Braille Monitor, 2/95
Braille Monitor, 2/95
The Braille
Monitor
Vol.
38, No. 2
February 1995
Barbara Pierce,
editor
Published in inkprint, in Braille,
on cassette and
the World Wide Web and FTP on the Internet
The National Federation of the Blind
Marc Maurer, President
National Office
1800 Johnson Street
Baltimore, Maryland 21230
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Web Page Address: http//www.nfb.org
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National Federation of the Blind and sent to:
National Federation of the Blind
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Baltimore, Maryland 21230
THE
NATIONAL FEDERATION OF
THE BLIND IS NOT
AN ORGANIZATION
SPEAKING FOR THE BLIND--IT
IS THE BLIND SPEAKING
FOR THEMSELVES
ISSN 0006-8829
Contents
Vol.
38, No. 2
February 1995
GROWING UP WITH INDEPENDENCE:
THE BLIND CHILD'S USE OF THE WHITE CANE
by Fredric K. Schroeder
FROM TAKING NOTES TO TAKING
OUT THE TRASH
by Bonnie Peterson
WHO IS BLIND?
by Lola Pace
THE HOOK ON THE DOCTOR'S
DOOR
by Kenneth Jernigan
MY STRUGGLE TO CORRECT POOR
ATTITUDES ABOUT BLINDNESS
AND THEIR IMPACT ON MY SIGHTED CHILD
by Trudy Barrett
WHY NOT JUST ASK?
by Peggy Elliott
WORKING WITH DANGEROUS CLIENTS
by Frank Stark
BLIND JOB-SEEKERS LOG ON
TO EMPLOYMENT
by Peter and Mary Donahue
BLINDNESS NO BARRIER TO
ENGINEER'S VISION OF LIFE
by Ozzie Roberts
SEMINAR FOR PARENTS OF
BLIND CHILDREN STRESSES PHYSICAL FITNESS
by Peggy Chong
LITERACY IS EVERYBODY'S
BUSINESS
SCHOOL AND THE CHICKEN
HOUSE
by Homer Page
THE BLIND CHURCH MEMBER:
WHAT
CONVERSATION IS UNLIKELY TO REVEAL
by Harvey Lauer
CHICAGO NOTEBOOK
by Stephen O. Benson
SHANTHI'S FIRST AMERICAN
YEAR
by Barbara Freeman
SEARS DEMONSTRATES ADA
IMPLEMENTATION IS NOT A HARDSHIP
BRAILLE EVALUATORS NEEDED
by Emerson Foulke
USING FLYERS TO ADVERTISE
RECIPES
MONITOR MINIATURES
Copyright 1995 National Federation of
the Blind
[LEAD PHOTOS/CAPTIONS:] When blind children are introduced to the long white
cane early, they grow up using it easily and naturally. Their independence grows
as they do, and they develop an accurate knowledge of the world and a healthy
self-confidence.
[Photo: Mark McClain helps his toddler
learn how to use her cane. Caption: Parents are a blind child's first travel
teachers. Here Mark McClain of Ohio shows Macy how to use her cane.]
[Photo: Nicolas Stockton, holding a stuffed
elephant, uses his cane while stepping onto an escalator. Caption: Nicolas Stockton
of West Virginia has places to go, and escalators don't stop him.]
[Photo: Michelle Letsche, age four, finds
the curb using her cane before stepping onto her school bus. Caption: Michelle
Letsche of New Jersey learns about climbing onto her school bus with the encouragement
of a school aide.]
[Photo: Hailee Linhart and Niki White
run and laugh racing across the grass. Caption: Hailee Linhart of Washington
and Niki White of Maryland depend on their canes in order to run and play safely.]
[Photo: Tim Day walks along the waters
edge on a pier in Detroit. Caption: Tim Day of Washington thinks nothing of
walking on a pier as long as he can use his cane.]
[Photo: April and Amanda Jones link arms
and use their long white canes to walk down a hallway. Caption: April and Amanda
Jones of Tennessee acquired NFB canes at their first National Convention in
Detroit and put them to use immediately.]
[Photo: Richie Cavallaro uses his cane
to travel past the Sbarro Pizza counter. Caption: Richie Cavallaro, four and
a half years old, from New York explores a mall with his long white cane.]
[Photo #1: Fred Schroeder standing with
cane. Caption: Fred Schroeder]
GROWING
UP WITH INDEPENDENCE:
THE BLIND CHILD'S USE OF THE WHITE CANE
by Fredric K. Schroeder
From the Editor: Fred Schroeder is a
graduate of San Francisco State University and holds California credentials
in special education and orientation and mobility. He recently received his
Ph.D. in educational administration. Following graduation from college, he was
employed as a mobility instructor by the Nebraska Services for the Blind in
Lincoln. In the early 1980's he began teaching blind children in the Albuquerque
public schools, where he introduced the use of the long white cane to children
of all ages. His talents were quickly recognized by the superintendent, and
he was promoted, being asked to coordinate the programs for all children with
low-incidence disabilities in the Albuquerque schools. When the New Mexico Commission
for the Blind was established by the state legislature in the mid-
eighties, Fred Schroeder was hired as Director of the Commission, a position
he held until the summer of 1994, when he was appointed by President Clinton
as Commissioner of the Rehabilitation Services Administration.
Dr. Schroeder has steadily championed the Federation's philosophy of early,
consistent cane use by blind children in his dealings with educators of the
blind. He delivered the following address to the 1980 fall convention of the
National Federation of the Blind of California. The text was printed in the
Spring- Summer, 1986, edition of the Blind Educator, the publication of the
National Association of Blind Educators, and reprinted in the Spring-Summer,
1991, edition of the Blind Citizen, a publication of the National Federation
of the Blind of California. The subject is as timely today as it was when the
speech was first delivered. One could wish that fifteen years had seen a greater
change in the professional outlook on this subject than has occurred. Yet, we
have come a long way. Here is Dr. Schroeder's 1980 speech:
My topic today is blind children growing
up with independence through the use of the white cane. As is often the case,
the debate on this matter stems from two divergent philosophies. On the one
hand the National Federation of the Blind believes that blind children are simply
normal children who happen to be blind. The other is the view of the majority
of the established special education system, which holds that blind children
are faced with a myriad of problems which, by their nature and severity, require
professional intervention.
Undoubtedly each philosophy has evolved in significant part out of the vested
interests of the respective groups. The National Federation of the Blind has
a strong interest in furthering its goals of security, equality, and opportunity,
which are integrally tied to the organization's basic assumption of the normality
of blind people. The established special education system, on the other hand,
has a vested interest in maintaining the concept of the blind as a population
with a wide range of specialized needs since this concept is integrally tied
to the very existence of the profession.
Let us begin with a discussion of infancy. Sighted infants are typically encouraged
to explore their environment. Parents, siblings, and other relatives are continually
providing stimulation which helps the infant become an active participant in
the world. I believe that blind children deserve the same opportunity to develop
experientially. When a blind child begins to walk, he or she should be provided
with a lightweight, flexible cane to be used in the exploration of the environment--
to seek out familiar toys and places of interest. The cane has long been recognized
as a symbol of independence for the blind. Its use focuses the parents' attention
on the development of the child's independence while alleviating many of the
parents' concerns about safety.
I am not, of course, advocating instructing a neonate in the formal two-point
touch technique with an arc going precisely one inch to either side of the body
and rising no more than one and a half inches at its highest point. I do advocate
the truth of the principle that a blind child, provided with the necessary tools,
will seek out new experiences and begin to explore the world. This will do more
to develop space and body concepts than any other activity.
As the child grows, he or she will naturally move to outdoor play. At this point
the cane should be an old and trusted companion. Many members of the orientation
and mobility profession argue that, using a cane at this age, a child will develop
a variety of bad habits, which will interfere with the eventual development
of good cane skills. They say that the child should first be instructed in pre-cane
skills. But what are these pre-cane skills? I suggest that trailing walls and
protective-arm techniques have very little to do with eventual effective use
of the cane. If one is sincerely interested in providing experiences which will
eventually result in good cane technique, then one should provide the very young
blind child with a cane.
When a six-year-old first grader begins learning to read and write, it is with
an extensive background in pre-reading and pre-writing skills. This background
is directly related to the final task. A two-year-old is not typically able
to read but is encouraged to sit on the parent's lap and follow along while
a story is being read. Similarly, this same two-year-old is not yet able to
write but is, of course, encouraged to play with crayons. No one worries about
the development of bad habits while the child experiments with a variety of
ways of grasping crayons. Rather educators understand that the child's early
play is helping to develop the fine motor control necessary for eventual writing.
Why then do so many orientation and mobility professionals object to young blind
children's using canes in an informal manner in order to develop the fine motor
control necessary for effective cane travel?
These professionals go on to argue that the development of compensatory skills
is seriously impeded by the young child's use of a cane. Their claim is that
the child who becomes dependent on a cane will not learn to use his or her hearing
effectively. As an alternative they suggest the aforementioned pre-cane techniques.
One of these is the upper-hand and forearm technique, which positions the hand
and arm in front of the blind child in order to protect the head and face. While
offering some limited protection, the technique definitely muffles the child's
hearing, while, on the other hand, the tap of the cane provides an excellent
sound source, which I believe enhances the child's ability to interpret sounds
in the environment.
I recently spoke with an orientation and mobility specialist who has an additional
year of training in the use of electronic travel aids. She advised that, instead
of a cane, a pathsounder should be used with blind children. The pathsounder
is a device which beeps when an object is directly in front of the user. She
explained that, using this device, a young blind child would be able to walk
freely and without fear. Further, the child's ability to interpret environmental
sounds would be developed through the feedback provided by this device.
It does not seem to me, however, that the pathsounder can offer the blind child
any information not readily accessible through the cane, which enables him or
her besides to walk freely and without fear. In addition, the cane can be used
to provide the child with feedback concerning the location of an opening or
an obstacle. The information gathered through the use of a cane will certainly
enable the child to learn to interpret sounds in the environment. The difference
is that the cane is a natural extension of the arm and hand and, therefore,
requires little in the way of sophisticated interpretation. If the cane touches
a solid object, it takes very little abstract reasoning to understand that there
is something ahead. But what is there in a beep which would imply to a child
that there is something blocking his or her path? The only plausible reason
why professionals like this woman would advocate the use of a pathsounder in
place of a cane is that the pathsounder requires training and, therefore, the
intervention of the professional. As
a result, parents are made to feel that their children's special needs are so
complex that they are inadequate to participate in their child's development.
When the blind child reaches elementary school, the use of the cane should naturally
extend to the playground. At this time the child will take part in exciting
new activities such as jumping rope, climbing on monkey bars, and swinging on
swings. This is also the time when a child needs to learn how to find a
good place to keep his or her cane. When the child is finished playing, he or
she should be able to recover the cane independently. This is no different from
the responsibilities normally assumed by other children of the same age. Sighted
children are expected to be responsible for their belongings. In
other words, a blind child should be responsible for his or her possessions,
as are his or her sighted peers.
As the blind child reaches junior high school, he or she should be able to take
for granted the ability to travel independently. Unfortunately, this is about
the age at which many orientation and mobility specialists believe cane travel
instruction should begin. The child is generally provided with some basic instruction
which is not designed to develop travel skills overall, but rather to solve
the immediate problem of getting from class to class. Rarely does the child
evolve beyond the stage of traveling memorized routes. The age-old stereotype
of the blind person's being on a memorized path is one of which the orientation
and mobility profession has been unable to rid itself.
The regrettable truth is that most members of the orientation and mobility profession
do not fully believe in a blind person's ability to travel safely with a white
cane. Otherwise, why would the profession insist upon using new electronic travel
aids as an adjunct to the cane or, in some cases, as a substitute for it? One
orientation and mobility specialist from the Midwest typically instructs her
junior high and high school students in the use of the laser cane. During a
lengthy discussion she was unable to explain what practical advantage the laser
cane had over an ordinary cane. Her only concrete reason for encouraging the
use of the laser cane was that it could be used as an icebreaker in social situations.
In other words, for the sake of social contact, the blind child should be willing
to make a spectacle of him- or herself. It is clear that this woman does not
believe in the ability of blind children to initiate the process of making friends.
Her comment implies that the blind child must use flashy electronic
gadgets in order to be interesting or attractive. In addition, I question the
effectiveness of the laser cane, particularly in the Midwest, since it will
not operate in temperatures below thirty degrees. It is further limited by being
inoperable during rain or snow. The manufacturer explains that in these situations
the cane can be turned off and used as an effective long cane. One has to wonder,
if the cane can be effective with the electronics shut off, why the cane's beeps
and vibrations were needed in the first
place.
We have come full circle, returning once again to my original point. When I
speak of growing up with independence, I mean just that--true independence.
When many members of the orientation and mobility profession speak of independence,
the term carries with it the unspoken qualification, "as independent as
a blind person can reasonably be expected to be."
The orientation and mobility profession's pervasively custodial attitudes are
shown all too clearly in an article entitled, "The Electronic Car Controversy,"
which appeared in the Summer, 1980, edition of News and Views, the publication
of the American Association of Workers for the Blind (now the Association for
Education and Rehabilitation of the Blind and Visually Impaired). The article
reads in part as follows:
The Northeastern Region Interest Group
IX has become concerned with electric cars as a potential barrier to independent
travel for visually impaired people. With the exception of the noise produced
by the friction of the tires against the pavement while the car is moving, electric
cars are completely silent. . .
.
Although [the article continues] the problem of inaudible cars may well affect
a number of populations (older pedestrians, the hearing impaired, and children)
the Northeastern Chapter Interest Group IX feels that a number of issues that
impact specifically on visually impaired travelers must be addressed on a national
level.
Implications for both street crossings procedure and safety as well as parking
lot and gas station
negotiation are many. Considerations also exist in terms of training procedures
for traffic alignment and
environmental analysis. . . . One company has gone so far as to include a notation
in their owner's manual and on a label in the car, alerting drivers to safety
factors for vision- and hearing-impaired pedestrians.
Beyond this, [the article continues] manufacturers have offered to provide the
public with sensors which
could be worn on a lapel and operate as a "go-no-go" device, emitting
some sort of signal when an electric vehicle comes within range of the sensor.
Our objections to this are: first, a very small percentage
of the general populations could effectively use such a high-technology device,
and secondly, the burden of responsibility for safety in traffic should rest
on the driver and not on the visually impaired traveler. . . .
This is what the article says, and it
is interesting to note that the orientation and mobility profession does not
consider it to be within the blind traveler's capabilities to protect him- or
herself from the threat of electric cars. They argue that an electronic sensor,
which beeps when an electric car is near, is too complicated a device to be
of practical benefit to the blind. What a revealing comment, clearly highlighting
the profession's attitude about the blind as both defenseless and witless! Instead,
they would ask the blind to trust their safety to the driver, secure in the
knowledge that on the dashboard of the electric car is a statement cautioning
the driver about the possible presence of blind pedestrians.
It will take a long time to change society's views of blindness and, for that
matter, the views of the orientation and mobility profession. It is clear, however,
that a change must come. Those of us who have grown up as blind children understand
the negative impact which these attitudes have had on our lives.
We have experienced the heartache of being left behind and the degradation of
being taken along by brothers and sisters, who became unwilling caretakers.
The tragedy is not that of blindness, but rather the ease with which we and
society sold ourselves short. Blindness did not isolate us, but our inability
to travel as freely as others did. To participate in society was to be at society's
mercy--to accept gratefully the opportunity to be brought along, even if not
included.
No professional pride or theoretical dogma should be allowed to isolate and
degrade blind children in the future. No one has the right to rob another of
his or her self-respect by imposing arbitrary limitations. We must claim for
the blind children of today and those of tomorrow the right to grow up with
dignity and to experience life to the full.
[Photo #2: Bonnie Peterson, laughing,
stands at podium. Caption: Bonnie Peterson]
FROM
TAKING NOTES TO TAKING OUT THE TRASH
by Bonnie Peterson
From the Editor: The following article
is based on a speech Bonnie Peterson delivered at the 1994 parents' seminar
on Friday, July 1, at the annual convention of the National Federation of the
Blind in Detroit, Michigan. Mrs. Peterson is President of the NFB of Wisconsin,
a wife, a mother, and a university professor. She is also blind. Her remarks
first appeared in the Fall, 1994, issue of Future Reflections, a publication
of the National Organization of Parents of Blind Children, a division of the
National Federation of the Blind. Here they are:
I teach communications and public speaking
in the university system of Wisconsin. I am also blind. Taking notes is, of
course, something that is extremely valuable to me. From my experience I believe
that notetaking is probably one of the most important skills that your children
will learn. So what is notetaking, and how is it valuable?
First of all, notetaking is not tape-recorded documentation of information.
Notetaking is an activity in which the note-taker picks and chooses the information
to be retained. True notetaking must be done in a medium that is flexible and
quickly accessible. Notes must be taken under a wide variety of circumstances--standing
or sitting, inside or outside, and so forth.
There is no question that the skill and art of notetaking lead to active listening.
In other words, the better you take notes, the better you listen. You need to
listen in order to pick and choose which things you wish to take down. That
is, you must be constantly making decisions as you write notes. When children
start to study for tests and exams from notes, they begin to realize the importance
of making good decisions--especially when they discover that their notes are
incomplete and the information they need isn't there. Notetaking leads to better
decision-making skills, and this in turn promotes other leadership qualities.
One of the key skills of successful leaders is juggling five or six or more
different things at the same time. Successful people are busy people. Once people
discover you are a competent, skillful leader, everybody wants you. Notetaking
allows people to function more efficiently and effectively and therefore to
be more successful.
I take notes on a myriad of topics, and I take them in Braille. I use Braille
to write notes to myself about grades and other important information concerning
my students. I use Braille when I judge speaking competitions. There is no way
anyone could remember, or would care to remember, all the intricacies of each
speech and each speaker, so I use Braille for that. I use Braille for political
activities, especially public hearings. The information in testimony I give--the
figures and statistics--are all written down and at my fingertips; and frankly
no one beats me. As a matter of fact I have a running competition with my
Congressman, Gerald Kletchka. We play a little game. He wants to see if he can
get to his statistics faster than I can get to mine. So far I've always won,
and I like it that way; I intend to keep it that way too.
