Braille Monitor November 2006
by Pam Allen, Shawn Mayo, and Julie Deden
From the Editor: One of the most stirring presentations of the 2006 NFB convention was a panel consisting of the directors of the three NFB adult training centers. They worked together to answer the question implicit in the title of their presentation. People across the blindness field have sought to explain away our success and dismiss our explanation for it. But the results speak for themselves: those who graduate from Federation centers are more confident, more capable, and more committed to contributing to their communities than the graduates of typical rehabilitation programs serving blind people. Some have asserted that our graduates are more successful because our centers take only the cream of the blindness crop, that their programs could do as well if they trained only the best and brightest. Certainly blind people bright and persistent enough to identify the best programs and insist on attending them often get to NFB centers, but a survey of center graduates quickly demonstrates that plenty of students with complex problems and poor prognoses also graduate from our centers.
of the success of our centers is not a deep secret--it is not sleepshades or
very long canes or whitewater rafting or preparing a meal for forty friends.
These are elements of effective training but not the underlying explanation.
In the series of presentations below, Pam Allen, director of the Louisiana Center
for the Blind; Shawn Mayo, director of Blindness: Learning In New Dimensions;
and Julie Deden, director of the Colorado Center for the Blind describe the
process and once again offer the explanation of our success:
Pam Allen: Good morning. In 1985 in Ruston, Louisiana, Joanne Wilson founded the Louisiana Center for the Blind (LCB). This was the realization of a dream for thousands of Federationists around the country. Joanne's tireless energy and unparalleled commitment to improving opportunities for blind people allowed her to develop a staff of gifted and dedicated men and women eager to change the meaning of blindness. The Louisiana Center for the Blind is a place where staff members and students work together to turn dreams into action, where students tap into the gifts they possess, a place where students learn the meaning of the saying, "Anything in life worth having is worth working for."
In 1991 I stood before you as the recipient of a national scholarship. You believed in me and in my capabilities. You helped me to realize the importance of this wonderful organization and to understand the power of our collective voice. At that time I planned to pursue a career in law or clinical psychology; I had no intention of working in the field of blindness. It is amazing how life takes us down unexpected paths, which lead us to discover something greater than we could ever have imagined. After working in the summer programs at LCB and seeing the life-changing work that occurred daily, I was hooked. I wanted to be a part of the excitement. I had the privilege of serving as the director of youth services for eight years before becoming the executive director in 2001.
I am grateful to Joanne Wilson for her dream, for her love, and for her support. She has served as a mentor for me and for hundreds of blind men and women around our country. Through her example I have learned the true meaning of giving back.
Each day at the Louisiana Center for the Blind I am inspired by the commitment of the staff, the desire of the students, and the power of positive thinking and high expectations. My belief in our movement is strengthened each time I see a student conquer a fear and break down a barrier to success. I am challenged by my students and staff always to strive for excellence.
As a 1992 graduate of LCB and its current executive director, I am honored and privileged to stand before you today. I am proud to say that LCB just celebrated our twentieth anniversary. The theme for the occasion was "Celebrate Our Yesterdays–Imagine Our Tomorrows." Thank you for your love and support during the last twenty years. I'm counting on you to help us continue to plan for a future bright with possibility.
It is now my pleasure to introduce Shawn Mayo; executive director of BLIND, Inc.
Shawn Mayo: In 1986 Joyce Scanlan and other dedicated Federationists undertook to expand adjustment to blindness training in the state of Minnesota to a new dimension. They wanted to give blind people the opportunity to learn the skills of blindness in a positive environment, surrounded by the philosophy and support of the National Federation of the Blind. In creating this new training center, they wanted to come up with a name that would encapsulate the mission of the organization. They decided that the center should be called Blindness: Learning In New Dimensions, Incorporated. Not only did this name sum up what the center was all about, it could be shortened to its acronym BLIND. Calling the center "BLIND, Incorporated," would re-emphasize both that the center is directed and operated by blind people and that the word "BLIND" is respectable and that it is respectable to be blind.
I lost my eyesight in 1990 from a combination of diabetes and leukemia. In 1993 I was awarded a scholarship from the NFB's Illinois affiliate. The real prize of this scholarship wasn't the money but the introduction to the National Federation of the Blind. In the Federation I found friends who encouraged me to get adjustment-to-blindness training at one of our Federation centers. I came to BLIND, Inc., in 1996, and that changed my life. I was able to go on to earn my master's in clinical psychology, and, like Pam, I had no intention of working in the blindness field. But when Joyce Scanlan offered me the chance to work for BLIND as an assistant director in 2000, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to give back to the organization that had helped me take control of my life. Joyce was a mentor and teacher--always giving her time and answering my questions. I became director in 2003 and have been privileged to work with a team of the most dedicated, talented, and enjoyable people I've ever known and hard-working students who teach as much as they learn.
I would now like to introduce
Julie Deden, executive director of the Colorado Center for the Blind.
Julie Deden: Good morning. I want to tell you all that it is an honor and a privilege for me to talk with you today. I have been the director of the Colorado Center for the Blind for the past seven years, and each day, when I walk up the hill to the center and see our students getting off of the light rail train, I am energized about what we are doing.
I have always been blind but never thought of myself as a blind person until I joined the NFB in 1978. Prior to that time I did not want to be associated with those blind people and was truly ashamed and embarrassed about my identity, my blindness.
I didn't use a cane, so when I was eighteen and went off to the University of Colorado in Boulder for my first year of college, I attempted to memorize the entire campus and use my limited vision to spot railings and stairs going up. I could not see stairs going down at all, so I just hoped that I would not fall. I expended so much energy getting from class to class without falling and then really embarrassing myself that I couldn't relax and be just another college student because, after all, I thought: I'm not blind; I'm just visually impaired, and I can do whatever I want.
Each month I would get
a call from Judy, who would say, "Hi, would you like to attend an NFB meeting?
We would love to have you!"
Each month I would say, "No, I'm not interested." I would hang up the phone and hope they wouldn't call again. Finally in May, after going through some very hard times on campus, like falling into a drainage ditch and serving myself a large bowl of tartar sauce for lunch, the call came again: "Julie, would you like to come to an NFB meeting?"
I said, "Yes," and my life changed forever after that first meeting. I met blind people who encouraged me and who were very kind. Diane and Ray McGeorge are like my parents. I love and respect them, and they taught me to feel good about myself as a blind person, proud of who I am. Diane has always had great confidence in me and high expectations of what I could do and become. She pushed me and challenged me and continues to teach me every day. Ray was instrumental in his gentle, encouraging way in getting me to use a cane.
But unfortunately I was slow to understand in my heart that it is respectable to be blind. Finally, two years after becoming involved in the NFB, I began using a cane all of the time and really moving forward within myself. If at that time I could have had the opportunity to attend an NFB training center, I like to think that my learning curve would have been much faster and that I would have figured things out without going through so much.
Most of the training centers at that time were run by sighted, degreed people who were certain that they knew best what blind people needed. We truly did not have control over our own training. Rather we spent time in centers being evaluated and analyzed and then received some training circumscribed with limitations because, of course, as blind people, we needed a lot of help in order to amount to anything.
Hence a revolution occurred.
In the early eighties the organized blind decided that we would take control
of adjustment-to-blindness training. With the NFB running training centers,
we could provide role-modeling and mentoring, high expectations and demanding,
effective skills training. Joanne Wilson, Diane McGeorge, and Joyce Scanlan
were the founders of our NFB centers. They had the necessary love, passion,
dedication, tenacity, and, most important, the NFB. I still remember sitting
in the convention in Chicago in 1988 and hearing our first batch of center students
talking about their experiences. Mostly they told us about the belief in themselves
as blind people that they were gaining.
Shawn Mayo: Many training centers teach skills. On paper it is often difficult, perhaps impossible, to tell these centers apart because many purport to teach the basic alternative techniques of blindness. At our NFB centers we teach Braille, assistive technology, home management, daily living skills, career exploration, and travel with the long white cane. In addition our NFB centers also conduct industrial arts classes; activities to build self-confidence; and seminar classes, in which we talk about the NFB and introduce students to a positive attitude about blindness. Quality instruction in the skills of blindness is vital, but what sets NFB training centers apart from others is the context and philosophy in which these skills are taught.
Today each director is going to talk about one of the three fundamental principles of NFB centers: control, peers, and empowerment. Following each section, the other two directors will provide an illustration of how the philosophy is implemented through our training. Traditional training centers have appropriated these terms, but they cannot or do not fully implement them.
Imagine a pecan tree. As the tree increases in height, the roots widen in circumference. As the years go by, the tree grows, the root system deepens, and more and more pecans are produced and sent into the world. Our roots in the National Federation of the Blind provide us with the strength of its membership and the philosophical nourishment throughout the organism that allow us to bear fruit or, in the case of our pecan tree, a lot of nuts.
Since traditional rehabilitation professionals have always maintained that we're nuts, we might as well appropriate the term for our own purposes. They've called us militant; they've called us radical. I am proud of these terms because we stand up for what we believe in. "Radical" means "root," and we go to the root of the problem and do something about it.
In the twenty-plus years since our first Federation center was established, we have produced a lot of pecans. Let me take a little survey; how many of you here have been to one of our NFB training centers? [substantial response] Well, sounds like our tree is certainly growing.
The first of the three
branches of our pecan tree I want to talk about is the branch of control. When
I talk about "control," I am not talking about controlling students. I am actually
talking about the opposite of this--the fact that instructors at NFB training
centers actively refuse to control students. Instructors at NFB training centers
are experts and professionals. However, their expertise doesn't lie in the possession
of stores of specialized knowledge, and their professionalism doesn't come from
amassing letters after their names.
NFB center instructors know that the skills they teach, while extremely important, are not complicated or difficult to master. They know that these techniques have been forged from common sense, refined through practical experience, and evolved to work in an ever-changing world.
When students walk through the door of an NFB center, they are viewed and treated as complete human beings. They aren't considered patients in need of healing or children in need of protection. Instead the staff view their students much as university professors see their graduate students--as future colleagues in need of direction and mentorship. NFB instructors don't put themselves on a different level from their students. They aren't above talking and socializing with their students in public at the end of business. NFB instructors are mentors, not mothers; guides, not guardians; advisors, not advocates. They teach students to be their own advocates.
Some things in life can never actually be given--they must be earned and owned by the people who want them. Independence and empowerment can't be handed from one person to another--if people seek empowerment, they must reach out and take the reins of their lives away from whoever or whatever is holding them.
Most of the people who come for training do so because blindness has taken control of their lives. Blindness is arranging their schedules, deciding what they can and can't do. They need to take back control and put blindness in its proper place. They need to gain the skills and self-confidence to make blindness a nuisance instead of a nightmare.
Sometimes this isn't easy. Sometimes students would rather their instructors take control of the situation so they do not have to risk making a mistake. But the expertise of NFB instructors lies in their ability to help students see that they are capable of making their own decisions. NFB instructors teach their students that they can become their own experts.
The job of instructors at an NFB training center is to make themselves unnecessary. They evaluate their performance based on how many times they hear statements like "I was playing around with Excel and figured out how to sort the data." In day-to-day application this plays out in the form of challenges that instructors present to their students. These challenges can be something as small as a page of new Braille characters or as big as a rock face. They can be as simple as cutting a board on a radial arm saw or as complex as a cane travel drop-off. Whatever the challenges are, they are carefully designed to build upon what has already been learned to create a ladder that students can climb to success.
But, most important, each challenge contains an element of risk. We don't give students the answers; we allow them to problem-solve. When they succeed, they know they have done it on their own; if they fail, they understand why they have failed. Life does not provide successes without the possibility of failure.
Many traditional, non-NFB instructors and agencies do not allow their students to get into any situation that isn't under the instructor's control. They don't allow their students the opportunity to learn how to get out of an intersection they've accidentally entered or what to do when a saw kicks back a board. Because students aren't allowed to make mistakes, they aren't taught how to correct them; they are only taught to be afraid of making a mistake.
At NFB training centers we encourage our students to work through their fear so that it will not stand in their way. Of course we value safety and would not deliberately put anyone in serious danger, but likewise we won't artificially shield our students from the world around them. We don't like to see students stumble, but we know that the greatest teachers of all are personal mistakes. Eventually those climbing the ladder to success will miss a rung or lose their footing, and as instructors we give suggestions on how to have more success the next time and encourage them to dust themselves off and keep on climbing.
We want our students to know that they reached the top of the ladder under their own power--no one boosted them up from below; no one hoisted them up from the top. The job of NFB center instructors is to show them the ladder and say, "I've been to the top, and it's great up there--I know you can climb it too."
