Climbing the Acropolis

Climbing the Acropolis

The Braille Monitor

__May 1997

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Climbing the Acropolis

by Susan Povinelli

From the Editor: The following story

first appeared in the Summer, 1996, issue of the Vigilant, the publication of

the NFB of Virginia. Susan Povinelli is an engineer by training. She works for

the United States Navy. She, her lawyer husband, and their children live in

the Virginia suburbs of Washington, D.C., and are active in the Virginia affiliate.

This is what Susan says:

As I climbed the multitude of steps

to the top of the Acropolis in Athens, Greece, I thought of all the ancient

Greek philosophers who climbed this path to the summit to sit and contemplate

the meaning of life. I reflected on the wisdom of those ancient philosophers.

Now I reflect on how I took that opportunity to travel to Greece.

In April, 1993, I was offered a job with my agency's training group as a training

system manager to support one of our foreign military sales programs. I remember

spending one sleepless night contemplating two great philosophical ideas. The

first was the general public's philosophy of blindness: that because of helplessness

a blind person cannot travel independently and conduct business in a foreign

country. The other was the National Federation of the Blind's philosophy that

a blind person with the proper skills and training can travel independently

and accomplish a multitude of jobs. I recalled a blind colleague's struggle

to enter the foreign service, and I decided that, if he

could travel abroad independently, so could I. So I accepted the position. That

sleepless night was not the last time these two competing philosophies would

come into conflict around me.

About a month after I started the new job, a discreet effort was made to transfer

me out of it. The old philosophy of blindness had reared its head again. Questions

were raised. How would the customer perceive and react to a blind manager? How

would a blind person be able to interpret nonverbal communication? I assured

them, as I had done many times before, a blind person using good management

and blindness skills could do the job efficiently. As for nonverbal communication,

there would be others available to advise me on any matter I had missed--nonverbal

communication or technical issues.

Let me briefly describe what I do as a training system manager. When a customer

(foreign government) procures an aircraft, its personnel need to learn how to

maintain and fly that aircraft. The training team and I develop a training program

and then implement it. I incorporate the following techniques in my job:

I use Braille throughout my work. Pricing

data are developed with a computer spreadsheet program, which I then translate

into Braille using the Duxbury translation program on my MacIntosh computer.

This allows me to reference the data while on the phone or in a meeting. I use

Braille briefing sheets that correspond to the printed view graphs. These are

notes for my brief.

My job requires that I travel to the customer's country and assess the facilities

where the training will be conducted. This survey is usually conducted by a

team of technical experts. The experts and I look at the facility. The expert

points out what is wrong and what is right. We then discuss items needing correction

and develop a plan to remedy the problem.

One of the management tools used is a milestone chart. This graphically displays

each event by its duration. For years I was baffled about how to make raised-line

drawings quickly and inexpensively. I learned to use a child's screen board

(a piece of cardboard with wire window screen placed over it). A member of my

support staff places the milestone chart on top of the screen board, traces

the milestone chart with a crayon, and labels the events in Braille. This same

technique could be used for floor plans, engineering drawings, or any diagram

which has few details.

Now that you know what I do and how I conduct my job, it is time to catch an

airplane and fly to Greece. I remember the first time I went. The rest of my

team was already there, and I had to make the trip alone. Once again the two

philosophies clashed. Airline personnel, especially in foreign lands, believe

that a blind person cannot travel independently and find the boarding gate.

Most airlines have policies to escort the blind person to an assist lounge or

to chairs outside the boarding gates. The questions that plagued me were, would

accepting assistance impede my independence? Would I miss my connection and

spend the night in John F. Kennedy Airport? Could I catch a taxi in Athens if

no one met me at the airport?

I realized that the real problem was not my blindness but my lack of Greek.

I was more frightened of not being able to communicate than of getting lost

in an airport. I frequently use the airport assistance services when I travel

alone because I know it is the most efficient way to travel through large airports,

especially in Frankfurt, where I know there are no chairs outside the boarding

gates and the airport is so large that dragging around carry-on luggage is difficult.

I can proudly claim that I have made that trip across the Atlantic several times

alone. As I was standing next to the rock from which Saint Paul was supposed

to have preached Christianity to the ancient Greeks, I wondered what important

message I had to share. At the time nothing came to mind. But a few weeks later,

as I was giving a presentation on blindness to my children's school, I recognized

it: being blind is not a tragedy. With the proper skills and alternative techniques,

a blind person can live a

successful and productive life.