I also use Braille in my home life--writing down appointments and grocery lists
and keeping track of my two daughters' schedules. (They have basketball practice,
volleyball and soccer games, and gymnastic classes--and I have to see that everyone
gets to the right place at the right time.) But it wasn't always that way. I
didn't always take notes in Braille.
When I went to school, my parents were told that I didn't need Braille; after
all, I could see. We didn't know about the National Federation of the Blind
then. My parents trusted the professionals, so I did not learn Braille as a
child. Instead I learned to take notes in a dive-bomb fashion. Now, when you
take notes this way (and you can; it is doable), your back and shoulders are
hunched up, and your nose is literally on the paper as you drag your face across
the page. But I didn't need Braille; I could see.
A funny thing happens if you have long hair: it all flops down on the desk,
onto your paper, and into your face so that you're eating hair while you're
trying to take notes. Nobody thinks about those things. You also eliminate what
little light there is because your head is blocking it. It results in a tremendous
amount of eye strain, but that's how I took my notes. Between classes I would
go into the ladies' room and wash the ink off the tip of my nose. (Later, in
high school, I didn't want the boys to see ink on my nose, so I had to devise
methods to wipe it off in class without being obvious.)
I went through certain stages in my childhood, trying to deal with the fact
that I really couldn't see. We didn't use the word blind when I was a child.)
My family was Polish, and we heard a lot of jokes about Polish people with big
noses. So I thought that Polish people must have big noses, and I must have
a bigger nose than other people. I remember thinking, if I didn't have this
rotten Polish nose, I could get close enough to the paper to read without getting
ink on myself. This is true confession time--not many people know this--I decided
I could squish down my nose and make it smaller by sleeping face down in my
pillow. I really did! But after a few weeks my desire for air and my fear of
suffocation while I slept made me give up. I still have the nose with which
I was born. With that I outgrew my ethnic-nose stage and moved into the martyr
stage.
By this time I was in eighth grade, early adolescence. For years I had heard
people say things like, "Isn't she remarkable? That poor little thing struggles
so hard. Look at how well she does with the little that she has." My reaction
in this stage became: "Nobody knows the trouble I've seen; nobody knows
but me. I will endure this for the greater good of society, and someday I will
be rewarded." However, my Joan-of-Arc stage didn't last very long either.
I was quite aware that, like Joan, I was getting burned. I didn't really want
people to pity me, pet me, and tell me how sweet and wonderful I was to endure
this hardship. That wasn't what I was about.
So I moved into the "Buck up, Bonnie, and just make the best of this. This
is the way the cards of life have been dealt, so watcha gonna do?" stage.
I stayed in the "poker-hand-o'-life" stage for a long, long time--into
and beyond my college years.
When I went to college, I was still dive-bombing my paper, of course. However,
I did devise a hairstyle that kept me from eating my hair anymore. The college
I went to was quite a ruthless school, by the way. They treated everyone equally.
I was fortunate to get a very strong education there.
The career I chose was communications. It required a lot of group analysis.
Groups of students were videotaped as they interacted, and professional evaluators
critiqued and rated each student within the group according to communications
principles and criteria. These evaluations were given to the class instructor,
who would then review the evaluations with each student. One Tuesday evening
at 9:00--I will never forget--my instructor was going through this evaluation
process with me. (She had not seen the videotape, of course. She was merely
reviewing the evaluation with me.) On the list of things that I
had done was a comment about withdrawing behavior. For those of you who don't
know anything about communication jargon, withdrawing behavior is the worst
thing that you can do in communication. It's like turning your back--ignoring
the other person. It means that you have taken your consciousness, your
essence away from the group. My instructor said, "Bonnie, leading behavior
here, challenging behavior here. Those are all positive, but what is this? Withdrawing
behavior? You never withdraw. What were you doing here?"
When I told her I didn't know, this upset her more than the behavior itself.
How could I do something and not be aware of it? So she read the description
from the evaluation to me and asked me again just what I had been doing.
"Well, I was only taking notes, Sister."
"Notes aren't withdrawing behavior. Show me what you do when you take notes."
So I played World War II Ace and dive-bombed the paper and pretended to take
notes. She asked me, "Bonnie, what is the definition of withdrawing behavior?"
I regurgitated the definition as any good student should. She left it at that,
but I didn't. I thought about it. She was right. To take my face, my entire
upper torso away from the group and to be down there on that paper for even
a millisecond was, of course, withdrawing behavior. This bothered me. I had
always been praised and encouraged for taking notes this way. Now someone was
telling me, for the first time in my life, how this behavior was interpreted
in the real world. I wasn't bothered enough to change anything right away, but
I certainly put the idea on the back burner to simmer.
I continued to dive-bomb my paper--I was the best World War II fighter pilot
Ace--even after I stumbled into the National Federation of the Blind and saw
wonderful, positive blind people doing things that I couldn't do in a million
years, like reading and writing Braille comfortably and easily. These were people
who weren't struggling with eyestrain, which had become such an ordinary fact
of my everyday life that I didn't even bother complaining about it. You would
have thought this was enough to make me change, but it wasn't. It took the reaction
of my three-year-old daughter to do that.
I was reading her a book about Dumbo the elephant. Of course, reading the book
meant wrapping it around my face. I still remember the way she looked at me
and said, "Daddy read me." What I heard in her words was, "You
are stupid; you are embarrassing; I am going to get as far away from you as
I can; you're dumb." Now she didn't mean to be cruel, but as far away as
a three-year-old could get was across the room to her dad, and that was far
enough for me.
With the help of the Federation, I learned Braille in two months. Let me tell
you something else that you probably won't believe. If any of you had come to
me during the time I was still dive-bombing and offered me one million dollars
in unmarked bills tax-free if I could read back to you notes I had written a
month previously, I couldn't have gotten the money from you. I was taking notes
that I literally couldn't read. But I knew no other way. It was what the professionals
told me I should do.
All of the committee chairmanships and all the expertise and success in teaching
that I have enjoyed have come since I learned Braille and self-confidence from
members of the NFB. I owe a great part of who and what I am today to the National
Federation of the Blind.
My parents didn't know a lot about notetaking, but they did know about taking
out the trash. They knew about providing me with strong values, teaching me
to be responsible, and instilling in me a passion for doing a job well. From
the time I was a young child I was expected to do household tasks, make my bed
and do it correctly, fold up my clothes, and put them away. By the time I was
eight-years-old I was helping my mom on Saturdays to clean the house. My job
was totally cleaning the bathroom, the hall,
and the steps. When I was thirteen, my mom went to work. It was just going to
be a part-time job, she said, just for a little extra spending money in the
family. But my mom was so good that she moved up into management full-time.
By the time I was fifteen, I was grocery shopping, ironing, and taking care
of the family. I did all of that, and I did it well, for nothing less was acceptable
to my parents.
Now (blind or sighted) kids are kids, and they want to get away with what they
can--especially if they are creative, and I was. When I was about thirteen,
I developed a passion for long, hot showers. But soon my long, hot showers began
causing the bathroom tiles to fall off the wall. I discovered that, if after
a shower I just plunked those babies right back up on the wall, they would stay
until the next person took a shower, and that person showered and got the blame
for the falling tiles. Of course, my parents eventually pinned it on me. Slowly
they eliminated the other possibilities, and the only person left was Bonnie.
"Stop taking those hot showers," my father said.
"Okay, Dad, sure." Of course
I was too old for them to monitor my showers. I just opened up the window, fanned
out all the hot air, plunked the tiles back up on the wall, and left. The next
family member would come in, and plunk, plunk, plunk--down would come the tiles.
It was clear that I wasn't going to stop taking long, hot showers; and the tiles
were going to keep on plunking down.
Then one day my dad called, "Bonnie!" He was in the bathroom, so I
came in. He said, "Here, this is for you." It was a can of tile cement
and a trowel. "You're taking these tiles off the walls with your showers.
I can't stop you from taking the hot showers. If you're old enough to do it,
you're old enough to fix the wall, and I'll show you how." To my dismay,
he did.
I soon learned that the tile responsibility was entirely mine. If I put the
tile up improperly or if I didn't squish the tile cement onto the whole tile,
they would eventually fall off; and, even if this occurred after someone else's
shower, I had to fix them. You can imagine the teasing I got from my younger
brother and sister. This was too degrading, so you can bet I learned how to
be an excellent mason. This little experience with shower tiles taught me many
things, but I have never given up my love for long, hot showers. When my husband
and I built a home, we put in a fifty-gallon hot water tank instead of a little
thirty-five gallon one because I never wanted to run out of hot water. I also
amazed the contractors with my knowledge of bathroom tiles, backing, drywall,
and ceiling materials. I did not plan on ever putting up bathroom tiles again--especially
not in my own home.
What did all this mean? What did my parents teach me? They taught me that, if
you mess it up, you gotta fix it up. You need to be responsible for what you
do. My parents didn't know the value of Braille, but they did know about other
values. They were smart people, and they didn't fall for my adolescent trickery
and deceit. My blindness (even though we didn't call it that then) was never
an acceptable excuse for getting out of a job that had to be done. They taught
me not to shirk responsibility, and they
never made excuses for me. If homework had to be done and it took me two hours
to do what others did in one, that's how long it took. I did the job. I did
it thoroughly, and I did it well. If there was a test that was going to take
the other students an hour, I needed to figure out a way to do it in an hour
too. These lessons about responsibility have stayed with me throughout my life.
My parents thought of the future, of the woman who would be running her own
household someday. They thought of the woman who would be married and of what
her husband would want--a
responsible wife. They thought of a woman who would be a mother to children
and of the skills this would require. You need to think about these things for
your children. The young children they are today are not the women and the men
they will one day be. What will be required of them in the future? This is
extremely important for parents to think about and to plan for. My parents did,
and I shall always be thankful for this.
Trash. There are many things that you can put in and take out with your trash,
excuses for one. Pile up all your excuses about why your child can't do this
or that regular chore, and put them in the trash. There are no excuses. People
are not rewarded for what they cannot do or for the least they can do. People
are
rewarded for what they can do, and the best rewards go to those who do the job
best. My Joan-of-Arc, martyrdom stage certainly taught me that. I wasn't getting
rewarded. I was being pitied, pushed back, and ignored. That's not good; it's
not healthy.
Along with the excuses that you throw
into the trash, you need also to throw in low expectations about blindness.
Replace these with high expectations. The best place you can find high expectations
about blindness is in the National Federation of the Blind. It's the only organization
I know of that consistently
promotes high expectations. So low expectations, into the trash. The next thing
to throw away is negative attitudes about blindness. These can be subtle. They
creep up on you from other people who say, "Oh, don't discipline him--the
poor child is blind!" or "You let her do that? But she's blind!"
or "Your little boy does so well that I wouldn't even know he's blind."
Put all these negative attitudes, low expectations, and excuses in a nice Hefty
bag, tie it up real tight, take it out with your trash, and bury it in the deepest
landfill you can find!
But even when you do this, you will sometimes
find yourself in doubt. "Maybe I am pushing my child too hard." "Can
she really do this?" "Maybe I am trying to overcompensate." Again,
go to the National Federation of the Blind. Talk to parents and the blind men
and women who are in this organization. Read our publications: Future Reflections,
the Braille Monitor, the Kernel books. Then think about what you have
read. There are more negative attitudes and low expectations about blindness
out there than positive attitudes and high expectations. But this isn't the
way it has to be. Today there are better attitudes and higher expectations about
the blind than there were in my own childhood because of the work of the National
Federation of the Blind.
Even with this support you are going to have doubts, and yes, you're going to
make mistakes. You will not be a perfect parent. No parent is. Parenting is
hard work, whether your kid is blind or sighted. (It's hardest, incidentally,
when your kid is thirteen, which I have and whom I am willing to sell for any
amount you would care to mention.) But as a parent don't let yourself slide
into that martyrdom stage that I went through as a blind child. You know the
line: "My goodness, am I not a wonderful parent because of the things that
I endure? Someday I will be rewarded." You will not be rewarded any more
than I'm going to be rewarded because of my kids. Our kids will grow up, go
away, and we'll be lucky if we see them at Christmas.
Our job is to train our children to be the best possible people they can be,
to pass on to them values of honesty and responsibility. Blindness does not
need to change any of our expectations for our children. Whether it is taking
notes or taking out the trash, the blind can do it too.
[Photo #3: Portrait Caption: Preston
and Lola Pace]
WHO
IS BLIND?
by Lola Pace
From the Editor: Lola Pace is an
active and involved member of her community. She is also one of the leaders
in the National Federation of the Blind of Texas. She does not take kindly to
being treated as though she were helpless and didn't have the wit to know her
limitations. Here is her amused and annoyed account of her most recent run-in
with ignorance and misperception and what she did about it:
Sometimes I wonder how long it will
take people to overcome their ignorance about blindness. I am tired of some
behaving as if blindness indicates the lack of a mind. I can think of innumerable
examples--people yelling at me, asking the person beside me questions meant
for me. It even happens with people in professions from which one should be
able to count on a small amount of common sense. Unfortunately, I don't know
of a single college offering a course in common sense. In fact, sometimes that
important commodity seems to go right out the window when diplomas go on the
wall. Sometimes the worst offenders are those who identify themselves as sensitive
to the blind.
My most recent experience of this absurdity occurred yesterday. My personal
physician recommended that I have a treadmill test. He and his nurse understood
perfectly well that I would have no difficulty doing the test. When they made
the appointment with the cardiologist, the question of whether or not I could
walk on the treadmill arose. My doctor told him with complete truth and some
asperity that there was nothing wrong with my legs, just my eyes. Frankly, I
did not see why the matter had even been brought up, but I suppose they felt
it was necessary to warn the other office's staff.
I never have understood why people who can see seem to think they are smarter
than I am. Physical sight is not a measure of intelligence; in this case it
was a clear indicator of complete ignorance.
As soon as the technician saw my long white cane, she began the barrage of insults.
Could I walk? Could I react to the change of increasing movement? Could I distinguish
the difference between the colors black and gray? There was much more, all of
it just as senseless.
She actually refused to attach the electrodes to my body until the cardiologist
joined us. I was not angry when I went into that office, but as my visit progressed,
I began to get mad--a feeling that increased with every silly question they
asked.
They assured me that they were only thinking of my safety. What safety? There
was a handrail, which I used. But before the test the technician held onto me
as I sat down in a chair. She seemed to think I had no control of myself. I
began to wonder if I was the first blind person they had ever had any dealings
with. God help the others if they had been treated as I was!
The more they told me I could not do the treadmill test, the more determined
I became to show them I could. The whole thing was stupid.
Finally, when the cardiologist came in to talk to me, I asked him how I could
be sure he knew what he was doing. (He had treated both my son and my husband,
so I had confidence in him professionally.) But the questions I was now asking
him made about as much sense as the ones he and his staff were asking me. I
had been with both my husband and my son when they were under his care; but,
since I was not the patient, I guess he did not give my competence any thought.
Needless to say, I did not leave that office until I had the chance to do that
treadmill test. If they had refused to do the test, I would probably still be
there. All the time they were explaining about increasing my heart rate with
exercise, they were doing a pretty good job of it without my ever getting on
the treadmill. At one point I went to the restroom, and my husband tried to
assure them that I would be fine on the treadmill, but neither of them would
believe him either.
Finally, and clearly against their better judgment, they decided that maybe
they ought to do the test. And of course I did fine as I knew I would. But until
that point they didn't believe what we had been telling them.
This experience was not an isolated case. The same thing happens all the time.
I could have been in a restaurant or clothing store, just about any business
establishment or social function we go to. Why do some sighted people treat
us so differently? We are people; our money spends just like anyone else's,
and it folds or rattles like theirs, too.
When I left the office, I told the technician that, when they send me the bill,
they should give me a huge discount for giving me such a hard time. Of course
she said, "No." I then suggested that they write it off to continuing
education; that will never happen, either. But I'm sure I will be remembered
for a long time in that office. If I ever have to go to a cardiologist again,
I would not want to go back to that office,
except that I would undoubtedly have to break in another physician and his or
her staff. I am still angry about this experience. If it had been a one-time
deal, I could understand, or at least have patience. But it is a constant frustration.
Blind people like me face this sort of thing all the time; it is high time some
of these people stop to listen to us.
[Photo #4: Dr. Jernigan
sits at his desk in his office at the National Center for the Blind. Caption:
Kenneth Jernigan]
THE
HOOK ON THE DOCTOR'S DOOR
by Kenneth Jernigan
From the Editor: The previous article
captures the frustration and humiliation at the hands of others that too often
lie in ambush for blind people as we go about our daily lives. One frequently
wonders how to handle such experiences in a way that will educate the public
and preserve one's own dignity and self-respect.
The following story (which appears in When the Blizzard Blows, the latest
in our Kernel series of paperback books) provides an answer. It is not an easy
solution. It requires patience, perspective, and hard-won experience. But the
attitude Dr. Jernigan describes is certainly the one to aim for. Here is what
he has to say:
Not long ago, when I went to a doctor's
office for an examination, I had two or three things happen to me during the
course of a few minutes that showed me how far we still have to come in changing
public attitudes about blindness. In the examining room I was taking off my
shirt and getting ready to hang it on a hook on the back of the door. I had
my hand on the hook, so there was no question that I knew where it was. The
nurse said: "If I close the door, will you be able to find it?"
I don't know whether she was talking about the door or the hook, but it really
doesn't matter. I had my hand on both of them, and the door was only going to
move a short distance. There is no way that I could have lost it.
I later learned that the nurse had gone out to the waiting room and asked my
secretary, who had come with me so that we could work while I was waiting, whether
she wanted to come back and help me take my clothes off. That is not all. When
I was leaving, the receptionist said to my secretary: "Does he need another
appointment?"
What should I have done? How should I
have reacted? What I didn't do was become upset or hostile. The nurse and the
receptionist were well-intentioned and kindly disposed. They were doing the
best they could to be of help to me. Moreover, if I am so touchy and insecure
that I can be upset by people who are trying as best they can to give me assistance,
then I had better look within. Confrontation was certainly not called for.
On the other hand, I shouldn't just leave the matter alone. I was pleasant and
unperturbed, but I also took the occasion to talk about things I was doing and
accomplishments blind persons were making. And I let the nurse see me tie my
tie and find the door, trying to teach by example and not by sermon.
One thing that may have helped me keep my cool was an experience I had almost
thirty years ago with a young blind fellow named Curtis Willoughby. He had just
graduated from high school and was planning to go to college. He wanted to be
an electrical engineer, and he didn't know whether a blind person
could do it--and, particularly, whether he could do it. Of course, I didn't
know whether he could do it either--but I hoped, put on a brave face, and did
everything I could to encourage him.
Even though there were technical problems to overcome, he did extremely well
in college. I continued to encourage him and talked now and again to his professors,
assuring them that there would be no difficulty in a blind person's functioning
as an electrical engineer. In reality they probably knew more about it than
I did. Certainly they knew more about the technicalities of electrical engineering.
But they seemed to need the reinforcement.
When Curtis graduated from college, I helped him make contacts and write job
resum‚s. I talked to potential employers, assuring them that Curtis was
competent and could do the work of an electrical engineer. I also continued
to encourage Curtis and talked positively to everybody I met.
After about three months, Curtis was hired by Collins Radio of Cedar Rapids,
Iowa. He apparently did his work in a satisfactory manner since he received
commendations. A little while later, I was talking with a friend of mine who
was a newspaper reporter, and he said to me: "Do you think Curtis is really
pulling his weight at Collins, or do you think they are just keeping him for
public relations purposes?"
I said, "I believe he is doing the job. I certainly hope so, but how can
I be sure?"
The next spring another blind person graduated as an electrical engineer from
Iowa State University, the same school from which Curtis had received his degree,
and this blind person didn't have to wait three months for a job. He was hired
immediately, and by Collins Radio. I hunted up my newspaper friend and said
to him:
"I can now give you a firm answer. I think Curtis is pulling his weight
at Collins, for if they need one blind person for public relations purposes,
they don't need two."
A few years went by, and Collins fell on hard times. They cut their work force
by more than half and were in serious financial trouble. Engineers were laid
off according to seniority, and when Curtis's number came up, he didn't ask
for special privileges--which is the way it should have been. He took his layoff
like the rest. We of the National Federation of the Blind don't try to have
our cake and eat it too. We want equal opportunity, but we are also willing
to make equal sacrifices and accept equal responsibility.
Anyway, Curtis took his layoff, and then he applied for a job as an electrical
engineer with the telephone company. As director of programs for the blind in
the state of Iowa, I had the responsibility of trying to help Curtis get another
job. I thought he was a good electrical engineer, but I didn't know whether
he was as good a salesman as I was. So I scheduled a lunch with top engineering
officials at Northwestern Bell in Des Moines and talked about Curtis. I said
he was a whiz at electrical engineering, and I did it with enthusiasm. They
apparently believed me, for before we left the lunch, it was agreed that Curtis
would go to work for the phone company.
He did, and after a time he was invited to spend a year at Bell Labs in New
Jersey. This is a prestigious appointment, one that is only given to the best.
When Curtis finished at Bell Labs, he came back to Des Moines and resumed his
work as a systems design engineer. One day without comment I received from Curtis
a copy of a letter. It was written by top engineering officials with AT&T,
and it said something to this effect: "Mr. Willoughby has been dealing
with Problem X, and his work is some of the best we have seen. Please put this
letter in his personnel file." I called Curtis and said,"Tell me in
two or three sentences what you did. If you make your explanation longer, I
probably won't understand it."
As I remember it, he said that in large installations, such as those manufacturing
farm equipment and the like, there were tremendous loads of electrical current
and that these interfered with the phone system. There would be pixie effects--sometimes
causing static and other interruptions and sometimes creating no problem at
all. The filtering equipment necessary to remedy the problem was bulky and expensive.
It would cost many tens of thousands of dollars if used widely throughout industry.
Curtis had discovered a way to redesign the telephone system at these large
installations so that the bulky filtering equipment would not be needed and
another piece of equipment which had routinely been used could also be eliminated.
The new design permitted more clarity in telephone conversations than would
have occurred with the expensive filters or with the standard equipment.
After finishing this conversation with Curtis, I went into my office and literally
locked the door. I sat at my desk and said to myself: "You helped Curtis
through college. You encouraged him in his search for employment. You did one
of the best selling jobs in your life, convincing phone company officials that
he could perform as well as anybody else as an electrical engineer. But deep
down in your heart, have you ever really believed that he was fully, completely
equal to a sighted electrical engineer?"
I wish I could say that my answer was an unequivocal yes. The truth is that
I don't know. I had said it, and I had thought I believed it. But did I? After
receiving the letter, I am certain that I did. But before that? I can't be sure.
This brings me back to the hook on the doctor's door. I have spent most of my
life trying to convince blind people that they can compete on terms of equality
with others and trying to bring sighted people to the same belief. If under
these circumstances I was still not certain that I believed in my heart that
Curtis was pulling his weight, how can I possibly feel hostility or blame others
who fail to comprehend? What we need is compassion and understanding, not blame
or bitterness. Although there are times when we must speak out and not equivocate,
let me always remember the telephone company when I am annoyed by the hook on
the doctor's door. I will fight if I must, but usually it won't be necessary--especially
if I remember Curtis and the phone company.
[Photo #5: Portrait Caption: Trudy Barrett]
MY
STRUGGLE TO CORRECT POOR ATTITUDES ABOUT BLINDNESS AND THEIR IMPACT ON MY SIGHTED
CHILD
by Trudy Barrett
From the Editor: When I was a child,
my father often teased me by concluding our debates with the words, "I
know what I think; don't confuse me with the facts." That attitude, which
I must quickly say was not his actual view, seems all too often to characterize
the thinking of some members of the general public when it comes to blindness
and dealing with blind people. Luckily, the more contact they have with competent
blind adults and our families, the more likely they are eventually to abandon
their outdated notions. In the following story notice that the school personnel
having the most consistent contact with the author were the ones with the best
grasp of reality. This is why the effort to provide quiet, steady, undramatic
education about blindness is so important.
Trudy and Pat Barrett are long-time Federationists and active new members of
the National Federation of the Blind of Minnesota. Here is Trudy's story of
the Barretts' recent move to Minneapolis and her efforts to settle the family
into a new community:
I have lived in Minneapolis, Minnesota,
for a year now. We moved here because of my husband's employment. The way our
society is nowadays, it is not uncommon for couples with young children to move
cross-country for better job opportunities.
Competent blind people are expected to do the same as their sighted neighbors.
A major move means re-establishing doctors, schools, shopping--that is, after
you learn the general layout of the city. This task is more difficult when you
don't know anybody in the area to whom you can ask questions or from whom you
can seek advice.
Like everyone else blind people have all this to deal with, but in addition
we face the traditional custodial attitudes that have always plagued the blind.
After the pots, pans, and furniture were organized and a grocery store located,
I had the task of enrolling our six-year-old daughter Raeann in the first grade.
I needed to find school supplies and the school bus stop. I also had to learn
other things about Raeann's new school. My husband was out of town and working
long hours the first couple of months we were here. I knew no one who could
read or give me the information I needed.
So I called the school my daughter would be attending and asked them to give
me the information I needed. When the person I spoke with found out I was blind,
I was told that a blind person could not cross streets and that my daughter
was eligible for free lunches and school supplies. This apparently was due to
the fact that both my husband and I are blind, and he believed that blind people
cannot work. I learned that I was speaking with the school counselor. I informed
him that, if I could not get the information I needed, I would not enroll my
daughter in the school. As often happens, the counselor had taken it upon himself
to decide what was good for me and what wasn't.
As the school year progressed, the special education teacher carried on the
pattern. I tried to volunteer for the school reading program, but she removed
my name from the volunteer list. She told me that Braille was too hard, too
cumbersome, and too slow for me to read to the kids. I was able to work with
the PTA president and the principal to get my name back on the list. I then
wrote a letter to the teachers with a booklist of Braille titles I had on hand
and indicated my willingness to volunteer to read. The books I had were several
we had purchased through the National Braille Press Children's Book of the Month
Club and others that we had borrowed from the Kenneth Jernigan Library, operated
by the American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults. All these books were
in print-Braille format so the kids could see the pictures after I read the
Braille. In the letter I also indicated my desire to help in other areas, such
as with field trips.
Towards the end of the school year, we got a piece of information in the mail
saying our daughter was eligible for summer school in a program for children
who were behind in learning. Earlier in the year Raeann had been tested for
and accepted into the advanced program. I soon discovered that our friendly
professionals, Mr. Counselor and Ms. Special Ed, had again been hard at work
behind the scenes. I contacted Raeann's teacher for an explanation of the phrase
"needs a variety of experiences," which was written in the comments
section of the unsigned note. The teacher was opposed to Raeann's involvement
in the program because she recognized that it was unnecessary. She told me that
Mr. Counselor and Ms. Special Ed had pushed for Raeann to be in the summer program
because her mother and father were blind and therefore unable to provide her
with a variety of experiences. The teacher said she would have the counselor
call, but he did not bother to. After I called the principal to request the
call, he managed to. I informed the counselor that, if he would not take Raeann's
name off the summer program list, I would. He said he would not do it, so I
did.
My daughter did not go to summer school. She spent the summer going to a park
and recreation program two days a week, taking piano lessons, enjoying the Minnesota
and Como Park Zoos, learning to hit and run at tee ball, roller skating, swimming,
riding her bike, and playing with friends in the neighborhood. It proved to
be a summer with lots of fun and a variety of learning experiences. The summer's
stimulating activities taught Raeann a great deal; I can only hope that it taught
the counselor and special education teacher something constructive as well.
[Photo #6: Portrait Caption:
Peggy Elliott]
WHY
NOT JUST ASK?
by Peggy Elliott
From the Editor: Peggy Elliott is
the Second Vice President of the National Federation of the Blind. She is also
an experienced and committed Federationist. The following article first appeared
in When the Blizzard Blows, the latest in our Kernel series of paperback
books. This is what Peggy has to say, beginning with Dr. Jernigan's introductory
note:
What is it like to be blind? A very
reasonable question, but one which very often isn't asked. As Peggy Elliott
points out here, how much easier it would be if it were. Incidentally, for readers
of previous Kernel Books, Peggy Elliott is the former Peggy Pinder. Here is
what she has to say:
I've been blind for almost twenty-five
years, and a lot of people have asked me, "What's it like to be blind?"
Often, the questioner has in mind some experience he or she had when the lights
went out or when a blindfold was voluntarily worn for a few hours in one of
those so-called trust walks or handicapped-awareness days. The problem is that
those kinds of experiences give a false impression of what blindness is like.
People wearing a blindfold for a few hours or losing the electricity are temporarily
blinded, just trying for a short period of time to fend until the ability to
see returns. They haven't learned the techniques useful for doing things without
sight. They haven't had any practice at it. And their recollection is that blindness
is pretty scary. Well it is if you don't know how to handle it.
For me, learning how to handle blindness started when I met fellow blind people
in the National Federation of the Blind. These were not only experienced blind
people used to doing everything without looking, but they also were interested
in passing along their knowledge and lots of encouragement with it.
The day I met competent blind people eager to pass along their sense of confidence
was the day I started really learning what it was like to be blind. Before that
I'd just been scared.
So what is it really like to be blind? Three experiences I had while in college
taught me a great deal about what it's like to be blind and what the blind person
can do about it.
The first thing was that the college I attended imposed a physical education
requirement for graduation--four semesters of it. I happen to be a wimp and
hate exercise. Faced with wimpiness and the hurdle to graduate, one naturally
starts thinking of ways around the hurdle. I did--or I did until my advisor
contacted the college administration without my knowledge and presented me with
the college's determination that physical education would be waived in my case.
Now that was the only way to get me to take a gym class and not complain about
it.
The advisor and the administration both assumed that, because I was blind, I
couldn't do physical activity and that I wouldn't want to be embarrassed by
discussing it. So they worked out what they thought was a kindly way of taking
care of the problem: I would be excused. I firmly told all involved that I wanted
my college degree to have the same weight as all the other degrees that would
be granted at the same time. If everyone else took physical education, then
I would take it, too. I did it peaceably and without complaining.
That was my first lesson in what it's like to be blind: people around you in
a genuine spirit of kindness think that you can't do things and are cheerfully
willing to exempt you without even discussing the possibility that you could
do it.
The second experience took place in preparation for a science lab. Again, a
science course with laboratory work was a graduation requirement. Now informed
a little better about what might happen, I went to the professor teaching the
class I had selected (geology) and asked to discuss my taking the class. He
immediately said that the lab requirement could be waived.
I gave my reason for not wanting the requirement waived and then went on to
say what I had prepared ahead of time. I told the professor that "he knew
rocks" and that "I knew blindness." If we put our knowledge together
and worked out ways of doing the lab so that I could learn the required material,
I was sure that I could do the required lab and graduate with a degree equivalent
to those of my classmates.
The professor thought about his knowing rocks and my knowing blindness for a
long time. I patiently waited him out, knowing that this was a concept he needed
to think about. Finally, he said: "That makes sense. Now, how shall we
have you. . . ." We talked details, worked out techniques, and I successfully
took the course--a good one, by the way. It's interesting to learn how the world
around you got to be the way it is.
Armed with my knowledge from these two incidents, I was not unready when the
third one occurred. I was a philosophy major, and that department required a
course on logic to complete the major. I registered for the course and completed
the first section with a perfect score.
When the professor gave me my test score, he informed me that I would not be
able to take the remainder of the course because there was a lot of work on
the chalkboard throughout the rest of the semester. He preferred to teach without
a textbook, using photocopied handouts and diagrams on the chalkboard instead--particularly
the three interlocking circles called Venn diagrams. He stated that there was
no way I could get the information, so I would have to drop the course.
I tried explaining that the course was required. He stated that the requirement
would be waived. I tried explaining that I didn't want a waiver. He repeated
his statement that I couldn't get the information and therefore couldn't pass
the course.
Here once again, and in a very vigorous form, was the assumption that I could
not do something. But this assumption threatened my major. And even more disturbing
was the insistence on not discussing the issue with me. The professor simply
stated what he thought and planned to make it stick. He thought he knew what
blind people could do--and they couldn't read chalkboards. That was the end
of the issue, and this from a professor of logic.
I decided that, in this case, I would not argue the matter at all. If someone
was so certain that he knew what blind people could do, there was no point arguing.
The only thing I could do was to show him. I told the professor I would be taking
the rest of the class and, as politely as I could, walked away. There was no
point in shouting or fussing. I'd just show him.
I was at a bit of a disadvantage in the conversation because I also had no idea
how I was going to get the information. I just knew that I would. Every day
I took a piece of carbon paper to class and asked a classmate seated near me
to make copies of the diagrams drawn on the board. As the classmate drew in
his or her notebook, a copy was made for me.
I soon learned that this was unnecessary. The professor was such a plodding
lecturer that, by the time he had finished drawing the diagram, he had actually
described it about five times and explained it seven times more. You didn't
need the diagram. But I had them anyway if I wanted to refer to them outside
of class while using a sighted reader to explain how they looked.
I also learned that nobody else in the class was paying attention. The professor's
style of lecturing was so dull and uninspiring that nobody listened. They just
copied the diagrams and looked at them later. The diagrams by themselves told
you nothing. You had to listen. So people started coming to me in the dorm,
asking me what the professor was talking about. I ended up tutoring many of
my classmates since I seemed to be one of the very few who were actually paying
attention.
When test time came around, I took the test and handed it to him. He scored
it and informed me that I had scored 30 out of 100, noting as he told me that
he had said I couldn't pass the course. I knew I had answered perfectly and
insisted on going through the test, question by question. On the first question
he had marked my answer wrong; the phrasing of the question itself permitted
three possible answers. He had not noticed that and had only one answer in his
test key. I explained that there were three possible answers. He grudgingly
agreed and changed his test key.
There was still one question left, worth half the test. He had scored me wrong
on that one, too. It was a memorized answer, based on the way he had drawn the
diagrams on the chalkboard. He said I was wrong. I said I was right. I offered
to go back to the dorm and get my carbon-copied notes to show him that he was
remembering incorrectly the way he had drawn the diagram on the board. He very
angrily pulled out his own lecture notes and looked at them for a very, very
long time. Then he said: "Well, you're right." I didn't hear any more
from him about not being able to do the work.
Not every denial of opportunity for a blind person works out so well. I did
not know exactly how I was going to do the class work; I just knew I could find
a way. But we often meet people like that philosophy professor who insist that
we can't do something instead of people like the geology professor who are willing
to discuss alternatives.
I don't mind being asked questions about what it's like to be blind and how
I do things. The only thing I mind is when people assume that I can't do whatever
it is. Sometimes, I want to say: Why Not Just Ask? I'll be glad to explain,
and when I don't exactly know the answer, the National Federation of the Blind
usually has a member who does.
So, what's it like being a blind person? It's like being any other kind of person.
[Photo #7: Portrait Caption: Frank Stark]
WORKING
WITH DANGEROUS CLIENTS
by Frank Stark
From the Editor: Frank Stark is an
experienced social worker. He was an alcoholism counselor for many years and
has worked with troubled families and individuals in a variety of settings.
He has taught courses at the university level and supervised human services
students. In short, he speaks from firsthand experience and full assurance.
At the 1994 national Job Opportunities for the Blind seminar, conducted at the
annual convention of the National Federation of the Blind on Friday, July 1,
in Detroit, Michigan, Mr. Stark addressed the issue of working with patients
or clients who are dangerous to themselves or others. Often blind human service
professionals are discouraged or prevented from such activity on the grounds
that they might be hurt. Here is what Mr. Stark had to say, based on his years
of experience with this population:
I owe a great debt of gratitude to the
Job Opportunities for the Blind Program. Three years ago I found myself unemployed,
and it was the JOB tapes I listened to that kept me going and my self-esteem
together. Despite my extensive experience I found it very difficult to find
a job because as blind people we have to deal with denial on the part of those
doing the hiring. Today I hope to outline some things that can help blind people
in human services to break through those barriers we all face when the question
of safety comes up.
