year of high school
we went to such an exhibit at the state convention of the National Federation
of the Blind (NFB). The exhibit was one of the best I had ever attended.
However, there was much more at that convention of the National Federation of
the Blind than a technology exhibit. I attended a meeting of blind college students
and they were talking about a number of things that caught my attention. They
talked about Braille, which I thought was reserved for only the most poorly
off blind people. They also discussed something called a Disabled Student Services
Office as well as the administration of the S.A.T. tests. All this stuff didn’t
seem to matter too much to me since I was only a sophomore in high school, but
I noted the information in my mind anyway.
After the NFB state convention, I began receiving tapes from
the NFB. It was a magazine called The Braille Monitor and I read it
because, in-between doing homework and mock trial, I had little else to do.
There was an article by a blind man who had been a teacher of blind students.
He talked about teaching Braille to all of his blind and partially sighted students,
and he showed his students how to get around the playground with their fellow
sighted students. He even taught them how to play tag.
The Braille Monitor also published testimony on Braille literacy legislation.
Blind college students and professionals talked about how fast and useful Braille
was in their lives. I came to the conclusion that Braille was something I ought
to learn. By that time I had realized that a CCTV isn’t versatile in all situations.
During my senior year of high school, I asked my vision teacher to teach me
Braille and she was happy to do it. I had lessons once or twice a week and by
the end of the year I had learned most of contracted (literary) Braille. Most
importantly, as I learned Braille, I began to put what I was learning to use,
particularly in mock trial. I still used the portable CCTV, but I also had notes
in Braille. It was great to use the Braille notes at a podium or when moving
around the courtroom making arguments to the court and questioning witnesses.
One of the coaches remarked that my performance had improved with the use of
Braille because I was now able to read as fast as I could think.
During my senior year of high school, I realized that I could
use some improvement in my skills as a blind person before heading off to college.
Nine days after I graduated from high school, I enrolled at an NFB training
center. In two weeks I finished the contracted (literary) Braille code and I
began learning how to write Braille proficiently with a slate and stylus. I
learned how to take notes in Braille during meetings and in classes. I read
novels and magazines in Braille, and I began learning the Braille code for mathematics
and science. I also worked on my skills of traveling with a cane, using a computer
with a speech synthesizer, and living independently as a blind person. I not
only developed competence in Braille and other skills, but I developed the confidence
to make them my primary alternative techniques.
Today, Braille is the principle way that I read and write. I take notes in Braille,
read as many texts as are available in Braille, and read my Bible in Braille.
When I am home visiting my parents I use the old CCTV from elementary school
and high school days for personal reading, but I haven’t taken it with me to
college. There is a CCTV at my university, and I’ve used it four or five times
in the past two years when it’s not been convenient for a reader or roommate
to read something such as mail or an article from my university’s student newspaper.
I find that Braille is useful in classrooms, meetings, and church functions. I may, depending on the situation, use a Braille writer, a Braille Lite (an electronic notetaker with a Braille keyboard), or a simple slate and stylus. Braille is lighter to carry, more versatile in its uses, and can be faster than a CCTV. Although I didn’t realize it on that night long ago when I was in the third grade, Braille and the NFB, not a CCTV, would end up having a major impact on my future.
The Library of Congress, National Library Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped (NLS), has issued a new 30 page reference circular entitled, “Reading Materials in Large Print: A Resource Guide.” The contents of the guide include: selected sources of large-print materials; selected classic titles; selected Newbery Medal Winner titles; selected bibliography, 2000-2005; and selected internet resources. To request a copy of the reference guide contact the library for the blind serving your area, or call 1-888-NLS-READ (1-888-657-7323). You can also print a copy from the NLS Web site: go to <www.loc.gov/nls> and select reference publications, circulars.
What is Large Type?
Here is a portion of the introduction of the guide that explains what large
print is:
“Type is measured in points from the bottom of the lowest letter (for example,
the tail of the letter “y”) to the tallest capital: type one-inch high measures
72 point. Most adult books are set in 10- to 12-point type, newspapers are often
8-point, and some editions of the Bible are in 6-point type. The minimum size
for large-print materials is 14-point type. Large-print materials are most commonly
available in 16- to 18-point types….Large-print materials are easiest to read
if they are printed in heavy leading (spacing between the lines of print), wide
margins, simple type, and non-glossy paper.”
Here is a sample of different size types in two different font styles:
This is Ariel 12-point type. This is Times Roman 12-point type.
This is Ariel 14-point type. This is Times Roman 14-point type.
This is Ariel 16-point type. This is Times Roman 16-point type.
This is Ariel 18-point type. This is Times Roman 18-point type.
This is Ariel 24-point type. This is Times Roman 24-point type.
This is Ariel 30-point type. This is Times Roman 30-point type.
by Edith Ethridge
Editor’s Note: Published in Future Reflections, volume 20, number 4, this article originally appeared in Parents’ Writes, the newsletter of the Kentucky Parents of Blind Children, a Division of the NFB of Kentucky. Refreshingly practical and non-sentimental, Edith Ethridge is clearly one expert who understands that visual aids or solutions are not the answer to every problem encountered by a person with low vision. Her advice is sensible and well-grounded in an understanding of the importance of efficiency and effectiveness when making choices about low vision devices or techniques. In a field that is notorious for pushing the use of vision to the point of inefficiency and discomfort, Mrs. Ethridge offers a positive approach to making decisions about low vision devices. Here is what she has to say:
Problem
Our twelve-year-old son will not use his monocular at school when needed. He
attends half-day at the Kentucky School for the Blind and the other half-day
in the public school. He admits while attending public school that instead of
using the monocular, he will ask someone sitting next to him to tell him what
he needs to write down. He has told us that the other students think his monocular
is cool, but still he worries about ridicule from the other students. As a self-advocacy
skill, we know he needs to overcome this, but we’re running out of ideas. Would
love to hear any suggestions!
Carol: Taylorsville, Kentucky
Response
Reluctance to use a monocular may be due to a variety of factors. Consider some
of these questions: