FUTURE REFLECTIONS
THE
NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND
MAGAZINE FOR
PARENTS OF BLIND CHILDREN
Vol. 15, No. 1
Winter, 1996
In lieu of a regular magazine issue Future Reflections, Winter,
1996, volume 15, number 1, is a special mailing of two excellent large-
print books: The World Under My Fingers: Personal Reflections on
Braille and Care and Feeding of the Long White Came: Instructions in
Cane Travel for Blind People. I believe you will enjoy them and will
find yourself referring to them for information and inspiration many
times in the coming year.
Barbara Cheadle, Editor
Contents
The World Under My Fingers: Personal Reflections on Braille
Edited by Barbara Pierce
Published by the National Federation of the Blind
copyright 1995
Care and Feeding of the Long White Cane:
Instructions in Cane Travel for Blind People
by Thomas Bickford
Published by the National Federation of the Blind
copyright 1993
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The World Under My Fingers:
Personal Reflections on Braille
Edited by
Barbara Pierce
Table of Contents
An Open Letter to Parents 1
Who Should Learn Braille 11
Keeping Within the Lines 23
The Everyday Usefulness of Braille 33
Blueprint for Learning? 43
Braille Made the Difference 55
The Value of Learning Braille as a Child 57
Braille is an Essential Part of My Life Because... 63
Braille or Print: Why the Debate 73
The Chance to Read 93
Reflections of a Lifelong Braille Reader 101
Braille Today and Tomorrow 117
Braille: What Is It? What Does It Mean to the Blind? 135
A Lucky Beginning, A Happy Ending 143
INTRODUCTION
All parents yearn for their children to be happy and healthy and
to grow up to live satisfying and productive lives. If it were possible
to do so, we would arrange for them to be attractive, intelligent,
ambitious, sensible, and funnyþall the traits, in short, we wish we
could boast and never have enough of, no matter how talented we are.
Obviously our children do not grow up to exhibit all these traits, but
most of them do well enough with the skills and attributes we do manage
to impart to them.
Sometimes, however, a child must come to terms with very real
difficulties: frequent or serious illness, mental handicaps of one kind
or another, or physical disability. The parents, too, must then face the
limitations or alterations that such problems place on our children and
on our dreams for them. The natural instinct is to feel that the more
closely the child can be taught to mimic the behavior of so-called
normal youngsters, the better off he or she will be in the long run,
because the differences will be less obvious. If we are honest with
ourselves, we usually find that a part of this reaction also comes from
the feeling that we will not have to confront the problem as directly
and painfully if the trappings of disability are kept to a minimum.
However, successful adults who have coped with various disabilities for
many years have a somewhat different notion. We have found that striving
for the independence and richness of normal adult experience is far more
satisfying and constructive than trying to use the methods of those who
have no obvious disabilities, even though such striving requires mastery
of alternative techniques and skills.
In the case of people whose vision is so poor as to make it
difficult or impossible to read regular print for extended periods of
time and to write accurately and legibly, it is extremely useful to
learn to read and write using Braille. When learned early and taught by
a knowledgeable teacher, Braille is an invaluable tool for those who
cannot use print comfortably for extended periods of time or in all
kinds of light.
Most of the following stories and articles are firsthand accounts
of people who have depended on Braille all their lives or who were
denied Braille instruction and have paid the price of that neglect for
years. As you consider whether or not to ask that your child be taught
Braille, we invite you to consider the experience and views of these
competent blind adults.
AN OPEN LETTER TO PARENTS
By Barbara Pierce
Editor's note: Barbara Pierce is the President of the National
Federation of the Blind of Ohio and Editor of the Braille Monitor
magazine.
Can you remember the intoxication of learning to read? I can. When
I began first grade, the Scott-Foresman primers about the adventures of
Dick, Jane, and Sally were in use, and I still remember the picture of
Dick standing on his shoulders in a pile of leaves, feet kicking in the
air, while one of his sisters intoned the page's text, "Look at Dick!
Funny, funny Dick!"
Had I but known it, those early weeks of first grade were the high
point of my reading career. We gathered around the teacher in reading
groups to sound out the words and falter our way through each page. I
was good at it. I understood the principles of picking out the sound of
each letter and shoving them together rapidly enough to guess at the
meaning. The result was that I was in the first reading group.
My success didn't last long. By second semester each page bore
many more lines of print, and my mother was forced to work with me at
home after school or before bed to help me keep up. For I was what they
called a low-vision child. I could see the print with only one eye, and
I am certain that I was legally blind, though no one ever used that word
in my hearing. Mother placed a little lamp close to the page so that I
could see as well as possible, but the letters were still blurred, and I
could never get the hang of reading an entire word at once.
By second grade I was in the second reading group, and by third
grade I had slipped to the third group, despite the lamp now clipped to
the side of my desk. I had to face the truth: I was dumb. I lay awake at
night worrying about the increasing number of spelling workbook
exercises left undone because my reading and writing were too slow to
complete them in class. I still maintained an unbroken string of perfect
spelling tests because my parents drilled me on the spelling lists every
week. The tests were nothing, but the workbook! I fantasized about what
it would be like to go to bed at night and not stare open-eyed into the
black prospect of mortification when the truth about me and my
incomplete work eventually came to my parents' notice.
It happened at the close of the third marking period, and it came,
as such things do, like a bolt from the blue. I had actually brought
home what I thought was a good report cardþall A's and B'sþexcept for
art, penmanship, and gym, in which I always got C's. Everybody knew that
I was terrible at those things because "Barbara's blind as a bat." But
the dreaded unmasking of my shameful secret in the spelling workbook
seemed to me to have remained hidden beneath an A for yet one more
grading period. I handed my mother my report card and ran out to play.
But when my brother and I were called in for dinner (Dad was out of town
at the time), I knew that something was wrong; Mother had been crying,
and she did not sit down to dinner with us. She said that she had a
headache. It soon became apparent that I was the headache. My report
card had betrayed me after all. In all that hard-to-read small print at
the bottom the teacher had given me a U (unsatisfactory) in the
puts-forth-best-effort category, where I was used to getting
E's(Excellent) or at least S's (satisfactory).
Mother went to school the next day and learned the horrible truth
about me. I was astonished to learn afterward that the relief of having
my shameful secret out in the open actually reduced my burden. True, I
had to make up all the work I had been avoiding because the reading had
become too difficult. Play time was much reduced, and I had to learn all
over again how to go to sleep without worrying, but things were never
again as bad.
In the following years we tried magnifying glasses for my good
right eye, and the summer after fourth grade I had to be tutored in an
effort to learn to read with high magnification. In September of fifth
grade my new teacher called on me to read a paragraph in the geography
book during the class lesson. I read like a second grader, and I was
mortified. The teacher never called on me again. By sixth grade I was
hardly using the glasses at all. I was quick to learn as long as I
didn't have to struggle to make sense of the print, and it was easier on
everyone for the teacher to assign a rapid reader to work with me on
in-class reading projects.
Finally, at the close of seventh grade, my parents faced the
painful truth: if I were to have any hope of literacy, I would have to
learn Braille. Print was no longer an option. I mastered the Braille
code in a summer of weekly lessons taught by a woman who used Braille
herself, though she admitted that she was not a good Braille reader. She
assured me that her husband could read Braille rapidly, but I never
heard him or anyone else use the code efficiently. People told me it was
important to use my Braille and that practice would increase my speed.
But by that point in my education I had already worked out alternative
ways of getting my reading and writing done, and I was no longer eager
to crawl down a page of text as we had done in early elementary school.
I practiced writing Braille with my slate and stylus because I knew that
in college I would need a good way of taking notes in lectures, but I
never made time to learn to read Braille properly.
Now that I am a member of the National Federation of the Blind, I
know hundreds of people who read Braille easily and well. Some of them
could not see print when they were beginning school, so Braille was the
only option for them. But many more could make out print when they were
learning to read, even though as adults they cannot see it. They were
lucky enough to be taught Braille along with print, and they simply and
naturally learned to decide which method would be most useful for each
reading task. As a result they now read Braille at several hundred words
a minute.
I have never regretted learning to read print. Everyone should
know the shapes of print letters, but I will always bitterly regret that
I was not taught Braille as a small child. Today I am struggling to gain
the speed and accuracy in reading Braille that I should have had by the
time I was ten. I have now been working at it for six years, and my
reading speed has tripled, but I must face the fact that I will probably
never read as well as a bright ten-year-old. Setting aside the fact that
the adult brain does not master new skills as rapidly as does a child's,
I cannot bring myself to practice reading aloud to my long-suffering
family. The time for taking advantage of such an opportunity is
childhood, and I cannot inflict my stumbling reading on my husband.
If my mother could speak to you who are facing the dilemma of
whether or not to demand that your children learn Braille, she would
urge you to decide in favor of Braille. No matter how clearly a
youngster can see print at the moment, if the vision is fragile or
problematic in any way, Braille will often become invaluable in the
future, even if print too continues to be useful. I urge you to keep
your child's options open and your expectations high. All young things
need space to stretch and grow within their God-given abilities. Please
insist that your child be given a chance.
WHO SHOULD LEARN BRAILLE
Editor's note: The following is an excerpt from a document written
by members of the National Federation of the Blind of Maryland and
staffers from the Maryland Department of Education, which is titled
"Selection of Reading and Writing Media for Students with Visual
impairments: Braille, Print, or Both?"
Decision-Making Process
The decision to teach Braille, print, or both will take into
consideration all of the information gathered during the assessment. The
assessment information will help the team select from among the
following options. Students may be taught to use:
1. Braille
2. Print
3. Braille, complemented with print
4. Print, complemented with Braille
The remainder of this section provides examples of the kinds of
assessment data that will assist a team in choosing one of the four
options. Of course, assessment descriptions provided below are somewhat
generic, i.e., not all parts of the descriptions will apply to each
student. Since students are individuals, not everyone will fit neatly
into one of the four categories. In reviewing these descriptions, team
members should ask which factors best describe the individual student.
It is also important to remember that, when the selected option
includes both Braille and print, the amount of use of one or the other
will vary with each student. Student input should be obtained so that
the team decision is sensitive to student preference and concerns.
Additionally, as a student's vision or visual demands change over time,
the use of one medium over another may change.
However, even though a student may use one medium more than
another at a given time, it is critical that the student develop
proficient use of both. For the preschool student this will mean that
opportunities for visual and tactual activities are provided equally.
Later, the amount of time teaching or practicing with a certain medium
will depend on all assessment data and the current needs of the student.
The team must continually focus on the ultimate outcome so that the
student will be able to choose and use the medium of preference or the
medium most functional for a given situation.
Which Students Should Learn Braille?
Medical Factors: Student is totally blind, nearly so, or expected
to experience rapid loss of vision.
Physical Factors: An additional disability does not interfere with
the ability to learn Braille.
Environmental Factors: Adjustments in natural and artificial
lighting do not enhance student ability to read print.
Print Reading Factors: If the student can read print at all,
reading is extremely slow and laborious, even when all print factors
have been adjusted for maximum efficiency.
Handwriting Factors: Student cannot read own handwriting to carry
out functional handwriting demands.
Low Vision Technological Factors: Student cannot read print at any
comfort level, even using a CCTV or other non-portable devices.
Which Students Should Learn Print?
Medical Factors: Student has a stable eye condition or has a
prognosis of continued improvement.
Physical Factors: Student experiences no fatigue or discomfort
from reading. The nature of an additional disability prohibits tactual
reading. Student, when systematically assessed, exhibits inability to
process tactual information with any accuracy and facility.
Environmental Factors: Student does not require extensive
modifications in natural or artificial lighting in order to read
comfortably for extended periods of time.
Print Reading Factors: Student reads regular print comfortably and
efficiently in most settings and circumstances. Reading rate accuracy is
commensurate with student's expected grade level. Performance level is
commensurate with overall ability. Student can use print easily for all
academic, nonacademic, and vocational needs.
Handwriting Factors: Student has legible handwriting and can
easily read own and others' notes at a comfortable distance, even after
some time has elapsed.
Low Vision Technological Factors: Student reads regular print
without low vision devices and comfortably uses pocket-size
magnification for reading fine print, such as the telephone book,
medicine labels, dictionary, and encyclopedia.
Which Students Should Learn Braille Complemented with Print?
Medical Factors: Student has diagnosis or prognosis of severe
visual impairment, has a degenerative eye condition, or has severely
restricted visual fields.
Physical Factors: Student holds book close to face, can read only
large print, or regularly suffers from headaches, fatigue, or visual
discomfort after reading. Student exhibits strong preference for tactual
exploration and learning. Student can read using an electronic low
vision aid, but only with effort; cannot read with hand-held magnifiers
with any reasonable speed or comprehension. Student is unable to
complete assigned school work in a timely manner consistently and
independently.
Environmental factors: Glare and/or lighting variations make
reading difficult or impossible in many settings.
Print Reading Factors: Student's print reading speed is far below
that of other students of the same developmental level. Student
consistently demonstrates inaccuracy when reading. Student has
difficulty in reading a variety of print styles or print on colored
background.
Handwriting Factors: Student can only read notes when written with
a broad tip pen one to two inches high and may have difficulty
accurately reading what was written or can only read notes using a CCTV
or other non-portable device.
Which Students Should Learn Print Complemented with Braille?
Medical Factors: Student has a currently stable eye condition but
is at risk of eventual deterioration, has a slowly progressive eye
condition, has restricted visual field, or has fluctuating vision.
Physical Factors: Student's posture during reading results in back
and neck strain or headaches. Student complains of watering eyes,
blurring, or other visual discomfort after extensive reading or writing
tasks. Student cannot complete assignments without relying on other
individuals or technology for reading and/or note taking.
Environmental Factors: Glare and/or lighting variations make
reading difficult or impossible in some settings.
Print Reading Factors: Student cannot read regular print easily
and accurately for an appropriate length of time in order to complete
tasks throughout the day. Student may read material in both regular and
large print formats. Student reads primarily in large print format
combined with optical or electronic low-vision devices. Student is
unable to maintain a reading rate commensurate with grade level work
demands. Student depends on extraordinarily large print for accessing
practical information such as oral report notes, grocery lists, names
and addresses, etc. In preschool observations should include how a
student approaches learning, i.e., a visual versus tactual approach.
Handwriting Factors: Student has difficulty producing and reading
own or others' handwriting.
Low Vision Technological Factors: Student may use CCTV or other
non-portable devices for visual materials such as maps and diagrams.
KEEPING WITHIN THE LINES
by Marc Maurer
Editor's Note: Marc Maurer is President of the National Federation
of the Blind. He is a graduate of Notre Dame and the University of
Indiana Law School and a member of the bar of several states and the
United States Supreme Court. He is also the father of two young
children. Braille is an important tool for himþin his career and in his
home. Here is what he has to say about some of his early experiences
with Braille:
The kindergarten in the public school that I attended when I was
five left me with a feeling of alienation and frustrationþthough I
didn't know the words to describe the problem. My teacher was a kind and
gentle lady, who tried to help me, but I presented difficulties which
she felt unable to solve. Many of the kindergarten activities were done
visually. Learning colors, drawing, recognizing letters and numbers,
naming the geometric shapesþall of these were presented visually. Some
kindergarten tasks could be done quite effectively without
sightþcounting, reciting the alphabet, remembering your own address and
telephone number, listing in order the days of the week or the months of
the year. But in the drawing classes I was unable to "keep within the
lines," and "keeping within the lines" was important.
I learned the shapes of the print capital letters from the
building blocks we had, and I came to know the forms of numbers in the
same way. By the time kindergarten had come to an end, I had learned to
print my name, M-A-R-C, but I usually got it backwardsþC-R-A-M. As I
viewed it, the experiment with kindergarten was only marginally
successful. Although it was never stated, the lesson of kindergarten was
unmistakableþblind people are different from others; they require
kindness; they can't do the ordinary things that other people do; they
can't keep within the lines.
My parents decided that I would attend the school for the blind
even though doing so meant that I would be away from home during most of
the school year. Of course, I could return home for holidays and during
some weekends, but the rest of the time I would live in a dormitory with
my classmates at the school. At the age of six I left home. The school
for the blind was over a hundred miles from our house. It was the
beginning of a different kind of life.
Because I was at that time almost totally blind, I was expected to
learn Braille. We started the learning process with flash cards. There
was a straight line of Braille dots across the top of each card and a
single word in the center. I still remember the first flash card I ever
read; it contained the word "go."
Each of us was given our first reading bookþthe primer about Dick
and Jane and Spot. It was the first Braille book I ever had in my hands.
My book seemed to be about a foot square and about a half an inch thick.
The teacher told us to open our books to page one. My desk was in the
first row, about the sixth or seventh from the front. The first child in
the row was asked to read page one. When there were mistakes, the
teacher corrected them.
Then the second student was asked to read the same page. Again,
when there were mistakes, the teacher corrected them. The lesson
continued in the same manner. Each student in the first row was asked to
read page one. By the time the teacher got to me, my job was clear, and
my performance flawless. With my fingers on the page, I spoke the words
of page one with never an error or hesitation. The teacher praised me
highly and asked me to come to the front of the room. She produced a
gold star from her desk drawer and pasted it to page one of my book. She
told me to take my book home and show it to my mother. This is exactly
what I did. On Friday night after the journey home I proudly produced my
primer, opened it to page one, and recited the words which appeared on
the page.
My mother is a properly suspicious woman. She had learned Braille
in the years before I attended school because she thought it might be
helpful to me. She asked me if she could borrow the book, and of course
I gave it to her. Later during the weekend she brought me a page of
Braille and asked me to read it. Without much concern I confessed that I
could not. My mother told me that it was an exact copy of page one of my
book. I had memorized the words, but I was not able to read them.
During the summer between my first and second grade years, my
mother took matters in hand. She told me that I must learn to read, and
she said that she would teach me. For an hour every morning I was going
to study Braille. I complained. The other kids got to go outside to
play, but I could not. Nobody else had summer school at homeþonly me.
But none of my griping did any good. My mother had made up her mind; I
was going to learn to read.
When I returned to the school for the blind for second grade, I
discovered the library of Braille booksþthat collection of
sweet-smelling Braille volumes almost a foot square and about two and a
half inches thick. During the next four years I read every book that the
librarian would let me have. I developed the habit of reading at night.
Blindness has some advantages. I would slide the book under the bed
sometime during the evening. Bedtime was 8:00. The house parent made his
rounds between 8:30 and 8:45. I could hear his shoes coming down the
hall and then receding in the distance. When the footsteps had faded,
the book came out. No light is needed for Braille. Sometimes it was
cold, but the Braille book would fit under the covers.
I tried the same system at home, and it worked most of the time.
When I got caught, which happened occasionally, my mother spanked me.
The punishments were fair, but the reading was worth it.
Although I complained bitterly about learning Braille, I am deeply
grateful to my mother for insisting that I learn it. How fortunate I am
that she understood the necessity for me to read. How fortunate I am
that she was persistent and demanding. How fortunate I am that she had
learned Braille herself and was able to teach me.
Today we in the National Federation of the Blind do much to help
make Braille available to blind students and to encourage the teaching
of Braille both to children and adults who are blind. But this is not
how it has always been. There was a time when Braille was regarded as
inferior, and all too often today it does not get the attention it
deserves. Much of my work as a lawyer could not have been done without
Braille. I now read to my children most evenings. They enjoy the
stories, and I enjoy the reading as much as they do. How different my
life would have been without the ability to read Braille. How different
it can be for the children of this generation if we give them the chance
to learn. The message should not be that blind people are different and
unable to take part. Even though I might not be able to draw, my mother
felt certain that I could keep within the lines. We in the National
Federation of the Blind are doing what we can to make it come true.
THE EVERYDAY USEFULNESS OF BRAILLE
by Lauren L. Eckery
Editor's note: We can hope that the time will come, sooner rather
than later, when an article like the following will no longer be an
appropriate candidate for inclusion in the pages of a publication like
this. No one needs to persuade sighted people about the pervasive
usefulness of print; the case has been made so effectively that even
those for whom it is inconvenient, awkward, or painful struggle to use
it. But would-be Braille-users and parents of children for whom print is
not an efficient tool still need down-to-earth examples of the value of
Braille in the conduct of everyday life. So here are some practical
reminders about Braille from a busy, organized working woman and mother
who uses Braille as efficiently and automatically as her sighted
counterparts use print.
Lauren Eckery is an active working woman and mother. She
frequently writes about her experiences as a blind person.
It is the early 1970's, and my family is traveling by car to
Minnesota for a vacation. Both my mother and I like to read and crochet
on long trips.
The dimness of the evening sky envelops us gradually, and my
mother stops reading. She also decides she can no longer crochet. She
wants to check the time but cannot see her watch without turning on the
dome light. She chooses to listen to the radio or take a nap.
Meanwhile, in the back seat of the car, I continue my activities.
I read my Braille magazine for a while. Then I crochet several rows on
my afghan. Braille labels help me keep the different colors of yarn in
order. Now and then I check the time on my Braille watch, the excitement
mounting as we near our final destination.
It is the later 1970's or early 1980's. I am singing in my church
choir. During our Thursday evening service prior to Good Friday, the
lights are extinguished one by one until it is nearly dark in the
sanctuary. While the choir sings, I notice a discreet scramble for notes
and lyrics. I continue singing the alto part I have memorized and
reading the lyrics in Braille. Rather than becoming anxious and
embarrassed by struggling to continue the music, I go on as before,
experiencing the special tone of the service.
It is any day. I am speaking to a group of school children, who
are interested in what I am saying about blindness: "Given the proper
training and opportunity, blind people can lead normal lives." But their
favorite part of the presentation is the show- and-tell segment, during
which I demonstrate various aids and appliances enabling the blind to be
independent. Their greatest curiosity seems to revolve around Braille.
"What is it? What do you do with it? How do you read and write it? Is it
hard to learn?"
Simply telling the children that Braille is a blind person's
equivalent to print is seldom enough. They seem to understand that
Braille can be used in school for reading and taking notes, but for what
else can one use it? Again, to oversimplify, saying that we use Braille
for the same purposes one uses print for often goes uncomprehended. The
children want concrete examples.
At our 1991 annual convention of the National Federation of the
Blind, held in New Orleans, Louisiana, the usefulness of Braille was one
of the underlying themes of our discussions. In the course of attending
convention activities, I was observed and approached by several new
Federation members who were losing some of their vision. They were
grappling with the fact that they needed to learn Braille. Two young
women who spoke with me knew that it made sense. They had been told that
Braille could be useful to them, but they were reluctant to commit the
full amount of time and effort necessary to learn Braille well enough to
use it on a daily basis. Their lack of motivation seemed to stem from a
lack of everyday examples in which using Braille could be useful and
necessary for them. They, like the children I have spoken of previously,
understood that Braille was useful for academic and employment pursuits,
but what about blind people who are neither in school nor working? How
could they make Braille such a part of their lives that they couldn't
resist learning and using it efficiently? I was pleased to give these
convention delegates concrete examples and encouragement in the use of
Braille.
With the advent of our efforts to obtain a Braille bill in
Nebraska, readers of News from Blind Nebraskans and other interested
parties might appreciate some further examples of the everyday
usefulness of Braille in the lives of everyday independent blind
persons. Although the list is endless, here are some examples which have
occurred to me during the writing of this article:
Taking telephone and other messages; making grocery and other
lists; keeping telephone numbers, addresses, and other informational
index files; placing Brailled clear plastic sheet overlays into printed
children's books so that blind parents, teachers, and others can read to
blind or sighted children; keeping recipes, crochet or knitting
patterns, and instructions of various types in Braille for efficient and
independent access- -and the list goes on.
One can label almost anything in Braille: photographs; phonograph
records; cassette tapes; video tapes; games; puzzle pieces; food items;
medications; printed materials for later filing; checks; receipts; bills
and other documents for independent handling of finances; household and
other appliances; newsletter mailers; coupons; greeting cards; post
cards; gift tags; yarn, thread, and other needlework equipment; etc.
At this point one might decide that such labeling mania is
overwhelmingly time-consuming. Abbreviations to the rescue! For
instance, when I label a spool of thread, I abbreviate the color so that
the small label will fit on the end of the spoolþ"bl" for blue, "br" for
brown, "bk" for black, "gy" for gray, "pk" for pink. Most blind people
use a combination of memory, recognition by touch, sighted assistance,
and Braille labeling for identification.
An especially interesting example of labeling comes from my
storehouse of childhood memories. One of my favorite pastimes for most
of my youth was cutting out and coloring paper dolls freehand. For
several years I could see blobs of color well enough to use a
color-coded system for naming my paper dolls ("Laurie" was blue skirt
and white top, for example). As my vision waned and the diversity in the
names I chose for these paper dolls increased, I eventually changed my
naming system to one in which I wrote each doll's name in Braille on it.
To this day, I have a collection of some of those paper dolls. My ten-
year-old daughter, Lynden, has enjoyed looking at Mommy's collection.
She has asked me the names of many of the dolls. Although I do still
remember the names of some of the dolls with colored clothing by
recognizing some other characteristic about them, reading the Braille
names is foolproof. If I had wanted to continue coloring the dolls'
clothing, I could have devised a labeling system for my crayons and
paints, but at the time Braille was my preferred choice, whether I
colored the dolls or not.
Years later, as a young adult, I took a cue from my creative
childhood's adaptive technique. When I lost the slight amount of vision
I had, it was simple and natural for me to separate my yarn colors into
individual bags and place a Braille label in each one for
identification. This method works well for multicolored crochet
projects.
One who is just beginning to learn Braille might feel exhausted by
this incomplete list of examples. But believe me, if one has no
opportunity to learn or use Braille or if one is limited in his or her
creative capacity in devising multiple practical applications of
Braille, he or she can indeed be illiterate and unnecessarily dependent
on others for assistance.
On the other hand, if we use Braille pervasively in our lives, we
will become experts at reading and writing it just as print users do
with print. One of Lynden's earliest and best methods for beginning to
learn print, besides watching "Sesame Street," was reading labels and
signs in her environment. Why not make Braille as normal a part of our
environment?
The main purpose for passing a Braille bill in every state of the
Union is to maximize the independence and equality of blind persons, be
they children or adults. Now, who could in good conscience oppose
adoption of a Braille bill once they truly understood the everyday
usefulness of Braille?