I'll begin by telling you about one of
the first patients I worked with way back in Topeka, Kansas. I was a recreational
therapist. One day, when it was pouring rain, I was standing by the door of
the gym, and I made the simple comment that it was raining cats and dogs. All
of a sudden this woman began seeing cats and dogs literally coming out of the
sky. I quickly said, "I'm just pulling your leg." At the end of that
gym class she was waiting for me, and she was ready to pull my leg. I was scared.
Thank goodness for a ping pong table that I went scurrying under to get to the
door. That was the point when I realized that there had to be a better way to
intervene in that kind of situation. That experience put me on the track of
learning how to deal with patients who place me at risk.
As I studied the problem, I began to realize that I was really dealing with
client safety. So remember, any time you find yourself in a job interview in
which they begin talking about your safety, it helps to flip the issue over
and begin talking about client safety. One reason why these people are under
our care is that they are dangerous to themselves or to others. That means there
are three things we need to do: know our clients; know our clients; know our
clients. The more you know about the client, the better off you are.
One time the nurses called me in to work with a client who had already punched
out three people. So I grabbed the patient and said, "Come on; let's take
a walk." We went over and stood beside a wall. I knew the patient was right-handed,
and I wanted that hand against the wall. We talked for a while, and I got him
settled down. But when we came back, the nurses said, "Frank, we noticed
that you were standing very close to that patient while you were talking to
him. Was that because of your visual impairment?"
I just laughed because I had been keeping him close to that wall so that, if
he decided to take a swing at me, he couldn't have gotten a full jab.
This is just part of learning to maximize the environment. You have to keep
track of where patients' hands, feet, heads, and mouths are. Most of the time
it is easy to tell where their mouths are because they're usually yelling obscenities
at us.
I like to conduct interviews at a table. And when I set up my office, I like
to put the chair off to the side. In escorting patients, the best method for
me is a modification of the sighted-guide technique. When I take the patient's
arm, I extend my hand under the elbow and place my other hand over the arm so
that it can't fly up and hit me in the face. In this way I can escort the patient
quite easily to wherever he or she has to go. Many times I can still let the
patient act as sighted guide.
It's also important to know what behaviors trigger clients. For example, one
of the hardest populations I ever worked with was drunk drivers. At one point
I did a lot of evaluations to determine whether or not they got to keep their
licenses. Sometimes, when I would lift the license and recommend treatment,
a livid monster would come out--over a driver's license! I never got that upset
over not having one. But again, this gave us a point from which to begin negotiations.
In working with patients who are dangerous to themselves or others, we must
establish and maintain our own guidelines. For example, I have made it quite
clear that I never chase patients. That's a security issue. If the client runs
out the door, I get on the phone and call security or the police or do whatever
I have to do to get that client back. I also like to spend time talking the
patient down--defusing the situation. It is very important to defuse things
before they escalate. If you reach the point of physical intervention, the situation
has already gone too far.
I have also learned the importance of simple common courtesy. The Federation's
philosophy of treating people as individuals is what agencies should be doing
with their own clients. A lot of times courtesy will defuse situations. Many
times when I am called in to sort something out, I find that the clients have
not been treated as individuals. It comes down to using plain old common sense.
You have to learn a certain amount by trial and error. Remember, anybody can
get hit. We need to remind people that there is no discrimination in a psychotic
patient. It doesn't matter if you're blind or sighted. In fact, my supervisor
got her ribs broken last year. Everybody is at risk working with this
population. Don't let people single out blindness as the only issue. The trick
is to minimize risk: control the interview area and establish good safety guidelines
in treatment areas. When I was a recreational therapist, I learned very quickly
to keep the pool balls away from the gym socks. A pool ball in the toe of a
gym sock makes a great weapon; you can whirl it around and bust somebody open.
Learn to assign equipment to responsible people and not people who may be dangerous
to themselves or others. You
can see that it just comes down to common sense. And when you get into a job
interview, you have to communicate to the interviewers that you have common
sense to offer to that agency.
Remember that generally we work as a team. So when a patient goes off and is
throwing things around, I let the other members of the team handle that situation.
But I'm right behind them, handling the other clients in the room, making sure
that they don't go off, because a lot of these behaviors escalate. It makes
sense for the people with the vision, who can duck the flying objects, to deal
with that, while I am coping with the rest of the patients, getting the situation
calmed down. There's one other advantage in working with a team. If I am working
with a client who is argumentative and wants to take me on because he thinks
he can beat me up, he may well rethink that idea when there are two or three
other staff around him as well. It's harder to take on three than one, so there
is greater safety for everybody when you work with a team. So try selling the
team concept when these questions of safety come up.
During the question period that followed
this address, Mr. Stark offered to work with people individually to demonstrate
things like breaking a choke hold. A question was then asked about working with
psychotic patients in restraints and in seclusion. Mr. Stark said:
When patients are in seclusion, I begin by knowing the room very well. I know
exactly what is in that room. I do not take my cane into a seclusion room. I
don't want it grabbed and used as a weapon. I leave the cane outside the room
or at the nurses' station. After that it goes back to what I said about talking
things out with the patient. But remember that when we talk about psychotic
people, we are really talking about medication problems. And that requires the
intervention of physicians. But when I was working in drug abuse programs, I
had to deal with people on PCP. I had to be very careful about their
hallucinations. In fact, I have one woman today who, when she sees me, sees
the devil. She will be carrying on a normal conversation when suddenly she begins
to groan and her face tightens up, and she sees a devil. When she sees that,
she wants to strike out, so she cleans off my desk. She just takes her hand
and sweeps off the desk. So I have come up with a technique that I'll share
with you. It's a co-operative venture between Circuit City and me. I buy the
little, cheap, forty-dollar tape recorders. When they hit the floor, I sack
them up and take them back to the store. I have my tape recorders under three-year
maintenance contracts at $3, and I'm on my fourth one already. It's a great
deal! Then, when I get her calmed down, we usually take a walk. Walking is a
great way of releasing tension.
[Photo #8: Scott Edwards, holding his
cane, stands in front of telephone operator cubicles. Caption: Scott Edwards
stands near the work stations at the US Long Distance Operator Center]
[Photo #9: Fidencio Cruz sits in his
cubicle with his headset operating his computer. Caption: Fidencio Cruz is a
hardworking and efficient telephone operator]
[Photo #10: Mary Donahue stands in front
of telephone operator cubicles. Caption: Mary Donahue stands near the work stations
at the US Long Distance Operator Center]
BLIND
JOB-SEEKERS LOG ON TO EMPLOYMENT
by Peter and Mary Donahue
From the Editor: Blind people have
reason to rejoice anytime they find evidence that a company has discovered for
itself that blind workers are efficient, steady, and reliable. When the corporate
response to this discovery is to begin hiring blind workers in significant numbers,
we are all affected, for the ripple effect of increasing employment benefits
us all.
U.S. Long Distance is such a company. In fact, there is indication that several
long-distance companies are now providing job opportunities for blind workers--some
demonstrating remarkable generosity and common sense.
Mary Donahue is one of those who have taken advantage of U.S. Long Distance's
recent willingness to hire and train blind operators. She and her husband Pete
are active members of the San Antonio chapter of the National Federation of
the Blind of Texas. They decided that it would be interesting and helpful to
describe exactly what is involved in the kind of job that Mary is doing and
that it would be appropriate to give U.S. Long Distance credit for its efforts
to employ competitive blind workers on terms of equality with sighted telephone
operators. Here is the article they wrote:
San Antonio, Texas, is located about
ninety miles south of Austin along the banks of the picturesque San Antonio
River. It is the home of the Alamo, where Colonel William Travis and his entire
army were massacred by the Mexican Army under General Santa Ana's troops in
1836. The city is also a major military hub with six installations located in
and around it. Still others know San Antonio as the home of the newly constructed
Alamo Dome; the San Antonio River Walk; Sea World of Texas; and the new theme
park, Fiesta Texas. In addition, many businesses, including customer-service-related
concerns, also make their home here.
U.S. Long Distance, Inc. (USLD) is a company that provides operator-assisted
long distance telephone service to many businesses and some residential customers.
That is, it specializes in handling long-distance calls that require the assistance
of an operator to complete, such as person-to-person, credit card, collect,
and third-party-billing calls as well as coin refunds.
USLD'S primary customers are businesses. These include several national hotel
chains, various private hotels, hospitals, state prisons, and county jails.
However, USLD'S biggest customer is the private pay phone industry. The company
also offers a travel card system used by college students, traveling business
people, etc. It offers some of the lowest rates in the industry.
USLD'S operator center was opened in 1992, and it has grown from twenty operators
to over 265 operators working around the clock today. They work three shifts,
and the number of operators working on any one shift varies as customer traffic
changes. Its computer is a switch link system. Calls come to the operator center
through two switches located in Waco and Houston, and the operators are divided
into two groups to handle calls from the two switches. The system runs under
the MS-DOS operating system, which enables it to support a wide variety of access
hardware and software such as the Alva and BRAILLEX refreshable Braille displays.
Melinda Samaniego, personnel recruiter for the USLD operator center, explained
how they began hiring blind telephone operators.
It wasn't so much that we became interested.
Rather, we had several blind applicants, and that is what drew our attention
to the possibility of employing blind persons as telephone operators. We simply
decided that this was something we definitely wanted to do. We were very excited,
and even though it was something that we weren't familiar with and we didn't
have all the answers at that moment, we went ahead, confronted the problems,
and embraced the challenge with open arms. I think that making that first decision
not to fear the employment of a blind person and not to reject the possibility
automatically because of the unknown is something that has opened the doors,
and we are delighted that it's working out.
USLD employed its first blind telephone
operator, Scott Edwards, on June 7, 1993. He was joined by Lidia Espinoza in
September of that year. Fidencio Cruz was hired in April of 1994, and Mary Donahue
was employed on July 8. Karen Steriou was hired later that same month. Raymond
Castro joined USLD'S operator staff at the end of September. This brings the
number of blind persons working at USLD to six, and more are on the way. Of
these six blind persons, five use Braille, and one uses standard print. Three
are members of the Greater San Antonio Chapter of the National Federation of
the Blind of Texas. Mary Donahue serves as San Antonio Chapter Secretary, and
Scott Edwards is a Board Member. To date USLD has hired, trained, and employed
eight blind persons as telephone operators, two of whom have since found other
employment. Samaniego describes the training of a blind telephone operator this
way:
Our training usually runs Monday through
Friday. Normally it is a one-week training period. But because of the special
complexities facing a blind telephone operator, we train them from three to
four weeks. If at the end of three weeks we feel that the person needs more
time, we'll give him or her a week or two more training. Normally they don't
need it because our trainers are so good. Scott Edwards is our trainer, Laura
Arias is our coach, and Lucy Quintanillas also helps out when Scott is not available.
These three individuals have gotten very good and proficient at training with
the Alva and the Braillex Terminal. At present we have only Alvas, which is
wonderful because the Texas Commission for the Blind purchases them, and we
have everything adapted for them.
It works out really great because what takes the most time is getting the feel
for the Alva--what's on the screen, how to learn scripting, and so on. The job
is far more complicated when all the information available to the sighted operator
is not immediately accessible to you. You have to read it line by line, so it
takes a little more time. But what we have found in doing some research in the
statistics we have compiled is that in many cases the blind operators are a
little more proficient than the sighted ones. We are absolutely delighted by
this discovery. It's really wonderful. We make a point of remembering that everyone
who arrives for training is an individual, and we try to adapt the training
to his or her needs.
Scott Edwards began employment at USLD
on June 8, 1993. Edwards graduated from the Texas School for the Blind in 1986.
Then he went on to college, where he studied Computer Science and Data Processing.
Upon graduation he began volunteering at the San Antonio Independent Living
Center, where he answered the phone and taught computer literacy. Scott describes
how he got his job
at USLD this way: "In 1992 I enrolled in a program conducted jointly by
San Antonio College and the Lighthouse for the Blind. It was designed to help
blind people become employed as customer service representatives. One day the
job development specialist told me that U.S. Long Distance was hiring telephone
operators and that I should apply. I called to find out more about the job and
to schedule an interview. After my interview I was told that I had been hired.
Mind you, I hadn't even filled out an application yet, but I was given a job."
About his training Scott says this: "Perhaps the most difficult things
for the new operator to get used to are the wide variety of calls to process
and the range of people you have to deal with. Some are very pleasant, while
others can try your patience. But you must learn to be patient and, most important,
not get discouraged when you have a rough day."
Since his employment in 1993, Scott Edwards has helped to train the other blind
operators hired in recent months. About this responsibility Scott says: "In
the beginning it is helpful to have a sighted operator present in training a
blind person because he or she can see the entire computer screen, whereas the
blind trainer and student can only read one line of text at a time using the
refreshable Braille display device. The blind trainer is at a disadvantage because
there is no way to ask questions while calls are being processed. But the job
becomes easier as the blind operator gains confidence with the system and becomes
more proficient at processing calls."
In July of 1994 both Scott Edwards and
U.S. Long Distance were honored by the San Antonio Lighthouse for the Blind.
Scott received the Lighthouse's Flames of Independence Award for his
part in opening new career opportunities for the blind. U.S. Long Distance was
recognized for its willingness to employ so many blind persons in such a short
period of time. To the blind person desiring to work as a telephone operator,
Scott says, "Braille is a must. You must be very proficient in Braille
reading because it is your window to the computer screen. Hone your Braille
skills, and if you have the opportunity to train on Braille display devices,
by all means do it. Although a job of this nature may not be what you ultimately
want to do with your life, it's a starting point. If you are blind and unemployed,
give serious consideration to working as a telephone operator. Getting that
first job is your key to moving on to bigger and better things."
Lidia Espinoza began working at USLD on September 15, 1993. After graduating
from high school, she attended St. Phillip's College and later Mansfield Business
School in San Antonio. While at Mansfield Lidia studied data processing. She
then worked for a while at a local hotel as a kitchen worker. Now that she has
moved on to USLD, she is the only blind operator who uses print. At present
she uses no special screen-enlarging software or other access devices since
she is able to read standard print. On occasion she has experienced eye strain,
but the problem is not very serious. Lidia is one of three blind telephone operators
who handle calls in both English and Spanish. She, Fidencio Cruz, and Mary Donahue
have received bilingual Spanish certification. "Knowing another language
can mean higher hourly pay for telephone operators," Samaniego explained.
"New operators earn $6.00 per hour. For every foreign language they know,
we give a forty-cent-an-hour raise."
Lidia hopes to study other foreign languages since that will eventually mean
a higher rate of pay for her. In discussing her job, Lidia says: "It's
different because, although you do the same thing every day, what you confront
on the phone varies." To blind people considering working in this field
or looking for that first job, Lidia gives this advice: "No matter what
type of disability you have, there are always opportunities in phone work. Where
there's a will, there is a way. The work can still be done, no matter how difficult
the job may seem."
Upon graduation from the Wisconsin School
for the Visually Handicapped in 1973, Mary Donahue enrolled in the University
of Wisconsin at Eau Claire, where she majored in Spanish and minored in English.
At that time she wanted to become a teacher. She graduated from UW Eau Claire
in 1978, and in January of 1979 she began work as a Braille transcriber at the
Wisconsin School for the Visually Handicapped. While employed at WSVH she gained
some computer literacy skills because the school used BRAILLE-EDIT Software
and Apple Computers to transcribe Braille. She and Pete met at the 1984 NFB
Convention in Phoenix and were married in March of 1985. In 1989 they moved
from Austin, Texas, to San Antonio, where Mary began work as a Braille proofreader.
Here is the story of how Mary joined U.S. Long Distance in her own words:
On February 28, 1994, while I was still
working as a proofreader of Braille textbooks at the Education Service Center,
Region 20, the rest of the Braille Department staff and I found out that the
department would be downsizing effective August 31. This was a sad irony since
it came at a time when we in the NFB were working hard to make more Braille
available to blind children and adults! I immediately began sending out resumes
and applications to various schools and school districts to apply for a teaching
position in Spanish, English, or both. However, I did not rule out looking for
jobs outside my field. When I first moved to Texas in 1985, it took me four
years to find the job at Region 20. I was never going to allow that to happen
to me again.
About a week after I found out about the downsizing of the Braille Department,
my husband, Pete, told me that U.S. Long Distance was hiring telephone operators.
I began doing research about the company and submitted my application and resume.
Immediately after I applied at U.S. Long Distance, I began preliminary training
at the San Antonio Lighthouse for the Blind on the Alva refreshable Braille
Display Terminal, the terminal compatible with the Switchlink Operator System.
Because I had to use vacation time to train on the Alva, I had to sacrifice
the 1994 NFB convention. In fact, I continued to work while training for my
new job at U.S. Long Distance. I took off several mornings a week to train at
the Lighthouse. This training lasted four weeks. While at the Lighthouse I also
took a typing test which I passed with a rate of forty words per minute. U.S.
Long Distance requires its operators to have a typing speed of twenty-five words
per minute.
In June I interviewed for a second time and was officially hired. I left the
Education Service Center, Region 20, on July 7 and began work at U.S. Long Distance
on July 8. I looked forward to beginning my new job and accepted it as a welcome
change from proofreading Braille textbooks. On July 8, 1994, I reported for
orientation. On July 11 I began my first week of training. The first day and
a half were spent in a classroom reviewing the scripts for the various calls
operators receive.
During this time I took notes extensively with my Braille 'n Speak 640. Since
Pete had access to a Braille printer, he later produced these notes in hard-copy
Braille for me. As the other blind operators came on board, he made them Braille
copies of my notes as well. Later in my training Laura read the Spanish scripts
on tape for me. I entered these in my Braille 'n Speak, and Peter later printed
them out in hard copy Braille. The notes were difficult to review in the Braille
'n Speak since my version does not speak Spanish. The file had to be read one
character at a time. It was a tedious job, but I got it done. As a result U.S.