All the staff members at NFB training centers are Federationists because at their very core they hold a solid belief in the capabilities of blind people. The Federation has taught them and continually strengthens their conviction that blind people can and do live happy, productive, and successful lives. They see it all around them, and they point it out to their students.
Instructors at NFB centers
have a genuine love for blind people and enough faith in them to support them
and be there for them, not just until the close of business, but whenever they
need it. Instructors at NFB training centers challenge their students because
they can see from those around them--the members of the National Federation
of the Blind--that their students are capable of meeting the challenges placed
before them. Thank you for anchoring our NFB centers with the roots of the Federation.
Julie Deden: Kaley had always lived with her family. Prior to her arrival at the center I had talked to her several times. She was very scared. On a beautiful spring day the Colorado Rockies were playing the St. Louis Cardinals. Eric, our travel instructor, said, "Let's all go to the game." This outing had not been planned, but our students learn that anything can happen at any time. Being flexible and ready for anything is part of the challenge of living life.
Shortly after this planning session, Kaley came to my office crying. She said, "I can't go to the game! I know that there will be escalators, and you'll make me use them."
I said, "Kaley, you'll be just fine. You can handle the escalator."
About half an hour later I overheard Kaley saying to Robert, "I don't want to go!"
Robert said, "Kaley, I know you can do it!"
So we all left for the game. Kaley again said, "No, I can't do this!"
Everyone, both students
and staff, said, "You'll do great, let's go!" When we arrived, Eric worked with
Kaley, and she did it. She went up and down so many escalators that it would
have made anyone dizzy. From that day on, Kaley took on challenge after challenge.
I spoke with her last week. She is moving to her own apartment, has just graduated
from college, and has several job prospects.
Pam Allen: "That's it," John said. "I'm leaving; I just can't deal with this program any longer!"
I could hear the frustration and defeat in his voice. "It's just too much!" How many times have we felt this way, when it seemed as though, no matter how hard we tried, things just weren't happening the way we'd hoped.
"My bags are packed, and
I'm leaving on the next bus." The story might have ended there, and we might
have lost a student. Like some centers we could have given in to John's requests
and allowed him to wallow in his negative feelings about blindness. However,
because of the passion and persistence of our staff, the hours of sharing during
and after 5:00, the pep talks, and the meals together, I'm proud to say that
John graduated from our program and made outstanding progress. The expectations
and encouragement of the staff allowed John to face his doubts with courage
and to realize the power within himself.
Julie Deden: Magical and memorable connections are formed forever at our NFB training centers. Role modeling, mentoring, and support for each other create students who develop full belief in themselves as blind people. This branch of the pecan tree is vital, for as it grows, the tree becomes stronger and more resilient.
We all see each other every day. Students live in apartments, where they share a lot with each other after the busy day. We share in the hard times and in the good times along the training path with our students. I often joke with everyone at the center, telling them that we are just like a big family. We love and care for each other though we may be a bit dysfunctional at times.
From the beginning students learn that they are not alone, not the only one. Most of our staff is blind, and the sighted staff members have had full training in blindness techniques. Even more important, everyone possesses full belief in blind people. We all understand what it is like to wait for a bus in the pouring rain or to be pushed and pulled by a well-meaning stranger. We work together. We are a team, and we expect that our students will meet challenges as they come up. Every time we go rock climbing, I see everyone at the bottom of the rock encouraging and cheering for the climber, saying, "You can do it. You're almost there!" I think to myself, this is what it's all about, encouraging each other and pushing each other to surpass any limitations that we think we may have.
We all believe that positive role modeling makes the difference. Our students see the staff doing everything that we tell them they can do themselves. They pick up on this, and the energy generated is contagious and powerful.
Time spent away from classes at the center often has the most impact on our students. Students and staff go out to dinner together, or students visit us in our homes. We ask our students to give tours to visitors, teach a new student the route to and from the center, or substitute teach at times. Usually we don't even have to ask; they just jump in and say, "I'll help; I can show her." This sharing and giving to others is really what life is all about.
Students who have any residual vision wear sleepshades during their training at our centers. At the beginning this can be upsetting and, of course, challenging. Often students listen to each other a bit more than they listen to us. They tell each other, "You'll get used to wearing your sleepshades. We all do it, and it makes a big difference in your learning and in your thinking about yourself."
Our blindness seminars and philosophy discussions provide much for everyone to think about. Should blind people go to the front of the line? Should we receive discounts? Can we really compete with others? This class allows us all to share our stories and to be well grounded in our philosophy.
Meaningful lifelong friendships
are formed between students. More often than I would prefer, a student says:
"I'm kind of tired today because we stayed up really late talking about everything."
They cry together, laugh together, and learn together; they have adventures
on travel routes and challenge each other to do just a bit more. The bonds formed
are tangible and everlasting for us all.
Pam Allen: Imagine a beautiful summer day. A group of people of all ages and backgrounds are gathered on a patio, laughing and talking. Delectable smells from the grill permeate the air.
"The chicken is ready," one person says.
Another chimes in, "Does anyone want to try some of my pasta salad?"
"No, thanks," someone replies. "I'm saving room for some of that German chocolate cake Laura made; I want that recipe." Over by the grill one person shows another under sleepshades how to tell when the meat is done, using nonvisual techniques.
This is just one example
of the gatherings that take place at the Louisiana Center for the Blind, informal
times when staff and students get together outside of class to share stories
and learn from each other, whether it is a student swapping a recipe for the
delicious cake or another friend helping a student conquer his or her fear of
grilling. These bonds are formed and continue to strengthen long after graduation.
It is part of the magic that happens every day at our three NFB centers.
Shawn Mayo: Earlier this summer one of the instructors at BLIND, Inc., was having a birthday party. He invited his family, coworkers, and students to a local restaurant to celebrate. At first no students showed up. Eventually a bunch of students came in and sat down at my table. They said one of the students had gone around knocking on doors telling people that it was Saturday night and they should get out of their apartments. As we were eating, drinking, talking, and laughing, one of the students turned to me and said, "I can't believe you guys are out with us students on a weekend."
Another student said, "I
was at another center, and the director there would never just hang out with
the students." The conversation continued, and the importance and impact
of the interaction between staff and students outside of the classroom became
Pam Allen: Empowerment is a word that is used in many settings in our society. In the field of rehabilitation and education of the blind, many agencies claim to empower consumers. However, we know that, although we may use the same words, our definitions are often not the same.
In the context of our NFB training centers, what do we mean when we say our graduates are "empowered"? James Omvig referred to our centers as "empowerment stations." We know that, in order for a student to become truly empowered, he or she must be immersed in an environment which will provide challenge, support, high expectations, and attitude change. On one level gaining proficiency in the skills of blindness--Braille, cane travel, daily living skills, computer literacy, and industrial arts--provides a level of freedom and empowerment. However, as we learned from Dr. Jernigan's example in Iowa, merely providing skills is not enough; assisting a student to secure employment or find an apartment is not enough. These skills are not truly empowering to a student.
True empowerment is demonstrated when a person manifests hope, self-awareness, personal choice, and a solid belief in the ability to shape his or her own destiny. This is our goal for our graduates.
Many training centers focus on the hows of blindness--teaching skills that will allow a person to function but missing the most important component--they fail to empower the person both as an individual and as a blind person who is part of the blindness community. Each day in our NFB training centers we focus on empowering our students, on showing by word and action that our students can truly shape their own destinies. Too many times our students come to us with little hope and many fears--fears about the future, fears about achieving their goals, fears about living a full and happy life. Too often our students come to us mistakenly believing that they cannot take responsibility for their actions or for things which happen to them, that they are merely passive victims to whom life's mischances happen. Our goal at the Louisiana Center for the Blind, Colorado Center for the Blind, and BLIND, Inc., is to help our graduates realize that they can be assertive and independent men and women. I am reminded of a quote by George Bernard Shaw: "The people who get on in this world are the people that get up and look for the circumstances that they want; and if they can't find them, they make them." We want our students to feel that they can make things happen.
Shawn and Julie have mentioned the importance of skills, role modeling, peer support, and positive attitude. Of course these are key components for empowerment. Additionally, in order to become empowered, our students must recreate their image of blindness, must replace the misconceptions of blindness with the truth about blindness, the truth that has been passed down through generations in our movement--that it is respectable to be blind; that blindness is not a debilitating tragedy; and that with proper training, opportunity, and a positive attitude, it can be reduced to a mere nuisance. By providing our students with experiences designed to challenge their fears and build their confidence, we slowly begin to demonstrate how the Federation philosophy can be a part of daily life. Whether it be traveling to the mall or grocery store for the first time, attending a concert, learning Braille, using sleepshades, participating in whitewater rafting, skiing, rock climbing, or Mardi Gras, our students are presented with activities designed to push them out of their comfort zones--to help them recognize the strength that lies within them. As blind people, too often we are surrounded by those who, although unknowingly and unintentionally, doubt us. We internalize this doubt and begin to let its negative influence creep into our daily lives. At our NFB training centers we face these doubts and replace this negativity with a positive outlook. This is not a simple task, but it is crucial for gaining true independence.
Because our NFB centers
are grounded in Federation philosophy, we give our students the ultimate tool.
That is, we connect them with the National Federation of the Blind. Through
the examples of the staff, through discussions of NFB speeches and literature
in seminar classes, through participation in local and state NFB activities,
our students are connected with our movement. They see, firsthand, blind people
advocating and speaking for themselves. They come to know through word and example
about the power of collective action. They learn about our history, and they
begin to see how they too can affect the future by becoming a part of our dynamic
organization. They attend national conventions and Washington Seminars. Additionally,
when our students graduate, they are connected to a nationwide mentoring and
support network, an invaluable resource. As we know, we all sometimes need to
be encouraged, to talk to someone who truly understands us and who can help
us put our problems in perspective. This is what the NFB is for our students.
Over the last twenty years our NFB centers have served thousands of people of all ages, birth through adulthood, from all fifty states, the District of Columbia, and Puerto Rico in addition to some foreign countries. In turn these individuals have spread out across our nation and have become the leaders of tomorrow. Our NFB centers provide the fertile soil in which people can blossom, nourished by the love and support of this organization and its members. Our graduates have seen the examples of tireless dedication and commitment, have witnessed the power of collective action, and are eager to give back to the community to provide hope for other blind people and a vehicle for change. The field of education and rehabilitation of the blind has also been affected by our NFB centers. Countless center graduates have become rehabilitation professionals and leaders in this field and are bringing about significant change each day.
When the three Federation centers were founded, many questioned our motives. We heard from many critics who were confident that our programs would not produce positive outcomes. However, as a direct result of the success of our diverse graduates, numerous schools, vocational rehabilitation agencies, and training centers have sought our advice. Our NFB model has become the gold standard and the leading force in the rehabilitation revolution.
Without a strong root system, no matter how beautiful, a tree cannot stand and weather the storms, nor can it produce fruit. The NFB is the anchor; it is what makes our centers stand out from the rest. It is what keeps us grounded and also what challenges us to strive for the best.
A friend recently shared this quote with me, and I thought it expressed the power of our centers, the power of the National Federation of the Blind:
Our stories contain the answers to each other's questions. What I cannot find in searching through the riches and rubble of my own life may become apparent to me in the witnessing of yours. In the passing on of our stories, we gift each other with the power of possibility. When I watch you claim your life and go after your dream, I begin to believe I can do it too. When I see what you risk to achieve what you want, I think that I too could take that chance. When I hear what you have suffered while I see you trudging forward, I believe I can make it to the other side of my own darkness. What can save us, if it is not our stories, not the careful sharing of who we are and what we dream for a world whose future rests in our hands?
Shawn Mayo: One day I got a call from someone interested in coming to BLIND, Inc., for training. As I talked with him, I learned that he had been working at a sheltered workshop for twelve years, making mops. He wanted a better job, where he could earn more money, and he thought maybe he could find one if he learned blindness skills and gained self-confidence. When he told his rehab counselor and employer about his desire to get training, they talked to him for hours about the fact that he would fail. They told him that he would never make it through the training and that he should be happy with the job he had. Finally, after much argument, his counselor agreed to send him to BLIND.
At first he struggled and wondered if what they had been saying was right. He hated the sleepshades and wasn't used to being in classes. But he kept going and worked harder. He graduated from the program and fulfilled his dream. He found a job manufacturing furniture and is now happily employed. He is also an active member of the National Federation of the Blind.
Julie Deden: The three branches of the pecan tree come together. You will find full belief and love, role modeling, and empowerment for all of us through the National Federation of the Blind and our NFB training centers.
Pam Allen: The title of our panel is "The Secrets of Rehabilitation: Why Federation Centers Work." You are the secret; you are the reason for our success.
Shawn Mayo: The secret
is the National Federation of the Blind.