BLUEPRINT FOR LEARNING?
by Stephen O. Benson
Editor's note: In many ways a great deal of progress has been made
by blind people in recent timesþmore jobs, better special tools and
equipment, increased understanding. But in at least one critical area
blind children growing up today are being badly shortchanged in a way
that was very nearly unheard of fifty years ago. In recent decades most
blind children have not routinely been taught how to read and write
Braille. Many of these children have now reached adulthood. I talk to
them by the hundreds. Almost without exception they feel they were
betrayed by their teachers and the other experts their parents trusted
to plan their education. We as blind people should not have to fight for
blind children to have the chance to learn to read and write Braille.
Parents expect schools to teach sighted children how to read and
write, and there are laws requiring that it be done. We want the laws to
protect blind children, too. But the experts often fight against such
laws. They seem to think deciding whether to teach a blind child to read
Braille is very complicated. The truth is that it is very simple. If a
child can't see well enough to read print easily, Braille should be
taught. But that is not what usually happens, and the blind child pays a
heavy price for the rest of his or her life.
Steve Benson does public relations and public education for the
Chicago Public Library. He was trained as a high school English teacher
and taught for a number of years before becoming a Braille instructor
and then an administrator of a private agency serving blind people. He
has much personal and professional experience with Braille. This is what
he has to say:
At one and a half years of age my eye condition was diagnosed as
retinitis pigmentosa, which often results in total blindness. As I
approached first grade, my doctors and teachers (the team of
professionals) asserted that I should use my limited vision to its
maximum for as long as possible. My family was directed to enroll me in
what was then called "sight saving." Print was to be the medium by which
I was to learn to read.
The sight saving classroom was equipped with the best technology
of the day (1948): dark green chalkboards with yellow chalk, yellow
paper with heavy green lines, indirect lighting, desks with adjustable
work surfaces that allowed the student to bring reading and writing
materials closer to the face, and typewriters with large print. Each
student wore prescription lenses and had access to hand-held magnifiers.
In addition we used large-print textbooks. In third grade we learned to
type by the touch typing method.
In my case and in countless others, neither equipment nor teaching
techniques would or could work. The techniques and the teachers' efforts
were misapplied. The prescription for sight saving class was in error.
From the first day of class my limited vision prevented me from reading
effectively. Over the course of the next four and a half years my visual
acuity decreased while the print I was expected to read became smaller.
I remember alternately gazing out the window and puzzling over a
printed page. By fourth grade my teachers had to print out my classwork
by hand, using large letters and india ink. With all of that I still
felt as though I was reading grey print on grey paper. Yet I remained in
sight saving class until the middle of fifth grade.
The toll I paid for the professionals' decisions was high. I
dreaded reading; my confidence eroded; I feared blindness; I acquired
bad reading habits that carried over into adulthood. I never checked a
book out of the library. Why should I? I couldn't read it.
During the summer of 1952 the professionals finally admitted that
print might not be the right way for me to be getting an education. In
September of that year I was transferred to what we referred to as the
blind school, where I began to learn Braille. It wasn't difficult. My
teacher was competent. She knew Braille. She gave me positive
encouragement. My reading and writing speeds were slow at first;
however, as I gained proficiency and confidence, speeds increased. In
January of 1953, at age eleven, I checked out and read a library book
for the first time in my life. It was in Braille.
Over the last forty years teams of professionals have continued to
make the same foolish and costly decisions, probably with greater
frequency as the years have passed. As a member of the National
Federation of the Blind Scholarship Committee, I have met an astounding
number of high school and college students who, because they had some
vision, were deprived of Braille or were discouraged from learning it
without regard to whether the student could read print well enough to
compete with sighted peers.
One scholarship applicant, not unusual, uses taped books and a
closed circuit television magnifier. Under the best conditions she is
able to read for only a minute at a time, and that with great
discomfort. She is enrolled as a part-time student in a community
college, partly because her vision doesn't allow her to meet the reading
and writing demands of full-time status. She has asked to be taught
Braille, but her family and the teams of professionals with whom she has
worked have actively discouraged it.
Too many parents assume that the experts must know what's best,
and will necessarily do what's best for the child. Those assumptions are
often wrong and prove to be quite costly to the blind child.
"What's best for the child" is a catch phrase that too often
translates into decisions that are convenient for the teacher, school,
or district and into efforts to make the blind child's educational needs
conform to budget priorities.
Were my experience forty years ago and that of the college student
I described mere coincidence? I don't believe they were. Nor do I
believe that de-emphasis on literacy (Braille) was or is accidental.
De-emphasis on Braille is disgraceful, just as de-emphasis on
print would be. People who have a good command of reading and writing
skills tend to do better in math, science, history, languages, music,
and all the rest. People who can read and write successfully have a
better chance at competitive employment and every other situation in
life, for that matter.
The anti-literacy/anti-Braille position taken by so many educators
of blind children and adults has had wider negative impact than they
might imagine. Several years ago I worked at an agency for the blind in
Chicago. In support of a program to teach Braille, I submitted a grant
request to the Chicago Tribune Foundation. The grant request was turned
down. The reasons, according to a foundation spokesman, were that
Braille has nothing to do with literacy, it is obsolete, and reading can
be done by recordings.
I was disappointed that the program did not receive that support.
I was disgusted by the ignorance of the foundation personnel, but I was
not surprised.
For fifteen years I taught Braille for the Veterans Administration
at Hines Hospital. One of my assigned duties was to supervise Western
Michigan University interns (student teachers) studying to become
rehabilitation teachers.
An alarming number of these interns didn't know Grade II Braille,
could not write with a slate and stylus, and had to be instructed in the
use of an ordinary Braille writer. One intern didn't know Grade I
Braille, though he had taken and passed a Braille course.
Though I wrote negative reports regarding their poor skills, all
of these interns passed the internship, and presumably all were
certified by the Association for the Education and Rehabilitation of the
Blind and Visually Impaired (AER).
If future generations of blind people, children and adults, are to
be literate, if future generations of blind people hope to be
competitive in society, they must have access to the printed word by a
method that will allow writing as well as reading. It is time for
educators to grit their teeth and admit that a colossal error has been
made.
Then they must bring themselves up to speed on Braille and all of
its tools, mechanical and electronic. It is time for educators to join
us in our effort to require that Braille be made available to any child
who wants it and to participate in making sure that sufficient funding
is available to make mandates and good intentions mean something.
BRAILLE MADE THE DIFFERENCE
Editor's note: Because I edit a monthly magazine, the Braille
Monitor, all kinds of material about blindness comes across my desk. But
I recently read two articles within a two-hour period that, taken
together, make the case for Braille more powerfully than anything I have
yet seen or written. The pieces came from totally different sources, but
the authors have a number of things in common. Both are working
womenþsingle, educated, committed to helping other people. Both live in
the Midwest and were educated in regular schools. One, however, was
taught Braille early and with wise insistence that she use it in her
classes and at home. Her parents expected her to read well and did all
the things that good parents do to encourage effective reading skills in
their youngsters. The other was forced to use print even when it was
slow and painful. The cost academically and personally was immense. Not
until she lost the remainder of her sight as an adult was she able to
learn the Braille that she depends upon today and that could have made
all the difference to her in school.
Mary Hartle lives in Iowa, though she grew up in Minnesota.
Jana Schroeder lives in Ohio. She was a 1984 NFB scholarship
winner, and she has served as President of the National Federation of
the Blind of the Miami Valley. She submitted her reflections on Braille
as an essay in a Braille-writing contest conducted by the NFB of Ohio.
Contest entries were to be written using a slate and stylus, and the
winner received a Braille 'n Speak 640, a hand-held Braille computer.
Jana's six-page essay was done in flawless Braille code without a single
slate error. It was the winning entry in the adult category. Viewed
together, these two short autobiographies provide a powerful
illustration in support of the contention that Braille is a vital tool
for anyone who can't read print easily but who wishes to succeed in
life. Here is Mary Hartle's article:
The Value of Learning Braille as a Child
by Mary Hartle
Although visually impaired, I attended regular school in the
1950's and 1960's. I attended a parochial school in Minneapolis and
was the only child with a vision impairment. I was taught to read print
and progressed through the grades along with other children my age. No
effort was ever made to teach me Braille. But, in retrospect, I wish I
had been taught Braille as a small child.
Although I could read standard print, I could not read it as fast
as sighted students could. My grades ranged from a few B's to several
C's, and some D's. (My brothers and sisters got A's and B's.) I was
tracked into the lowest-ability group in junior high, although I was
promoted to the middle group halfway through both the seventh and eighth
grades. I could not read as much material as others could and thus had
to spend more time on homework. I also had to hold books much closer to
my face. Due to prolonged periods of bending over to read books at close
range, I developed posture problems which, to this day, require
chiropractic treatment.
Learning became difficult and painful rather than joyful and
exciting. As reading and learning became more difficult, I came to feel
less intelligent. I began to feel shame and thus had more difficulty
concentrating on learning. I became more anxious because of my increased
difficulty. This was manifested in my struggles with arithmetic in fifth
grade. I can still recall my extreme frustration and tears as I
attempted to do my homework with my family's tutorial help.
As a child I read fewer books than my classmates, especially
novels, although I did read magazines and a few quick-read books. I also
had, and still have, trouble spelling many words because I was not able
to see the letters within words correctly. For instance, spelling
double-consonant words has been particularly difficult because my eyes
did not focus normally when I first learned to spell these words.
Since I did not use Braille as a child, I was truly handicapped in
my educational progress, and my self-confidence was low because I was
unable to read fluently at a normal speed. I was embarrassed about both
my slow reading speed and the fact that I had to look closer in order to
read. Had I learned Braille earlier, I would have been able to read at
a speed similar to that of sighted students.
As I progressed through high school and college, the reading
requirements became much greater, and the size of the print became much
smaller. In college I avoided classes with heavy reading demands, such
as history and literature.
Over the past ten years I have lost the rest of my vision, thus
necessitating my learning Braille. I am not unique. Many legally blind
children with a little useful residual vision become blind adults with
little or no ability to read print. Although I use Braille in my
day-to-day life and on the job, I do not read with the speed I could
have if I had learned Braille in the primary grades. There is nothing
shameful about reading Braille or using any other non-visual technique.
Today's blind children deserve a better education and a better chance to
succeed in our highly competitive information age than I had. In fact,
the need to read as efficiently as possible is more crucial today than
ever before. Without Braille the chances of these children's getting
through high school, much less going beyond it, will be minimal.
When I think of how much Braille would have enhanced my education
even though I could read standard print at the time, I know how
important Braille is for children today who can barely read standard
print or who rely on large print. School does not have to be and should
not be torture. I believe visually impaired children must be given the
opportunity to learn Braille if:
1. they cannot read print at speeds comparable to that of their
classmates;
2. they cannot hold reading material at a normal distance from their
eyes; or
3. they cannot read print for long periods.
Braille is as effective a reading method as print is, and blind
and visually impaired children have the right to become as literate as
their sighted classmates.
That was Mary Hartle's description of growing up and being
educated without an efficient tool for reading and writing. Contrast her
experience with that of Jana Schroeder:
Braille is an Essential Part of My Life Because...
by Jana Schroeder
I was born with extremely limited vision to a family with no prior
experience of blindness. It was the early 1960's, and we lived near
Dayton, Ohio. Looking back, I recognize that I was lucky to have been
born in that place and time and into a sensible, loving family. Without
that fortunate combination of factors, my life might have been very
different.
My family did a lot of reading aloud. From my earliest days I
assumed that I would learn to read when I went to school, just as my
sighted brothers had.
I began my education in a public school that included a resource
room for blind students. These students were assigned to a regular
classroom where we spent most of our time, but we went to the resource
room for part of the day to learn the skills of blindness. I understand
that Dayton was one of the first cities in Ohio with a public school
program for blind children, beginning in the 1950's.
In the first grade, when reading lessons began in earnest, I was
encouraged to read print. Various magnifiers were tried, but the only
thing that worked for me was to put my nose against the paper and hope
the print was big and dark enough. This worked fine with first grade
primers. However, I quickly read all the big print picture books at the
local library. My mom and I soon discovered that in second- and
third-level books the print quickly diminished in size to the point
where I could not distinguish the letters.
My mother believed, like most sighted people (at least those who
are not blindness professionals), that blind people read Braille. So,
sensibly, she insisted that I be taught Braille. Fortunately the
resource room teachers agreed. I cannot be certain that it would be as
easy if I were in school today. I believe that very few blind students
in the Dayton area today are taught Braille.
I had heard my mom and other adults read quickly and fluently, and
I assumed that I would read like that myself. I was never told that
Braille was slower or harder than reading print. I simply accepted that
I was learning to read with my fingers while my sighted classmates
learned to read with their eyes.
One of the best things about the school I attended was that it had
a Braille library. Never since then have I had access to a library where
I could browse to my heart's content. I took home a different book
almost every night. My favorites were biographies and the Little House
series by Laura Ingalls Wilder. On the forty-five-minute drive to and
from school I would often read aloud to Mom. She endured a lot of
stumbling and mispronunciation with patience and good humor. From those
earliest days I received a lot of praise from my parents, grandparents,
and other people for my reading and writing ability. I knew that I read
as well as or better than most of my classmates, and this knowledge
helped lay a solid foundation of self-esteem that has served me well in
the years since, when faced with new challenges.
In the fifth grade a significant challenge came along in the form
of the slate and stylus. By this time I was attending school in my own
district with an itinerant teacher who came to work with me a couple of
times a week. She told me that I needed to learn to use the slate and
stylus because I would soon be going to junior high and I couldn't lug a
heavy, noisy Brailler with me from class to class.
I absolutely hated the slate. My e's and i's were inevitably
transposed, and I invariably put the paper in crooked. I pretty much
refused to practice, so my itinerant and classroom teachers got together
and decided that I would be required to take spelling tests using the
state and stylus. I always did well on my spelling tests, so I wasn't
very happy with this new development. Gradually, however, I didn't have
to reverse each letter consciously before writing it. My speed picked
up, and my diagonal lines became horizontal. Since then I have written
thousands of pages with the slate and stylus.
When I was in high school, closed circuit televisions began to
become affordable and popular. It was very exciting to be able to read
things that were only available in print, like the covers of my record
albums. I spent one whole summer reading a 500-page novel that I could
have read in about three days in Braille, because that was what all my
friends were reading.
I knew, however, that the CCTV was no substitute for Braille. I'm
almost glad that the CCTV was not available when I was in first grade
because I don't know if Braille would then have been emphasized in my
education. During my first two years in college my sight gradually
decreased to the light perception I have today. Although I had to make
some adjustments, already having well-developed Braille skills helped
immensely.
In high school nearly all of my textbooks, including advanced math
and French, were in Braille. In contrast, all of my college texts were
on tape. By this time, though, I was familiar with spelling,
punctuation, and the Braille literary and math codes. I took copious
notes while listening to the texts and studied these at exam time rather
than having to re-skim the entire book.
I have read that ninety-one percent of employed blind people know
Braille. I am not at all surprised by this statistic. I am only
surprised that so few educators and counselors of the blind seem to
recognize the importance of Braille to employment. I cannot imagine
being competitive without Braille.
Today I direct the Dayton criminal justice program of the American
Friends Service Committee, a Quaker organization. My activities range
from leading workshops and presentations in prison and the community to
advocating for criminal justice reform. I use Braille every day to keep
track of phone numbers, file away relevant statistics, make outlines for
talks, draft articles, and much more.
Like most non-profits, we have a very small staff in our office.
For the most part we do our own filing, typing, and minute-taking. My
independence is greatly enhanced by the use of a scanner and other
adaptive computer technology, but I don't think it would be possible for
me to do my job at all without Braille. At meetings, workshops, and
presentations I always have my slate and stylus ready. Although prison
officials sometimes worry that my stylus could be turned into a weapon,
I always have my Braille notes with me and have given several impromptu
Braille lessons to interested prisoners.
Since those early days Braille has opened many doors for me.
Reading is a source of great pleasure as well as information and
education. Braille writing allows me not only to keep track of personal
information but also to articulate and craft my thoughts into written
communication that can be shared with others. I cannot imagine my life
without Braille.
I am currently studying to become certified as a Braille
transcriber and proofreader. I am deeply concerned by the lack of
Braille skills among the blind today and the shortage of qualified
Braille teachers, both for blind children and for people who become
blind later in life. Perhaps someday I will have the opportunity to put
my love of Braille to good use by teaching others to read it.
BRAILLE OR PRINT: WHY THE DEBATE?
by Jody W. Ianuzzi
Editor's note: Let us begin by conceding that there really are
some legally blind children who are appropriately being taught to read
print. If the child can truly engage in sustained reading of normal
print in most light with comfort, and if the strong likelihood is that
the youngster's vision will remain stable, there is no sensible argument
for insisting that Braille be taught unless the child or parents wish to
have it done. But there are thousands of blind adults today (and our
numbers are growing) who deeply regret that no one required us to learn
Braille at a period in our lives when mastering it would have been
relatively easy.
Many parents and children, wrestling with the denial that is an
inevitable part of coming to terms with significant vision loss, cling
to the presence of whatever tiny amount of residual sight there may be
as an indication that their worst fears at least have not come to pass.
To the public mind blindness is synonymous with helplessness,
hopelessness, and incompetence. Facing their children's blindness for
the first time, parents, who are after all members of the general
public, can be forgiven for reacting out of ignorance and on incorrect
information.
The betrayal of blind children that is harder for knowledgeable
blind adults to forgive is that of many special education teachers who
should know better. But even here we must remember that they too are the
product of their past inadequate education and their current
environment. These educators are not the first professionals to confuse
correlation with causation: given a choice between learning print and
Braille, children with residual sight will usually choose print. The
conclusion to which virtually every teacher incompletely trained in
Braille is eager to jump is that the cause of this behavior is the
difficulty and complexity of Braille. Or again, offered the chance to be
excused from doing assignments in Braille, blind children will almost
always opt for less work. The conclusion is that Braille is slow and
inefficient. The actual cause in both these examples is that blind
youngsters are normal kids, who like to be a part of the gang and who
are delighted to get out of homework whenever possible.
A little honest reflection about this situation suggests that the
real culprit here is the inadequate and inappropriate education of the
special education teachers, most of whom are not competent or confident
themselves in using Braille and who also believe that their students
should not be expected to compete successfully in school or in life.
We of the National Federation of the Blind know just how damning
and demeaning such a wholesale dismissal of blind students really is.
There are too many studies of children's conforming exactly to their
teachers' expectations for us to observe this phenomenon with unconcern.
Recognition of what is happening to today's blind students fuels the
Federation's state-by-state effort to require teacher competence in
Braille reading and writing for those educators devoting their careers
to teaching blind and visually impaired students. We must take every
opportunity to educate and encourage good teachers about what they can
do to assist and support their blind students, and we must confront
those who would dismiss our efforts to improve the educational
possibilities for these youngsters.
Jody Ianuzzi is the President of the Monadnock Chapter of the
National Federation of the Blind of New Hampshire. She knows first-hand
about limited opportunities and disappointed expectations. She is
articulate and outspoken, and her message is compelling. Here is what
she has to say about teaching Braille to children with a little residual
vision:
Literacy has become a fashionable issue in the United States
today. So many people have slipped through the educational system unable
to read that it has become an embarrassment to their educators. Most of
these people hid their illiteracy from their teachers or simply dropped
out of school at an early age. This situation exists all across the
country, but what about the one student population illiterate due to the
decisions and actions of their teachers? These students are the blind
children of America.
I would like to address the resource and itinerant teachers with
the adult voice of their students:
I consider myself to have been functionally illiterate for most of
my life! When I was growing up as a blind child in the public school
system in Connecticut, I didn't have to learn Braille; I could read
print. I was a high partial, and with my nose in the book I could read
my first grade primer. It was work, but I could make out the letters. By
the fourth grade the print began to get smaller, so I had to try even
harder. In the seventh grade I was assigned to remedial reading classes
because my reading speed was still at the third grade level. In high
school I got all my work done; it just took me four times as long as my
classmates. I loved learning, and I wove wonderful dreams for myself of
academic success after high school.
I went off to college, but instead of succeeding, I fell flat on
my face! There was no way I could keep up with the work load using the
reading skills I had been taught. My totally blind friends had little
trouble taking notes, reading, organizing their readers, etc. I told
myself that I should have done better than they; after all I had some
vision. But the fact was that I couldn't study as a sighted student, and
I didn't have the skills to study as a blind one.
When I was a child, I had an itinerant teacher. She came to visit
once or twice a week to help me with my class work and to evaluate my
progress. I remember that she spent the majority of her time tutoring me
when I fell behind. My mother was upset because the totally blind
students always had priority over the partials. We got the teacher's
left-over time. We weren't really blind, but we weren't really sighted
either.
I am thirty-eight years old, and I am now learning Braille. It
isn't a difficult task; memory is reinforced by using the signs. I love
Braille! My reading time and speed are not limited as they are in print.
I find Braille to be a refreshing experience with endless possibilities.
Reading print has always been like trying to listen to music on a
distant radio station: the sound is so faint and there is so much static
that it is hard to appreciate the music itself because listening is so
much work. Reading Braille is more like sitting in a symphony hall. The
music fills you without your even having to work. My well-meaning
teachers thought they had made the right decision for me. Oh how I wish
I had learned Braille as a child.
My story is not unique or exceptional. Hundreds, perhaps
thousands, of blind adults now recognize that they missed out on a
proper education. Perhaps this is because the retrolental fibroplasia
generation (people born prematurely after World War II and exposed to
too much oxygen in incubators) was the first to attend public school in
numbers, and the methods of educating blind children who did not attend
residential schools had not been established. Itinerant teachers of
blind children were pursuing a brand new specialty. Now the next
generation of blind students is attending public school, but the methods
of teaching them haven't improved over the years. Instead, some of the
misguided attitudes and ideas that were born in the infancy of this new
profession have been institutionalized as established methods. When I
was a student, fifty-two percent of blind students were learning
Braille; now less than ten percent of blind children are doing so.
Clearly illiteracy is increasing.
I was recently a speaker at a conference for itinerant teachers of
blind children, where I attended a seminar on the subject, Braille or
print for low vision students. I left this seminar feeling bitter, not
for my own experience (I am changing that), but for the blind children
of today. There are blind children with less vision than I have who are
being taught print only. Their teachers believe that they are making the
right decision. These children will be able to get by using their
vision, but they will never be able to compete successfully with their
peers.
The impression I got from listening to these teachers of blind
children is that they perceive Braille to be a difficult system to
learn. Imagine what would happen if music teachers decided not to teach
their students to read music because they had come to believe that
musical notation was too difficult to learn, much less to teach. How
much music would students learn to play if their music teachers couldn't
read the notes? Unfortunately, not very many teachers of blind children
are fluent in reading and writing Braille themselves. No wonder so few
blind youngsters are mastering the code.
Blind children are like all others; they don't want to appear
different. If they are given a choice, they prefer print because their
friends read print. But a low-vision child already looks different while
struggling to read with his or her nose inching across the page,
collecting printer's ink. Wouldn't teachers do better helping to instill
confidence in their blind students as competent Braille readers instead
of insisting that they become poor print ones? Sighted children are
delighted to learn about Braille, but they have little understanding or
compassion for the poor print reader, who can't keep up with them. The
sooner the blind child realizes that it is no big deal to be different,
the easier his or her life will be.
At this conference I was also told that the low-vision child might
not want to learn Braille and that it is impossible to teach these kids
what they don't want to learn. Suppose a sighted child didn't want to
learn print, or the music student didn't want to learn musical notation;
what would the teacher's response be? how much can any children be
expected to learn if they are permitted to impose their own preferences
on their early instruction in the fundamentals?
I believe that unconsciously teachers of blind students give
children a choice posed like this: which will it be? the easy,
acceptable, right way to learn, using print, or the difficult,
different, old-fashioned way of reading, using Braille. Given any choice
in the matter at all, which would any child select? Why can't teachers
make Braille special in a positive way? Braille was originally based on
a system devised by the French army to send secret messages at night.
The night writing was later perfected by Louis Braille for use by the
blind. Why not give children the feeling that they are learning a secret
code? The blind child can read in many places where his or her sighted
friends can't: under the covers without the use of a flashlight, in the
car traveling at night. You can read Braille books without people
reading over your shoulder. You can even read your Braille book in your
desk without your teacher knowing it. Why not make Braille fun!
The debate at this conference included discussion of the question
whether or not a blind child could learn print and Braille at the same
time. Wouldn't the child become confused? But the two systems don't
compete for the same space in the brain. Can a child learn to use a
calculator and a touch telephone at the same time? The two keyboards are
reversed, but children don't find this confusing. The child knows that
one is a phone, the other a calculator. I know a two-year-old who is
learning English and German from her bilingual parents. She is having no
difficulty learning the differences. If children can learn these things
simultaneously, why should educators draw the line at learning Braille
and print at the same time?
Many teachers believe that there are so many new high-tech aids
available for blind children that it is no longer necessary to teach
them the out-dated system of Braille. But how practical are some of
these expensive, bulky devices like the closed circuit television when
a child has to use it in a very limited and special environment? Will
such devices be useful for obtaining all the information the child
needs? Braille is portable, lightweight, and versatile.
The slate and stylus and the Brailler are simple, low-tech
devices, but if you want to consider high-tech, portable equipment, the
Braille 'n Speak and the Braille Mate are excellent note-taking and
computer interface devices. These aids were never mentioned at this
conference. The only aids discussed were those that depended on some
limited sight.
There are many tools available for use by blind people, and none
should be relied on exclusively or ignored. Each has its own place. Just
as a carpenter needs many tools to build a house, a blind person can use
many tools to acquire information. The Optacon, for example, is a slow
but useful device for reading mail, and there are many other technical
aids to assist a child who cannot use print efficiently and comfortably.
But just as a carpenter can't be expected to build a house using only a
hammer, no one tool should be used as the single device to help a blind
child.
Conducting an evaluation to determine the reading method for a
child is usually done under ideal reading conditions and in short
periods of time. Is it reasonable to expect that a child will always
have ideal lighting for reading and writing? How long can the child read
before headaches or eye strain make it impossible to continue? Does the
eye strain of reading contribute to increased eye problems? For example,
when I was growing up, we didn't realize that my straining to read was
inducing acute glaucoma attacks which have further decreased my vision.
First and foremost a reading method should be comfortable and enjoyable
to the reader. How much would you read if it always hurt or was always
work?
When selecting a reading method, it is natural to think of the
primary use to which we put it, reading books. But there are many other
applications for reading and writing that have to be considered in
choosing the most efficient method. Taking notes in class, doing
research, labeling, maintaining recipes, filing addresses: these are all
examples of the way we use reading. Thus, someone who can read print to
a limited degree might not use print for note taking because of the
amount of time it takes to write legibly or to decipher the notes later.