Long Distance has several copies of the scripting in Spanish Braille. I am currently
helping Raymond Castro in learning Spanish Braille so that he too can read the
scripts in Spanish. We have also saved both of these files on disk so that we
can produce these documents for future blind operators who need this information
in Braille.
On my second day I had a chance to listen to calls Scott Edwards received. Because
the two Alvas would not be available for the rest of that week, I studied the
call scripts, taking detailed notes and asking questions. During my second week
of training I was introduced to the Alva and the layout of the keyboard. During
the first four days I placed simulated calls in order to become familiar with
the call patterns and to commit some of the scripts to memory. It is essential
that the blind operator memorize as much of the scripting as possible because
call processing is very fast-paced. It was also during the second week that
I took a written operator test, which I passed. In addition I started on line
with Laura Arias, my coach, speaking to the customers, while I typed in the
required information.
During the third week of training I began typing and talking to customers simultaneously.
When I first started on line, my call processing was slow, but I soon learned
that the more practice I got, the more skilled and confident I became. On July
29 I received the certificate qualifying me as a full-fledged telephone operator,
and on August 1, 1994, I went solo for the first time. However, there were other
operators around me in case I had any questions.
Let me describe the evaluation that an operator receives every three to four
months. Each operator meets with his or her supervisor and goes over the evaluation
form. There are four areas: attendance and punctuality, monitoring, office conduct,
and call handling. Each area is assessed using a number on a scale of 1 to 5,
with 1 meaning needs improvement and 5 meaning excellent. The following is a
description of each area.
1. Attendance and punctuality. These are measured by a time- clock system. Operators
punch in at a time clock six times a day--each time they report to work and
each time the breaks begin and end. An operator cannot be even one minute late
after a break. Being late three times is called an occurrence. One can be absent
five times on one occurrence. If three occurrences are issued, both oral and
written warnings are given by the supervisor. If an operator is having trouble
adjusting to the time clock system and is late at breaks, it is best to time
oneself. I have started timing myself using the Braille 'n Speak's count-down
timer, and for the past two weeks my system has worked wonders!
2. Monitoring. Each operator is monitored once a week. The Quality Assurance
Department is in charge of administering monitoring. Monitoring sessions are
taped and unannounced and are submitted to the supervisors for individual critiquing
with the operators. A Quality Assurance person monitors four calls and fills
out a form based on the operator's opening and closing branding, on his or her
warm, courteous telephone manners, and on adherence to the written script. If
an operator does not follow the script or is not accurate, points are taken
off. During the first six months a score of eighty on a monitoring evaluation
is passing for an operator. At the end of two to three months, all monitoring
scores are averaged, and the operator receives an overall average for that quarter.
For example, in August my scores were ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety-six,
and ninety-seven, leaving me with an overall average of ninety-five. Therefore,
I am still in good standing in monitoring scores.
3. Office Conduct. USLD has a dress code. Operators must wear business dress
from Monday through Thursday. On Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays they may dress
casually. Men must wear ties, and women must wear dresses or dressy pants suits.
Blue jeans and T-shirts are allowed on casual days. No personal items are allowed
at the work station. Drinks are allowed, but they must be in a spill-proof container.
There is also no tolerance for negative behavior at U.S. Long Distance--in other
words, no
swearing, gossiping about other people, or abusive language is allowed. If operators
meet these standards of office conduct, it is easy to receive a score of four
or five on a quarterly evaluation. Employees who come to work dressed inappropriately
are sent home to change into acceptable clothing. The lost time cannot be made
up. In addition, all operators must wear their badges at all times, for they
are not only identification, but serve as the access device for punching into
the time clock and for opening the back door of the operator building. Any operator
who loses a badge must pay a replacement fee.
4. Call Handling. Operators are graded on the length of time it takes them to
process a call. The average time is between thirty-five and forty-five seconds.
If a call takes longer than that, the score may go down during an evaluation
period. Evaluation of call handling is based on the four main billing methods--collect,
third party, credit card, and station-to-station. My first scores on call handling
were not as high as I would have liked, but I am working on these skills and
am confident that my score will go up during the next quarter.
Finally I would like to describe a typical day at work. I usually arrive between
7:00 and 7:30 A.M. The first thing I do after putting on my badge is head for
my locker and retrieve what I need for work--my Braille area code book, my headset,
and loose change for a snack before work. At approximately ten minutes before
eight, I head for the time clock and wait until it reads five minutes to eight.
Then I punch in using one side of my badge and head for my workstation. They
are all set up the same way, containing a computer terminal, keyboard, monitor,
print area code book, telephone, and adaptor with a long cord for the headset.
After putting on my headset and turning on my computer, I go to the branding
line before the first call comes in, which demonstrates that I am organized
and ready to take the first call. I receive all kinds of calls. Depending on
which of our contracting telephone companies (brands) the cursor indicates when
a call comes in, I answer using the correct name. So I always open my script
by stating the company name and my name and then asking for the area code and
number the caller wants or asking how the call is to be billed, assuming that
the number has already been dialed in. For a collect call I type in the caller's
name and then wait to see if the call has gone through. A system message appears
notifying me whether a call has gone through.
If a call cannot be processed, it is usually due to a block on the line or to
an invalid number. If this happens, I have to redirect a call to another operator
or refer the caller to the 800 number for AT&T. If the caller wants to know
how much the call will cost, I refer him or her to a rate quote operator, who
can provide this information. Jail calls are considered collect calls, and I
merely ask for the caller's name. I can usually tell if someone is calling from
a jail because there is so much background noise. With a third-party call I
simply ask for the number the person is billing and the caller's name. For a
credit card or calling card call I select the card choice and then type in the
card number. The system message tells me whether a card number has gone through
or not. I check system messages on all calls.
After dealing with the billing information on person-to-person calls, I ask
for the caller's name and the name of the person to whom the caller wishes to
speak. For station-to-station calls I merely ask if the person is dialing directly.
If the caller says yes, I press the appropriate choice and thank the person
for using the company whose name is displayed on my screen. I rarely receive
station-to-station calls, but it is best to know the procedure.
In an emergency call the caller usually asks for the police or the fire department,
but sometimes one asks for the ambulance or poison control. I ask the caller
what the nature of the emergency is. If a caller has had a serious accident,
I forward the call to the appropriate emergency choice by selecting the appropriately
numbered choice on my screen. I then remain on line and type a summary statement
about the accident unless the caller specifically tells me to hang up.
With coin-refund calls I merely tell the caller that I am not a coin operator,
but if he or she wishes, I can take his or her name and address so a refund
can be sent by mail. Many people want their money back, while others feel that
the loss of a quarter or fifty cents is no big deal. Still others think that
operators can perform magic tricks and send the lost money back through the
telephone lines. At times nasty callers want their money back right now, and
they can be frustrating. If callers get too nasty, I transfer them to a supervisor.
With reports of trouble I merely type in the telephone number from which the
person calls and take a statement about the problem. On coin- refund calls I
take down the number being called, the name and address, the home phone, and
the amount lost, as well as a statement about what happened. Coin-refund and
trouble reports must be brief and to the point.
Finally, for a bilingual call I speak Spanish to the caller who wants a Spanish-speaking
operator. My Spanish has become a valuable asset on this job, and I am glad
I can help callers who cannot speak English. If the Spanish-speaking caller
speaks too fast, I transfer him or her to a more proficient Spanish-speaking
operator.
I have received calls from callers who have a variety of funny nicknames such
as "Poochie," "Nukie," "Mookie," "Munchy,"
"Dirt," "Snake" "High Note" "White Rabbit"
and "Funky." You get the idea. Operators are instructed to type in
whatever name the caller gives.
These calls make up my whole day at U.S. Long Distance. I get two breaks--one
at about 10 A.M. and the other about 1:00 P.M. Before my breaks I must punch
out and punch back in when I return. Because of the nature of this job, operators
are not given a lunch break. However, those who work a double shift are given
an hour lunch break between them. Sometimes things get really busy on either
the Waco or Houston switch. When this happens, the results are reminiscent of
a scene out of MASH. A supervisor announces over the PA System: "All available
personnel please log onto the Waco [or Houston] Switch for a queue of twenty."
A queue is the number of callers that are trying to reach the operator. When
this happens, people come running from everywhere. Sometimes floor-support personnel
and supervisors log on to the system to help handle the workload. I must admit,
though, that since I started this job, my days have gone fast, and I am always
tired when I leave at 3:00 P.M.
My advice to those seeking either a first-time or new job is
this: when opportunity knocks, answer the call! Do not be afraid
to go out of your field, and above all do not give up on
yourself. And always strive for success!
New operators work part-time for their
first year. This usually amounts to about twenty-five to thirty-five hours a
week. The starting pay for new operators at U.S. Long Distance is $6 an hour.
They receive periodic raises and additional pay if they know a foreign language.
After their first year of employment they are promoted to full-time status and
become eligible for benefits. These include paid health and dental insurance
and several paid days off. The company tries to see that employees get at least
one major holiday off per year, but not a minor holiday such as Flag Day. USLD
is quick to encourage its
employees with attendance challenges, and it is just as eager to reward those
who do outstanding work. For example, if an employee has perfect attendance
for three months, he or she receives a $100 bonus. Other incentives include
USLD T-shirts, a week of casual dress on the job, gift certificates from area
merchants, and more. Scott Edwards was named Employee of the Month in June of
1994. For this he was presented a trophy and a gift certificate from Sound Warehouse.
The fact that USLD has hired so many blind people in such a short period of
time raises both excitement and concern among the blind community of San Antonio
and the nation. The excitement comes from the fact that we are changing the
attitudes of businesses about employing blind workers. The concern is that,
as companies such as USLD begin to employ blind people in large numbers, they
may find themselves the victims of exploitation by state vocational rehabilitation
agencies for the blind. In recent years the federal government has cut back
defense spending, which has resulted in reduced contracts for sheltered workshops
for the blind. As a result blind workers have been laid off or given reductions
in their work hours. Clearly some state vocational rehabilitation agencies for
the blind in the past have used these
workshops as a dumping ground for blind people whom they believe to be unemployable.
Now that the sheltered workshops are not hiring as many blind workers as they
once did, there is some fear in the blind community that the agencies will put
pressure on companies that hire blind people in large numbers to take on these
marginal workers.
In addition some rehabilitation agency counselors are still tempted to steer
blind clients into fields for which they have little or no interest or aptitude.
Not everyone wants to be a telephone operator. Yet there is a danger that vocational
rehabilitation agencies will take the easy way out, when they can, by offering
such clients special training and then sending them to "that long-distance
company that has been so wonderful to the blind," regardless of the client's
goals, interests, and desires.
Sam Jackson, NFB of Texas State Board Member and First Vice President of the
Greater San Antonio Chapter, puts it this way: "U.S. Long Distance has
become a shining example of what can happen when companies come to believe in
the abilities of the blind. However, rather than becoming the place the state
vocational rehabilitation agency sends blind people seeking employment, the
company should be viewed as an example of what can happen when blind people
are given the chance to compete on equal terms with the sighted. Other businesses
should be encouraged to follow the example of groups like USLD. State vocational
rehabilitation agencies for the blind must constantly encourage more and more
businesses to hire blind employees. Likewise, blind people themselves should
not be afraid to approach businesses in their communities and encourage them
to hire the blind."
Perhaps the best advice we can give companies for avoiding exploitation by state
vocational rehabilitation agencies for the blind is to urge them to use the
same criteria for screening both blind and sighted job applicants and to expect
the same performance from blind employees as from sighted workers. While U.S.
Long Distance has extended the training period for its blind telephone operators
beyond that for its sighted ones, it expects the same high level of performance
from all its employees. We of the San Antonio Chapter of the National Federation
of the Blind of Texas applaud U.S. Long Distance for its open-mindedness to
the abilities of the blind and its willingness to hire blind telephone operators.
These employees are proof positive of what can happen when employers are given
correct information about blindness and the abilities of blind people. We are
proud to have this company join with us on our march to freedom and increased
job opportunities for all blind Americans.
If you would like more information about working as a telephone operator, you
can contact Scott Edwards at 8535 Green Brier, Apartment 119, San Antonio, Texas
78209, (210) 804-0182. You can also contact Mary Donahue at 100 Lorenz Road,
Apartment 1205, San Antonio, Texas 78209, (210) 826-9579.
[Photo #11: John Miller sits at a table,
writing Braille. Caption: John Miller]
BLINDNESS
NO BARRIER TO ENGINEER'S VISION OF LIFE
by Ozzie Roberts
From the Editor: As a brand new high
school graduate in 1988, John Miller was a National Federation of the Blind
scholarship winner. At that time he was heading off to Stanford University for
what would eventually become both bachelor's and master's degrees in electrical
engineering. Soon after graduation John was hired by Qualcomm, Inc., and settled
in San Diego, California, where he, his wife Valerie, and his infant son Collin
Woodrow now live. It wasn't long before John became President of the San Diego
Chapter of the National Federation of the Blind of California and a member of
the affiliate's Board of Directors. At the 1994 NFB convention a number of engineers
and scientists organized the Science and Engineering Division and elected John
Miller its President. The following story appeared in the September 19, 1994,
edition of the San Diego Union-Tribune. It speaks for itself; here it
is: John Miller works in the San Diego Design Center, a place that could be
mistaken for a gigantic maze.
It's a sprawling, modernistic Sorrento Valley edifice of multiple levels replete
with sharp corners and zigzagging corridors.
Some might think anyone with impaired vision would find moving from office to
office extremely difficult here.
Miller isn't among the doubters. He's been blind since retinitis pigmentosa
struck when he was three.
Tall and thin, the twenty-four-year-old maneuvers, no problem, in this space-age
world, daily reinforcing his oft-repeated view that blind people can do anything
sighted people can do.
But this is hardly a story of a blind person who gains a measure of self-satisfaction
by conquering a maze.
It is an account of a human being who,
through his motivation, benefits many more than even he will ever know.
Miller is an electrical engineer for the Design Center's landlord, Qualcomm
Inc., a leading developer of digital cellular-telephone equipment.
With more than a firm grasp of all the techno-speak of the data communications
field, Miller researches and studies voice transmission.
His work on a couple of separate projects could ultimately help expand cellular-phone
communication here and increase telecommunication in Third World countries.
"I love doing fundamental research and coming up with something that's
never been done before and then applying it," he says.
But Miller loves more the work he does advocating for the rights of the blind,
working as an officer, locally and nationally, with the National Federation
of the Blind. The NFB is a powerful 50,000-member organization that represents
the half million blind in this country.
Miller is president of the organization's San Diego chapter as well as of the
NFB's national science and engineering division.
He is aware of statistics revealing that seventy percent of the nation's employable
blind are not working. And he bristles.
Often, sighted people think of blindness as an all-encompassing disability.
It's not, he says, before noting that he and his organization lobby hard in
Washington and throughout this and other states to change the false notion.
And Miller is well qualified for the challenges.
He could easily teach his passion.
Thoughts of a Ph.D. in double E [electrical engineering] and a classroom position
somewhere, someday, never leave his psyche.
But his current challenges, including at this writing a first child, expected
any day for him and his wife, Valerie, keep him in the lab in Sorrento Valley.
As Miller grew up, the youngest of four boys, in Ralston, Nebraska, his mom,
a caring, no-nonsense woman, encouraged his stick-to-itiveness. His dad, himself
an electrical engineer, honed a strong sense of responsibility.
And together, parents Joseph and Janice Miller went to any and all lengths to
ensure that their youngest was treated as his brothers' equal.
John Miller built strong confidence and self-esteem on that.
Qualcomm hired him two years ago after he impressed recruiters with his attitude
and a bachelor's and a master's degree from Stanford University.
"I learned early to speak up for myself and to let others know how I want
to be treated," Miller says. And he does that now for many more than just
himself.
[Photo #12: Blind children playing in
a large indoor pool with the YMCA logo on the wall. Caption: Like other youngsters,
blind children enjoy water play at the Y pool. These young swimmers were attending
the 1994 convention of the NFB of Maryland and went to the pool while their
parents took part in the convention]
SEMINAR
FOR PARENTS OF BLIND CHILDREN STRESSES PHYSICAL FITNESS
by Peggy Chong
From the Editor: Peggy Chong is the
President of the Metro Chapter of the National Federation of the Blind of Minnesota.
She has also been active in the Buddy Program, the summer instruction for middle-school-age
students conducted by BLIND, Inc. (Blindness: Learning in New Dimensions) the
adult rehabilitation facility operated by the NFB of Minnesota. Last fall they
sponsored a seminar for families with blind youngsters to discuss the importance
of physical activity for these kids. Here is Peggy's report on the event:
On Saturday, November 12, 1994, BLIND,
Inc.; the National Federation of the Blind of Minnesota; and the YWCA of Minneapolis
sponsored a seminar for parents of blind children at the Downtown Minneapolis
YWCA on the importance of physical fitness. While the parents met, the children
went for a swim at the Y's pool.
Families came from as far away as Bemidji
to talk about the importance of keeping our blind children just as physically
active as their sighted peers. The Y children's fitness instructor made one
of the presentations. He gave examples of the activities at the Y for children
and young adults and stressed the importance of a healthy start in life. Y staffers
see no reason why blind children cannot participate in their regular programs.
The group suggested ways in which this could be done without disruption to classes.
Experienced blind adults know that how well we travel depends a lot on how fit
we are. People who eat the right foods and get plenty of exercise have a much
brighter mental outlook.
The participants in the Buddy Program in the last two years have certainly proven
the truth of this statement. The buddies who participated in phys ed classes
and extracurricular activities--in short, who were just being kids--were the
ones who could walk faster and had better posture. Travel was not
particularly difficult for them. They enjoyed getting out. Those with a more
sedentary lifestyle had difficulty walking any distance. We had to begin by
working with them on their posture before going out on lessons so they could
listen to what was in front of them rather than focusing their attention on
their feet.
Parents attending the seminar were interested in what they could do to motivate
their children and get them involved in a regular exercise routine to improve
their travel skills. They reminded each other of how important it is for kids
to use their canes at all times, even while walking with classmates at school.
But they found that the vision teachers said that, if a blind child walks with
anyone, the cane should be put away and sighted guide technique used instead.
The parents felt this policy was not helpful in teaching children how to travel
confidently and skillfully.
Blind adults shared their experiences growing up, and parents expressed their
concerns for their children. It was a good start down the road of independence
for the next generation of blind kids.
[Photo #13: Kyle Neddo, with his cane
resting under his chin, examines various tactile pictures. Caption: Kyle Neddo
admires tactile pictures at the art exhibit held during the 1994 NFB convention]
LITERACY
IS EVERYBODY'S BUSINESS
From the Editor: Part of the responsibility
of being a Federationist is remaining attentive to every opportunity to educate
the public about the actual problems of blindness and the abilities of blind
people. Whenever we find misinformation, misconceptions, or even an opening
for a bit of solid education, we must seize the chance and do the best we can
to provide constructive comments and accurate information. We can never tell
when our efforts will make a difference.
Dawn Neddo is the President of the Parents Division of the National Federation
of the Blind of Michigan. She works hard to encourage her school system to provide
her son Kyle the education he deserves, and she takes every opportunity she
gets to educate the rest of her community as well. On September 11, 1994, she
read a column by Neil Munro in the Oakland Press. Mr. Munro was talking about
the importance of parent involvement in the education of their children. Dawn
saw this column as an excellent opportunity to outline the need for a Braille
literacy law in the state and the importance of the work of the National Federation
of the Blind to one of the community's leaders and perhaps through him to his
readers as well. Here is Neil Munro's column and Dawn Neddo's letter in response.
Good Reading Habits
Start at Home Not in the Classroom
It was fifty-one years ago this fall
that my mother and I walked the mile or so from our farm home to the small,
white-framed school with the bell cupola on top.
In back were two outhouses, one for girls and one for boys.
The classroom was heated by a stove that burned fuel oil.
There were about a dozen pupils scattered through the grades from kindergarten--there
were two of us--to the sixth.
My mother didn't walk to school with me to make sure I was safe. She was the
teacher and, as I recall, was paid about $1,500 a year. But everything is relative.
In that era you could buy a new car for less then $1,500, though they weren't
making any in 1943.
That school had none of the amenities even the poorest have now, such as a library
or visual aids or even a playground. I could say I learned to read there, in
spite of the spare surroundings. But I didn't. I could read when I enrolled.
My mother hadn't taught me, either, not in any formal sense. I learned to read
by having her read my favorite comic book to me over and over and over. It was
about Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy, a couple of rag dolls that, as far as I
know, are popular to this day.
One day I suddenly made the connection between what she was saying and the words
on the page. T-H-E became "the," and so forth. I must have been about
three going on four at the time, judging by where we were living.
I bring up this ancient anecdote with its surprise ending not to impress you
with my humble beginnings but to stress the dramatic differences an involved
parent makes.
Of course I'd eventually have learned to read in school, whether my mother was
the teacher or not. But having a head start, so to speak, helped along the way.
Some of my classmates never did get beyond the plodding one-word-at-a-time approach,
and I'm sure they didn't read for pleasure because it must have been painful
for them.
If anything has become clear to me over the years, it's the absolute necessity
for parental involvement in the educational process.
You have a role to play. Read to them when they're little. There is more magic
in a book than in any television show. Be seen to read yourself. Help them get
the idea that it's something adults do because they like it. You don't have
to tackle Shakespeare. A romance novel will serve the purpose.
Introduce your youngsters to the local library. Every community has one, and
they all have special sections of children's books.
To be able to read easily is the key to everything else.
If your youngster is having a problem with it, make sure the teacher knows that
and knows that you know. Don't let it slide. Don't assume the school is going
to do anything about it.
Yet people do, all the time.
Several years ago I got to know a couple of high school graduates who seemed
perfectly normal, until I found out they could barely read well enough to get
through "See Spot run."
Their parents didn't know that until after the fact. Were they ever surprised!
They'd made the mistake of trusting the school to do the job.
Don't do that. You're paying taxes for education, directly or indirectly. Make
sure you get something for your hard-earned money.
That was Neil Munro's article. This is what Dawn Neddo wrote in response:
Commerce Township, Michigan
September 13, 1994
Dear Mr. Munro:
I totally agree with your article "Good Reading Habits Start at Home, Not
in the Classroom." As a parent of five children (a twenty-three-year-old
third-year law student at University of Detroit law school; a twenty-year-old
junior at Oakland University in the education program; three adopted children,
ages ten, seven, and six; and a three-year-old foster son) I have always been
involved with the schools and my children's school work.
My husband of twenty-five years and I have been foster parents for fifty-six
children over the last sixteen years. We have seen learning techniques come
and go, and I truly believe in the old-fashioned learning of basics and parent
involvement.
I read with interest your article and thought of how it pertained to all children,
even the special needs child. My son Kyle has been totally blind since birth,
and we have actively and successfully pursued an inclusive education for him
in the Walled Lake School District. Now I don't mean we have plopped him down
in a regular education class and stood back and said, "There, we've done
our part--it's up to the teachers now." We have insisted that Braille literacy
be the top priority and that Kyle be expected to learn and behave with the same
high expectations his sighted classmates do. It has been a struggle for us to
get the schools and society to see that blind people are people first and deserve
a chance to live and go to school with their peers. Because this seems to be
a radical idea for many people, we have had to advocate every step of the way.
We are in no way done and feel that we will be advocating for our son and other
blind people for the rest of our lives.
We have been involved in every aspect of our son's education from planning his
day and educating staff to getting his needs for learning Braille met and the
rest. We could not have done this without the dedicated involvement of the National
Federation of the Blind.
Allen Harris, President of the NFB of Michigan, and its membership have taught
our family the use of blindness skills and the importance of Braille literacy
for Kyle. They have given of themselves and their time for blind children of
this state and all over the U.S.
As a parent of a blind child I felt it necessary to learn Braille and become
active in the NFB. I am able to work on homework in Braille with Kyle and supplement
his education. I have been the president of the Parents of Blind Children of
Michigan, a division of the NFB, for three years.
The NFB has been active in tutoring sessions for Kyle and all blind children
in the state throughout the school year. During the tutoring sessions the blind
adults work with the blind children on Braille, cane travel, math (abacus),
and attitudes about blindness. They also have day camp each summer for one week,
where blind children and their families participate in field trips using the
skills they have learned throughout the year. The NFB also has blind advocates
who go into IEP meetings with parents to see that all areas are addressed in
order for the blind child to receive a quality education.
All these areas need parent involvement to be successful. I am surprised to
find that many parents of blind children feel it is the state's job to educate
their child and just sit back with a see-what-happens attitude. They are not
aware of many blindness skills; they have a stereotyped attitude about blindness
itself; and they never think of learning Braille. They do not participate in
the free programs offered by the NFB or the free Braille classes through the
Oakland Schools. They don't educate themselves about the problems facing the
blind community that some day will be a part of their child's life. Funding
for Braille and Talking Books is threatened, and many are not aware of these
issues nor will they apparently feel any need to help continue and restore programs
until it is too late. Unfortunately, as a result many of our blind citizens
are illiterate and are not prepared to be a productive part of society.
Your article stated, "They'd made the mistake of trusting the school to
do the job." I am not against the public schools or teachers. Coming from
a family with many members in the education field and having a daughter working
towards a teaching certificate, I want to believe the school system can work.
My two older children graduated from Walled Lake schools with an excellent education,
able to go on to quality colleges. They did this because they had many dedicated
teachers and involved parents who knew what was going on in school.
With so many difficult issues in education today, we especially need to know
what is going on; and, as you wrote, "You're paying taxes for education,
directly or indirectly. Make sure you get something for your hard-earned money."
The NFB has been working on getting a Braille literacy bill passed in Lansing,
and we are still trying to educate our legislators about the importance of such
a bill for the blind community. Parents need to have high expectations for their
blind children and not allow stereotyped labeling or low expectations to keep
them from being given the same education sighted children get. Parents of blind
children must not sit back and trust that the state knows what is best for their
child. Everyone assumes that all blind children are encouraged to learn Braille
and that they are taught in a positive, progressive way by a qualified
teacher. This does not always happen. Teachers of the visually impaired are
not always fully trained in teaching Braille, and they are not always fully
trained in the different Braille codes. Parents need to be on top of their blind
child's education as much as, if not more than, their sighted child's.
I want to thank you for your article and hope that I can use it along with my
ideas to encourage parents of blind children to become active team members with
their schools and V.I. teachers. We hope to make people aware of the need for
a Braille bill, which will allow our children to compete with their peers. Parents
play an important part in their child's education, and our blind children are
definitely worth the effort.
Thank you for your time.
Dawn L. Neddo
[Photo #14: Homer Page stands at a podium.
Caption: Homer Page]
SCHOOL
AND THE CHICKEN HOUSE
by Homer Page
From the Editor: Homer Page serves
as President of the National Federation of the Blind of Colorado. The following
recollection of his youth first appeared in When the Blizzard Blows,
the latest in our Kernel series of paperbacks. It begins with Dr. Jernigan's
introductory note. Here it is:
Dr. Homer Page is Chairman of the
Boulder County Board of Commissioners and a professor at the University of Colorado.
He is also one of the leaders of the National Federation of the Blind of Colorado
and of the national movement. Here he reflects on the things that helped him
achieve success:
Miss Nellie Stice was my English teacher
during my senior year at Buchannan High School in Troy, Missouri. She often
read examinations to me. On the final examination I received 296 points out
of a possible total of 300. When we finished the exam, she told me my score
and said, "Have you ever thought about what you would be able to accomplish
if you were not blind?"
Miss Stice did not believe blind persons could be successful. She believed that
I had ability, and she felt bad that I, in her view, was destined to be thwarted
in my efforts to use that ability. She genuinely felt pain for me. If any other
of my classmates had done as well (and none of them did), she would have said
to that student, "Congratulations, you will go far in life," but those
were not her expectations of me.
In spite of the withering message that I received from Miss Stice, I was generally
encouraged as a child. When I was in the first grade, the teacher set up three
groups of different learning levels. I was originally placed in the slowest
group. My parents are not educated people. My mother completed the tenth grade,
and my father went only to the eighth grade. However, they understood that it
was not good for me to remain in that group.
They talked with the teacher, and I was moved up to the first group. I am sure
that nothing my parents ever did for me, apart from giving me life, was so important
to my future. If the teachers and administrators and other people had developed
the expectations that I couldn't keep up with the demands of the school, then
I hesitate to think what my life would have become. I am certain it would have
been different and that it would have been much worse.
There was another time when my parents came to my rescue. During the summer
between my third and fourth grades in school, my family was visited by representatives
from the Missouri School for the Blind. My father and I were on top of the chicken
house putting down a new roof. We spoke with them from our lofty perch. They
wanted me to attend the school for the blind in the fall. My father said no.
He said, "My son is doing fine in school. I think a boy's place is with
his family, and besides, who would help me
with all this work if he were to go with you?" Few things could have been
more important to a young blind child than to hear his father affirm that he
was successful in school, loved and wanted by his family, and a productive,
contributing member of the economy of his family farm.
By the time Miss Stice made her comment, it was already too late for my spirit
to be damaged very much. I was on my way to college, and there were some things
that I wanted to do. Now, decades later, I ask myself, "Have I been successful?"
In some ways perhaps I have; but, if I have, I haven't done it on my own.
I had a supportive family and generally helpful friends and teachers and a group
of people working for me about whom I had no knowledge until well into my adult
life. That group was the men and women of the National Federation of the Blind.
Even though I didn't know it, opportunities had been made available for me through
the work of the generation of NFB members that preceded me.
[Photo #15: Portrait Caption: Harvey
Lauer]
THE
BLIND CHURCH MEMBER: WHAT CONVERSATION IS UNLIKELY TO REVEAL
by Harvey Lauer
From the Editor: Harvey Lauer has
been a reader of the Braille Monitor for many years. He was one of the
pioneer researchers in methods of enabling blind people to read print. He works
as a researcher and computer instructor at the Department of Veterans Affairs
hospital at Hines, Illinois. The following
article recently came into our hands. It captures the experience that many blind
church members have had and demonstrates the most effective way of educating,
reassuring, and witnessing to congregations filled with ordinary people who
fear blindness and are uncertain how to behave with blind people. Here is what
he has to say:
Note: The author gratefully acknowledges
the Vision Impaired Ministry Committee of the Northern Illinois District of
the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod, which first commissioned this article and
endorses its distribution.
"We can't ask them to help. What
could they do? They are blind!" As new members of our congregation, Bethlehem
in Broadview, Illinois, that's almost the first remark my wife and I overheard.
It didn't surprise me because I had met professors who wouldn't let me take
their courses and some who wanted to give me a good grade just because I was
blind. By the time we moved to Broadview, I was employed as a rehabilitation
teacher and had to deal regularly with stereotyped notions about disability.
My wife, Lueth, had just come from a rural community in which blindness was
poorly understood by her family and friends. They meant well but perceived her
as dependent, even as an adult. She came to the city with hopes of being accepted
as a contributing member of society. Because of her shyness she reacted by feeling
ill at ease and withdrawing. She hoped that we could find a friendlier church,
but I saw the problem differently. I knew that only time and acquaintance would
reveal whether such remarks were based on clannishness, ignorance, or pity.
People were friendly, but that didn't help much. They told her how amazing it
was that she read and wrote Braille, something she had learned in school and
which she felt should not be considered unusual. As a result, she felt self-conscious
and would not read aloud in public.
At church gatherings we both sat a lot and must have appeared rather helpless.
People may have wondered how we did our housework. We kept a reasonably good
house, but there were two big obstacles to functioning in church. The first
was unfamiliarity with the territory. At home we knew where to find things.
At church almost nothing was ever in the same place twice. At home awkward behavior
could be laughed off; in public the appearance of awkwardness brings not only
needed assistance but sometimes too much help and expressions of pity that are
hard to take.
Talk was futile. There were two barriers. It was hard for Lueth to try new things,
and some people were reluctant to give her a chance. Some wanted to help but
didn't know how to begin. While she couldn't wait on tables efficiently, she
could have helped in the kitchen if she had known where things were kept.
She couldn't watch children on the playground, but she could have helped in
the nursery if people had believed in her ability. She couldn't make posters,
but she had developed the ability to write and dramatize stories. Yet she needed
encouragement and acceptance. My own road to acceptance and involvement was
just as rocky.
Over the course of several years, and with the help of prayer and good friends,
our strategy took shape. We volunteered to organize the coffee hours. Then we
"forgot" to find someone to go in early to make coffee and prepare
for the activity, so the job fell to us. We went a half hour early in order
to familiarize
ourselves with the kitchen and find everything we needed. The members who came
later with coffee cakes were surprised to find us there and more surprised to
find the place set up for business.
In calling people for the next coffee hour, we found that it's easy to get people
to bring things, but harder to find someone who will go early and set everything
up. Lueth said, "Why don't we do it again?" So we did it again and
many more times after that. Each time different people who were taking their
turns would come in and find us working.
Good working relationships were formed. Lueth began to help with other activities.
People found out what she could do efficiently and gave her those tasks. The
years went by. We had birthday parties for our children and invited members'
children. We joined neighborhood Bible study groups, where Lueth gradually gained
the confidence to read passages and contribute to the discussion. She volunteered
to be a friendly visitor in convalescent homes, where she could talk with people
individually, then later read stories to groups, and finally lead a Bible class.
Now she is on the evangelism team and an officer on the church council. In many
of these activities the Braille and recorded materials transcribed by several
groups and organizations were of great help.
Before I relate the final incident, I must tell you that so far there is nothing
unusual about this story. In fact, it is typical for blind church members and
blind people generally to be underinvolved. Why is this so?
One set of reasons stems from ignorance. Most people think blindness is a lot
more limiting than it needs to be. People think that, because they use their
vision for a given task, it must be necessary to do so, so they conclude that
those who function well without sight must be either courageous or geniuses.
The fact is that it takes different skills and tools to function without sight.
Training is important, and certain activities like independent travel are more
difficult, so fewer blind people do them well. Even the parents of blind children
seldom learn all that can be done to maximize the ability of a blind person.
Less is expected of us, so we often react by expecting less of ourselves. Blind
beggars and geniuses are the most common stereotypes. Articles and pamphlets
which discuss resources for information and assistance are available.
What Christians call sin accounts for another set of reasons. The thought of
blindness strikes fear, wounds pride, engenders hostility, and therefore causes
guilt. It strikes fear in those who have not learned to rest secure in the strength
of the Lord. It wounds pride in those who have not fully opened
themselves to the humility of Christ. It engenders loathing in the souls who
cannot feel God's loving presence. Guilt is felt by those who can't face their
human nature and accept God's forgiveness. No matter what they are taught about
blindness and no matter how many blind people they know, those who are steeped
in fear, pride, resentment, or guilt find it almost impossible to relate to
a blind person as an equal. They must think of themselves as superior. When
such people sustain a loss of vision themselves, they have great difficulty
adjusting to it.
Vision loss, especially sudden loss, is a blow to anyone. But after the shock
wears off, some of us perceive blindness as a stumbling block. We exaggerate
the areas of physical dependence, allowing our pride to let us forget about
the interdependence of all life. We hate even more the demeaning attitudes which
depict all blind people as helpless. We often refuse needed help because we
mistake kindness for pity.
But others among us see blindness as a stepping stone. We can enjoy most of
the world's good things, and unfortunately the bad ones as well. We have the
chance to inform where knowledge can be accepted and to forgive where prejudice
clouds minds. Our disability can be used as a vehicle for overcoming pride.
We can learn to discern between pity and kindness. Pity comes from guilt and
the desire to feel superior. Kindness is motivated by love and the wish to do
for others what one would like to have done for oneself in the same circumstances.
Now let me tell you the rest of the story, which is not typical, but not unusual
either. We learned about it twenty years after it happened. Some people in town
told a group of church members that we should be investigated because we were
blind and probably couldn't take proper care of our children. Nothing was
done about the suggestion because the members assured them that blindness was
no reason for such a concern. They said that our children were at least as well
cared for as theirs. It turned out that ours is not only a friendly church,
but an observant and loving one as well.
If you or a friend would like to remember the National Federation of the Blind
in your will, you can do so by employing the following language:
"I give, devise, and bequeath unto National Federation of the Blind, 1800
Johnson Street, Baltimore, Maryland 21230, a District of Columbia nonprofit
corporation, the sum of $_____ (or "_____ percent of my net estate"
or "The following stocks and bonds: _____") to be used for its worthy
purposes on behalf of blind persons."
[Photo #16: The Harold Washington Library
Center is a renovated, multi-story red stone building with large arched windows
situated on a full city block. Caption: On average, 7000 people visit Chicago's
Harold Washington Library Center each day]
[Photo #17: Located on a man-made island,
the Adler Planetarium has a center dome on the roof. When the dome shutter is
opened, the public can peer through a telescope at the moon, the planets, and
the stars. Caption: Chicago's Adler Planetarium stands at the tip of a half
mile peninsula jutting into Lake Michigan]
CHICAGO
NOTEBOOK
by Stephen O. Benson
From the Editor: The following is
the second installment of Steve Benson's "Chicago Notebook." We hope
it whets your appetite for the activities and opportunities that will surround
the 1995 convention. Here it is:
Within walking distance of the Chicago
Hilton and Towers are five outstanding museums. One of these, the Museum of
Broadcast Communication, will be featured as a tour on Wednesday afternoon of
the convention. Watch these pages for details next month. This edition of "Chicago
Notebook" focuses on two museums and the Harold Washington Library Center.
The John G. Shedd Aquarium opened May 30, 1930 to an enthusiastic crowd of more
than 20,000 people. It was a gift to the people of Chicago from Shedd, who had
been president and Chairman of the Board of Marshall Field and Company. The
Aquarium's original construction cost was $3.5 million. In April, 1991, the
museum invited the public to visit the newly constructed forty-five-million-dollar
Oceanarium, a structure that doubled the size of the building and provided space
for whales and white-sided dolphins.
The white Georgian marble aquarium houses more than 8,000 fresh and salt water
fish and animals in an area of 395,000 square feet. Visitors will find themselves
almost within arm's reach of sea turtles, sharks, and barracudas at the coral
reef. Several times a day a diver enters the reef pool and hand-feeds these
aquatic creatures. The spectacular Oceanarium is constructed to resemble the
landscape of the Pacific Northwest. Throughout the day the whales and dolphins
exhibit some rather amazing habits those of us in the hinterlands don't ordinarily
witness.
The Aquarium's mission is the protection and conservation of aquatic life. The
endangered status of more and more species makes the mission more urgent. The
quality of the animal habitat is crucial to the survival of the Aquarium's residents.
Water quality of the more than 4.5 million gallons of fresh and salt
water is maintained by computers. Salt water was transported by railroad tank
car to the aquarium from Florida from 1931 until the early 1970's, when the
aquarium began fabricating it on the premises.
The John G. Shedd Aquarium is open seven days a week, from 9:00 a.m. to 6:00
p.m. Admission, up to 5:00 p.m., is $8 for adults and $6 for senior citizens
and children three to eleven years of age. Admission is free on Thursdays.
The Adler Planetarium, opened in 1935, was the first of its kind in the United
States. The Planetarium's benefactor was Max Adler, an executive with Sears.
Native Chicagoans routinely refer to
the building as the Planetarium. Actually the planetarium is a machine that
projects celestial pictures onto the inside of the building's dome and illustrates
the relationships among stars, planets, and other galactic bodies as they move
through space. Adler collected navigation instruments, astronomy devices, and
time-keeping instruments as part of his legacy to Chicago. This collection is
now regarded as one of the three finest in the world.
While most of the exhibits are behind glass or out of reach of the public, many
of the displays have audio commentaries that are top quality. The Planetarium
is open seven days a week. Admission is $4 for adults, $2 for children and senior
citizens, and free to everyone on Tuesdays.
The Chicago Public Library's central facility is the Harold Washington Library
Center, 400 S. State Street, four blocks from the Chicago Hilton and Towers
Hotel. The building, named after Chicago's first African-American mayor, is
the largest municipal circulating library in the United States.
The 144-million-dollar, 765,000-square-foot structure was completed ahead of
schedule and under budget. Its architect attempted to capture the style of turn-of-the-century
buildings near it with its exterior. The interior is quite modern, done in marble
and light maple. When the building opened in October of 1991, it housed almost
two million books, a collection of recordings numbering more than 100,000, one
of the Midwest's most extensive collections of fiction and drama, and an outstanding
government documents collection. The library's spectacular ninth-floor winter
garden alone is worth a visit. As this article is being prepared, the library
is anticipating installation of state-of-the-art computer and Braille printing
equipment that will make the Chicago Public Library's collections more accessible
to blind and otherwise physically disabled persons.
Other features of the Harold Washington Library Center should be noted. The
children's library occupies 18,000 square feet and boasts some rather unusual
nature exhibits. The library offers an outstanding telephone information service.
Telephone inquiries to (312) 747-4300 will reveal to you how resourceful
librarians are. One more thing: visits to the library are free. Watch these
pages next month for details of some wonderful tours.
The dates of the 1995 convention of the National Federation of the Blind are
Saturday, July 1, through Friday, July 7. The rates are singles, $47; doubles
and twins, $49; triples, $54; and quads, $57. In addition to the room rates,
there will be a tax, which at present is almost 15 percent. There will be no
charge for children in a room with parents as long as no extra bed is required.
In recent years we have sometimes taken hotel reservations through the National
Office, but for the 1995 convention you should write directly to Hilton and
Towers Hotel, 720 S. Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60605, Attention: Reservations;
or call (312) 922-4400. Hilton has a national toll-free number, but do not (we
emphasize NOT) use it. Reservations made through this national number will not
be valid. They must be made directly with the Hilton and Towers in Chicago.
[Photo #18: Barbara Freeman, smiling
at the camera, holds a sleeping Shanthi against her shoulder. Caption: Barbara
Freeman and her daughter Shanthi]
SHANTHI'S
FIRST AMERICAN YEAR
by Barbara Freeman
From the Editor: The following story
was written in late 1992. It first appeared in Standing on One Foot the
sixth in the NFB's Kernel series of paperback books. It begins with Dr. Jernigan's
introduction:
Mike Freeman, a blind computer analyst,
and his wife Barbara (who is sighted) are long-time leaders in the Washington
state affiliate of the National Federation of the Blind. When Mike and Barbara
began the adoption process about four years ago, they were a little nervous.
Not only did they have to deal with the usual bewildering mass of paperwork,
interviews, and unexpected pitfalls associated with the adoption--especially
overseas adoption--process, but they had to deal with questions and doubts about
Mike's ability to care for a child. Why? For no other reason than the fact that
Mike is blind. Fortunately, it is no longer rare or unusual for blind individuals
to adopt children successfully. The National Federation of the Blind has been
providing help and encouragement to prospective blind adoptive parents for over
twenty years. As a consequence blind people generally have fewer difficulties
today in overcoming negative attitudes and ignorance about blindness among adoption
social workers. So it was with Mike and Barbara, and eventually Shanthi joined
her family in America. But a whole new set of challenges awaited Mike and Barbara.
Shanthi, too, is blind, and for nearly a year she had been in a less than ideal
environment. Here is Barbara's story of "Shanthi's First American Year."
My husband Mike and I met our new daughter
Shanthi Anne at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport on November 13, 1990.
Shanthi, then aged eleven and a half months, flew to us from India. Our social
worker had recommended this baby to us because she was outstandingly responsive
and alert when she observed her on a trip to India the previous April. Shanthi
is anophthalmic; this means she was born without eyes.
When Shanthi arrived at our home in November, she had changed little since she
had been placed in the foundling home the previous April. She could not bear
weight; she could sit up but not get to a sitting position by herself; and she
could roll but not crawl or creep. She examined people's faces, hands, and clothing,
but never reached out to find anything beyond the person holding her. Most disturbing
of all, Shanthi did not know what a bottle was and could not use a cup or eat
from a spoon.
Another set of parents had visited her
foundling home and had observed the babies being fed. Because of a nipple-borne
infection, the doctor had forbidden bottles. As a result, at every feeding one
caretaker would hold the babies down and pry open their mouths while another
caretaker would pour thick water-buffalo milk in from above. The babies would
scream and gag the whole time. The social worker who brought Shanthi from India
had been feeding her with a little medicine syringe. She would squirt formula
into Shanthi's mouth while Shanthi sucked her thumb. Shanthi expected to be
fed lying down and never took her thumb out of her mouth. She got more formula
on her than in her.
We drove home with our baby without any idea about how we were going to feed
her. Upon the advice of our pediatrician, we decided to train Shanthi to a cup
instead of back to a bottle. Our doctor also advised us to start feeding her
a wide variety of foods immediately. Shanthi was underweight and had mild anemia.
There was no time to introduce solid foods gradually. Shanthi's front teeth
were coming in when she arrived, so it was doubly important that she learn to
bite and chew right away. A child who does not learn to use her teeth when they
are coming in often has eating problems. A delay in learning how to eat plus
the early trauma of forced feeding might very well have caused a life-long problem.
Thus began an extremely intense three weeks. My goals were twofold: first, to
teach her how to eat a mixed diet and second, to give her control over her food
intake as soon as possible. I bought training cups with lids that allowed the
formula to flow when the cup was tipped. I wanted Shanthi to know that tipping
the cup caused the milk to flow. Some training cups are so spill-proof that
the milk must be sucked out.
I insisted from the first that Shanthi sit up to eat or drink. I sat her in
my lap with my left arm behind her back so she could not lie down. By the third
feeding, she was sitting in the highchair. When I gave her a drink, she learned
she could control intake by pushing my hand away. I also got her to eat a little
strained food, but I had to chase her mouth as she moved her head back and forth.
She also kept her thumb in her mouth most of the time, and I had to catch her
when it came out. I learned to keep the spoon in one place and let her come
to it. Within ten days Shanthi could eat graham crackers and even a fig newton
cookie. Upon the advice of an eating therapist, I stopped using baby-food the
same day she learned how to eat the graham crackers.
I taught her how to pick up the cup by placing her hands on it and showing her
what to do. After she learned how to pick it up, it took several more days to
learn how to tip the cup up to get the formula. I placed crackers or large sticks
of food in her hand and moved her hand from the tray to her mouth. Soon she
could feed herself finger-food. As Shanthi practiced feeding herself, she slowly
learned how to get smaller bits of food into her mouth. As soon as she discovered
that she could feed herself, she refused to take anything from a spoon. She
began to use a spoon again only when I showed her how to use it herself.
Shanthi attended the NFB National Convention in New Orleans in the summer of
1991, where she became much more aware of how adults drink out of open cups
because she sat in our laps a lot while we talked with friends. She heard the
tinkling ice in water, juice, and tea and started reaching for them. I would
help her taste them. When we got home, I taught her how to drink from an open
cup. I moved her hands from behind. Because she was having trouble moving the
full cup to her mouth, I fed her a few
times in just her diaper without a bib so she could feel right away what movement
made the milk spill. She learned in four days.
We also began helping Shanthi with her motor skills shortly after she arrived.
Shanthi began walking with us holding on with two hands in January, 1991, and
could walk holding on with one hand by May. In early fall I taught her how to
climb stairs while I held her hands.
As Shanthi's second birthday approached, she was rapidly developing new language,
charm, and musical ability. Shanthi has quite a wide vocabulary now. She will
ask her daddy to play the piano and says, "See book," when she comes
across anything with Braille on it. She celebrated entering the Terrible Twos
by singing the entire "Star-Spangled Banner" substituting "no"
for each word.
Shanthi has great dignity. Her daddy and I hope to be able to teach her the
skills she needs to put her proud independence into practice without crushing
her spirit in the process.
I have learned that, if I am to teach Shanthi a new skill, we must both be ready.
I will not always know just how I, as the mother, get ready to move with Shanthi
to the next phase of development. I believe my membership in the National Federation
of the Blind will continue to give me the faith to trust that, if I teach, she
will learn.
SEARS
DEMONSTRATES ADA IMPLEMENTATION
IS NOT A HARDSHIP
From the Editor: We recently received
the following press release from the Annenberg Washington Program. It was literate
and well written, which is more than can be said for most materials we receive
from organizations hoping we will publish their information. But more to the
point, the study being reported clearly produced sensible data about the cost
and difficulty of most reasonable accommodations mandated by the Americans with
Disabilities Act. In pertinent part here is the text of the press release:
Many businesses have struggled with the
employment provisions of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA)--yet Sears,
Roebuck and Co.'s experience proves that ADA compliance does not have to be
a hardship. In a report released in November, 1994, by the Annenberg Washington
Program, Annenberg Senior Fellow Peter David Blanck documents Sears' ADA-related
employment practices and finds that the average cost of most ADA accommodations
is $36--less than dinner and a movie for two.
Contrary to many critical reports, ADA compliance does not necessarily mean
high costs. In fact, fewer than ten percent of Sears employees who self-identify
as disabled require any kind of accommodation. Sears' data on the total cost
of providing accommodations to employees with disabilities from 1978 to 1992
are striking: of the 436 ADA-related accommodations for which data were available,
sixty-nine percent cost Sears nothing, twenty-eight percent cost less than $1,000,
and only three percent cost more than $1,000.
Moreover, from 1978 to 1992 the total cost of accommodations to Sears was $52,939;
the average cost per accommodation was $121. If accommodations costing $1,000
or more are excluded, the average cost per accommodation is a mere $36.
Thus, almost all accommodations at Sears (ninety-seven percent) required little
or no cost. Such accommodations include flexible scheduling, longer training
periods, back-support belts, revised job descriptions, rest periods, enhanced
lighting, and adjusted work stations.
The report, Communicating the Americans with Disabilities Act--Transcending
Compliance: A Case Report on Sears, Roebuck and Co., emphasizes five core implications
drawn from the study of Sears' experiences:
1. The impact of the ADA on American
business is evolutionary, not revolutionary.
2. Universal design and access, not retrofitted technology, fulfill the objective
of including persons with and without disabilities in productive workforce participation.
3. Efforts to educate management and the workforce about the ADA and the capabilities
of persons with disabilities must be based on facts, not paternalism and myths.
4. Starting from a base of ADA compliance, companies can look beyond compliance
to transcendence by fostering independence and by providing meaningful career
opportunities for people with disabilities.
5. Far from creating onerous legal burdens, the ADA can give employers and employees
a framework for dispute avoidance and resolution, rather than the explosion
of litigation that some observers predicted.
The study of Sears' experience is meant
to stimulate discussion of ADA implementation issues; provide specific data
and cost information about ADA implementation; identify the implications of
Sears' ADA-related experiences for future practices in this critical employment
area; and serve as an example of ADA leadership for other companies. Sears is
one of the largest single employers of people with disabilities, currently employing
an estimated 20,000 persons with a mental or physical disability in its 300,000-person
work force. These individuals represent the scope of disabilities and related
accommodations that enable productive, meaningful participation in the work
force.
Sears is one among dozens of corporate role models that provide an important
laboratory for studying the ADA's impact on the work force. The effectiveness
of the ADA depends upon education and communication from Sears and other corporate
leaders to achieve the following: (1) dispel myths about persons with disabilities,
(2) inform people of their rights and obligations under the act, (3) equalize
opportunities for advancement, (4) empower people to make better and more informed
decisions, and (5) diffuse and resolve employee/employer disputes without formal
litigation.
For more information or a copy of the report, contact Lisa Spodak at (202) 393-7100,
fax (202) 638-2745, or e-mail [email protected].
[Photo #19: Emerson Foulke stands at
podium. Caption: Emerson Foulke]
BRAILLE
EVALUATORS NEEDED
by Emerson Foulke
From the Editor: We recently received
the following announcement from Dr. Emerson Foulke, one of the leaders of the
National Federation of the Blind of Kentucky. Dr. Foulke is a consultant at
the Braille Research Center and co-developer of the proposed unified Braille
code. Here is what he has to say:
The International Council on English
Braille (ICEB) has assumed responsibility for the Unified Braille Code Project
and has established the Unified Braille Code Development Committee to manage
this project. The committee, which was called the Objective II Committee when
it was originally appointed by the Braille Authority of North America (BANA),
was given the responsibility of trying to find a way to unify the Braille codes
now in use. It has now become a subcommittee of the Unified Braille Code Development
Committee and is now called Committee II. Its initial responsibility continues.
The Unified Braille Code Development Committee will be meeting concurrently
with BANA during its semiannual meeting in April of 1995 in Washington, D.C.
At that time it expects Committee II to report a second draft of its effort
to unify the Braille codes now in use. Shortly thereafter it will be necessary
to submit this second draft to Braille readers, Braille teachers, and Braille
transcribers for evaluation.
To prepare for the evaluation, the Braille Research Center is accumulating a
file of the names of people who have indicated a willingness to help with the
evaluation of the Unified Braille Code. We will sort the names in the file into
three groups--Braille readers, Braille teachers, and Braille transcribers. From
each of these subgroups we will draw a sample of evaluators. Each sample will
be constructed to reflect a broad range of age and experience with Braille and
will include representatives from as many states in the United States and Provinces
in Canada as possible.
If you would be able to help by serving as an evaluator, please contact me,
Emerson Foulke, with the name of the group of evaluators in which you wish to
be included. You can write to me at Emerson Foulke, Braille Research Center,
American Printing House for the Blind, P.O. Box 6085, Louisville, Kentucky 40206.
If you prefer, you can inform me by e-mail at [email protected], by telephone
(502) 899-2362; or by fax at 899-2363. When I know in which group of evaluators
you wish to be included, I will send you a brief questionnaire in order to get
some basic information about the nature of your experience with Braille.
When the questionnaires have been returned, I will begin the process of constructing
the samples of evaluators; and, if your name is drawn, I will be sending you
a letter to inform you and to tell you what the next step in the evaluation
process will be. We need all three kinds of evaluators, and I think we will
be able to do a much better job of evaluation if NFB members are well represented.
USING
FLYERS TO ADVERTISE
At the meeting of the Committee on the
Senior Blind that took place in conjunction with the 1994 convention of the
National Federation of the Blind in Detroit, Michigan, Jane Karle, who is a
member of the Pasco County Chapter of the NFB of Florida, described a project
which she undertook for the Rochester Chapter of the NFB of New York while she
was visiting in the area that spring. It was simple and effective in spreading
word about the organization and its meetings. This is what she did.
First she designed and duplicated an easy-to-read one-page flyer describing
where and when the chapter met and how to get there. Then she compiled a list
of churches, senior centers, libraries, and other public places where notices
are usually posted and where blind people might be present. Then she sent out
a mailing to each address consisting of the flyer and a cover note requesting
that it be posted and that any blind people in the area be told about it.
The result was immediate. Not only was there an increase in chapter membership,
but the general public became aware of the organization, its name, and its logo.
This project would be easy to copy in other chapters. The sample flyer on the
next page could be adapted for local use. We have used sixteen, twenty, and
twenty-two point type, which can be produced by most computers and printers.
The logo can be added by using clip art available to chapter presidents from
the Materials Center of the National Federation of the Blind in Baltimore; it
can be attached with rubber cement.
It's as easy as that. Good Luck. Here's the flyer:
(NFB LOGO HERE)
The (chapter name) of the National Federation
of the Blind of (state)
meets on (week and day) each month at
(time) in (location)
If transportation is needed call (chapter
contact person's name or transit authority and phone number)
For more information, call (usually
the chapter president) (phone number)
Everyone is welcome to attend, especially
blind people of all ages and those interested in working for their equality
and acceptance.
The NFB is the oldest and largest organization
of blind people in the country. It began in 1940 and has over 50,000 members
in the fifty states, the District of Columbia, and Puerto Rico.
We are changing what it means to be
blind.
RECIPES
This month's recipes come from members
of the National Federation of the Blind of New Jersey.
PENNE CON ASPARAGI, CARCOFI SALAMI
by Joe Ruffalo
[Photo #20: Portrait Caption: Joe Ruffalo]
Joe Ruffalo is President of the NFB
of New Jersey.
Ingredients:
12 spears asparagus, cooked until tender, then cut into three pieces
20 slices salami di Napoli or other high-quality brand, cut into thin strips
8 artichoke hearts, cooked and quartered (You can use tinned ones; but fresh
are better.)
2 tablespoons olive oil
black pepper, freshly ground
Parmesan cheese, freshly grated
penne or similar shaped pasta
Method: Amounts of all the above ingredients
are approximate; I tend not to weigh anything but use what seems right. Begin
cooking the pasta according to package directions. When it has about five minutes
left to cook, in a frying pan begin sauteing salami, and once some fat is rendered,
add the olive oil and cook for about one minute. Don't worry if bits of the
meat get crispy. Add the artichokes and cook for about one more minute, then
add the asparagus and cook for another minute. Season with lots of black pepper.
Once it is cooked al dente, drain the pasta and place it in a large bowl. Toss
the meat mixture with the pasta and sprinkle with parmesan cheese and a handful
of chopped parsley. Serve this with hot ciabbata bread and a side salad of thinly
sliced tomatoes, sprinkled with thinly sliced celery and a dressing of balsamic
vinegar, olive oil, and fresh black pepper. As a variation, when courgettes
(or any squash) come into season, substitute these for the asparagus. Be sure
that they are no larger than a man's little finger. Cut them into about 4 pieces,
cook them until they are tender crisp, and fry them with the rest of the ingredients.
STIR AND BAKE CARROT CAKE
by Gloria Lewis
Gloria Lewis serves as Treasurer of
both the Northern Chapter and the NFB of New Jersey.
Ingredients:
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 3/4 cups sugar
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
4 large eggs
1 1/4 cups salad oil
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 1/4 cups loosely-packed shredded carrots (about 7 medium sized carrots)
1 12-ounce box pitted prunes, chopped
1 3-ounce can pecans, chopped (about 1 cup)
Method: Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Grease and flour a 10-inch round cake pan. In large bowl sift the first six
ingredients and mix with a spoon. In small bowl, with a fork beat eggs slightly;
stir in salad oil and vanilla. Stir egg mixture, 3 cups carrots, prunes, and
pecans into flour mixture just until flour is moistened. Spoon batter into pan.
Bake for fifty-five to seventy minutes or until center of cake springs back
when gently pressed. Cool in pan ten minutes. Remove from pan and cool completely
on wire rack. Frost with the following:
CREAM CHEESE DRIZZLE
Ingredients:
1 3-ounce package cream cheese, softened
3/4 cup confectioner's sugar
3 tablespoons milk
1 tablespoon margarine or butter
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
Method: With mixer at medium speed,
blend cream cheese, sugar, milk, margarine, and vanilla until smooth. Spread
over cake. Garnish with more shredded carrot.
PUMPKIN CHEESE CAKE
by Jerilyn Higgins
[Photo #21: Portrait Caption: Jerilyn
Higgins]
Jerilyn Higgins has been a member of
the Federation for a long time. She has served as both chapter and state Treasurer
and is currently a member of the state Board of Directors.
Ingredients:
1 package zwieback crackers, crushed (1-1/2 cups)
1/4 cup sugar
6 tablespoons butter, melted
3 8-ounce packages cream cheese, softened
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1 16-ounce can pumpkin
1 3/4 teaspoons pumpkin spice
5 eggs
1/4 cup heavy cream
Method: Blend crumbs, sugar, and butter
in medium bowl. Press firmly across bottom and up sides of a lightly-buttered
9- inch springform pan and chill. Beat cream cheese in a large bowl with electric
mixer at medium speed until smooth. Gradually add sugar until well mixed; at
low speed blend in eggs, one at a time, until light and fluffy. Add canned pumpkin,
pumpkin spice, and heavy cream, mixing at low speed. Pour into prepared crust.
Bake in oven at 350 degrees for one hour and thirty-five minutes. Remove cake
from oven and sprinkle with walnut topping. To make topping, combine 6 tablespoons
soft butter and 1 cup firmly packed light brown sugar, and mix until crumbly.
Add 1 cup chopped walnuts, mix, and sprinkle on cake.
MACARONI PIE
by David J. DeNotaris
[Photo #22: Portrait Caption: David DeNotaris]
David DeNotaris is currently Job Opportunities
for the Blind coordinator for New Jersey. He is also a world champion power
lifter.
Ingredients:
1-1/2 pounds ricotta cheese
black pepper to taste
garlic to taste
7 eggs
salt to taste
1 pound mozzarella
Italian cheese, grated to taste
1/2 pound thin spaghetti (broken in half)
Method: Cook spaghetti according to
package directions and drain in colander. In a large bowl beat eggs and then
add ricotta and Italian cheese. Add salt, pepper, and garlic to taste. Cut mozzarella
into small pieces and add to mixture. Stir in spaghetti and pour into greased
baking pans. Bake at 350 degrees from fifty minutes to one hour, or until top
is lightly browned and firm to the touch.
SHRIMP WITH ANGEL HAIR PASTA
by Kathy Miragliotta
Kathy Miragliotta is the newest member
of the newest chapter of the NFB of New Jersey, the Metro-Suburban Chapter.
You can always find Kathy cooking in the kitchen.
Ingredients:
1 pound shrimp, shelled and deveined
1 pound angel hair pasta (cooked according to package directions)
1 cup onion, chopped
4 tablespoons butter
1-1/2 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup dry white wine
1 1/4 tablespoons instant bouillon crystals
1-1/2 teaspoons crushed basil
1 can recipe-ready (or pasta-ready) tomatoes by Contadina
1/3 cup grated cheese
1/4 cup snipped fresh parsley
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper
Method: Cook onions in butter and oil
till tender. Stir in the wine, bouillon crystals, basil, salt, and pepper. Bring
to a boil and reduce heat. Simmer uncovered for twelve to fifteen minutes or
until two-thirds of the liquid has evaporated. Halve shrimp and add to wine
mixture. Cover and simmer for five minutes (or until shrimp are tender). Stir
in tomatoes and heat through. Toss pasta with melted butter, add shrimp mixture,
cheese, and parsley. Toss gently until pasta is well coated.
PENNE WITH VODKA SAUCE
by Kathy Miragliotta
Ingredients:
3 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 small onion, chopped (about 1/4 cup)
1/4 cup chopped prosciutto or fully cooked Virginia ham
2 skinless, boneless chicken breast halves, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1/2 cup vodka
1/2 cup whipping cream
1/2 cup sliced imported Italian black olives
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1 16-ounce package penne or mostaccioli
2 tablespoons freshly grated parmesan cheese
Method: Heat butter and
oil in 10-inch skillet over medium high heat. Saute garlic and onion in butter
mixture. Stir in prosciutto and chicken. Cook, stirring occasionally, until
chicken is brown. Stir in vodka. Heat on high until mixture is quite hot. Carefully
ignite. When flame has been extinguished, stir in whipping cream, olives, parsley,
and pepper. (To extinguish flame easily, cover with lid.) Bring mixture back
to the boil. Reduce heat. Simmer, uncovered, thirty minutes, stirring frequently
until thickened. Cook penne according to package directions. Toss together penne
and sauce and top with cheese. Makes 6 servings.
MONITOR
MINIATURES
** Remodeling Old Ideas:
We recently received the following press release from Karen Mayry, President
of the National Federation of the Blind of South Dakota:
[Photo #23: Bob Schumacher works at his
saw table marking a piece of wood before cutting it. Caption: Bob Schumacher
works at his saw table.]
Just look at Bob Schumacher from Mobridge,
South Dakota. Several years ago, as he was losing his vision, Bob was told that
he could no longer work in the motel he was operating, repair rentals he owned,
or do anything else productive. Fortunately he did not listen. Today Bob does
his own carpentry work on a variety of rentals, builds sheds, and has repaired
roofs. Blind and can't work? Don't you believe it!
Bob also serves as the NFB chapter President in Mobridge, South Dakota. He coordinated
hosting the 1993 state convention, organized a White Cane Day bake sale, and
sells tickets for the chapter's Valentine's Day dinner at a local restaurant
in Mobridge to raise money for the scholarship fund. His chapter is really on
the move.
** Public Employees Newsletter Announced:
The Public Employees Division of the National Federation of the Blind plans
to publish a quarterly newsletter beginning in March, 1995. It will address
issues relating to blind employees of federal, state, and local governments.
If you wish to receive this publication or to contribute information to it,
please send your name, address, and telephone number to Arthur Tackman, 1250
Fourth Street, S.W., Unit W-109, Washington, D.C. 20024, or call (202) 488-8233.
** Attention Would-Be Convention Exhibitors:
Duane Gerstenberger, NFB Executive Director, reports that the decision has been
made no longer to give free space to local chapters in the exhibit hall at National
Conventions. We will still give space, however, to affiliates, divisions, and
committees.
** Elected:
Dr. Norman Gardner, recent National Representative to the annual convention
of the National Federation of the Blind of Puerto Rico, reports the following
election results: Ivan Nieto, President; Alpidio Rolon, First Vice President;
Lydia Usero, Second Vice President; Vaneza Delgado, Treasurer; and Jesseca Borrero,
Secretary. Amarilys Torres, Maria Diaz, Pedro Alvarado, and Carmen Brigantti
were elected to serve as members of the affiliate's Board of Directors.
** Hoping to Buy:
We have been asked to carry the following announcement:
I am looking for a Perkins Brailler at a reasonable price. Please call Carmen
at (515) 435-4151 days or (515) 435-2036 evenings.
** First Audio Dart Tournament in Delaware:
We have been asked to carry the following announcement:
The first National Audio Dart Tournament to be held in Delaware will take place
May 5, 6, and 7, 1995, at the Holiday Inn Downtown, Wilmington. There will be
six events with $1,000 in prize money per event. Entry fee will be $20 for each
event. If you participate in all six events, the entry fee is $60. Entry
fee must be received no later than March 31, 1995. Accommodations at the Holiday
Inn Downtown, Wilmington, are $62.00 per night plus eight percent tax. For information
contact National Tournament, Pat and Stan Smith, 1110 Maryland Avenue, Wilmington,
Delaware 19805, or call (302) 658-7231; or contact Jack Turner by calling (302)
577-3080 (work), (302) 764-3361 (home).
** For Sale:
We have been asked to carry the following announcement:
I have for sale an Arkenstone (Hot Reader) True Scan card, HP Scanjet Plus with
daughter card and automatic document feeder, which attaches to the scanner.
All documentation is in print and on disk with taped tutorial and version 2.02
of software. Asking $900, including insured shipping UPS in the United States.
Write to Roger Behm, 1611 Clover Lane, Janesville, Wisconsin 53545, or call
(608) 754-0658.
** 1995 Space Camp for Adults:
We have been asked to carry the following announcement:
Adult Space Camp for the Blind will be held at the U.S. Space and Rocket Center
in Huntsville, Alabama, May 12 to 14, 1995. This program is coordinated by the
West Virginia School for the Blind. Braille, large print, and some adaptive
equipment will be provided. Sighted guides and additional specialized assistance
will be provided by the Teacher Training Program at the University of Alabama
at Birmingham. Cost for the program is approximately $500 for tuition, plus
one night stay prior to the weekend, transportation, and personal souvenirs.
For additional information please contact Dan Oates, West Virginia School for
the Blind, 301 East Main Street, Romney, West Virginia 26757, or call (304)
822-4883 (office) or (304) 822-4410 (home).
** 1995 Space Camp for Kids:
We received the following announcement with the previous one:
Space camp for children with visual disabilities will be held September 16 to
23, 1995 (Level II) and September 17 to 22 (Level I). This program is also coordinated
by the West Virginia School for the Blind. Last year 113 students from sixteen
states participated in this program. Braille, large print, low vision devices,
CCTV's, refreshable Braille displays, synthetic speech, etc. will be available
during this special week to allow a better experience. These adaptations have
been made possible by Access Technologies of Decatur, Alabama; Telesensory,
Inc.; Mark Goodkin & Associates; and Optelec. This will be the sixth year
for the program, which continues to grow every year. Special health and diet
considerations can be easily dealt with. Cost of the programs ranges from $500
to $725. Additional costs include transportation and personal souvenirs. Depending
upon the student's arrival time, there may be additional lodging and food costs.
Those interested in additional information should contact Kathy Johnson at (304)
822-4897 or Dan Oates at (304) 822-4883 (office), (304) 822-4410 (home).
** Elected:
Ruth Hazel Staley, Secretary of the Mecklenburg County Chapter of the National
Federation of the Blind of North Carolina, reports the following election results:
Mabel Conder, President; Pat Robbins, Vice President; Hazel Staley, Secretary;
Laurancene Murphy, Treasurer; and Janis Lynn Stallings, board member.
** Perkins Brailler Repairs Available:
Joseph Staniewski has asked us to report the following:
The Selective Doctor, Inc., is a repair service for all IBM typewriters and
now Perkins Braille writers. Located in Baltimore, the service has done work
for the Maryland School for the Blind and a number of other organizations in
Maryland. They now accept Perkins Braillers sent to them from around the country.
They advertise top quality service at yesterday's prices. They also request
a phone call before shipment of Braillers and ask that equipment be insured
in the mails. For more information contact the Selective Doctor, Inc., P.O.
Box 28432, Baltimore, Maryland 21234, or call (410) 668-1143.
** Elected:
The National Federation of the Blind of Southeast Ohio conducted its 1995 elections
in January. The results were as follows: Dr. John Smith, President; Roger Hawk,
Vice President; Meghan Burns, Secretary; Jeff Bates, Treasurer; and Brenda Blake,
Board Member.
** That the Blind May Read Airs on Television:
As many people now know, January 4 is the anniversary of Louis Braille's birth.
In an increasing number of communities around the country, the days around it
are now recognized as Braille Literacy Week. According to "The Clipboard,"
a weekly publication of the National Federation of the Blind of California,
the NFB's new video, That the Blind May Read, was shown in San Francisco on
Channel 53, City Visions, on January 2 at 9:00 p.m. in commemoration of Braille
Literacy Week. Member Larry Hunt made arrangements for the showing of the video,
and the station management liked it so well that they asked to show it again
in the spring. On Wednesday evening, January 4, at 8:30 p.m., the video was
shown over Channel 18 in Sacramento at the request of Federationist Paul McIntyre.
Paul is also working with the cable access television station in Pleasanton
to schedule a time when the video can be shown there in the near future. This
is an excellent way to spread the word about the importance of Braille literacy
and to alert the public to the availability of our video. It can be ordered
from the Materials Center, National Center for the Blind, 1800 Johnson Street,
Baltimore, Maryland 21230. The cost is $20 for the seventeen-minute version
and $35 for the twenty-seven-minute one.
** For Sale:
We have been asked to carry the following announcement:
I have a number of access/adaptive technology items that may be available for
sale. Depending on what sells first, I will have to keep some things for my
home-office work. The majority of the following is new, unless otherwise indicated.
I list the retail price first and then my asking price. Here's the list: Mega
Dots, $495, $375; OsCaR, $995, $750; Vocal-Eyes, $450, $325; DECtalk PC, $1,195,
$900; HP Scanjet IICX with sheet feeder and interface kit, $1,500, $1,100; Navigator
40/8 (used three years), asking, $3,000; Braille Lite with one-year service,
$3,850, $2,900; and Index Everest Braille Embosser, $3,595, $2,800. Some prices
are negotiable. If you are interested, please contact Soonkyu Shin as soon as
possible at J.P. Morgan and Company, 60 Wall Street, 22nd Floor, New York, New
York 10260, phone (212) 648-3931, email [email protected], or Fax (212) 648-5751.
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