In this example Braille would be faster. Labeling in Braille is more
practical in many cases simply because it is impossible to get close to
the labeled items to see them or to shine enough light on the print to
read itþthe back of an appliance or an array of canned goods on a
storage shelf, for example. Blind children may not be dealing with these
problems now, but they will as adults. The very purpose of education is
to prepare youngsters for what they will face in the future!
One can reasonably ask whether today's older blind students are
being taught how to order their own books from Recording for the Blind
and whether they are learning to hire, supervise, and use readers for
study and research in preparation for college. Blind students must know
how to balance their schedules to accommodate their special study needs,
whatever they happen to be. If blind students are to compete
successfully in college and in life, all these are necessary skills.
I told conference participants about my experience as a low-vision
student and about how I was learning Braille as an adult. Without
thinking of the implications of her statement, one itinerant teacher
turned to me and said, "If you're learning Braille, then good luck!"
Too many teachers of the visually impaired are limited by their own
visual perception of the world. If they woke up tomorrow with low
vision, many would try to funnel all the information they need through
woefully inefficient eyes rather than learning to maximize their
unimpaired senses. It is past time for them to think blind and not be
limited by their vision.
If I could speak directly to open-minded teachers, I would say to
them: when you evaluate your students, don't just think of how they are
coping at the present; think ahead. What will happen to your students in
college and as adults? Are you giving them all the skills they need to
prosper in life, or will they have to be content with just getting by?
Remember, if that is their fate, it will not have been because of their
blindness but because they lacked the skills they needed to conduct
their lives effectively as blind people. Ask yourselves this question:
in twenty years will your students be grateful to you for teaching them
the skills they needed, or will they be learning them on their own and
trying to make up for lost time?
THE CHANCE TO READ
by Eric Duffy
Editor's Note: Eric Duffy is Director of Field Services for the
National Federation of the Blind of Ohio. He and his wife Tracy live in
Columbus and are expecting their first child. Braille is deeply
important to both the Duffys, but there was a time when it looked as
though Eric would be denied the right to learn it. Here is his story:
As a young child I enjoyed being read to. Whenever I could
persuade anyone to sit down with me and a book, I was delighted. I
particularly remember Peter Rabbit; The Cat in the Hat; and of course
the classic, Mother Goose. When we were very small, my little sister
Barb and I would pick up our books and pretend that we were reading.
Sometimes we read to ourselves, and sometimes we read aloud to anyone
who would listen.
I memorized things quickly, so pretending to read was easy for me.
Barb could pick up any book and, by looking at the pictures, tell the
story. I knew, however, that it wouldn't be long before Barb would no
longer be pretending. She would be able to read books, newspapers, and
everything elseþjust as the rest of our family could.
Eventually the day came when Barb began to read. She began to
recognize the letters of the alphabet and then to sound out words. That
is when I began to recognize that my blindness really might be a
problem. I was the big brother, and I should have started reading before
she did. I began asking my parents a lot of questions: how am I going to
read? Am I going to go to school?
My parents explained that I was going to go to a special school
for blind children. They said that I would learn to read and write
Braille. Of course, I had no idea what Braille was. In order to give me
some notion of the code, my mom punched small holes into a sheet of
paper with a pencil. Obviously, these holes made no sense to either of
us, but at least I was comforted by the knowledge that I was going to
learn to read.
The time came when my mother took me to the Ohio State School for
the Blind. I was given a variety of tests, most of which I do not
remember. However, what my parents and the school officials did with the
results of these tests might well, under other circumstances, have had
a dramatically negative effect on the rest of my life. Because I have
mild cerebral palsy, my parents were told that I would probably never
learn to read and write Braille.
But when I started school, I did not know that I was not supposed
to be able to read and write Braille. No one bothered to tell me what I
could not or would not want to do, and I can only assume that my
first-grade teacher chose to ignore the pronouncements of the experts.
She simply gave me the opportunity to learn to read and write with the
rest of my class. I started school in April, and by June I was reading
and writing as well as anyone else in my class.
Today I use Braille in every aspect of my life. At home I label
food items, cassettes, and compact discs. Braille reading is essential
for playing board games such as Scrabble and card games such as Euchre.
On the job I use Braille for note taking, writing down telephone
numbers, and labeling file folders. I cannot even begin to name all the
ways in which I use Braille at home and on the job.
Today I take my ability to read and write Braille for granted. But
it frightens me to realize that I was almost denied the opportunity to
learn it. What follow are the comments of the clinic evaluation team of
the Ohio State School for the Blind: "Eric was a very cooperative boy
who had difficulty walking. Although he has some vision, it does not
appear to be adequate for reading any fine print. Developing usable
Braille skills may be rather difficult for Eric because of his poor
manipulative skills. His chief channel of learning will most likely be
the auditory channel. Eric exhibits readiness for a beginning program
for visually handicapped children."
Educational Specialist
This evaluation almost led to my not learning Braille. I know for
certain that there are blind students today who are not learning Braille
because of evaluation results like mine. My plea to parents and
educators alike is this: give your children a chance to learn Braille.
It is better to err on the side of Braille instruction than to deny any
child the opportunity to read.
REFLECTIONS OF A LIFELONG BRAILLE READER
by Kenneth Jernigan
Editor's note: Kenneth Jernigan is the President Emeritus of the
National Federation of the Blind. He has dedicated his life to improving
the lives of blind people in this country and around the world. He is
also a voracious reader. I have seen him pace a room, reading Braille
aloud to his listeners. I have watched him scan Braille material at an
unbelievable speed and read silently far faster than he could speak. In
short, Braille is for him as useful a tool as print is to his sighted
wife. How did he develop such excellent Braille skills? He read as a
small child, read as much and as often as he could, and he kept on
reading as he grew up. In short, he became a good reader in the same way
that print readers become proficient. The following are some of Dr.
Jernigan's recollections of his early days as a reader:
When I was a boy growing up in Tennessee, Braille was hard to come
by. At the Tennessee School for the Blind (where I spent nine months of
each year) Braille was rationed. In the first grade we were allowed to
read a book only during certain hours of the day, and we were not
permitted to take books to our rooms at night or on weekends. Looking
back, I suppose the school didn't have many books, and they probably
thought (perhaps correctly) that those they did have would be used more
as missiles than instruments of learning if they let us take them out.
When we advanced to the second grade, we were allowed (yes,
allowed) to come down for thirty minutes each night to study hall. This
was what the "big boys" did. In the first grade we had been
ignominiously sent to bed at seven o'clock while our elders (the second
and third graders and those beyond) were permitted to go to that
mysterious place called study hall. The first graders (the "little
boys") had no such status or privilege.
When we got to the third grade, we were still not permitted to
take books to our rooms, but we were allowed to increase our study hall
time. We could actually spend a whole hour at it each night, Monday
through Friday. It was the pinnacle of status for the primary grades.
When we got to the intermediate department (the fourth, fifth, and
sixth grades), we were really growing up, and our status and prestige
increased accordingly. We were allowed (I use the word
advisedlyþ"allowed," not "forced") to go for an hour each night Monday
through Friday to study hall, and during that time we could read books
and magazines to our hearts' content. True, the choice was not greatþbut
such as there was, we could read it. Of course we could not take books
to our rooms during the week, but on Friday night each boy (I presume
the girls had the same privilege) could take one Braille volume to his
room for the weekend.
Before I go further, perhaps I had better explain that comment
about the girls. The girls sat on one side of the room, and the boys sat
on the other; and woe to the member of one sex who tried to speak or
write notes to a member of the other. Girls, like Braille books, were
difficult to get atþand all the more desirable for the imagining. But
back to the main thread.
As I say, each boy in the intermediate department could check out
one Braille volume on Friday night. Now, as every good Braille reader
knows, Braille is bulkier than print; and at least four or five Braille
volumes (sometimes more) are required to make a book. It is also a
matter of common knowledge that people in general and boys in particular
(yes, and maybe girls, too) are constantly on the lookout to beat the
system. What system? Any system.
So on Friday nights we boys formed what would today be called a
consortium. One of us would check out volume one of a book; the next,
volume two; the next, volume three; et cetera. With our treasures hugged
to our bosoms we would head to our rooms and begin reading. If you got
volume three (the middle of the book), that's where you started. You
would get to the beginning by and by. Now girls and Braille books were
not the only items that were strictly regulated in the environment I am
describing. The hours of the day and night fell into the same category.
Study hall ended at 8:00, and you were expected to be in your room and
in bed by 9:40, the time when the silence bell rang. You were also
expected to be trying to go to sleep, not reading.
But as I have said, people like to beat the system; and to us
boys, starved for reading during the week, the hours between Friday
night and Monday morning were not to be wasted. (Incidentally, I should
say here that there were usually no radios around and that we were
strictly forbiddenþon pain of expulsion and God knows what elseþto leave
the campus except for a brief period on Saturday afternoonþafter we got
big enough, that is, and assuming we had no violations on our record
which required erasure by penalty.) In other words the campus of the
Tennessee School for the Blind was what one might call a closed ecology.
We found our entertainment where we could.
Well, back to Friday night and the problem of the books. Rules are
rules, but Braille can be read under the covers as well as anywhere
else; and when the lights are out and the sounds of approaching
footsteps are easy to detect, it is virtually impossible to prohibit
reading and make the prohibition stick. The night watchman was regular
in his rounds and methodical in his movements. He came through the halls
every sixty minutes on the hour, and we could tell the time by his
measured tread. (I suppose I need not add that we had no clocks or
watches.)
After the watchman had left our vicinity, we would meet in the
bathroom and discuss what we had been reading. We also used the occasion
to keep ourselves awake and exchange Braille volumes as we finished
them. It made for an interesting way to read a book, but we got
thereþand instead of feeling deprived or abused, we felt elated. We were
beating the system; we had books to read, something the little boys
didn't have; and we were engaged in joint clandestine activity.
Sometimes as the night advanced, one of us would go to sleep and fail to
keep the hourly rendezvous, but these were minor aberrationsþand the
weekend was only beginning.
After breakfast on Saturday morning some of us (not all) would
continue readingþusually aloud in a group. We kept at it as long as we
could, nodding off when we couldn't take it any more. Then we went at it
again. Let me be clear. I am talking about a general pattern, not a
rigid routine. It did not happen every weekend, and even when it did,
the pace was not uniform or the schedule precise. We took time for such
pleasantries as running, playing, and occasional rock fights. We also
engaged in certain organized games, and as we grew older, we
occasionally slipped off campus at night and prowled the town.
Nevertheless, the reading pattern was a dominant theme.
Time, of course, is inexorable; and the day inevitably came when
we outgrew the intermediate department and advanced to high
schoolþseventh through twelfth grades. Again it meant a change in
statusþa change in everything, of course, but especially reading. Not
only could we come to study hall for an hour each night Monday through
Friday and take a Braille volume to our room during weekends, but we
could also check out Braille books whenever we liked, and (within
reason) we could take as many as we wanted.
Let me now go back once more to the early childhood years. Before
I was six, I had an isolated existence. My mother and father, my older
brother, and I lived on a farm about fifty miles out of Nashville. We
had no radio, no telephone, and no substantial contact with anybody
except our immediate neighbors. My father had very little formal
education, and my mother had left school just prior to graduating from
the eighth grade. Books were not an important part of our family
routine. Most of the time we did not have a newspaper. There were two
reasons: our orientation was not toward reading, and money was scarce.
It was the early thirties. Hogs (when we had any) brought two cents a
pound; and anything else we had to sell was priced proportionately.
I did a lot of thinking in those preschool days, and every time I
could, I got somebody to read to me. Read what? Anythingþanything I
could get. I would nag and pester anybody I could find to read me
anything that was availableþthe Bible, an agriculture yearbook, a part
of a newspaper, or the Sears Roebuck catalog. It didn't matter. Reading
was magic. It opened up new worlds.
I remember the joyþa joy which almost amounted to reverence and
aweþwhich I felt during those times I was allowed to visit an aunt who
had books in her home. It was from her daughter (my cousin) that I first
heard the fairy stories from The Book of Knowledgeþa treasure which many
of today's children have unfortunately missed. My cousin loved to read
and was long suffering and kind, but I know that I tried her patience
with my insatiable appetite. It was not possible for me to get enough,
and I always dreaded going home, finding every excuse I could to stay as
long as my parents would let me. I loved my aunt; I was fascinated by
the radio she had; and I delighted in her superb cookingþabout the key
attraction was the reading. My aunt is long since dead, and of course I
never told her. For that matter, maybe I never really sorted it out in
my own mind, but there it wasþno doubt about it.
As I have already said, I started school at sixþand when I say
six, I mean six. As you might imagine, I wanted to go as soon as I
could, and I made no secret about it. I was six in November of 1932.
However, school started in September, and six meant six. I was not
allowed to begin until the next quarter þJanuary of 1933.
You can understand that, after I had been in school for a few
weeks, I contemplated with mixed feelings the summer vacation which
would be coming. I loved my family, but I had been away from home and
found stimulation and new experiences. I did not look forward to three
months of renewed confinement in the four-room farm house with nothing
to do.
Then I learned that I was going to be sent a Braille magazine
during the summer months. Each month's issue was sixty Braille pages. I
would get one in June, one in July, and one in August. What joy! I was
six, but I had learned what boredom meantþand I had also learned to
plan. So I rationed the Braille and read two pages each day. This gave
me something new for tomorrow. Of course I went back and read and
re-read it again, but the two new pages were always there for tomorrow.
As the school years came and went, I got other magazines, learned
about the Library of Congress Braille and talking book collection, and
got a talking book machine. By the time I was in the seventh grade, I
was receiving a number of Braille magazines and ordering books from
three separate regional libraries during the summer. Often I would read
twenty hours a dayþnot every day, of course, but often. I read Gone With
the Wind, War and Peace, Zane Grey, Rafael Sabatini, James Oliver
Curwood, and hundreds of others. I read whatever the libraries sent me,
every word of it; and I often took notes. By then it was clear to me
that books would be my release from the prison of the farm and
inactivity. It was also clear to me that college was part of that
program and that somehow I was going to get there. But it was not just
escape from confinement or hope for a broader horizon or something to be
gained. It was also a deep, ingrained love of reading.
The background I have described conditioned me. I did not feel
about reading the way I see most people viewing it today. Many of
today's children seem to have the attitude that they are "forced," not
"permitted," to go to schoolþthat they are "required," not "given the
privilege and honor," to study. They are inundated with reading matter.
It is not scarce but a veritable clutter, not something to strive for
but to take for granted. I don't want children or the general public to
be deprived of reading matter, but I sometimes think that a scald is as
bad as a freeze. Is it worse to be deprived of books until you feel
starved, for them or to be so overwhelmed with them that you become
blase about it? I don't know, and I don't know that it will do me any
good to speculate. All I know is that I not only delight in reading but
believe it to be a much neglected joy and a principal passport to
success, perspective, civilization, and possibly the survival of the
species. I am of that group which deplores the illiteracy which
characterizes much of our society and distinguishes many of its would-be
leaders and role models. I am extremely glad I have had the opportunity
and incentive to read as broadly as I have, and I believe my life is so
much better for the experience that it borders on the difference between
living and existence.
BRAILLE TODAY AND TOMORROW
by Fredric F. Schroeder
The following is an excerpt from an address delivered at the
annual conference of the California Transcribers and Educators of the
Visually Handicapped, March 14, 1992, by Fred Schroeder, then Director
of the New Mexico Commission for the Blind and President of the
International Council on English Braille and now Commissioner of the
U.S. Rehabilitation Services Administration. Dr. Schroeder is one of the
most knowledgeable and influential figures in the field of work with the
blind. Here in part is what he said to teachers and Braille transcribers
in the spring of 1992; it is still relevant:
Much is happening nationally and internationally concerning
Braille. Certainly we live in a time when it is getting more emphasis,
which has resulted in greater availability and increased attention to
instruction. We must recognize what is cause and what effect. When
discussing Braille, it is easy to focus on the changes that have taken
place. But all of this increased attention is the natural outgrowth of a
growing conviction that literacy represents perhaps the most necessary
tool if blind people are to live full and productive lives. In other
words, the desire of and for blind people to function on terms of
equality has driven the move toward recognizing Braille literacy as a
vital step toward their meaningful integration.
The activity surrounding Braille is in many respects dramatic and
encouraging. Here in the United States the Braille literacy movement can
be seen in many ways. Today ten states [the number has now risen to
twenty-five] have adopted Braille billsþa public policy statement about
the legitimate role of Braille as a literacy tool for the blind. Five
years ago, when the first Braille bill was introduced, the idea was
controversial and sparked suspicion; resentment; and, in some cases,
open hostility. At that time Braille bills were regarded as a
condemnation of the education system for blind children and hence were
viewed as an attack on professionals in the field of work with the
blind.
Today, only five years after passage of the first Braille bill,
the mood has changed. In many states parents, educators, and adult blind
people are coming together, not to debate whether a Braille bill should
be introduced, but to collaborate on the best way to craft the bill. In
addition to the requirement that Braille be considered by the IEP team,
two other elements have surfaced in more recent Braille bills. One is a
requirement for competency testing for teachers of blind children, and
the other, which was included in the Texas bill adopted in the summer of
'91, requires textbook publishers to make materials available in a
machine-readable format for easy translation into Braille.
The stimulus for the introduction of Braille bills was a shared
conviction that our nation has produced a generation of virtually
illiterate blind children due to the lack of Braille instruction. Many
things contributed to this problem, not the least of which was the
mainstreaming movement itself. With a nationwide shortage of trained
teachers and with children more widely distributed throughout local
schools, teachers were faced with the very real problem of choosing
print or Braille instruction for a child they were scheduled to see only
an hour or two a week. The temptation to favor the print medium, with
which they were more familiar, was compounded by a mindset that presumed
print reading was superior to Braille. In the 1970's educators came to
regard Braille implicitly or explicitly as an antiquated tool for
reading. Many felt that new technology would make Braille obsolete, so
there was little motivation for teachers to learn the code and even less
to teach it.
But a generation of illiterate children has stimulated a
counterforce bent on changing this direction before another generation
is lost. It is not surprising that we are now hearing a call for better
preparation of teachers as well as competency testing to insure that
those charged with the education of blind children are themselves
competent to provide instruction in Braille reading and writing.
Ironically, although fifteen years ago the experts believed that
technology would make Braille obsolete, in fact the opposite has proven
to be true. With an increased emphasis on Braille, technology has been
applied to the problem, the effect being greater availability of Braille
than ever before.
It is not surprising that increasing attention has been focused on
Braille literacy since literacy generally has become a central topic in
America today. The need for blind youngsters to be literate is in many
ways self-evident. Literacy for these children, as for sighted ones, is
vital to their competing successfully in an increasingly demanding world
market. A command of the English language and the ability to read and
write are essential to everyone for effective communication. Yet as I
prepared for this afternoon's presentation, I had a sense that for me as
a blind person the importance of literacy took on a dimension which
transcended the readily recognizable importance of being literate. I
could not help feeling that the role of Braille in my personal life and
its absolute importance to me were somehow connected to the
cause-and-effect relationships outlined earlier, which have resulted in
the current emphasis on Braille.
I have a personal and deep-seated loyalty to Braille, not simply
because it affords me the ability to read and write. For me Braille is
part of my liberation from a debilitating mindset and a body of beliefs
premised on the assumption of limitation and hopelessness. Braille
allows me to organize my work, to jot down an address, or to read a
recipe; but it also represents the tangible expression of the truth of
the principle that, given training and opportunity, blind people can
function competitively in society.
When I was seven years old, I became legally blind. Over the next
nine years my vision gradually decreased. During this time I was not
taught Braille; however, this was also during the period which has come
to be known as the sightsaving era. This concept was based on the belief
that to use remaining vision would cause it to decrease. For this reason
I was not allowed to read print while simultaneously being discouraged
from reading Braille. The real tragedy was that as a child I already had
deeply ingrained negative attitudes about blindness. I equated it with
inferiority and therefore wanted nothing to do with Braille or any other
skills which blind people use. As my vision decreased, I fell into a
pattern of believing that what I could not see, I could not do.
Blindness for me represented helplessness, and my fear of blindness had
prevented me from learning the skills which would have allowed me to
function. My lack of literacy meant that I had no means by which to read
and write, but additionally it contributed to my fundamental feelings of
inadequacy and isolation.
After becoming totally blind, I can remember a hospital social
worker bringing me a Braille watch. I vividly remember struggling to
distinguish the dots on the face of the watch and finding it virtually
impossible to distinguish between the hour hand and the minute hand, but
in a short time I had managed to learn how to read my watch quickly and
accurately and by so doing experienced a sense of exhilaration. While I
was not yet truly reading, that experience sparked my recognition that
as a blind person I was not entirely helplessþdependent on those around
me for even the most basic information. Rather than representing my most
negative fears about blindness, Braille started to be a means of
liberation. For the first time I began to view my limitations as
stemming from my lack of training rather than from my lack of eyesight.
For the first time a technique associated with blindness became a source
of pride, and I began to understand that perhaps I could function
competitively as a blind person using alternative techniques.
While I was in college, I had an experience which represented a
milestone in my life. In the Fall of 1974 here in Los Angeles, I
attended a convention of the National Federation of the Blind. There I
was first exposed to blind people who were living active, normal lives.
I met blind people who were holding professional jobs, buying their own
homes, and raising families, all of which I had believed were
unattainable for me as a blind person. Rather than fitting my
preconception of what life as a blind person must be, these men and
women were living rich and fulfilling lives, competing effectively in
society. These were people I could admire and whom I wished to be like.
A man who stands out in my mind was Lawrence (Muzzy) Marcelino. When I
met him, he asked my name, and I can remember his reaching into his
pocket and pulling out a slate and stylus to take down my address and
phone number. This seemingly small act was nevertheless significant in
my life. Muzzy's use of the slate and stylus represented literacy, but
it also represented a shaking off of societal stereotypes about
blindness. Muzzy believed he could function competitively and so quite
naturally put his beliefs into practice. I, on the other hand, was just
awakening to the realization that my fears and misconceptions about
blindness were driving my actions and hence were primarily responsible
for my inability to compete. Braille for me came to represent literacy
in my life with all the advantages normally associated with literacy.
The element that I regard as most crucial is that Braille also came to
symbolize tangible proof of my ability to live a normal life.
The decline in Braille use in our country over the past two
decades is nothing less than a tragedy. Children growing up during this
period have suffered lost opportunities by having inadequate ability to
read and write, compounded by lowered self-esteem and diminished
expectations. You in this room have contributed in an important way to
reversing this trend, helping blind children reach their true potential
through the teaching and producing of Braille. Your efforts have helped
many attain literacy and, through it, increased opportunity.
In this room this afternoon is a young woman who grew up in
California and received special education services through the public
schools. Although she was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa, the
conventional wisdom of the time indicated that she had too much vision
to be taught Braille. By the time she graduated from high school, she
was no longer able to read print; yet she had no alternate means of
reading and writing. Through ingenuity and hard work she managed to get
through college with good grades, while paying a severe price in damaged
self-confidence. Fortunately for her, she recognized her need for
training. After completing college, she entered the Louisiana Center for
the Blind for six months of intensive training in Braille, cane travel,
and the other skills of blindness. I remember listening to a
presentation she made shortly after completing her training. After
having read Braille for only six months, she read Braille faster than
she had ever been able to read print. So Braille represented both
literacy and freedom to her.
The movement toward increased emphasis on Braille is gathering
momentum; and, as with all social change, events are driving other
events. To understand the cause-and-effect relationship which has
resulted in today's Braille movement, we must first understand that
Braille symbolizes both literacy and a change in our own attitudes about
blindness. At first glance it seems obvious that two decades of
diminished literacy has provided the driving force for today's Braille
renaissance. Yet exploring further discloses that the fundamental shift
in our attitudes about blindness has made diminished literacy for blind
people intolerable. If we expect very little from blind people, then
illiteracy, rather than a problem requiring solution, is accepted as a
natural situation, consistent with our low expectations.
The Braille movement today is not simply a response to the
condition of illiteracy. It is also the outgrowth of the very positive
influence of changing social attitudes. With increased expectations for
ourselves as blind people, we expand our potential. As we believe we can
do more, we naturally look for the tools necessary to translate our
beliefs into action. As teachers and producers of Braille, you have seen
the effects of your labor in the lives of those with whom you have
worked. As your efforts result in increased opportunities, your positive
perception of blindness and expectations for blind people are reinforced
and expanded.
This change in our conception of blindness gives meaning to the
Braille movement. It gives purpose to the new initiatives aimed at
greater literacy. The new spirit of cooperation resulting in the
adoption of Braille bills, the development of NLS competency testing,
and the initiation of ventures with textbook publishers to make Braille
more available to school children is directly attributable to this
fundamental change in our conceptions. In North America it has led us to
undertake a project to study the idea of a unified literary and math
code.
We can see the same spirit of cooperation internationally, and I
believe it can be explained by the same cause-and-effect relationship
between increased expectations and greater emphasis on Braille literacy.
The momentum which has developed may well result in a single
internationally recognized literary and math code. This same momentum
has already brought us to the threshold of an internationally
agreed-upon music code.
Throughout this process mistakes will inevitably be made. Bad
decisions will be reached which will need to be reviewed and repaired.
Some changes will make Braille more awkward and less readable and will
perhaps result in real harm to people. Yet the momentum underway brings
the promise of true progress. Many years ago I remember being warned,
"If you are not making mistakes, then you are not doing anything." There
will be problems as progress is made, yet progress is clearly in
evidence.
Braille has allowed me to unlock many doors. It has helped me
attain literacy and enabled me to shake off doubt and uncertainty in
myself. For this reason I thank you for your role in helping scores of
blind children to acquire the tools to reach their full potential.
Collectively we are part of the cause and effect relationship
stimulating change. Self-confidence and a changing perception of
blindness must be nourished by the success which comes from having the
ability to put that confidence into action. Your efforts and your
dedication have touched countless lives, sustaining the momentum in the
cycle of cause and effect, leading us closer to the promise of true
integration for the blind.
BRAILLE--WHAT IS IT? WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO THE BLIND?
Braille is a system of reading and writing by touch used by the
blind. It consists of arrangements of dots which make up letters of the
alphabet, numbers, and punctuation marks. The basic Braille symbol,
called the Braille cell, consists of six dots arranged in the formation
of a rectangle, three dots high and two across. Other symbols consist of
only some of these six dots. The six dots are commonly referred to by
number according to their position in the cell:
There are no different symbols for capital letters in Braille.
Capitalization is accomplished by placing a dot 6 in the cell just
before the letter that is capitalized. The first ten letters of the
alphabet are used to make numbers. These are preceded by a number sign
which is dots 3-4-5-6:
Thus, 1 is number sign a; 2 is number sign b; 10 is number sign
a-j and 193 is number sign a-i-c:
Some abbreviations are used in standard American Braille in order
to reduce its bulk. These must be memorized, but most Braille readers
and writers find them convenient, rather than a problem. Braille is
written on heavy paper, and the raised dots prevent the pages from lying
smoothly together as they would in a print book. Therefore, Braille
books are quite bulky.
Today there are three methods of writing Braille, just as there
are two methods of writing print. A Braille writing machine (comparable
to a typewriter) has a keyboard of only six keys and a space bar,
instead of one key for each letter of the alphabet. These keys can be
pushed separately or altogether. If they are all pushed at the same
time, they will cause six dots to be raised on the paper in the
formation of a Braille cell. Pushing various combinations of the keys on
the Braille writer produces different letters of the alphabet and other
Braille symbols.
Writing Braille with a slate and stylus compares to writing print
with a pen or pencil. The stylus is used to push dots down through the
paper, while the slate serves as a guide. The Braille slate can be made
of metal or plastic and is hinged so that there is a guide under the
paper as well as on top of it. A person writing Braille with the slate
and stylus begins at the right side of the paper and ends the line on
the left, since the dots are being produced on the underside of the
paper. Of course, the Braille reader reads from left to right, for the
dots are then on the top side of the paper. Although this may seem a bit
confusing, it need not be at all troublesome, since both reading and
writing progress through words and sentences from beginning to end in
the same manner. The speed of writing Braille with the slate and stylus
is about the same as the speed of writing print with pen or pencil.
Just as the personal computer has revolutionized writing in print
today, it is also possible to produce Braille more easily and quickly
than ever before. Assuming that the proper equipment is available, a
computer user can now send a document to a standard printer to produce a
paper copy in print or to a Braille embosser to produce the document in
Braille. And one need not even know Braille to create this miracle.
Braille was first developed in the late 1820's by a young
Frenchman named Louis Braille. He created Braille by modifying a system
of night writing which was intended for military use. He did this work
as a very young man and had it complete by the time he was about
eighteen. He and his friends at the school for the blind found that
reading and writing dots was much faster than reading raised print
letters, which could not be written by hand at all. The development of
this system by young Louis Braille is now recognized as the most
important single development in making it possible for the blind to get
a good education.
It took more than a century, however, before people would accept
Braille as an excellent way for the blind to read and write. Even today
many people underestimate the effectiveness of Braille. While tapes and
records are enjoyable, Braille is essential for note-taking and helpful
for studying such things as math, spelling, and foreign languages. It is
a matter of great concern to members of the National Federation of the
Blind that fewer blind people now have the opportunity to become good
Braille users than did twenty-five years ago.
Why is this? Many professionals in work with the blind stress
recorded media with blind children. Many people who become blind do so
in old age and are not encouraged to spend the time and make the effort
needed to develop the new reading and writing skills that depend on
feeling rather than seeing. There are even Braille teachers who do not
expect speed and accuracy of their blind students. As a result, the
students learn Braille as a chore and a drudgery.
Experienced Braille readers, however, read Braille at speeds
comparable to print readersþ200 to 400 words a minute. Such Braille
readers say that the only limitation of Braille is that there isn't
enough material available. They want more books produced by Braille
presses, more books produced by volunteer Braillists in their homes, and
wider availability of computerized Braille production.
One of the goals of the National Federation of the Blind is to
help people appreciate Braille for the efficient system it is. The main
difference between print and Braille is simply that print is meant to be
read with the eyes, while Braille is meant to be read with the
fingertips. Fingers feel dots quickly and accurately; eyes see loops and
lines of ink. In both cases it is the brain that processes and reacts to
the raw data sent to it by the fingers or the eyes.
This article was first written in Braille and transcribed into
print to answer the questions of sighted people who cannot read Braille.
If you have further questions about Braille or blindness, write to the
National Federation of the Blind, 1800 Johnson Street, Baltimore,
Maryland 21230.
CARE AND FEEDING OF THE LONG WHITE CANE:
Instructions in Cane Travel for Blind People
by
Thomas Bickford
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . V
Author's Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .VIII
1. Getting Yourself Ready. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2
Why Should I Use This Thing That Makes Me Look Blind? 2
Who Can Learn Cane Travel?. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4
2. Getting the Cane Ready . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
How Long Should the Cane Be? . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
What Should the Cane Be Made Of? . . . . . . . . . . 9
How and Where Do You Hold the Cane? . . . . . . . . . 11
3. Actually Walking Around. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
Walking with the Cane, Rule One . . . . . . . . . . . 13
Planning Practice Routes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
Going Up and Down Stairs. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
Listening to Traffic on the Street as a Guide . . . . 16
Which Way Can Cars Turn At Intersections? . . . . . . 18
Environmental Clues and Mental Maps . . . . . . . . . 18
Expanding Your Horizons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
One Dangerous Situation to Avoid . . . . . . . . . . 24
Crossing Big, Busy Intersections . . . . . . . . . . 25
What Goes Through My Mind While Walking Down a Street? 26
Walking with Someone Else . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
Walking Without a Cane. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32
4. Public Transportation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
Riding Buses and Streetcars . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
Subways, Escalators, and Elevators . . . . . . . . . 37
Airports, Train and Bus stations . . . . . . . . . . 38
5. Times and Places without the Usual Landmarks . . . . . 41
Grocery Stores. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
How Do You Walk in Ice, Snow, and Rain? . . . . . . . 42
How About Suburban and Rural Roads with No Sidewalks? 43
Are There Roads and Intersections Unsafe for Any Pedestrian?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
Picnics, Hiking, and Rough Country . . . . . . . . . 45
6. Care and Feeding of the Long White Cane. . . . . . . . 47
Wash, Feed, and Dress Your Cane . . . . . . . . . . . 48
Where Does the Cane Go When Not in Use? . . . . . . . 48
Which Hand Do You Cane With?. . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
7. Thoughts and Experiences on Cane Travel. . . . . . . . 50
How Long Does It Take to Learn Cane Travel? . . . . . 50
Can a Blind Person Teach Cane Travel? . . . . . . . . 53
No One Has to Do Everything Perfectly . . . . . . . . 54
What About Other Travel Aids, Dogs and Electronics? . 56
8. Songs. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57
The White Cane Freedom March. . . . . . . . . . . . . 57
The Lament of the Folding Cane. . . . . . . . . . . . 58
Sources of Canes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
Acknowledgements
Virginia, Ann, and Barbara--my wife and daughters--make my life and work
worthwhile and possible. Here are my love and support.
Dr. Kenneth Jernigan has for me, as for so many others, been my mentor
and guide. He taught me what I know about blindness and showed me that
I could live a full life. He also gave me comments on this booklet.
For their support, inspiration, and comments, I thank my friends in the
National Federation of the Blind: Lloyd Rasmussen, Judy Rasmussen,
Debbie Brown, Arlene Hill, Sharon Duffy, and Mary Ellen Gabias.
Any writer needs to find and gain access to relevant material, and I was
helped by Norma Belt, my reader, and Carol Strauss, reference librarian.
I appreciate the discussions of shared experiences with Alan and Billie
Ruth Schlank. As a beginning author, I appreciate the help in editing
offered by Carl Knoettner. I thank my students who taught me as I was
teaching them.
About the Author
Thomas Bickford became blind at the age of seventeen from glaucoma. Mr.
Bickford started using a cane during the summer between high school and
college because his sight was fading past the point of usefulness for
travel. He learned some basic cane techniques from a fellow college
student. After college, he attended the California Orientation Center
for the Blind where, among other things, he took formal instruction in
cane travel and met and joined the National Federation of the Blind.
Mr. Bickford holds his B.A. degree from Occidental College, Los Angeles,
and his M.A. degree from the University of Iowa, Iowa City. For the
past twenty-six years Mr. Bickford has worked for the Library of
Congress, National Library Service for the Blind and Physically
Handicapped in Washington, D.C. He makes his home in suburban Maryland
with his wife and two daughters. Since people ask how much a blind
traveler can see, Mr. Bickford speaks of himself as "very totally
blind."
TO
L. Q. "Larry" Lewis.
May he rest in peace
because I walk with confidence.
Author's Introduction
This booklet contains the experience and observations I have gained over
many years as a cane traveler. My hope is to share these experiences
and observations with you. But the booklet cannot go with you to say,
"You are doing that right, but you need to do it twenty-five or thirty
times, not just two or three times." It cannot say, "Swing your cane
farther to the left, but not quite so far to the right." The booklet
cannot follow you around the block to say, "Yes, this block really does
have four corners, but you were off course when you went around one of
the corners, and you didn't recognize it." The booklet cannot tell you
at which moment it is safe to cross a street, nor should it try to tell
you where particular obstacles are. To become an independent traveler
you must, and I believe you can, learn to take care of yourself. The
best thing this booklet can do for you is to help you come to the time
when you don't need it.
A skilled and knowledgeable teacher might help you learn that
combination of skills that make up cane travel, and the process might go
faster. Such a teacher could present new challenges at the right time
or help review persistent problems. I think of this part of the process
as "guided practice," and it was very helpful to me. If you had such a
teacher, you might not be reading this booklet, so let's get on with the
process.
In avoiding the discomfort of fearful feelings you also eliminate the
opportunity for courageous actions, ... and the emotional maturity such
action develops. If you happen to feel fear, and who doesn't, don't
duck it; use it.
Nancy Mairs. Carnal Acts. New York: HarperCollins, 1991.
We should use technology only where it's necessary. Throughout my
career in this field there have been flurries of interest in mobility
devices, and I've always felt that the ordinary cane, which is
technologically simple, is, in fact, very sophisticated and sufficient
for the job.
Raymond Kurzweil. Technology Producers Present Their Views: the First
Panel, Remarks by Raymond Kurzweil. The Braille Monitor, January, 1992,
p. 22.
CARE AND FEEDING OF THE LONG WHITE CANE:
Instructions in Cane Travel for Blind People
1. Getting Yourself Ready
Why Should I Use This Thing That Makes Me Look Blind?
One of the reasons that makes me qualified to ask this question and
offer an answer is that I asked myself this same question when I got my
first cane. When I asked the lady who sold me the cane in the local
agency for the blind, "How do I use it," her answer was, "Any way you
like."
I was in my last year of high school then, losing sight slowly but
steadily, and we all know how high school students hate to look
"different." As I walked with my parents across the street back to the
car, I pondered the more basic question, "Why use this cane at all?"
Through the National Federation of the Blind I learned that there are
two major schools of thought about what it means to be blind. One
philosophy of blindness held by most people, including many blind
people, says that blindness is a disaster, a catastrophe. I tell you
frankly and up front, if you decide that blindness is a disaster, it
will be for you. It will dominate and ruin your life. It will limit
your thoughts, your relationships and your achievements.
The NFB taught me the other philosophy of blindness, that blindness is a
physical characteristic, that with the right approach and with the right
kinds of training in dealing with the situations you meet in your daily
life, blindness can be reduced to a matter of nuisance value. Some
nuisances are bigger than others, but blindness no longer has the power
to dominate and ruin your life. But this learning was a few years in
the future, so back to my late teens.
I don't know anyone who wants to be blind. I hated to admit that I was
blind, because it was a change in my self-image. I still had that
majority view of blindness, that it was a terrible thing. I knew that
the white cane identified me as a blind person, and I only thought of
this negative purpose.
The cane has a functional purpose, and that is what most of the rest of
this booklet is about. I started carrying the cane because I was losing
more sight and running into too many things. I just held it out in
front of me with an occasional swing to the side to check for landmarks.
A few months later, I met a blind veteran who used a long cane and had
good travel skills. He taught me enough to keep me going in limited
situations.
Another way to think of the cane is as a magic wand. If you know
anything about magic tricks, you know that the magician must practice
for hours before going on stage for a performance. The magic tricks
that you perform with the cane, threading your way past obstacles and
finding your destination, come with hours of practice. I will tell you
how long it took me to learn, and it was well worth the time and effort.
Now to return to the question of looking like a blind person.
The better I grew as a cane traveler, the less it bothered me to carry a
cane. The better I grew as a cane traveler, the less people asked if I
wanted help. The better I grew as a cane traveler, the less it bothered
me when people did offer help. I knew where I was going, and it showed.
I looked like a capable person. A skillful blind traveler draws
attention in the same way that a beautiful woman or handsome man draws
attention. People notice, admire for a moment, and then go on their way
as you go on yours. But I would have found all that hard to believe at
the beginning.
There are times when it is appropriate for people to know that I am
blind. The cane is a silent explanation when I enter a bank and ask
where the end of the teller's line is. I give all my attention to
traffic when I cross streets, but I want the driver approaching the
corner to know that I am blind. I try not to "wave the white cane" when
I could do things for myself, because that works against opening
opportunities for achievement in other areas of my life. But that is
another chapter in the philosophy of blindness.
Who Can Learn Cane Travel?
Let's turn away from cane travel for a moment and consider swimming. To
a non-swimmer or even an impartial observer who is standing on the
ground, the idea of swimming is foolish. They might say, "Humans can't
do that. We don't have air sacs along our spines like fish. Our only
air sacs expand and contract with every breath."
Have you ever seen or been a non-swimmer in the water, the way they
thrash around? "Water is too thin. It will not support you, and you
will soon drown." Even if the observer sees someone else swimming, the
response is, "Maybe they can do it, but I couldn't. And who would want
to do that, anyway? I can go all the places I want to go my own way."
The only way to learn to swim is to actually get into the water. Yes,
at first you do thrash around, and sink, and come up coughing with your
eyes and nose full of water. It takes a while to learn how to relax the
right way to let the water support you. Much of the skill in swimming
is in learning to cooperate with the water and to use its properties to
help you do what you want to do.
In every society there are skills that people are expected to learn and
to perform well. Up until a hundred years ago native American men and
boys were expected to be skillful in the use of the bow and arrow.
Allowing for individual variations, I am sure that most of them were
skillful.
Since everyone eats, lots of people need to cook, and cooking is a skill
that many people can learn to a satisfactory degree. There is another
factor involved in cooking, just as there was in the use of the bow and
arrow: separation by gender. Women were not expected to shoot the bow
and arrow, and, even now, many men are not expected to cook.
Early in my career I worked in a recreation center. Near closing time
one day I remarked to one of the boys that I had to go home and cook my
dinner. To him, that was a ridiculously funny idea, and all he could
say was, "Cooking is women's work!" It was no good telling him that I
lived alone and had no one to cook for me. This time, at least, it had
nothing to do with my blindness.
There is one thing that all American adults are expected to do, and that
is to drive a car. There are a few parallels between any two forms of
transportation: noticing surroundings, keeping track of turns and
distances, and planning your destination and route. Everyone is
expected to do these things. They are basically the same if you are
going from one room to another, or from one city to another. The
necessary skills are within everyone's range of abilities. I base my
opinion on the fact that so many blind people do travel successfully.
It takes training and practice, but that is to be expected.
People who can see are used to looking at everything they do, and so
they think they have to look in order to know and to do anything. The
National Federation of the Blind is in the process of teaching people
that it is not so. We expect blind people to learn how to do many
things. We lead by example, and offer help along the way. "Here is a
cane. Tap it back and forth in front of you as you walk." The cane,
itself, is a simple thing. As you step most of what you need to know is
in your head, and that is as good as it ever was."
There is one essential thing that the student must bring to cane travel,
and that is the willingness to try. Are there doubts? I had many
doubts. Are there fears? I had my share of fears. Is there confusion?
I had handfuls of confusion. Are there questions? I had a list of
questions which I asked at the wrong times. But along with my doubts,
fears, confusions and questions I brought a willingness to try. Many
times I repeated lessons, but I kept trying. If you have come this far
in the booklet, you can make it the rest of the way. From here on, you
need take only a small step at a time, so give it a try.
2. Getting the Cane Ready
How Long Should the Cane Be?
I have slowly graduated from a cane that was 42 inches long to a cane
that is over 60 inches long. I added a few inches every few years when
I bought a new cane. I have not yet had a cane that was too long. My
chin-high cane is barely long enough for me, now. There are blind
people who use canes that reach their eyebrows.
Once while I was teaching travel, it occurred to me that what mattered
was not where the cane came on your body, but where it reached in front
of you. The speed of your pace and the length of your stride will make
a difference. The cane needs to reach a good two steps in front of
where you are stepping. As a practical matter, if you find yourself
overstepping the cane, dropping off curbs you didn't find, try a longer
cane.
When you select a cane, start with one that comes into your armpit.
Walk up to a blank wall, swinging the cane from side to side two inches
wider than the width of your shoulders. As you step left, tap right; as
you step right, tap left. When the cane hits the wall, complete the
step you are making, and take one more. Was there space for that next
step? If so, you have enough stopping distance. If not, add another
two or four inches to the cane and try again. I am not the only one who
needs the length of that second step for stopping distance.
Remember that not all obstacles are found at the distance of the end of
the cane. You find some things as the cane swings to the side after the
tip has passed them. If part of the obstacle is above ground level,
such as a chair or a car, part of the cane will pass under it before
making contact, and you will be glad to have the added length. You may
think that the longer the cane, the more it will get tangled up in
whatever is ahead of you, but that can happen with any length of cane.
There is one other factor that I must consider for my cane: will it fit
in the family car? The answer is: "Yes, but I have to work at it a
bit." The way that is best for me is to bring the handle end in first
and push it back as far as possible between the seat and the side of the
car. I try to get it under the seat belt anchor and as low as possible,
where it won't trip back seat passengers going in and out. The last
thing is to make sure the tip end is in the car and not sticking out
between the door and the frame. I am not the only person to destroy a
cane that way. I am afraid I have made the process sound harder than it
is. A couple of pushes and a pull get the cane in position, and it
takes less time than fastening a seat belt.
What Should the Cane Be Made Of?
I have used canes made of wood, aluminum tubing, solid fiberglass,
fiberglass tubing, and carbon fiber compound tubing. Each material has
different characteristics of strength, weight, and flexibility. Each
one sounds different as it strikes the ground. I have not used wooden
canes or canes with curved handles since the 1950's. White support
canes are available for people who need a cane to lean on.
Aluminum tubing canes are relatively heavy and strong. They do not
break. If they are bent a little, they will straighten out. With a
little more pressure, they will stay bent; very few people have the
coordinated strength to return aluminum canes to their original
condition. Slightly bent canes may not look as pretty as straight ones,
but you can use them for a long time.
Solid fiberglass canes (called rigid because they have no joints) are
both strong and flexible, and I like that combination of qualities.
They weigh less than aluminum canes, and more than the next two hollow
canes. Solid fiberglass will take quite a bend and still straighten.
If they are bent past a certain point, they will split into long
splinters which are dangerous to touch. The cane will probably get you
home in that condition, but beware the splinters.
Hollow fiberglass is lightweight and very easy to handle. It has a
nice bounce to it, but will only take a moderate bend without breaking.
That is, it may not withstand tripping someone. When it breaks, hollow
fiberglass tends to crush and fall apart very soon.
Carbon fiber canes are fairly stiff and have only a little bounce. They
are light weight and easy to handle. Compared to hollow fiberglass, the
carbon fiber cane is somewhat stronger and lasts a little longer after a
break.
I do not know any cane that will withstand being caught in a car door
unscathed. I keep a spare cane at home.
Let us consider folding canes. Do not let yourself fall into the trap
of thinking you are hiding your blindness by using a folding cane.
Also, for at least the duration of the learning stage, I strongly
recommend a one-piece cane. There are many blind people who use a
folding cane all the time and find it fully satisfactory. For several
years I was one of them. The previous section on the length of the cane
should still be considered. I often take my folding cane to church,
restaurants, theaters; places where it may not be as convenient to stow
the one-piece cane.
Many folding canes are made of aluminum tubing sections with some kind
of elastic in the middle to pull the sections together. Each producer
has his own variation on the way the sections join, so you must make
your own choice. Some canes are made of concentric tubing that
collapses each one into the next. If you pull each section out firmly
and give it a slight twist, it should stay in position during your trip.
Both fiberglass and carbon fiber compound are available in this
telescoping style.
How and Where Do You Hold the Cane?
The handle goes diagonally across my palm and rests on the extended
index finger. The other fingers curl around, and the thumb points over
the handle and down the cane. The palm is vertical as when extended to
shake hands. That is the classic grip which I use most of the time. In
close quarters I slide my hand down the cane and narrow the swing. I
may shift my grip and hold the cane like a long pencil. You can't swing
the cane much in that position, but you don't want to swing it much
because of the crowd. In very close, slow-moving crowds such as in
theater lobbies or a line to board a bus, I may just hold the cane
diagonally across my body and slide the cane along in front of my left
foot. At other times I may shift my grip to ease fatigue or for no
special reason.
The firmness of the grip should be moderate, neither so tight that you
never let go--you'll break the cane when it gets caught in a crack--nor
so loose that every obstacle knocks it out of your hand--you'll have to
chase it too often.
I swing the cane from side to side with pressure of the wrist and
fingers. The hand swings like a door with the hinge at the wrist.
Pretty soon you will be almost flipping the cane back and forth with an
easy, unconscious motion.
My first teacher told us to hold the cane just below the belt buckle
with the forearm braced against the hip. From that central position the
cane can be tapped evenly from side to side. This position is good for
beginners, and some people stay with it. Over the years my cane hand
has drifted to the side by my pocket. In either position, hold your
hand out a few inches so you do not impale yourself when the cane hits a
stop. Your whole arm can move to take up the shock.
When you are standing still, hold the cane vertically near your body
with a light grip. That is, I don't think you want to look like a
shepherd leaning on his staff.
There will be times, walking or standing, when you want to reach out and
check a particular landmark or shoreline. Be sure you are not going to
trip someone with the sudden motion, reach out, and then bring your arm
back to the original position. The point is that you should hold the
cane in a manner and position so as to reach where you need to with
comfort and without undue fatigue.
Many canes have a loop of chain or string through the handle which is
for the purpose of hanging up the cane when it is not in use. Do not
put your hand through the loop when you are walking. If something
should happen to pull the cane out of your hand, it is better to drop
the cane than to be pulled down with it.
You may think I don't care how you hold your cane. I do think that
there is more than one way and more than one place to hold the cane.
However and wherever you hold the cane, give yourself protection for the
full width of your body. The purpose of the grip and position is to
make it possible to tap the cane from side to side, which is the subject
of the next section, and that is very important.
3. Actually Walking Around
Walking with the Cane, Rule One
My first travel teacher taught us Rule One: "When the body is in motion,
the cane is in rhythm." That means: tap the cane from side to side, one
tap per step, about two inches beyond the width of your shoulders. Keep
the tip low, but not constantly dragging on the ground.
The idea of Rule One is to clear an area, and step into it. Clear the
next area, and step into it. You can do it faster than you can say it.
As you step left, tap right; as you step right, tap left. As a
beginner, you may think that swinging the cane beyond your shoulders is
too wide, but you will learn soon enough that you need the width. With
the right length of cane and using this technique, you can learn to walk
safely and with confidence. You will locate obstacles and drop-offs,
and be prepared for them. If you keep the taps at a steady two inches
beyond your shoulders, it will help to even out your stride and keep you
walking straight. In crowds or other close quarters, shorten up on the
handle and narrow your swing. You are still a member of the human race,
so remember your basic courtesies.
The cane, of course, will not find every small obstacle on the ground.
It can go around an obstacle the size of a brick, but it will find
things larger than that. Sometimes there are holes in the sidewalk, and
the cane may go completely over a dip the size of a dinner plate or a
place mat. True, the cane is not perfect, but nothing else is, either.
Sighted or blind, everyone has stories of how they tripped over or
stepped into something.
The cane can tell you what is ahead, but be sure to give it the chance
to do that. If you are about to turn in an open area or go around a
corner, let the cane clear the area before you step there. The
headlights on a car point straight ahead and do not look around the
corner before the car turns. With a cane you can and should check the
area where you are about to turn and step; side-stepping can be
dangerous.
There are many un-numbered lesser rules, but always remember Rule One:
"When the body is in motion, the cane is in rhythm."
Planning Practice Routes
In the beginning a straight route is suitable. Try walking up and down
your block a time or two while concentrating on Rule One. As you walk
you may find a "shoreline" on one side: a wall, a fence, or grass. Let
your cane touch the shoreline each time the swing goes to that side. It
can help to keep you on course. Shorelines have breaks and
irregularities which soon become landmarks to help you keep track of
where you are. Soon you will be walking around the block, if your
neighborhood is laid out that way, and returning to the starting point.
You will find both fixed and movable obstacles, all part of cane travel.
How can you match your next challenge to your level of experience? You
may just go a little farther every day. Guided practice can be helpful
if you can get it, but I mentioned that at the beginning, so I will not
belabor the point.
Going Up and Down Stairs
You're not going to be a flatlander for the rest of your life. Almost
every building has stairs or steps somewhere.
You are at the bottom of the stairs, about to go up. Some stairs have
hand-rails, and some don't, and you need to be able to use either kind.
If you are using the hand-rail, put your cane in the other hand. Either
way, The cane can tell you how high and deep the first step is. I slide
my hand part-way down the cane and hold it diagonally across my body.
The cane taps two or three steps ahead of my feet. Going up and down
stairs is almost the only place I will tell you not to swing the cane
from side to side. At the top, resume Rule One.
When going down, locate the top step first with the cane, then with the
foot. Whether or not you use the hand-rail, hold the cane diagonally
across your body. Let the cane tip slide off each step as you go. At
the bottom, resume Rule One. There are complications such as landings
with or without turns. No one can list all the tricks that architects
can imagine. Let your cane go first, and pay attention to what it says.
After this, you will be going up and down the ordinary hills and valleys
of the outdoor world.
Listening to Traffic on the Street as a Guide
Cars are a common part of the world we live in. Cars usually drive
straight along streets and turn at corners. Yes, I know ... but there
are crazy blind pedestrians just as there are crazy sighted drivers.
I have found that a steady stream of traffic is one of the best helps
there is. By listening to traffic I can tell how far away the street
is, if the street runs straight or turns, where the intersection is, and
which color is showing on the traffic light. I use traffic as an
audible shoreline.
When you are walking around the block for practice, I recommend that you
do not turn the corner when you think you are there. Go all the way to
the curb, then back up a few steps and turn. It is easy for beginners
to turn too soon and find themselves without the expected landmarks.
Now that you have learned about walking straight and listening to
traffic, let's go on to crossing streets.
Crossing Streets with No Traffic
For purposes of practice, use a street with as little traffic as
possible. Because many corners are rounded off for the convenience of
turning traffic, you cannot just walk straight away from the curb. You
need to find something as a guide to be sure you are starting off
straight across the street. That guide may be part of the curb beyond
the curved section at the corner. It may be the dividing lines in the
sidewalk. It may be the curb ramp for wheelchairs, but be sure that the
ramp is aimed directly across the street and not diagonally out into the
intersection. It may be traffic either going your way or crossing in
front of you. When you locate your guide, line yourself up with it so
that you are facing directly across the street. Listen carefully to be
sure that no cars are approaching from the side or around the corner.
Having checked your direction and your safety, step off the curb and
walk. Go quickly without rushing. Remember Rule One. There can be
obstacles or holes in the street as well as anywhere else. When you
come to the far side, sweep the curb with your cane before stepping up.
It is common to find signposts near intersections, and I have found some
with my head because I didn't find them with my cane. Did you cross
straight and arrive at the sidewalk? If not, and I don't always,
myself, pause to make an educated guess from your surroundings, and make
the necessary corrections. There you are across the street. Now you
can go on your way.
Which Way Can Cars Turn At Intersections?
When you consider intersections, you need to know the directions and
paths that cars take when they go through or turn. That is: if you are
facing a street with the intersecting street on your right, and each
street allows two-way traffic, a left-turning car can go from the middle
lane on your right to the middle lane in front of you. If you are
crossing then, the car will appear to approach from behind your right
shoulder. If your experience does not include such information, it is
time to learn. You can either observe for yourself or ask for help.
There are many combinations of factors to know about including one-way
streets, right turn on red, special turning lanes, traffic islands, and
traffic lights to accommodate all of these. All drivers out there have
to learn the rules of traffic, and you are just as smart as they are.
Learn them one at a time as you find them.
Environmental Clues and Mental Maps
In some ways, this section is the heart of cane travel. By using your
cane, which I do, or a little sight, which I do not do, you are only
extending the range of your perception a few feet. By listening to the
sounds around you and the nature of those sounds, you are extending the
range of your perception for many feet, sometimes hundreds of feet. The
mind has the greatest reach, and can consider distances from inches away
to miles away, and objects the size of a bump in the sidewalk to a
sports stadium. The mind can form a mental picture or map arranging
landmarks along in the right order. Then it can check off each point as
you pass it. The mind coordinates all your knowledge, information,
senses and skills, so let us use this marvelous mind of ours.
Rule One says: "When the body is in motion, the cane is in rhythm." The
cane is good at gathering short-range information for you to act on.
The mind needs to be aware of the messages that the cane is sending.
The cane sends such messages as: the next step is clear, stop, jog to
the side, make a sharp turn, step up or down.
I am sure you have heard someone talking who, in the middle of a
sentence, turned his head or put his hand over his mouth. You noticed
the change in the character of the sound. The same kind of change
happens when the speaker walks around a corner. We can learn to hear
these same changes outside while we are walking.
When I became blind, I began to listen to sounds more carefully. Even
when I was told about some sounds, I did not notice them. I learned
gradually, not all at once. For me, "gradually" meant from a few weeks
to a few years.
I found that the sound of a car driving down the street changed when it
passed by a parked car or a tree. The first time I remember noticing
that effect was when I was still sighted, but temporarily blind. That
is, I walked between two parked cars in a very dark parking lot and
"heard" them, even though they were standing still. What I heard was
the sound shadow, the difference in the background sound as these large
objects blocked part of what I heard. It makes no difference what you
call this effect, but it may help you if you use the experience.
Sometimes you can identify or locate an object by noticing the air
currents moving around it, be it a natural breeze or caused by human
action.
When you walk down a hall in a large building, you sometimes pass a door
with noise coming out of it. You may approach the intersection of
another hall where people are passing by in front of you. The time may
come when you notice the open door or the intersecting hall just by the
nature of the background sound.
There are more than the five senses of touch, taste, smell, sight, and
hearing. There is the sense in our muscles that tells us where our
various body parts are. There are also the senses of time and distance.
These two work together and can be put to use keeping track of where we
are.
At home and work, I know about how big the rooms are and how long the
halls are, so I get used to how long it takes to cross a room or to get
to the end of the hall. Having gone far enough, I anticipate the next
thing to do, which is usually to turn a corner or enter a doorway. When
walking outside, we make use of the same senses. We just expand the
distances.
One more of the senses is the sense of turning. This sense is not exact
to me. I can identify turns better when I am going fast than when I am
going slow. Sometimes I walk around a gentle curve and do not know how
much I have turned, or that I have turned at all. I wish I could do
better.
Once, just for practice, a friend and I stood between a table and a wall
and tried to turn exactly 90 degrees back and forth. It helped
somewhat. This sense, alone, is not reliable to me, but it is a help
when combined with the other senses.
As a new travel student, I asked my teacher, "How can I go two or three
blocks this way, and four or five blocks that way, and find the barber
shop?" I learned later how much of a "beginner's question" that was. It
is like the algebra student who comes to the first class and opens the
book in the middle, only to ask, "How can I ever solve that problem?"
The answer is that you start at the beginning, and later, when you pass
that point in the book you find that it was just one more step along the
way. Long ago I found that I could make use of general directions, and
I did find the barber shop.
I can usually keep track of where I am by checking off local landmarks
and noticing distances, but sometimes I do get confused, disoriented, or
simply "lost." I ask directions or pick out a particular spot and do
some limited exploring. I may have been a block short, 90 degrees off
course, or even right on course but not aware of it. I may feel stupid
for a minute, but I get "found" and go on my way.
I learn easily from spacial displays. I like two-dimensional paper
maps, but they are hard to find.
When I think of where I'm going, I map out my route in my head. For
some people, maps are of no help at all. They do not want to know north
and south. Just tell them left or right, and how far it is. I can work
from either kind of directions. We all have different abilities, notice
different landmarks, and go on different trips, so use the things that
help you.
Compass directions can be a very useful tool. First, you need to know
that North and South are opposite each other, and that East and West are
opposite each other. When you face North, West is to the left and East
is to the right. Many cities try to have some orientation to the
compass, but there are usually a few streets that curve or are just not
straight with the compass. When walking inside a large building, it may
be helpful to identify halls by compass directions.
Let me end this section with a set of directions I once gave to a friend
of mine. "Go out of the building and turn left to the corner. Cross
the street to the right and go south, down to the next corner. You need
to cross the intersection both ways, and end up going left, east, for
two blocks. That is where you come to the big, wide street with the
traffic island on the far side and the separate light for the small
street beyond it. When you get across there, turn right, and you will
be going slightly down-hill. A little way down the block, the street
makes a slight turn to the left. From that point on, there are several
store entrances that are similar. The one you want is the fourth or
fifth one, but it is the only one with a rubber doormat." He said he
went right to it.
Expanding Your Horizons
If you are starting cane travel without formal training, you will meet
these conditions in no special order. You can learn them as you come to
them.
An experienced guide or teacher can be of help in judging the degree of
your ability so as to present new challenges at the right time with the
right degree of complication. Do you need more practice going around
the block so you don't get confused crossing the alley? Do you still
pass that store that is set back from the street? Are you keeping track
of the landmarks along the route so you know when to turn into the
office you wanted to find? On a round-trip, can you get back to your
starting point?
Landmarks can be such things as a particular arrangement of signposts,
mailboxes, lawns, bushes, driveways, barking dogs, busy streets, broken
sidewalks, hot-dog stands and gas stations. I have deliberately
mentioned things that you feel with a cane, feel with your feet, hear or
smell. All of these things have, at times, been landmarks for me.
Every blind traveler will develop his own local list of landmarks.
Do you need to take a route down a narrow sidewalk with parking meters
every ten feet? That will help you learn how wide to swing your cane
and how to get it untangled from obstacles. Do you need to take a route
along a very wide sidewalk with crowds of people going both ways, or no
other people going either way? That will help you develop your ability
to walk straight.
By the way, what is "walking straight?" It is a matter of keeping the
goal ahead of you and making a series of minor course corrections. As
you gain experience in swinging your cane evenly, as you pick up a
little bit of speed, as you make use of more landmarks, and as you
identify more sounds around you, you will find that you are walking
straight. I listen in all directions, but we usually walk in the
direction we are looking, so keep your face straight ahead.
Every now and then someone calls to me, usually from at least 20 feet
away, while I am crossing a street, "Straighten out, you're walking
crooked!" Of course, had I known I was walking crooked, I would already
have made my own corrections. It finally occurred to me that what these
people are trying to say is, "You are going off at an angle to the
desired direction, and it would be well to alter your course slightly."
The person has an idea of what the ideal course would be, but they did
not tell me which way to go, left or right. At times like that, I make
a quick decision based on what is around me. Oh, when will people learn
to be more specific and do it without informing the whole neighborhood?
As I walk down a block in either a business or residential area, I
listen to what is around me and what is ahead of me. What is ahead soon
becomes the next intersection. By the time I arrive I usually know what
the traffic condition is and which street has the green light. If you
can learn to add this trick to your list, it will keep you going more
smoothly.
One Dangerous Situation to Avoid
Let me tell you of one time not to cross a street. When a car that
could go past stops, and the driver calls to you, "Go ahead, I'll wait
for you," and especially if there is an empty lane beside the car, do
not cross. The time will come when a second driver will not see you and
will zip past at speed. Why not? The lights were with him. I have
narrowly escaped injury in such a situation. I went to the funeral of a
couple who were caught in just such a situation. Having learned my
lesson, I sometimes have to turn and walk away from the curb a few steps
in order to convince the driver that I will not cross then.
Crossing Big, Busy Intersections
Busy intersections usually have traffic lights with lots of cars going
through. I use the sound of the traffic to show where, when, and how
far I need to go. Consider the possibility of such things as traffic
islands and multiple phases in the traffic lights. With as much traffic
as there is, you could line up your shoulders parallel with the cars
crossing in front of you, or find some mark on the sidewalk to point you
straight across the street. Do not start part-way through a cycle on a
"stale green" light. I am always wary of people who tell me, "You can
go now. There's no one coming." Where I live, drivers observe traffic
lights more strictly than pedestrians do.
The movement of traffic tells me when the light changes in my favor. I
may pause, but just for a moment, to be sure that no cars are turning
in front of me. It is time to step down and walk quickly, using Rule
One. If there are other pedestrians, go with them. There is some
safety in numbers. I listen to the cars going my way, and follow the
direction they take. This is the time to listen, feel, and think in all
directions. Sometimes there is turning traffic for which you must
either speed up or slow down. The other side of the street really does
exist, and you can get there. By now the last of the cars going your
way are passing you on one side, and you are passing the cars waiting on
the street you are crossing on the other side of you. Now here is the
curb. Sweep it off, step up, and go on your way.
What Goes Through My Mind While Walking Down a Street?
When I was a child I used to hear of people who could dance and talk
with their partner at the same time. I thought they had to be very good
dancers to do that. When I grew older and learned to dance, I found
that it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. When a blind person
walks down a sidewalk, swinging a long white cane, some of the same
physical and mental coordination is going on. When walking with a cane
you coordinate your own speed and rhythm with your surroundings. There
are lots of things you anticipate, notice, and then pass by. Come along
as I take a six-block walk through a downtown area.
As I get off the bus, I let the cane tell me if I am in the street or on
the curb. It's a deep step to the street. The first swing of the cane
finds the curb. The rest of the swing clears the curb, and I step up
and go in about two more steps. Now I am at the sidewalk. Along this
street there are sections of grassy tree lawn, so I have to keep back
from the curb about this distance.
I turn right and get Rule One going. There's traffic in the street on
the right, and I'll try to stay an even distance from it. It sounds
like people standing and talking near the edge of the walk, so I need to
curve around them. Now there's grass on the right, so let the cane
touch it on each swing to that side. The grass won't last long, but
it's a good shoreline while it's there.
Some lady in high heels is trying to trot past me. I must not be going
fast enough for her. So what! I walk faster than some people and
slower than others. I'll follow those heels to the end of the block.
I must be nearing the end of the block. I can hear cars crossing in
front of me. I should go clear out to the curb on this block. I have
turned to go around the corner too soon on other trips here and found
myself where I didn't want to be and wasn't sure where I was. At a time
like that I try to reverse my course and get back to a known location.
There's the corner with its wheel chair ramp. I back up a step, turn
left, and get Rule One going again. There's no good shoreline on this
side of the walk. On the return trip there's a good shoreline, a nice
cement curb along the inner edge of the walk. Sometimes I drift over
and take that side of the walk, anyway. This time I listen hard to the
traffic on the right and keep it just so far from me. "Oh drat!" I got
too close, and the tree is trying to brush my hair for me. People are
approaching from ahead, so I narrow the swing of the cane on the left a
bit.
There's traffic crossing in front of me, again. I need to notice how
long it keeps moving since this time I must cross the street. "Five
seconds--ten seconds." No, it changed. Now the cars are going my way.
Will I have time to get there before the green light goes stale? "Ten
seconds--fifteen--twenty." No, too late. Lights change every thirty
seconds in this part of town, so I would rather wait for a fresh start.
I'm not perfectly accurate on counting seconds, but I'm close enough to
give myself a good idea of when to expect the lights to change. The
light changes; no cars turning; I walk; and, what do you know, right up
the ramp on the other side.
The next block has a wide sidewalk with tall buildings on the left.
There is something going on at the lower edge of my awareness, and I
don't think of it most of the time. Background noise reflects off this
continuous wall of buildings, and "hearing that wall" makes it easier
for me to keep a steady distance from it. These next four blocks have
the same feature, but the only time I think of it is in the last block
when an alley makes a break in the wall. The cane keeps swinging,
according to Rule One, but that is almost as unconscious an act as
moving my feet.
Both street and pedestrian traffic are heavier here. There is a person
calling out at the far end of the block. Drawing nearer I can tell it
is a woman selling fruit. I give her a little more space on the right.
There is plenty of traffic to mark the intersection. Just as I come
even with the fruit woman, there is a shift in the surrounding noise,
and I have passed the buildings. Now which direction was the light
green? I wasn't paying enough attention to that. There are cars
crossing in front of me, so I'll just walk slowly up to the curb. There
are plenty of cars and people to define the red and green light.
Here's the green light, and all the pedestrians are going, which means
that no cars are turning. It's a wide street, and I go at a quick pace.
At other times I have found a sign post half way across at the edge of
the crosswalk, but if I keep to the right I should avoid it.
I do a mental juggling act to balance all the values. Don't get too
close to the cars on the right; avoid the sign on the left; don't trip
the pedestrians with the cane; here's the hump in the middle of the
street; it's downhill from here; a car is turning the corner in front of
me; pause, it's bigger than I am; and now, the curb, at last. Sweep off
the curb, and--whoops! Don't step up here. There are several signposts
in the way. Turn toward the corner with one tap of the cane in the
street and one tap on the curb. Now the curb is clear, so step up, and
just in time. Listen a moment to people and cars for a directional
guide, and off we go again.
This block is rather uneventful, and here's the next intersection.
There is plenty of traffic, so I know when the light's changing, and
there it goes, just in time for me. It isn't quite a straight crossing,
but half a step to the right is enough of a correction. I dodge left
around the popcorn stand which shows itself in three ways. It blocks
the sound of the cars behind it, a sound shadow; the vendor and
customers are talking; and you can guess what the last clue is.
Now, for the last two blocks, and this one is plain vanilla. The light
changes in my favor just as I pass the last building. "One thousand,
two thousand, three thousand." There's the corner, and no cars turning.
I still have time to make it.
The crossing is OK, and my building is almost at the end of the block.
There's the alley which is about two-thirds of the way. It's time to
cross over to the left side of the walk and tap the front of buildings
with each swing of the cane.
What I want is a wide entrance with a foot-thick, metal-covered pole at
the edge of the walk, but all the buildings here are even with the walk.
Here's a building, more building, a glass door, but it's not set back,
more building ... "Bother!" There's the corner, so I passed it. Turn
around and go back. There's the building; glass door, more building.
Here are the setback and the pole, my building at last. Now it's just
two steps and turn right for the swinging door.
Every trip is a bit different, even though some component parts are
similar. Just disassemble the parts and shake them up before selecting
the items for your next trip. If you keep your landmarks in mind, use
your basic techniques, and pay attention to things around you; you'll
get there.
Walking with Someone Else
The first thing to remember when you are walking with someone else is
that you are still responsible for your own safety. The two times I
suffered serious injury while walking were while I was with someone
else. I falsely and foolishly gave over direction to the sighted person
I thought was guiding me. In each case the other person considered that
I was managing at least part of my own guidance. The other person may
choose the main route, guide you around obstacles, let you know at step-
ups and drop-offs, but it is essential for you to pay attention, too.
When I walk with another person, sighted or blind, I find it easier to
stay with them if one of us takes the arm of the other. Not everyone
likes that physical contact, so I have to divide my attention between
where I am going and where the other person is. We can stay close
enough for conversation, but the proximity is not as steady.
If you are with a stranger, or even a friend, it is polite to ask: "May
I take your arm?" If they accept your offer, take their arm lightly or
put your hand on their shoulder. Fall in step. Regardless of whether
your companion is sighted or blind, continue using Rule One.
Some of my sighted friends and family members are used to guiding me,
and I am confident of their judgment about speed, space, and obstacles.
Sometimes I walk directly behind if the space is narrow. When the space
opens up, I step up beside them. I do not always judge well where the
other person's feet are, and step on their shoes. I try to judge their
step by the sway of their body, but I don't always get it right.
Many guides, such as the people you meet at street corners who offer to
help you across the street, are not familiar with how to guide. I may
just muddle through, or I may take the time to say something like this:
"It is easier if I take your arm. That way, you will be half a step in
front, and I can anticipate my step by noticing what you do."
There are circumstances when I make good or bad compromises with the
rules. With a guide I sometimes walk along with the cane diagonally
across my body while making regular or occasional taps. Then there was
the time, while rushing through the airport,I had a suitcase in one
hand, my cane and a suitcase in the other hand, my guide had my arm and
the third suitcase. We cut a wide swath, and I'm glad it was only an
ashtray we knocked over and not a five-year-old.
Walking Without a Cane
We all walk without a cane sometimes, so let's talk about it. I
remember the rule I read in a book about mountain climbing which said
that you should always use a rope, but you should climb as if you did
not have a rope.
When you are not using a cane, everything else in the environment
becomes more important. Whatever you can find with any other sense
organ must be evaluated as quickly as possible. In my own home, I try
to keep doors open or closed all the way. I swing an arm through a
doorway as I near it, just to be sure I am passing through it neatly.
Sometimes I touch furniture as I go by. I pause at the top and bottom
of stairs, and reach with my foot to locate the first step. When
looking for a doorknob or light switch, I make more of a sweeping motion
than a straight reach. I sometimes keep my arm across in front of my
waist.
One thing I do not do is to hold my arms straight out with the palms
forward in the traditional sleep-walker's pose. If I were that
uncertain, I would use my cane. The cane looks better and is far more
effective.
I walk more slowly without a cane. I do not use a cane within my own
home, and rarely enough around my yard. But that is the boundary. Once
in a while I will walk a short way around my neighborhood without a
cane. And one time, because of freak circumstances, I was caught at
night, five blocks from home, on the far side of a traffic circle
without a cane. I walked very carefully and a little slower than usual,
and made it, but I would not do it if there were another way.
Using a cane is a habit with me, and when I go out, I grab my cane on
the way.
4. Public Transportation
Riding Buses and Streetcars
Most trips involve walking at the beginning and end, or even in the
middle, so that many skills are used. You need to have the route,
destination, and length of the trip in mind before you start. While
planning your trip, learn the name and/or number of the bus you want.
Buses for different routes may use the same or nearby stops, and you
will need to ask before boarding.
You need to know where the stop is: at the corner or around the corner,
back from the corner or across the intersection. All of these locations
and more are possibilities. In my boyhood and youth I rode streetcars
that ran in the center lane of the street. We boarded from an island,
sometimes raised and sometimes painted on the street. I had to locate
the island by listening to where cars did not run.
With practice you will learn how fast people shuffle along as they step
up, pay their fare, get a transfer, and find a seat. Do you need to ask
the driver to call your stop for you? The time of boarding is a good
time to ask for that help. Sometimes it is wise to confirm your
destination with the driver as you near it, especially if it is a long
trip. When you get off, remember all those possible locations of the
bus stop we mentioned at the beginning of the trip. In unfamiliar
areas, I ask where the stop will be for the return trip.
Over the years I have made many mistakes such as waiting at the wrong
stop, getting on the wrong bus, getting off too soon or too late, and
more. I have paid for these mistakes in time and confusion, but I have
learned from them.
Next I will present a step-by-step account of a trip I take frequently.
I do this to share what I find necessary and helpful when riding the
bus. This trip takes me from work to home.
I go out the door of the building where I work and turn left. At the
end of the block there is an oblique left where I again go to the end of
the block.
There are three streets that almost come together here to form a series
of individual intersections. There are curb cuts for wheelchairs, and
if I use them and walk straight, I hit the ramp on the opposite side.
At this time of day there is plenty of traffic waiting to go the same
way I do. I go when they go, stay parallel to the line of cars on the
left, keep between them and the cars waiting their turn on my right. If
I step up on grass, I am too far to the right, so correct to the left.
It is about seventy feet to the next corner, and about half of that
distance is taken by the entrance to a gas station. I can tell when I
am crossing their slanted driveway if one foot is high and one foot is
low.
I wait through the cycle of lights and cross the next street. On the
curb I walk in two or three steps and turn right. The bus stop is a bus
length down, just beyond a plot of dirt with a tree and a trash can.
There are often other people waiting for the bus.
There are three routes that use this stop, and two of them will take me
where I need to go. Some of the drivers have learned to announce their
route as they open the door, so I don't always have to ask. Often there
are people getting off, so I wait my turn to board. I step up, put the
fare in the box, ask for my kind of transfer to go across a zone line,
and find a seat.
Here I digress for a point of philosophy. Drivers and other passengers
may encourage you or force you to sit in the "priority seating" at the
front of the bus. The choice is still yours to take it or not. I
sometimes sit in front and sometimes farther back.
How do I know where to get off? This leg of the trip is short enough so
I have learned the pattern of the eight stops. Even if we miss one, and
at that time of day we usually hit them all, I can account for the
distance. It goes like this: long, medium, medium, long, very short,
long, medium but often missed, medium. After six I get up, approach the
driver and ask. I actually count stops on my fingers, but please don't
tell my third grade teacher!
The stop where I get off is near the corner, so I walk the few feet and
check for the direction of traffic. Sometimes I cross with that noisy
bus beside me, but I feel safe because no traffic is coming through that
bus. The stop for the next bus is just to the right where I have to
thread my way between a trash can, a telephone stand, and a newspaper
vending machine, all good landmarks.
For this bus and the next my only fare is my transfer. We go through a
distinctive set of turns and up a long hill, but I don't have to notice
while going home because I ride to the end of the line.
At this terminal, I walk straight away from the bus, then turn to follow
the sidewalk beside the turn-around used by several of the buses. I
dodge people, benches, and supporting pillars, and turn out at the
second exit, which puts me right at the fire plug beside my bus stop.
This time I can only take one of the three buses that stop here, and
sometimes they line up, so I may have to back up fifty feet for mine. I
have made a few "bus stop" acquaintances who sometimes give me the word.
This leg of the trip takes about twenty minutes. We start off around
the terminal and, after a quarter of a mile, in, around, and out of a
traffic circle. Those turns are distinctive. We go about four miles
with very few people getting on or off. Then we come to a major
intersection for which we must wait through at least one cycle of the
lights and with the stop after we cross. After the next stop, which we
do not always make, the bus makes an oblique left turn, and I sigh with
relief because it is my last landmark. I get up when the bus shifts
into high gear. At my stop I go back across the street we just crossed
and walk two short blocks to my home.
I know that this description is long, but it is the "one bite at a time"
approach to eating an elephant. No two trips are exactly the same, but
you may find some of these techniques useful as you develop your own.
Subways, Escalators, and Elevators
The first thing people want to know about subways is the location of the
platform edge. I slide my cane tip along to locate the edge, step back
from it, and respect it. As I walk along subway platforms, I walk a
little slower than usual, and I swing my cane a little wider than usual.
I also slide the cane on the surface, the only time I use this otherwise
poor technique. I want to know immediately if the cane drops over the
edge. I expect people to criticize me about this point, so go ahead.
The one thing I do not do is step sideways. The cane has been ahead of
me, not to the side.
When the train comes, and after the door opens, put the cane tip on the
floor of the car before you step in just to be sure you are not trying
to enter the gap between cars. When you get off, let the cane tip go
first to be sure that there is a platform waiting for you.
Are there stairs, escalators or elevators to take you up and down?
Stairs have been discussed earlier. For escalators, I only know one
warning and two tricks, and they are not exclusive to blind people. The
warning is that an escalator is a powerful, moving machine. Cooperate
with it as it helps you, and you will get there. Use the hand-rail, and
don't play around. The first trick is, if I am not sure if an escalator
is going up or down, I pause in front of it and feel the hand-rail. The
other trick is one of balance as I step on or off a moving platform.
When I step on, and I feel the stair treads dividing under my feet, I
step up or down so that my whole foot is on one tread, not divided
between treads, but that is no trick. It is just common sense.
Treat elevators with the same respect you treat the platform edge. Let
the cane tell you that there is something solid ahead of you to step on.
This is no time to enact bad elevator jokes.
Airports, Train and Bus stations
Transportation terminals tend to have several features in common. There
are long distances to cover and large open areas with arrangements of
furniture in the middle. The ticket counter is relatively close to the
entrance, relative to the size of the terminal, that is.
The next part of the trip may cover several hundred yards of corridors
including an array of modern miracle transportation: moving sidewalks,
people movers, monorails and more. Little children think they are fun;
I must be getting old. At the end of this part of the trip you must
find just the right door and play the ticket game again.
You may be able to get most or all the way by yourself, but if you need
help in finding your way, there is no use in being shy about asking for
help. A personal guide may range from necessary to helpful to
bothersome. As hard as it sometimes is to find help when you need it,
sometimes it is harder to get rid of help when you don't want it any
more. Some trips are once and never again, and I need more help then.
Some trips are regulars, and I need little if any help then.
The job of the blind traveler is to learn and keep in mind the gate
number and departure time. The guide, then, needs only to locate and
steer, not to investigate and govern. The guide may try to investigate
and govern, anyway, but it is your trip, not theirs. You make the
decisions, so you stay in control.
In my experience, one of the distinct features of airports is the
departure lounge. That is where you may have your ticket taken away
from you, be pre-boarded, be helped at the right or wrong time with the
right or wrong amount of help.
I have found it informative to hear what airline personnel say to each
other about me. "Should we take his ticket?" That was when I clutched
my ticket and gently found a seat to wait in. It was not the same seat
I had before I went up to ask my question, but I still had my ticket and
boarded when I chose.
There was the time when three flights were called before mine. Everyone
walked around the edge of the lounge, avoiding the central area. I
decided that benches or plants must be blocking that area. I could hear
where tickets were being taken. When my flight was called, I took the
"round" trip and found the departure gate myself. That was when I
heard, "He didn't ask for any help." I don't always insist on being
that independent, but that day I did.
Train stations may or may not be as big as airports, but they share the
same obstacles. Trains are long, so platforms have to be long. Some
train platforms are raised above the level of the tracks, so remember
the rules from the subway lesson. Locate the platform edge, and respect
it. Do not step sideways. Let your cane tell you that there is
something solid to step on: up, down, and level.
Bus stations range in size from a driveway beside a small-town drug
store to a city block or more. In bus stations, you need to get to the
right boarding gate, and there is often a loud noise when you get
there. Sometimes the distance from the boarding gate to the bus door is
short and obvious, and you can find it easily. Sometimes the bus you
want is behind or beyond three others, all of which are roaring along
with their engines on "high idle". If you know where to go, then go
ahead. Remember Rule One. If you don't know where to go, ask for help.
All that noise to a blind person masks other useful sounds. The
equivalent situation to a sighted person would be turning out the lights
or flooding the area with fog.
5. Times and Places without the Usual Landmarks
Grocery Stores
If I am going alone, and I know what I want and where it is, I find
movement easiest with my cane in front while holding the front end of
the grocery cart and pulling it behind me. It steers better that way.
If I am shopping with another person, I find that store aisles are too
narrow for two people and a cart. That is when I follow my guide with
my hand on a shoulder. The cart needs to go at the front or the back of
the procession, a matter of personal choice.
Most of the time I am an organized shopper, preparing my grocery list
beforehand. If I know the layout of the store, I think of each section
and decide what to buy as I mentally walk around. If the store is new
to me, and all stores are new the first time, I do some preparation,
anyway. The more I am going to buy, the more help I need, so I ask the
store for one of their staff to help in my selections. You have to be
specific when designating items: tuna, oil packed or water packed;
cereal, which size; bananas, how green. Finding a time that is good for
you to shop and the store to help is a matter of juggling schedules.
In years past, I used a two-wheeled fold-up cart for pulling my
groceries home. The cart had a bad habit of getting too close and
running over my heel. In order to keep the cart in its place behind me,
I held my arm straight down and against my side. That position kept the
wheels back from me.
How Do You Walk in Ice, Snow, and Rain?
Ice, snow, and rain have this in common: they make the footing slippery.
How do I keep from giving a skating demonstration and falling on my
dignity? I walk a little slower, keep my knees slightly bent, and take
shorter steps. I also put my feet down flat, not striding out with the
heel landing first. I may not move fast, but I do move and stay
upright.
If the snow is light or fresh, I dig my cane through it, and with the
combination of sound and touch I can tell what is there. If the snow is
too deep to dig through or it is packed and frozen, the cane must find
something above the surface to identify as a landmark. Sometimes packed
snow on the sidewalk and loose snow beside it show enough difference to
help. Taller landmarks are helpful, such as bushes, fences, sign posts,
and parked cars. Snow covers many of the usual landmarks, but it can
become a landmark, itself. One winter it stayed so cold for so long
that I used a particular snow bank as a landmark on the way to a
friend's house.
When the snow is deep and soft, it weighs down branches which hang in
front of you. One advantage of a long cane is that you can reach up and
tap a branch so it will release its burden of snow before you walk under
it. Well, it works sometimes.
The world sounds different with a covering of snow. Echoes disappear.
Distances expand. I navigate more by dead reckoning and less by my
usual landmarks.
Rain may not change the footing as much as snow and ice do, but it can
change the sound of things in its own way. Cars hissing by on wet
streets mask other sounds. Rustling raincoats do the same. Hats,
scarves and hoods all influence what you hear in different ways, and you
may want to think of that along with the weather. I am rarely out in
rain so hard that it covers all other sounds.
It may take longer to get places in the rain. I often listen harder and
wait longer to know where things are and when things happen. Here is
another practical use for the long cane: finding the depth and width of
curbside puddles.
How About Suburban and Rural Roads with No Sidewalks?
I like to get routes, distances, and landmarks well in mind before
starting. There is more area in which to get lost, and fewer people
from whom to ask directions. I take my longest cane and swing it rather
widely. I move along at a good clip because there are greater distances
to cover. I still have to stay alert for traffic on the road, as well
as mailboxes and ditches beside it.
I usually stay on the shoulder of the roadway, but sometimes I take
short excursions to explore for a sidewalk which may appear for a while,
or a front walk, driveway, or other landmark that would help me keep
track of what is about and around. I like to stay close to the road,
because that is the main landmark. The direction of the sun, wind, and
distant sounds can also be used as a guide and landmark.
Are There Roads and Intersections Unsafe for Any Pedestrian?
I am one of those people who finds the "wet paint" sign and wonders if
the paint is still wet. That same rebellious, disbelieving streak comes
out when people tell me not to attempt certain streets or intersections
because they are too dangerous or complicated for me. I always wonder
if they mean "because I am blind."
I usually learn something about these places before testing them for
myself. Is there another street or intersection a block or two from
there that would get me to my destination just as well? The answer is
sometimes "yes" and sometimes "no." I know some "nervous nay-sayers" who
simply have no faith in the travel abilities of blind people. I also
know some "supporting stalwarts" who recognize realistic obstacles.
When it comes time for me to make my own decision, I take it slowly,
allowing plenty of time on my schedule. I also pick an off-peak time
for traffic. There is no doubt about it, I have made mistakes! Once I
found that the roadway dropped immediately into a 3-foot wide ditch at
the bottom of a 50-degree hill. The cars going by fanned me with their
breeze. I never went back there. Another time I walked over an area of
hedges, potted plants, no proper sidewalks, becoming somewhat
disoriented before coming to the other side. I was glad I had only gone
through the confusing part of that one, and not the dangerous part.
Sometimes I have had satisfying success. I have stood at an
intersection for many minutes, listening to the traffic to learn where
the movement went, and when the directions changed. Then I decided I
could make it, and did. To another blind person, I would say, "gather
all your skills and use your best judgment for evaluating the situation
before and during the trip. If necessary, be willing to find another
route for the next time."
Picnics, Hiking, and Rough Country
Do you go for picnics or hikes in the country? When I go on these
trips, I take my sturdiest cane along. It is just as important here as
anywhere else to use the cane and to keep track of landmarks and
directions. When I arrive at a new area, I do as many people do; I try
to get an idea of what is around me. Are there buildings, roads, rocks,
trees, or open areas? Is there a slope to the land, and what is the
direction of the sun, wind, and noises? I may do some short-range
exploring while keeping track of my point of reference, be it a car or a
picnic table.
Since I am the only man in my family and the strongest one of us, I get
to carry the picnic cooler from the car to the table, but I still use my
cane. The cane is held somehow or other in front, whether I am being
guided or carrying this two-handed burden alone. My shins want the cane
to tell them when we arrive at the bench.
When hiking beside someone else, I still protect myself with the cane.
Some trails are well-worn and obvious to the feet, so I may walk alone
and use Rule One, the side-to-side swing of the cane. On some narrow
trails I let my guide take one end of the cane while I hold the other
end. Since I am without the cane as a bumper, I work out signals with
my partner such as "left around the rock," or "up and over the log." I
try to get my partner to put the functional word first and not at the
end of a long, descriptive sentence. By the time I listen to "There's a
bend in the trail up here with a tree on one side and a cliff on the
other, so I guess you'd better stay to the right," I may already have
met my fate.
When it comes to clambering over hills and boulders, some of the cane
technique gets rather informal. I still use the cane to locate the next
place my foot is going. Sometimes there is as much poking and probing
as swinging the cane from side to side. I rarely jump, and only when I
am very sure of where I will land. When the rocks and hills get very
steep, it may be more practical to slip the cane under my belt or
abandon it altogether, and just use hands and feet.
If you want to use a directional compass, you need to have a good idea
of where you are going before you begin. You must make the compass work
for you along with the other tools you use. Keep a record of landmarks,
distances, and compass bearings. If you are going very far, you need
more instruction in orienteering than I can give you here.
When I am entangled in bushes and trees with interlocking branches as
high as my head, I am usually in someone's back yard or in a city park.
Only a few times have I been in rough country where this condition
lasted. If the usual city technique of swinging the cane along the
ground is just not telling you enough, and the branches are getting in
your face, try this.
Bring the cane up at a diagonal in front of your body, across at head
level, and down at a diagonal to the other side. For the next step,
reverse the direction. The path of the cane is an X with a loop at the
top. I go rather slowly when I do this, and I am usually holding back
branches with my free hand. This really is a "wild woods" technique.
Do not use it around people or other works of the human race such as
windows. IN all the years of travel I have behind me, my total use of
this technique probably does not exceed ten minutes.
6. Care and Feeding of the Long White Cane
Wash, Feed, and Dress Your Cane
The washing part is obvious, but I am a poor one to tell you, since I
don't do it often enough, myself. Collapsible canes that are held
together by an internal elastic cord need watching. Keep track of the
wear on the elastic cord, and be smart enough to replace it the day
before it breaks. Of course, it is better to be a month early than a
day late.
Cane tips last me anywhere from a few weeks to a few months. I carry a
spare tip with me most of the time. A cane tip with a hole in it sounds
different from a tip without the hole, and that is the sign to carry a
spare tip all the time. I have worn out or lost tips unexpectedly. The
unprotected end of any cane, especially fiberglass, is damaged quickly
when rubbed against concrete. Just wave the cane, and keep the tapping
to a minimum.
Does your cane have reflective tape on it? If not, you could put some
on it anywhere along the stem. It is an investment in night-time
safety. Reflective surfaces need to be kept clean or replaced to
maintain their reflective value.
If you associate with other blind people, as I do, you may want some
unique mark on your cane. I write my name in braille on Dymo tape and
stick it on the bottom end of the handle.
Where Does the Cane Go When Not in Use?
When answering this question, you discover the great advantage of the
folding or collapsible cane. Those styles can fit in a pocket, purse,
on a lap, or under a chair very easily.
There are two horizontal dimensions and one vertical dimension. Find
some place out of the way; lying on the floor under a chair or table,
standing in a corner, or leaning against a wall. Be sure that the cane
is lying flat on the floor and not resting on something that holds it an
inch or two above the floor where it will be just high enough to trip
the unsuspecting passer-by. In some crowded areas "up" is the only way
left. When I am seated, I sometimes lean the cane from the floor to my
shoulder, hooked behind my heel.
Once in a restaurant, I lost the tip while retrieving the cane from a
tiny place behind the booth. I remember that incident, and sometimes I
take the tip off before jamming the cane into tight places. In air
travel stick the cane in some out-of-the-way place, but do not let the
crew take it away from you. The regulations are now on our side.
Which Hand Do You Cane With?
The most obvious answer to this question is that you cane with your
dominant hand. I am right-handed, but I trade off when I carry a heavy
object. There may be a landmark I want to check on the other side.
When I am walking with someone else, holding on or not, it may be better
to have the cane on the other side to stay away from feet or another
cane. If someone is holding my cane arm, it restricts the movement. I
don't want that. I have had enough practice with my left hand so that I
am fully adequate, but I am still more comfortable with the cane in the
right hand. The question of which hand you use is a matter of the
convenience of the moment.
7. Thoughts and Experiences on Cane Travel
How Long Does It Take to Learn Cane Travel?
In order to answer this question, you must consider three major variable
factors: 1. your background; 2. your aptitude; and 3. the amount of
time available.
I will give some numbers from my experience, but not until I expand on
these factors.
Background: Are you familiar with the area where you will be traveling?
Do you know where some of the streets and buildings are? Are you used
to the roar of the city, the hush of the suburbs, the quiet of the
country? Do you know that streets have names and numbers, and that
buildings have numbers, but sometimes have names? Do you start off
fearful of traffic, or just unfamiliar with it? Are you familiar with
traffic and the way it moves so that you know what to expect of it?
Aptitude: Are you used to finding your own way, or have people always
taken you places and told you when to stop and go? Let me mention the
two extremes of aptitude.
The youth was newly blind and in his late teens. He came from a rural
setting where he had often gone on cross-country treks when he was
sighted. There was a touch of youthful rebellion in him. It seemed as
though his needs would be met by handing him a cane, reading him Rule
One, and getting out of his way. He did go through several lessons, but
he never needed to repeat them for practice. He was a natural traveler.
The lady was newly blind and middle-aged. She was from an urban
setting, but was not used to getting places alone. She was very
comfortable with her friends in her living room. During lessons she
made the narrowest possible interpretation of instructions and then
paused to ask, "Is this right?" I could not bring her to the recognition
of her own responsibility to judge each situation. We parted company
disappointed with each other.
There are people who would associate some of these characteristics with
being sighted or blind, but I have met people in both groups with odd
mixtures of these characteristics.
The amount of time available: Time should be measured in two ways: the
number of hours per day and week, and the number of months to be filled
with this schedule. When I began as a student in a residential
orientation center, I was spending fifteen to twenty hours a week in
guided practice. It worked well for me. I have known people who made
good progress with four to five hours of guided practice in a week. It
seems to me that anything under three hours in a week would be getting
rather thin. These hours I am talking about are hours spent on specific
skill practice. They cannot be the only time spent using the cane.
After all, you are learning these skills to use them in everyday life,
so every time you go out, take your cane and use what you have been
learning. As with any skill, the more you use it, the faster you will
improve.
The next time you send a letter, grab your cane and walk down to the
corner mailbox. Find excuses to take short trips here and there. There
must be some places you want to go, so walk there with your cane. Take
the cane every time you go out. It is this kind of constant purposeful
practice that locks in the lessons and speeds the learning process. If
the only time you use your cane is during the three hours a week you
have lessons, and every other time you go somewhere it is on the arm of
your guide, you are not going to learn how to travel alone.
One thing that helped me a great deal was being with other blind people
who took short trips together. We walked within the buildings, the
grounds, and out for snacks. There is nothing like peer pressure,
seeing that they can do it and having them expect you to join them.
Aren't you just as smart as they are? And if you are still a beginner,
you don't have to be in front.
I spent an intensive six weeks on travel and reached a satisfactory
level of skill. Most people I know who worked steadily for several
hours a week, plus out-of-class "just walking around" became good
travelers or made as much progress as they were going to make for a good
foundation in travel in two to three months. That is from starting as a
beginner.
Can a Blind Person Teach Cane Travel?
By the time I tried teaching other people, I was a good traveler.
Wherever I lived, I had to learn the area, but there was little
difference in difficulty from one place to the next. I crossed narrow
and wide streets with straight or angled crossings. There were traffic
islands and multiple-phase traffic lights with more or less traffic. I
had to think about some intersections more than others, but I went where
I wanted to go.
When I planned lessons for beginning students, I had to consider the
difficulties of the lesson for each day, and gradually increase the
level of challenge. That was my first surprise as a teacher. I scouted
the area of each lesson to identify landmarks, challenges, and hazards.
Having given route instructions at the beginning of the walk, I then
preceded or followed the student. There were always certain places
where I wanted to be nearby to evaluate how the student met the
challenge of the day. The difficulty for any teacher is knowing when to
let the student work out the problem alone, and when to step in with
further instruction. What we did was very basic. At first you walk up
and down the block, then around the block. You cross narrow, quiet
streets, and then busier streets with traffic lights. You work on short
routes the student wants to accomplish, then longer trips. Some lessons
are just for practice, but later they are more and more to meet the
student's needs. You work indoors, outdoors, and take buses. After a
while, you don't have to repeat lessons for practice. Just be sure that
the instructions are understood, and send them on their way. My teacher
ended the course by working us through a 3-1/2 mile hike around a
section of the city. It gave us students a true sense of accomplishment
to be able to manage that trip and what it had to offer. This seems like
the time for the teacher to say, "You don't need me any more.
Congratulations, and goodbye."
No One Has to Do Everything Perfectly
One of the things we all need to do is to find a doorway as we walk
beside a wall. Many of us slide the cane along at the angle of the
floor and wall until the cane hits the door frame. That method works,
but I want to point out its weaknesses. Traffic patterns put us on the
right side of the path; the wall is often on our right; and most of us
are right-handed. All that means that we are not covering the body with
the cane, thus leaving us open to a collision. I shift the cane to the
hand opposite the wall to give myself at least some coverage, in case
there is something or someone in the way. Of course, Rule One says I
should continue tapping the cane from side to side to clear the space in
front of me, but with my stride of two-and-a-half feet I will only touch
the wall every five feet and miss a narrow door. Sometimes I swing the
cane in the hand away from the wall and slide the near hand lightly
along the wall. This last method may be the best compromise.
When I lose track of where I am when I am walking around, and I find
someone of whom I can ask directions, my first question is, "What's the
name of this street?" I may know enough to find my own way with that
information. If I have not learned enough, I ask, "How do I get to
...?" If I have to ask another person later, I ask.
I am a poor judge of the distance ahead of my cane. I tend to tap
ankles and trip people. If I want to be sure, I have to give myself far
more space than I really need. It is even worse if the person ahead is
using a cane, and I hear the tap which is five feet ahead of where they
are.
When I am walking directly behind a guide as we pass through a narrow
space, I often step on the heels of my guide. I know you are supposed
to be able to tell which foot is forward by the swing of the shoulders,
but I don't always coordinate well. I have to take very short steps to
keep from stepping on them. It keeps me out of step, but it also keeps
my feet off of theirs.
I often have the bad habit of letting my head nod forward. Didn't we
all have a mother who said: "Keep your head up. Stand up straight!"
The practical reason for keeping my head up is to avoid using it as a
bumper. The cane is supposed to be the bumper. It is supposed to be in
front all the time. Better the cane should get scars, not the body.
There are some days I always drift to the right and other days I drift
to the left. If paying more attention to the line of traffic or to the
shoreline doesn't help, I bring my cane hand back to the middle of my
body and concentrate on keeping the swing of the cane even from side to
side. "Back to basics" straightens me out.
The first trip to almost any place usually includes lots of exploration
and false starts. Sometimes that continues for several trips until I
learn the local geography. If you can learn faster than I can, more
power to you.
There is one situation when I learned to look lost on purpose. It is a
crowded theater lobby during intermission when I am trying to find the
men's room. I take a few steps this way and that way, then pause and
look around with a confused expression on my face. Pretty soon someone
will offer help, at which point I suddenly regain all my travel skills.
What About Other Travel Aids, Dogs and Electronics?
I tend to be a practical person. The rule is: "If it works for you, use
it." I was introduced first to the cane, and was fortunate in that I had
a good teacher. I learned to travel independently, and it has served me
very well.
There are blind people who travel well with a cane and those who travel
poorly with a cane. There are blind people who travel well with a guide
dog and those who travel poorly with a guide dog. I will tell you what
I know about dogs.
Any reputable guide dog school insists on giving travel training along
with the dog, and that is an advantage. Canes do not come with training
attached. A dog can offer companionship. A dog has some memory of its
own and may help in confusing or dangerous situations. Dogs also make
mistakes, just like their masters. There is truth in all of these
points. I like other people's dogs, but I do not want the
responsibilities of feeding, grooming, curbing, and health care that go
with owning a dog. If it is right for you, do it. I think it is more
important that you get places conveniently and safely than how you get
there. It is the human that makes the difference, not the cane or the
dog.
Over the past several decades, I have heard of electronic travel aids
that were attached to the cane, attached to the forehead, or held in the
hand. Each one gave off its own sound or vibration. Each one had
advantages: locating objects at a distance without touching them,
locating obstacles above cane level, being less "obvious", not always an
advantage. They have come, and they have gone, and the cane and the dog
remain. I do not mean to say that there will never be an electronic
travel device that lasts, but it seems to be over the horizon. The cane
and the dog have been here for many years and are still here.
8. Songs
The White Cane Freedom March
by Thomas Bickford, Debbie Brown, Lloyd Rasmussen and Ken Silberman
To the Tune of: "As Those Caissons Go Rolling Along"
1. Over hill, over dale, we will hit the concrete trail;
As our white canes go tapping along.
Down the block, cross the street, walking on our own two feet;
As our white canes go tapping along.
On the job or at home, wherever we may roam,
Yes, independent and free! NFB!
We can find our way at night or in the day;
As our white canes go tapping along.
2. On a bus, on a train, even flying on a plane;
As our white canes go tapping along.
As we board, find our seat, no great danger shall we meet;
As our white canes go tapping along.
We're the able blind, so leave your carts behind.
Don't put us in your holding tanks! No thanks!
We'll meet no harm. Take back your helping arm.
As our white canes go tapping along.
3. On we go at full speed. No contraptions do we need;
As our white canes go tapping along.
No rough tiles for our feet, nor the traffic signal's tweet;
As our white canes go tapping along.
No Ph.D.'s, just skillful travelers, please,
Teaching blind people to be free! NFB!
And the rehab snobs can go and find real jobs;
As our white canes go tapping along.
The Lament of the Folding Cane
by Thomas Bickford
to the tune of
"A Pretty Girl is Like a Melody"
My folding cane was quite reliable
When it was still brand new.
I'd fold it and then swing it again.
I'd make it small, then use it all
The time, no matter when.
My folding cane is just a memory,
Now that it fell apart.
The elastic stretched and broke.
Four short canes are a joke,
And now my one-piece cane's the cane
That has won my heart.
Sources of Canes
In many cities there are organizations which sell white canes that you may
examine before you buy. The following nine organizations sell canes
through mail order catalogs. When you compare the catalogs, you will find
that even in this short list some of the equipment comes from common
sources. Most of these organizations sell a wide variety of items besides
canes, but this booklet is concerned only with canes and related
equipment. Each catalog has more detail than this summary. You should
neither order from this summary nor consider it an endorsement.
American Foundation for the Blind, Product Center
100 Enterprise Place
P.O. Box 044
Dover, DE 19903-7044
800-829-0500
FAX: 800-676-3299
Products for People with Vision Problems
Rigid aluminum 24" to 56"
Folding aluminum 24" to 56"
Variety of replacement tips
Replacement sections for folding canes
Replacement elastic cord
Scotch-Lite replacement coating
Autofold
208 Coleman Street
P.O. Box 1063
Gardner, MA 01440-1063
508-632-0667
FAX: 508-630-3303
CompuServe: 76226,1414
Canes by Autofold
Support folding 33" and 36"
Support folding 39" (reduceable)
Fiberglass 56" and 59"
Cutting fixture
Folding aluminum 34" to 60"
Cable cane 34" to 60"
Folding fiberglass
Variety of replacement tips
Replacement cords
Replacement handles and loops
Replacement tube sections
Reflective tape
The Lighthouse, Inc., Low Vision Products
34-20 Northern Boulevard
Long Island City, NY 11101
800-453-4923
Consumer Catalog
Folding support 33" and 36"
Folding aluminum 34" to 60"
Variety of replacement tips
LS&S Group, Inc.
1808-27 Janke Drive
Northbrook, IL 60062
708-498-9777
800-468-4789
FAX: 708-498-1482
Folding support 33" and 36"
Folding aluminum 32" to 60"
Rigid aluminum 36" to 60"
Maxi-Aids
42 Executive Boulevard
Farmingdale, NY 11735
800-522-6294
Voice/TDD 516-752-0521
FAX: 516-752-0689
Aids and Appliances
Folding support 33" and 36"
Adjustable aluminum support, 29" to 38"
Folding aluminum 34" to 62"
Rigid aluminum 36" to 60"
Telescopic aluminum
Rigid fiberglass 30" to 64"
National Federation of the Blind, Materials Center
1800 Johnson Street
Baltimore, MD 21230
410-659-9314
Aids and Appliances
Wooden support 35", 39", 42"
Folding metal support 33" and 36"
Rigid hollow fiberglass 24" to 65"
Telescoping fiberglass 45" to 67"
Repair kit for bottom section of telescoping fiberglass
Folding fiberglass 52" to 66"
Rigid hollow carbon fiber 49" to 65"
Telescoping carbon fiber 39" to 65"
Folding metal 44" to 56"
Variety of replacement tips
Rainshine Company
158 Jackson Street
Madison, WI 53704
608-259-8231
Rigid fiberglass 30" to 64"
Replacement tips
SenseSations
Associated Services for the Blind
919 Walnut Street
Philadelphia, PA 19107
215-617-0600
SenseSations
Folding aluminum support 33" and 36"
Folding aluminum 42" to 56"
Rigid aluminum 44" to 54"
Variety of replacement tips
Replacement elastic cord
Replacement cane sections
Replacement wrist loop
Scotch-Lite reflective tape
Minor adjustments of equipment
Vis-Aids
102-09 Jamaica Avenue
P.O. Box 26
Richmond Hills, NY 11418
718-847-4734
800-346-9579
FAX: 718-441-2550
Folding aluminum 34" to 60"
Telescoping adjustable aluminum 46" to 54"
Tip assembly for folding cane
Variety of replacement tips
White Cane Industries for the Blind
Route 3, Box 89A
Jenkins, MO 65605
417-574-6368
Aluminum folding 36" to 60"
Aluminum rigid 36" to 60"
Special order variations
Return used canes for repair
Variety of replacement tips
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Benson, Stephen. So What About Independent Travel. The Braille Monitor,
January, 1985, pp 30-40.
Blasch, B. B., Long, R. G., and Griffin, Shirley N. Results of a National
Survey of Electronic Travel Aid Use. Journal of Visual Impairment
and Blindness, November, 1989, v. 33, n 9, pp 449-453.
Dodds, A. G., and Davis, D. P. Assessment and Training of Low Vision
Clients for Mobility. Journal of Visual Impairment and Blindness,
November, 1989, v 83, n 9, pp 439-446.
Kruger, Irving J. Orientation and Mobility in the Vocational Area. New
Outlook for the Blind, March, 1960, v 54, n 3, pp 87-90.
National Conference on Mobility and Orientation: (Introduction), New
Outlook for the Blind, March, 1960, v 54, n 3, pp 77-81.
Nichols, Allan. Why Use the Long White Cane? The Braille Monitor,
February, 1992, pp 54-58.
Pogrund, R. L., and Rosen, S. J. The Preschool Blind Child Can be a Cane
User. Journal of Visual Impairment and Blindness, November, 1989,
v 83, n 9, pp 431-439.
Rusalem, Herbert. The Dilemma in Training Mobility Instructors. New
Outlook for the Blind, March, 1960, v 54, n 3, pp 82-87.
Sauerberger, Dona. Cane Technique: Tricks of the Trade. Metropolitan
Washington Orientation and Mobility Association Newsletter, March,
1992.
Sauerberger, Dona. Readers' Comments on Teaching Cane Techniques.
Metropolitan Washington Orientation and Mobility Association
Newsletter, May, 1992, pp 3-4.
Wainapel, S. F. Attitudes of Visually Impaired Persons Toward Cane Use.
Journal of Visual Impairment and Blindness, November, 1989, v 83, n
9, pp 446-448.
Whitstock, Robert H. Orientation and Mobility for Blind Children. New
Outlook for the Blind, March, 1960, v 54, n 3, pp 90-94.
Willoughby, Doris, and Duffy, Sharon. Handbook for Itinerant and Resource
Teachers of Blind and Visually Impaired Students. Baltimore:
National Federation of the Blind, 1989.
lived alone and had no one to cook for me. This time, at least, it had
nothing to do with my blindness.
There is one thing that all American adults are expected to do, and that
is to drive a car. There are a few parallels between any two forms of
transportation: noticing surroundings, keeping track of turns and
distances, and planning your destination and route. Everyone is
expected to do these things. They are basically the same if you are
going from one room to another, or from one city to another. The
necessary skills are within everyone's range of abilities. I base my
opinion on the fact that so many blind people do travel successfully.
It takes training and practice, but that is to be expected.
People who can see are used to looking at everything they do, and so
they think they have to look in order to know and to do anything. The
National Federation of the Blind is in the process of teaching people
that it is not so. We expect blind people to learn how to do many
things. We lead by example, and offer help along the way. "Here is a
cane. Tap it back and forth in front of you as you walk." The cane,
itself, is a simple thing. As you step most of what you need to know is
in your head, and that is as good as it ever was."
There is one essential thing that the student must bring to cane travel,
and that is the willingness to try. Are there doubts? I had many
doubts. Are there fears? I had my share of fears. Is there confusion?
I had handfuls of confusion. Are there questions? I had a list of
questions which I asked at the wrong times. But along with my doubts,
fears, confusions and questions I brought a willingness to try. Many
times I repeated lessons, but I kept trying. If you have come this far
in the booklet, you can make it the rest of the way. From here on, you
need take only a small step at a time, so give it a try.
2. Getting the Cane Ready
How Long Should the Cane Be?
I have slowly graduated from a cane that was 42 inches long to a cane
that is over 60 inches long. I added a few inches every few years when
I bought a new cane. I have not yet had a cane that was too long. My
chin-high cane is barely long enough for me, now. There are blind
people who use canes that reach their eyebrows.
Once while I was teaching travel, it occurred to me that what mattered
was not where the cane came on your body, but where it reached in front
of you. The speed of your pace and the length of your stride will make
a difference. The cane needs to reach a good two steps in front of
where you are stepping. As a practical matter, if you find yourself
overstepping the cane, dropping off curbs you didn't find, try a longer
cane.
When you select a cane, start with one that comes into your armpit.
Walk up to a blank wall, swinging the cane from side to side two inches
wider than the width of your shoulders. As you step left, tap right; as
you step right, tap left. When the cane hits the wall, complete the
step you are making, and take one more. Was there space for that next
step? If so, you have enough stopping distance. If not, add another
two or four inches to the cane and try again. I am not the only one who
needs the length of that second step for stopping distance.
Remember that not all obstacles are found at the distance of the end of
the cane. You find some things as the cane swings to the side after the
tip has passed them. If part of the obstacle is above ground level,
such as a chair or a car, part of the cane will pass under it before
making contact, and you will be glad to have the added length. You may
think that the longer the cane, the more it will get tangled up in
whatever is ahead of you, but that can happen with any length of cane.
There is one other factor that I must consider for my cane: will it fit
in the family car? The answer is: "Yes, but I have to work at it a
bit." The way that is best for me is to bring the handle end in first
and push it back as far as possible between the seat and the side of the
car. I try to get it under the seat belt anchor and as low as possible,
where it won't trip back seat passengers going in and out. The last
thing is to make sure the tip end is in the car and not sticking out
between the door and the frame. I am not the only person to destroy a
cane that way. I am afraid I have made the process sound harder than it
is. A couple of pushes and a pull get the cane in position, and it
takes less time than fastening a seat belt.
What Should the Cane Be Made Of?
I have used canes made of wood, aluminum tubing, solid fiberglass,
fiberglass tubing, and carbon fiber compound tubing. Each material has
different characteristics of strength, weight, and flexibility. Each
one sounds different as it strikes the ground. I have not used wooden
canes or canes with curved handles since the 1950's. White support
canes are available for people who need a cane to lean on.
Aluminum tubing canes are relatively heavy and strong. They do not
break. If they are bent a little, they will straighten out. With a
little more pressure, they will stay bent; very few people have the
coordinated strength to return aluminum canes to their original
condition. Slightly bent canes may not look as pretty as straight ones,
but you can use them for a long time.
Solid fiberglass canes (called rigid because they have no joints) are
both strong and flexible, and I like that combination of qualities.
They weigh less than aluminum canes, and more than the next two hollow
canes. Solid fiberglass will take quite a bend and still straighten.
If they are bent past a certain point, they will split into long
splinters which are dangerous to touch. The cane will probably get you
home in that condition, but beware the splinters.
Hollow fiberglass is lightweight and very easy to handle. It has a
nice bounce to it, but will only take a moderate bend without breaking.
That is, it may not withstand tripping someone. When it breaks, hollow
fiberglass tends to crush and fall apart very soon.
Carbon fiber canes are fairly stiff and have only a little bounce. They
are light weight and easy to handle. Compared to hollow fiberglass, the
carbon fiber cane is somewhat stronger and lasts a little longer after a
break.
I do not know any cane that will withstand being caught in a car door
unscathed. I keep a spare cane at home.
Let us consider folding canes. Do not let yourself fall into the trap
of thinking you are hiding your blindness by using a folding cane.
Also, for at least the duration of the learning stage, I strongly
recommend a one-piece cane. There are many blind people who use a
folding cane all the time and find it fully satisfactory. For several
years I was one of them. The previous section on the length of the cane
should still be considered. I often take my folding cane to church,
restaurants, theaters; places where it may not be as convenient to stow
the one-piece cane.
Many folding canes are made of aluminum tubing sections with some kind
of elastic in the middle to pull the sections together. Each producer
has his own variation on the way the sections join, so you must make
your own choice. Some canes are made of concentric tubing that
collapses each one into the next. If you pull each section out firmly
and give it a slight twist, it should stay in position during your trip.
Both fiberglass and carbon fiber compound are available in this
telescoping style.
How and Where Do You Hold the Cane?
The handle goes diagonally across my palm and rests on the extended
index finger. The other fingers curl around, and the thumb points over
the handle and down the cane. The palm is vertical as when extended to
shake hands. That is the classic grip which I use most of the time. In
close quarters I slide my hand down the cane and narrow the swing. I
may shift my grip and hold the cane like a long pencil. You can't swing
the cane much in that position, but you don't want to swing it much
because of the crowd. In very close, slow-moving crowds such as in
theater lobbies or a line to board a bus, I may just hold the cane
diagonally across my body and slide the cane along in front of my left
foot. At other times I may shift my grip to ease fatigue or for no
special reason.
The firmness of the grip should be moderate, neither so tight that you
never let go--you'll break the cane when it gets caught in a crack--nor
so loose that every obstacle knocks it out of your hand--you'll have to
chase it too often.
I swing the cane from side to side with pressure of the wrist and
fingers. The hand swings like a door with the hinge at the wrist.
Pretty soon you will be almost flipping the cane back and forth with an
easy, unconscious motion.
My first teacher told us to hold the cane just below the belt buckle
with the forearm braced against the hip. From that central position the
cane can be tapped evenly from side to side. This position is good for
beginners, and some people stay with it. Over the years my cane hand
has drifted to the side by my pocket. In either position, hold your
hand out a few inches so you do not impale yourself when the cane hits a
stop. Your whole arm can move to take up the shock.
When you are standing still, hold the cane vertically near your body
with a light grip. That is, I don't think you want to look like a
shepherd leaning on his staff.
There will be times, walking or standing, when you want to reach out and
check a particular landmark or shoreline. Be sure you are not going to
trip someone with the sudden motion, reach out, and then bring your arm
back to the original position. The point is that you should hold the
cane in a manner and position so as to reach where you need to with
comfort and without undue fatigue.
Many canes have a loop of chain or string through the handle which is
for the purpose of hanging up the cane when it is not in use. Do not
put your hand through the loop when you are walking. If something
should happen to pull the cane out of your hand, it is better to drop
the cane than to be pulled down with it.
You may think I don't care how you hold your cane. I do think that
there is more than one way and more than one place to hold the cane.
However and wherever you hold the cane, give yourself protection for the
full width of your body. The purpose of the grip and position is to
make it possible to tap the cane from side to side, which is the subject
of the next section, and that is very important.
3. Actually Walking Around
Walking with the Cane, Rule One
My first travel teacher taught us Rule One: "When the body is in motion,
the cane is in rhythm." That means: tap the cane from side to side, one
tap per step, about two inches beyond the width of your shoulders. Keep
the tip low, but not constantly dragging on the ground.
The idea of Rule One is to clear an area, and step into it. Clear the
next area, and step into it. You can do it faster than you can say it.
As you step left, tap right; as you step right, tap left. As a
beginner, you may think that swinging the cane beyond your shoulders is
too wide, but you will learn soon enough that you need the width. With
the right length of cane and using this technique, you can learn to walk
safely and with confidence. You will locate obstacles and drop-offs,
and be prepared for them. If you keep the taps at a steady two inches
beyond your shoulders, it will help to even out your stride and keep you
walking straight. In crowds or other close quarters, shorten up on the
handle and narrow your swing. You are still a member of the human race,
so remember your basic courtesies.
The cane, of course, will not find every small obstacle on the ground.
It can go around an obstacle the size of a brick, but it will find
things larger than that. Sometimes there are holes in the sidewalk, and
the cane may go completely over a dip the size of a dinner plate or a
place mat. True, the cane is not perfect, but nothing else is, either.
Sighted or blind, everyone has stories of how they tripped over or
stepped into something.
The cane can tell you what is ahead, but be sure to give it the chance
to do that. If you are about to turn in an open area or go around a
corner, let the cane clear the area before you step there. The
headlights on a car point straight ahead and do not look around the
corner before the car turns. With a cane you can and should check the
area where you are about to turn and step; side-stepping can be
dangerous.
There are many un-numbered lesser rules, but always remember Rule One:
"When the body is in motion, the cane is in rhythm."
Planning Practice Routes
In the beginning a straight route is suitable. Try walking up and down
your block a time or two while concentrating on Rule One. As you walk
you may find a "shoreline" on one side: a wall, a fence, or grass. Let
your cane touch the shoreline each time the swing goes to that side. It
can help to keep you on course. Shorelines have breaks and
irregularities which soon become landmarks to help you keep track of
where you are. Soon you will be walking around the block, if your
neighborhood is laid out that way, and returning to the starting point.
You will find both fixed and movable obstacles, all part of cane travel.
How can you match your next challenge to your level of experience? You
may just go a little farther every day. Guided practice can be helpful
if you can get it, but I mentioned that at the beginning, so I will not
belabor the point.
Going Up and Down Stairs
You're not going to be a flatlander for the rest of your life. Almost
every building has stairs or steps somewhere.
You are at the bottom of the stairs, about to go up. Some stairs have
hand-rails, and some don't, and you need to be able to use either kind.
If you are using the hand-rail, put your cane in the other hand. Either
way, The cane can tell you how high and deep the first step is. I slide
my hand part-way down the cane and hold it diagonally across my body.
The cane taps two or three steps ahead of my feet. Going up and down
stairs is almost the only place I will tell you not to swing the cane
from side to side. At the top, resume Rule One.
When going down, locate the top step first with the cane, then with the
foot. Whether or not you use the hand-rail, hold the cane diagonally
across your body. Let the cane tip slide off each step as you go. At
the bottom, resume Rule One. There are complications such as landings
with or without turns. No one can list all the tricks that architects
can imagine. Let your cane go first, and pay attention to what it says.
After this, you will be going up and down the ordinary hills and valleys
of the outdoor world.
Listening to Traffic on the Street as a Guide
Cars are a common part of the world we live in. Cars usually drive
straight along streets and turn at corners. Yes, I know ... but there
are crazy blind pedestrians just as there are crazy sighted drivers.
I have found that a steady stream of traffic is one of the best helps
there is. By listening to traffic I can tell how far away the street
is, if the street runs straight or turns, where the intersection is, and
which color is showing on the traffic light. I use traffic as an
audible shoreline.
When you are walking around the block for practice, I recommend that you
do not turn the corner when you think you are there. Go all the way to
the curb, then back up a few steps and turn. It is easy for beginners
to turn too soon and find themselves without the expected landmarks.
Now that you have learned about walking straight and listening to
traffic, let's go on to crossing streets.
Crossing Streets with No Traffic
For purposes of practice, use a street with as little traffic as
possible. Because many corners are rounded off for the convenience of
turning traffic, you cannot just walk straight away from the curb. You
need to find something as a guide to be sure you are starting off
straight across the street. That guide may be part of the curb beyond
the curved section at the corner. It may be the dividing lines in the
sidewalk. It may be the curb ramp for wheelchairs, but be sure that the
ramp is aimed directly across the street and not diagonally out into the
intersection. It may be traffic either going your way or crossing in
front of you. When you locate your guide, line yourself up with it so
that you are facing directly across the street. Listen carefully to be
sure that no cars are approaching from the side or around the corner.
Having checked your direction and your safety, step off the curb and
walk. Go quickly without rushing. Remember Rule One. There can be
obstacles or holes in the street as well as anywhere else. When you
come to the far side, sweep the curb with your cane before stepping up.
It is common to find signposts near intersections, and I have found some
with my head because I didn't find them with my cane. Did you cross
straight and arrive at the sidewalk? If not, and I don't always,
myself, pause to make an educated guess from your surroundings, and make
the necessary corrections. There you are across the street. Now you
can go on your way.
Which Way Can Cars Turn At Intersections?
When you consider intersections, you need to know the directions and
paths that cars take when they go through or turn. That is: if you are
facing a street with the intersecting street on your right, and each
street allows two-way traffic, a left-turning car can go from the middle
lane on your right to the middle lane in front of you. If you are
crossing then, the car will appear to approach from behind your right
shoulder. If your experience does not include such information, it is
time to learn. You can either observe for yourself or ask for help.
There are many combinations of factors to know about including one-way
streets, right turn on red, special turning lanes, traffic islands, and
traffic lights to accommodate all of these. All drivers out there have
to learn the rules of traffic, and you are just as smart as they are.
Learn them one at a time as you find them.
Environmental Clues and Mental Maps
In some ways, this section is the heart of cane travel. By using your
cane, which I do, or a little sight, which I do not do, you are only
extending the range of your perception a few feet. By listening to the
sounds around you and the nature of those sounds, you are extending the
range of your perception for many feet, sometimes hundreds of feet. The
mind has the greatest reach, and can consider distances from inches away
to miles away, and objects the size of a bump in the sidewalk to a
sports stadium. The mind can form a mental picture or map arranging
landmarks along in the right order. Then it can check off each point as
you pass it. The mind coordinates all your knowledge, information,
senses and skills, so let us use this marvelous mind of ours.
Rule One says: "When the body is in motion, the cane is in rhythm." The
cane is good at gathering short-range information for you to act on.
The mind needs to be aware of the messages that the cane is sending.
The cane sends such messages as: the next step is clear, stop, jog to
the side, make a sharp turn, step up or down.
I am sure you have heard someone talking who, in the middle of a
sentence, turned his head or put his hand over his mouth. You noticed
the change in the character of the sound. The same kind of change
happens when the speaker walks around a corner. We can learn to hear
these same changes outside while we are walking.
When I became blind, I began to listen to sounds more carefully. Even
when I was told about some sounds, I did not notice them. I learned
gradually, not all at once. For me, "gradually" meant from a few weeks
to a few years.
I found that the sound of a car driving down the street changed when it
passed by a parked car or a tree. The first time I remember noticing
that effect was when I was still sighted, but temporarily blind. That
is, I walked between two parked cars in a very dark parking lot and
"heard" them, even though they were standing still. What I heard was
the sound shadow, the difference in the background sound as these large
objects blocked part of what I heard. It makes no difference what you
call this effect, but it may help you if you use the experience.
Sometimes you can identify or locate an object by noticing the air
currents moving around it, be it a natural breeze or caused by human
action.
When you walk down a hall in a large building, you sometimes pass a door
with noise coming out of it. You may approach the intersection of
another hall where people are passing by in front of you. The time may
come when you notice the open door or the intersecting hall just by the
nature of the background sound.
There are more than the five senses of touch, taste, smell, sight, and
hearing. There is the sense in our muscles that tells us where our
various body parts are. There are also the senses of time and distance.
These two work together and can be put to use keeping track of where we
are.
At home and work, I know about how big the rooms are and how long the
halls are, so I get used to how long it takes to cross a room or to get
to the end of the hall. Having gone far enough, I anticipate the next
thing to do, which is usually to turn a corner or enter a doorway. When
walking outside, we make use of the same senses. We just expand the
distances.
One more of the senses is the sense of turning. This sense is not exact
to me. I can identify turns better when I am going fast than when I am
going slow. Sometimes I walk around a gentle curve and do not know how
much I have turned, or that I have turned at all. I wish I could do
better.
Once, just for practice, a friend and I stood between a table and a wall
and tried to turn exactly 90 degrees back and forth. It helped
somewhat. This sense, alone, is not reliable to me, but it is a help
when combined with the other senses.
As a new travel student, I asked my teacher, "How can I go two or three
blocks this way, and four or five blocks that way, and find the barber
shop?" I learned later how much of a "beginner's question" that was. It
is like the algebra student who comes to the first class and opens the
book in the middle, only to ask, "How can I ever solve that problem?"
The answer is that you start at the beginning, and later, when you pass
that point in the book you find that it was just one more step along the
way. Long ago I found that I could make use of general directions, and
I did find the barber shop.
I can usually keep track of where I am by checking off local landmarks
and noticing distances, but sometimes I do get confused, disoriented, or
simply "lost." I ask directions or pick out a particular spot and do
some limited exploring. I may have been a block short, 90 degrees off
course, or even right on course but not aware of it. I may feel stupid
for a minute, but I get "found" and go on my way.
I learn easily from spacial displays. I like two-dimensional paper
maps, but they are hard to find.
When I think of where I'm going, I map out my route in my head. For
some people, maps are of no help at all. They do not want to know north
and south. Just tell them left or right, and how far it is. I can work
from either kind of directions. We all have different abilities, notice
different landmarks, and go on different trips, so use the things that
help you.
Compass directions can be a very useful tool. First, you need to know
that North and South are opposite each other, and that East and West are
opposite each other. When you face North, West is to the left and East
is to the right. Many cities try to have some orientation to the
compass, but there are usually a few streets that curve or are just not
straight with the compass. When walking inside a large building, it may
be helpful to identify halls by compass directions.
Let me end this section with a set of directions I once gave to a friend
of mine. "Go out of the building and turn left to the corner. Cross
the street to the right and go south, down to the next corner. You need
to cross the intersection both ways, and end up going left, east, for
two blocks. That is where you come to the big, wide street with the
traffic island on the far side and the separate light for the small
street beyond it. When you get across there, turn right, and you will
be going slightly down-hill. A little way down the block, the street
makes a slight turn to the left. From that point on, there are several
store entrances that are similar. The one you want is the fourth or
fifth one, but it is the only one with a rubber doormat." He said he
went right to it.
Expanding Your Horizons
If you are starting cane travel without formal training, you will meet
these conditions in no special order. You can learn them as you come to
them.
An experienced guide or teacher can be of help in judging the degree of
your ability so as to present new challenges at the right time with the
right degree of complication. Do you need more practice going around
the block so you don't get confused crossing the alley? Do you still
pass that store that is set back from the street? Are you keeping track
of the landmarks along the route so you know when to turn into the
office you wanted to find? On a round-trip, can you get back to your
starting point?
Landmarks can be such things as a particular arrangement of signposts,
mailboxes, lawns, bushes, driveways, barking dogs, busy streets, broken
sidewalks, hot-dog stands and gas stations. I have deliberately
mentioned things that you feel with a cane, feel with your feet, hear or
smell. All of these things have, at times, been landmarks for me.
Every blind traveler will develop his own local list of landmarks.
Do you need to take a route down a narrow sidewalk with parking meters
every ten feet? That will help you learn how wide to swing your cane
and how to get it untangled from obstacles. Do you need to take a route
along a very wide sidewalk with crowds of people going both ways, or no
other people going either way? That will help you develop your ability
to walk straight.
By the way, what is "walking straight?" It is a matter of keeping the
goal ahead of you and making a series of minor course corrections. As
you gain experience in swinging your cane evenly, as you pick up a
little bit of speed, as you make use of more landmarks, and as you
identify more sounds around you, you will find that you are walking
straight. I listen in all directions, but we usually walk in the
direction we are looking, so keep your face straight ahead.
Every now and then someone calls to me, usually from at least 20 feet
away, while I am crossing a street, "Straighten out, you're walking
crooked!" Of course, had I known I was walking crooked, I would already
have made my own corrections. It finally occurred to me that what these
people are trying to say is, "You are going off at an angle to the
desired direction, and it would be well to alter your course slightly."
The person has an idea of what the ideal course would be, but they did
not tell me which way to go, left or right. At times like that, I make
a quick decision based on what is around me. Oh, when will people learn
to be more specific and do it without informing the whole neighborhood?
As I walk down a block in either a business or residential area, I
listen to what is around me and what is ahead of me. What is ahead soon
becomes the next intersection. By the time I arrive I usually know what
the traffic condition is and which street has the green light. If you
can learn to add this trick to your list, it will keep you going more
smoothly.
One Dangerous Situation to Avoid
Let me tell you of one time not to cross a street. When a car that
could go past stops, and the driver calls to you, "Go ahead, I'll wait
for you," and especially if there is an empty lane beside the car, do
not cross. The time will come when a second driver will not see you and
will zip past at speed. Why not? The lights were with him. I have
narrowly escaped injury in such a situation. I went to the funeral of a
couple who were caught in just such a situation. Having learned my
lesson, I sometimes have to turn and walk away from the curb a few steps
in order to convince the driver that I will not cross then.
Crossing Big, Busy Intersections
Busy intersections usually have traffic lights with lots of cars going
through. I use the sound of the traffic to show where, when, and how
far I need to go. Consider the possibility of such things as traffic
islands and multiple phases in the traffic lights. With as much traffic
as there is, you could line up your shoulders parallel with the cars
crossing in front of you, or find some mark on the sidewalk to point you
straight across the street. Do not start part-way through a cycle on a
"stale green" light. I am always wary of people who tell me, "You can
go now. There's no one coming." Where I live, drivers observe traffic
lights more strictly than pedestrians do.
The movement of traffic tells me when the light changes in my favor. I
may pause, but just for a moment, to be sure that no cars are turning
in front of me. It is time to step down and walk quickly, using Rule
One. If there are other pedestrians, go with them. There is some
safety in numbers. I listen to the cars going my way, and follow the
direction they take. This is the time to listen, feel, and think in all
directions. Sometimes there is turning traffic for which you must
either speed up or slow down. The other side of the street really does
exist, and you can get there. By now the last of the cars going your
way are passing you on one side, and you are passing the cars waiting on
the street you are crossing on the other side of you. Now here is the
curb. Sweep it off, step up, and go on your way.
What Goes Through My Mind While Walking Down a Street?
When I was a child I used to hear of people who could dance and talk
with their partner at the same time. I thought they had to be very good
dancers to do that. When I grew older and learned to dance, I found
that it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. When a blind person
walks down a sidewalk, swinging a long white cane, some of the same
physical and mental coordination is going on. When walking with a cane
you coordinate your own speed and rhythm with your surroundings. There
are lots of things you anticipate, notice, and then pass by. Come along
as I take a six-block walk through a downtown area.
As I get off the bus, I let the cane tell me if I am in the street or on
the curb. It's a deep step to the street. The first swing of the cane
finds the curb. The rest of the swing clears the curb, and I step up
and go in about two more steps. Now I am at the sidewalk. Along this
street there are sections of grassy tree lawn, so I have to keep back
from the curb about this distance.
I turn right and get Rule One going. There's traffic in the street on
the right, and I'll try to stay an even distance from it. It sounds
like people standing and talking near the edge of the walk, so I need to
curve around them. Now there's grass on the right, so let the cane
touch it on each swing to that side. The grass won't last long, but
it's a good shoreline while it's there.
Some lady in high heels is trying to trot past me. I must not be going
fast enough for her. So what! I walk faster than some people and
slower than others. I'll follow those heels to the end of the block.
I must be nearing the end of the block. I can hear cars crossing in
front of me. I should go clear out to the curb on this block. I have
turned to go around the corner too soon on other trips here and found
myself where I didn't want to be and wasn't sure where I was. At a time
like that I try to reverse my course and get back to a known location.
There's the corner with its wheel chair ramp. I back up a step, turn
left, and get Rule One going again. There's no good shoreline on this
side of the walk. On the return trip there's a good shoreline, a nice
cement curb along the inner edge of the walk. Sometimes I drift over
and take that side of the walk, anyway. This time I listen hard to the
traffic on the right and keep it just so far from me. "Oh drat!" I got
too close, and the tree is trying to brush my hair for me. People are
approaching from ahead, so I narrow the swing of the cane on the left a
bit.
There's traffic crossing in front of me, again. I need to notice how
long it keeps moving since this time I must cross the street. "Five
seconds--ten seconds." No, it changed. Now the cars are going my way.
Will I have time to get there before the green light goes stale? "Ten
seconds--fifteen--twenty." No, too late. Lights change every thirty
seconds in this part of town, so I would rather wait for a fresh start.
I'm not perfectly accurate on counting seconds, but I'm close enough to
give myself a good idea of when to expect the lights to change. The
light changes; no cars turning; I walk; and, what do you know, right up
the ramp on the other side.
The next block has a wide sidewalk with tall buildings on the left.
There is something going on at the lower edge of my awareness, and I
don't think of it most of the time. Background noise reflects off this
continuous wall of buildings, and "hearing that wall" makes it easier
for me to keep a steady distance from it. These next four blocks have
the same feature, but the only time I think of it is in the last block
when an alley makes a break in the wall. The cane keeps swinging,
according to Rule One, but that is almost as unconscious an act as
moving my feet.
Both street and pedestrian traffic are heavier here. There is a person
calling out at the far end of the block. Drawing nearer I can tell it
is a woman selling fruit. I give her a little more space on the right.
There is plenty of traffic to mark the intersection. Just as I come
even with the fruit woman, there is a shift in the surrounding noise,
and I have passed the buildings. Now which direction was the light
green? I wasn't paying enough attention to that. There are cars
crossing in front of me, so I'll just walk slowly up to the curb. There
are plenty of cars and people to define the red and green light.
Here's the green light, and all the pedestrians are going, which means
that no cars are turning. It's a wide street, and I go at a quick pace.
At other times I have found a sign post half way across at the edge of
the crosswalk, but if I keep to the right I should avoid it.
I do a mental juggling act to balance all the values. Don't get too
close to the cars on the right; avoid the sign on the left; don't trip
the pedestrians with the cane; here's the hump in the middle of the
street; it's downhill from here; a car is turning the corner in front of
me; pause, it's bigger than I am; and now, the curb, at last. Sweep off
the curb, and--whoops! Don't step up here. There are several signposts
in the way. Turn toward the corner with one tap of the cane in the
street and one tap on the curb. Now the curb is clear, so step up, and
just in time. Listen a moment to people and cars for a directional
guide, and off we go again.
This block is rather uneventful, and here's the next intersection.
There is plenty of traffic, so I know when the light's changing, and
there it goes, just in time for me. It isn't quite a straight crossing,
but half a step to the right is enough of a correction. I dodge left
around the popcorn stand which shows itself in three ways. It blocks
the sound of the cars behind it, a sound shadow; the vendor and
customers are talking; and you can guess what the last clue is.
Now, for the last two blocks, and this one is plain vanilla. The light
changes in my favor just as I pass the last building. "One thousand,
two thousand, three thousand." There's the corner, and no cars turning.
I still have time to make it.
The crossing is OK, and my building is almost at the end of the block.
There's the alley which is about two-thirds of the way. It's time to
cross over to the left side of the walk and tap the front of buildings
with each swing of the cane.
What I want is a wide entrance with a foot-thick, metal-covered pole at
the edge of the walk, but all the buildings here are even with the walk.
Here's a building, more building, a glass door, but it's not set back,
more building ... "Bother!" There's the corner, so I passed it. Turn
around and go back. There's the building; glass door, more building.
Here are the setback and the pole, my building at last. Now it's just
two steps and turn right for the swinging door.
Every trip is a bit different, even though some component parts are
similar. Just disassemble the parts and shake them up before selecting
the items for your next trip. If you keep your landmarks in mind, use
your basic techniques, and pay attention to things around you; you'll
get there.
Walking with Someone Else
The first thing to remember when you are walking with someone else is
that you are still responsible for your own safety. The two times I
suffered serious injury while walking were while I was with someone
else. I falsely and foolishly gave over direction to the sighted person
I thought was guiding me. In each case the other person considered that
I was managing at least part of my own guidance. The other person may
choose the main route, guide you around obstacles, let you know at step-
ups and drop-offs, but it is essential for you to pay attention, too.
When I walk with another person, sighted or blind, I find it easier to
stay with them if one of us takes the arm of the other. Not everyone
likes that physical contact, so I have to divide my attention between
where I am going and where the other person is. We can stay close
enough for conversation, but the proximity is not as steady.
If you are with a stranger, or even a friend, it is polite to ask: "May
I take your arm?" If they accept your offer, take their arm lightly or
put your hand on their shoulder. Fall in step. Regardless of whether
your companion is sighted or blind, continue using Rule One.
Some of my sighted friends and family members are used to guiding me,
and I am confident of their judgment about speed, space, and obstacles.
Sometimes I walk directly behind if the space is narrow. When the space
opens up, I step up beside them. I do not always judge well where the
other person's feet are, and step on their shoes. I try to judge their
step by the sway of their body, but I don't always get it right.
Many guides, such as the people you meet at street corners who offer to
help you across the street, are not familiar with how to guide. I may
just muddle through, or I may take the time to say something like this:
"It is easier if I take your arm. That way, you will be half a step in
front, and I can anticipate my step by noticing what you do."
There are circumstances when I make good or bad compromises with the
rules. With a guide I sometimes walk along with the cane diagonally
across my body while making regular or occasional taps. Then there was
the time, while rushing through the airport,I had a suitcase in one
hand, my cane and a suitcase in the other hand, my guide had my arm and
the third suitcase. We cut a wide swath, and I'm glad it was only an
ashtray we knocked over and not a five-year-old.
Walking Without a Cane
We all walk without a cane sometimes, so let's talk about it. I
remember the rule I read in a book about mountain climbing which said
that you should always use a rope, but you should climb as if you did
not have a rope.
When you are not using a cane, everything else in the environment
becomes more important. Whatever you can find with any other sense
organ must be evaluated as quickly as possible. In my own home, I try
to keep doors open or closed all the way. I swing an arm through a
doorway as I near it, just to be sure I am passing through it neatly.
Sometimes I touch furniture as I go by. I pause at the top and bottom
of stairs, and reach with my foot to locate the first step. When
looking for a doorknob or light switch, I make more of a sweeping motion
than a straight reach. I sometimes keep my arm across in front of my
waist.
One thing I do not do is to hold my arms straight out with the palms
forward in the traditional sleep-walker's pose. If I were that
uncertain, I would use my cane. The cane looks better and is far more
effective.
I walk more slowly without a cane. I do not use a cane within my own
home, and rarely enough around my yard. But that is the boundary. Once
in a while I will walk a short way around my neighborhood without a
cane. And one time, because of freak circumstances, I was caught at
night, five blocks from home, on the far side of a traffic circle
without a cane. I walked very carefully and a little slower than usual,
and made it, but I would not do it if there were another way.
Using a cane is a habit with me, and when I go out, I grab my cane on
the way.
4. Public Transportation
Riding Buses and Streetcars
Most trips involve walking at the beginning and end, or even in the
middle, so that many skills are used. You need to have the route,
destination, and length of the trip in mind before you start. While
planning your trip, learn the name and/or number of the bus you want.
Buses for different routes may use the same or nearby stops, and you
will need to ask before boarding.
You need to know where the stop is: at the corner or around the corner,
back from the corner or across the intersection. All of these locations
and more are possibilities. In my boyhood and youth I rode streetcars
that ran in the center lane of the street. We boarded from an island,
sometimes raised and sometimes painted on the street. I had to locate
the island by listening to where cars did not run.
With practice you will learn how fast people shuffle along as they step
up, pay their fare, get a transfer, and find a seat. Do you need to ask
the driver to call your stop for you? The time of boarding is a good
time to ask for that help. Sometimes it is wise to confirm your
destination with the driver as you near it, especially if it is a long
trip. When you get off, remember all those possible locations of the
bus stop we mentioned at the beginning of the trip. In unfamiliar
areas, I ask where the stop will be for the return trip.
Over the years I have made many mistakes such as waiting at the wrong
stop, getting on the wrong bus, getting off too soon or too late, and
more. I have paid for these mistakes in time and confusion, but I have
learned from them.
Next I will present a step-by-step account of a trip I take frequently.
I do this to share what I find necessary and helpful when riding the
bus. This trip takes me from work to home.
I go out the door of the building where I work and turn left. At the
end of the block there is an oblique left where I again go to the end of
the block.
There are three streets that almost come together here to form a series
of individual intersections. There are curb cuts for wheelchairs, and
if I use them and walk straight, I hit the ramp on the opposite side.
At this time of day there is plenty of traffic waiting to go the same
way I do. I go when they go, stay parallel to the line of cars on the
left, keep between them and the cars waiting their turn on my right. If
I step up on grass, I am too far to the right, so correct to the left.
It is about seventy feet to the next corner, and about half of that
distance is taken by the entrance to a gas station. I can tell when I
am crossing their slanted driveway if one foot is high and one foot is
low.
I wait through the cycle of lights and cross the next street. On the
curb I walk in two or three steps and turn right. The bus stop is a bus
length down, just beyond a plot of dirt with a tree and a trash can.
There are often other people waiting for the bus.
There are three routes that use this stop, and two of them will take me
where I need to go. Some of the drivers have learned to announce their
route as they open the door, so I don't always have to ask. Often there
are people getting off, so I wait my turn to board. I step up, put the
fare in the box, ask for my kind of transfer to go across a zone line,
and find a seat.
Here I digress for a point of philosophy. Drivers and other passengers
may encourage you or force you to sit in the "priority seating" at the
front of the bus. The choice is still yours to take it or not. I
sometimes sit in front and sometimes farther back.
How do I know where to get off? This leg of the trip is short enough so
I have learned the pattern of the eight stops. Even if we miss one, and
at that time of day we usually hit them all, I can account for the
distance. It goes like this: long, medium, medium, long, very short,
long, medium but often missed, medium. After six I get up, approach the
driver and ask. I actually count stops on my fingers, but please don't
tell my third grade teacher!
The stop where I get off is near the corner, so I walk the few feet and
check for the direction of traffic. Sometimes I cross with that noisy
bus beside me, but I feel safe because no traffic is coming through that
bus. The stop for the next bus is just to the right where I have to
thread my way between a trash can, a telephone stand, and a newspaper
vending machine, all good landmarks.
For this bus and the next my only fare is my transfer. We go through a
distinctive set of turns and up a long hill, but I don't have to notice
while going home because I ride to the end of the line.
At this terminal, I walk straight away from the bus, then turn to follow
the sidewalk beside the turn-around used by several of the buses. I
dodge people, benches, and supporting pillars, and turn out at the
second exit, which puts me right at the fire plug beside my bus stop.
This time I can only take one of the three buses that stop here, and
sometimes they line up, so I may have to back up fifty feet for mine. I
have made a few "bus stop" acquaintances who sometimes give me the word.
This leg of the trip takes about twenty minutes. We start off around
the terminal and, after a quarter of a mile, in, around, and out of a
traffic circle. Those turns are distinctive. We go about four miles
with very few people getting on or off. Then we come to a major
intersection for which we must wait through at least one cycle of the
lights and with the stop after we cross. After the next stop, which we
do not always make, the bus makes an oblique left turn, and I sigh with
relief because it is my last landmark. I get up when the bus shifts
into high gear. At my stop I go back across the street we just crossed
and walk two short blocks to my home.
I know that this description is long, but it is the "one bite at a time"
approach to eating an elephant. No two trips are exactly the same, but
you may find some of these techniques useful as you develop your own.
Subways, Escalators, and Elevators
The first thing people want to know about subways is the location of the
platform edge. I slide my cane tip along to locate the edge, step back
from it, and respect it. As I walk along subway platforms, I walk a
little slower than usual, and I swing my cane a little wider than usual.
I also slide the cane on the surface, the only time I use this otherwise
poor technique. I want to know immediately if the cane drops over the
edge. I expect people to criticize me about this point, so go ahead.
The one thing I do not do is step sideways. The cane has been ahead of
me, not to the side.
When the train comes, and after the door opens, put the cane tip on the
floor of the car before you step in just to be sure you are not trying
to enter the gap between cars. When you get off, let the cane tip go
first to be sure that there is a platform waiting for you.
Are there stairs, escalators or elevators to take you up and down?
Stairs have been discussed earlier. For escalators, I only know one
warning and two tricks, and they are not exclusive to blind people. The
warning is that an escalator is a powerful, moving machine. Cooperate
with it as it helps you, and you will get there. Use the hand-rail, and
don't play around. The first trick is, if I am not sure if an escalator
is going up or down, I pause in front of it and feel the hand-rail. The
other trick is one of balance as I step on or off a moving platform.
When I step on, and I feel the stair treads dividing under my feet, I
step up or down so that my whole foot is on one tread, not divided
between treads, but that is no trick. It is just common sense.
Treat elevators with the same respect you treat the platform edge. Let
the cane tell you that there is something solid ahead of you to step on.
This is no time to enact bad elevator jokes.
Airports, Train and Bus stations
Transportation terminals tend to have several features in common. There
are long distances to cover and large open areas with arrangements of
furniture in the middle. The ticket counter is relatively close to the
entrance, relative to the size of the terminal, that is.
The next part of the trip may cover several hundred yards of corridors
including an array of modern miracle transportation: moving sidewalks,
people movers, monorails and more. Little children think they are fun;
I must be getting old. At the end of this part of the trip you must
find just the right door and play the ticket game again.
You may be able to get most or all the way by yourself, but if you need
help in finding your way, there is no use in being shy about asking for
help. A personal guide may range from necessary to helpful to
bothersome. As hard as it sometimes is to find help when you need it,
sometimes it is harder to get rid of help when you don't want it any
more. Some trips are once and never again, and I need more help then.
Some trips are regulars, and I need little if any help then.
The job of the blind traveler is to learn and keep in mind the gate
number and departure time. The guide, then, needs only to locate and
steer, not to investigate and govern. The guide may try to investigate
and govern, anyway, but it is your trip, not theirs. You make the
decisions, so you stay in control.
In my experience, one of the distinct features of airports is the
departure lounge. That is where you may have your ticket taken away
from you, be pre-boarded, be helped at the right or wrong time with the
right or wrong amount of help.
I have found it informative to hear what airline personnel say to each
other about me. "Should we take his ticket?" That was when I clutched
my ticket and gently found a seat to wait in. It was not the same seat
I had before I went up to ask my question, but I still had my ticket and
boarded when I chose.
There was the time when three flights were called before mine. Everyone
walked around the edge of the lounge, avoiding the central area. I
decided that benches or plants must be blocking that area. I could hear
where tickets were being taken. When my flight was called, I took the
"round" trip and found the departure gate myself. That was when I
heard, "He didn't ask for any help." I don't always insist on being
that independent, but that day I did.
Train stations may or may not be as big as airports, but they share the
same obstacles. Trains are long, so platforms have to be long. Some
train platforms are raised above the level of the tracks, so remember
the rules from the subway lesson. Locate the platform edge, and respect
it. Do not step sideways. Let your cane tell you that there is
something solid to step on: up, down, and level.
Bus stations range in size from a driveway beside a small-town drug
store to a city block or more. In bus stations, you need to get to the
right boarding gate, and there is often a loud noise when you get
there. Sometimes the distance from the boarding gate to the bus door is
short and obvious, and you can find it easily. Sometimes the bus you
want is behind or beyond three others, all of which are roaring along
with their engines on "high idle". If you know where to go, then go
ahead. Remember Rule One. If you don't know where to go, ask for help.
All that noise to a blind person masks other useful sounds. The
equivalent situation to a sighted person would be turning out the lights
or flooding the area with fog.
5. Times and Places without the Usual Landmarks
Grocery Stores
If I am going alone, and I know what I want and where it is, I find
movement easiest with my cane in front while holding the front end of
the grocery cart and pulling it behind me. It steers better that way.
If I am shopping with another person, I find that store aisles are too
narrow for two people and a cart. That is when I follow my guide with
my hand on a shoulder. The cart needs to go at the front or the back of
the procession, a matter of personal choice.
Most of the time I am an organized shopper, preparing my grocery list
beforehand. If I know the layout of the store, I think of each section
and decide what to buy as I mentally walk around. If the store is new
to me, and all stores are new the first time, I do some preparation,
anyway. The more I am going to buy, the more help I need, so I ask the
store for one of their staff to help in my selections. You have to be
specific when designating items: tuna, oil packed or water packed;
cereal, which size; bananas, how green. Finding a time that is good for
you to shop and the store to help is a matter of juggling schedules.
In years past, I used a two-wheeled fold-up cart for pulling my
groceries home. The cart had a bad habit of getting too close and
running over my heel. In order to keep the cart in its place behind me,
I held my arm straight down and against my side. That position kept the
wheels back from me.
How Do You Walk in Ice, Snow, and Rain?
Ice, snow, and rain have this in common: they make the footing slippery.
How do I keep from giving a skating demonstration and falling on my
dignity? I walk a little slower, keep my knees slightly bent, and take
shorter steps. I also put my feet down flat, not striding out with the
heel landing first. I may not move fast, but I do move and stay
upright.
If the snow is light or fresh, I dig my cane through it, and with the
combination of sound and touch I can tell what is there. If the snow is
too deep to dig through or it is packed and frozen, the cane must find
something above the surface to identify as a landmark. Sometimes packed
snow on the sidewalk and loose snow beside it show enough difference to
help. Taller landmarks are helpful, such as bushes, fences, sign posts,
and parked cars. Snow covers many of the usual landmarks, but it can
become a landmark, itself. One winter it stayed so cold for so long
that I used a particular snow bank as a landmark on the way to a
friend's house.
When the snow is deep and soft, it weighs down branches which hang in
front of you. One advantage of a long cane is that you can reach up and
tap a branch so it will release its burden of snow before you walk under
it. Well, it works sometimes.
The world sounds different with a covering of snow. Echoes disappear.
Distances expand. I navigate more by dead reckoning and less by my
usual landmarks.
Rain may not change the footing as much as snow and ice do, but it can
change the sound of things in its own way. Cars hissing by on wet
streets mask other sounds. Rustling raincoats do the same. Hats,
scarves and hoods all influence what you hear in different ways, and you
may want to think of that along with the weather. I am rarely out in
rain so hard that it covers all other sounds.
It may take longer to get places in the rain. I often listen harder and
wait longer to know where things are and when things happen. Here is
another practical use for the long cane: finding the depth and width of
curbside puddles.
How About Suburban and Rural Roads with No Sidewalks?
I like to get routes, distances, and landmarks well in mind before
starting. There is more area in which to get lost, and fewer people
from whom to ask directions. I take my longest cane and swing it rather
widely. I move along at a good clip because there are greater distances
to cover. I still have to stay alert for traffic on the road, as well
as mailboxes and ditches beside it.
I usually stay on the shoulder of the roadway, but sometimes I take
short excursions to explore for a sidewalk which may appear for a while,
or a front walk, driveway, or other landmark that would help me keep
track of what is about and around. I like to stay close to the road,
because that is the main landmark. The direction of the sun, wind, and
distant sounds can also be used as a guide and landmark.
Are There Roads and Intersections Unsafe for Any Pedestrian?
I am one of those people who finds the "wet paint" sign and wonders if
the paint is still wet. That same rebellious, disbelieving streak comes
out when people tell me not to attempt certain streets or intersections
because they are too dangerous or complicated for me. I always wonder
if they mean "because I am blind."
I usually learn something about these places before testing them for
myself. Is there another street or intersection a block or two from
there that would get me to my destination just as well? The answer is
sometimes "yes" and sometimes "no." I know some "nervous nay-sayers" who
simply have no faith in the travel abilities of blind people. I also
know some "supporting stalwarts" who recognize realistic obstacles.
When it comes time for me to make my own decision, I take it slowly,
allowing plenty of time on my schedule. I also pick an off-peak time
for traffic. There is no doubt about it, I have made mistakes! Once I
found that the roadway dropped immediately into a 3-foot wide ditch at
the bottom of a 50-degree hill. The cars going by fanned me with their
breeze. I never went back there. Another time I walked over an area of
hedges, potted plants, no proper sidewalks, becoming somewhat
disoriented before coming to the other side. I was glad I had only gone
through the confusing part of that one, and not the dangerous part.
Sometimes I have had satisfying success. I have stood at an
intersection for many minutes, listening to the traffic to learn where
the movement went, and when the directions changed. Then I decided I
could make it, and did. To another blind person, I would say, "gather
all your skills and use your best judgment for evaluating the situation
before and during the trip. If necessary, be willing to find another
route for the next time."
Picnics, Hiking, and Rough Country
Do you go for picnics or hikes in the country? When I go on these
trips, I take my sturdiest cane along. It is just as important here as
anywhere else to use the cane and to keep track of landmarks and
directions. When I arrive at a new area, I do as many people do; I try
to get an idea of what is around me. Are there buildings, roads, rocks,
trees, or open areas? Is there a slope to the land, and what is the
direction of the sun, wind, and noises? I may do some short-range
exploring while keeping track of my point of reference, be it a car or a
picnic table.
Since I am the only man in my family and the strongest one of us, I get
to carry the picnic cooler from the car to the table, but I still use my
cane. The cane is held somehow or other in front, whether I am being
guided or carrying this two-handed burden alone. My shins want the cane
to tell them when we arrive at the bench.
When hiking beside someone else, I still protect myself with the cane.
Some trails are well-worn and obvious to the feet, so I may walk alone
and use Rule One, the side-to-side swing of the cane. On some narrow
trails I let my guide take one end of the cane while I hold the other
end. Since I am without the cane as a bumper, I work out signals with
my partner such as "left around the rock," or "up and over the log." I
try to get my partner to put the functional word first and not at the
end of a long, descriptive sentence. By the time I listen to "There's a
bend in the trail up here with a tree on one side and a cliff on the
other, so I guess you'd better stay to the right," I may already have
met my fate.
When it comes to clambering over hills and boulders, some of the cane
technique gets rather informal. I still use the cane to locate the next
place my foot is going. Sometimes there is as much poking and probing
as swinging the cane from side to side. I rarely jump, and only when I
am very sure of where I will land. When the rocks and hills get very
steep, it may be more practical to slip the cane under my belt or
abandon it altogether, and just use hands and feet.
If you want to use a directional compass, you need to have a good idea
of where you are going before you begin. You must make the compass work
for you along with the other tools you use. Keep a record of landmarks,
distances, and compass bearings. If you are going very far, you need
more instruction in orienteering than I can give you here.
When I am entangled in bushes and trees with interlocking branches as
high as my head, I am usually in someone's back yard or in a city park.
Only a few times have I been in rough country where this condition
lasted. If the usual city technique of swinging the cane along the
ground is just not telling you enough, and the branches are getting in
your face, try this.
Bring the cane up at a diagonal in front of your body, across at head
level, and down at a diagonal to the other side. For the next step,
reverse the direction. The path of the cane is an X with a loop at the
top. I go rather slowly when I do this, and I am usually holding back
branches with my free hand. This really is a "wild woods" technique.
Do not use it around people or other works of the human race such as
windows. IN all the years of travel I have behind me, my total use of
this technique probably does not exceed ten minutes.
6. Care and Feeding of the Long White Cane
Wash, Feed, and Dress Your Cane
The washing part is obvious, but I am a poor one to tell you, since I
don't do it often enough, myself. Collapsible canes that are held
together by an internal elastic cord need watching. Keep track of the
wear on the elastic cord, and be smart enough to replace it the day
before it breaks. Of course, it is better to be a month early than a
day late.
Cane tips last me anywhere from a few weeks to a few months. I carry a
spare tip with me most of the time. A cane tip with a hole in it sounds
different from a tip without the hole, and that is the sign to carry a
spare tip all the time. I have worn out or lost tips unexpectedly. The
unprotected end of any cane, especially fiberglass, is damaged quickly
when rubbed against concrete. Just wave the cane, and keep the tapping
to a minimum.
Does your cane have reflective tape on it? If not, you could put some
on it anywhere along the stem. It is an investment in night-time
safety. Reflective surfaces need to be kept clean or replaced to
maintain their reflective value.
If you associate with other blind people, as I do, you may want some
unique mark on your cane. I write my name in braille on Dymo tape and
stick it on the bottom end of the handle.
Where Does the Cane Go When Not in Use?
When answering this question, you discover the great advantage of the
folding or collapsible cane. Those styles can fit in a pocket, purse,
on a lap, or under a chair very easily.
There are two horizontal dimensions and one vertical dimension. Find
some place out of the way; lying on the floor under a chair or table,
standing in a corner, or leaning against a wall. Be sure that the cane
is lying flat on the floor and not resting on something that holds it an
inch or two above the floor where it will be just high enough to trip
the unsuspecting passer-by. In some crowded areas "up" is the only way
left. When I am seated, I sometimes lean the cane from the floor to my
shoulder, hooked behind my heel.
Once in a restaurant, I lost the tip while retrieving the cane from a
tiny place behind the booth. I remember that incident, and sometimes I
take the tip off before jamming the cane into tight places. In air
travel stick the cane in some out-of-the-way place, but do not let the
crew take it away from you. The regulations are now on our side.
Which Hand Do You Cane With?
The most obvious answer to this question is that you cane with your
dominant hand. I am right-handed, but I trade off when I carry a heavy
object. There may be a landmark I want to check on the other side.
When I am walking with someone else, holding on or not, it may be better
to have the cane on the other side to stay away from feet or another
cane. If someone is holding my cane arm, it restricts the movement. I
don't want that. I have had enough practice with my left hand so that I
am fully adequate, but I am still more comfortable with the cane in the
right hand. The question of which hand you use is a matter of the
convenience of the moment.
7. Thoughts and Experiences on Cane Travel
How Long Does It Take to Learn Cane Travel?
In order to answer this question, you must consider three major variable
factors: 1. your background; 2. your aptitude; and 3. the amount of
time available.
I will give some numbers from my experience, but not until I expand on
these factors.
Background: Are you familiar with the area where you will be traveling?
Do you know where some of the streets and buildings are? Are you used
to the roar of the city, the hush of the suburbs, the quiet of the
country? Do you know that streets have names and numbers, and that
buildings have numbers, but sometimes have names? Do you start off
fearful of traffic, or just unfamiliar with it? Are you familiar with
traffic and the way it moves so that you know what to expect of it?
Aptitude: Are you used to finding your own way, or have people always
taken you places and told you when to stop and go? Let me mention the
two extremes of aptitude.
The youth was newly blind and in his late teens. He came from a rural
setting where he had often gone on cross-country treks when he was
sighted. There was a touch of youthful rebellion in him. It seemed as
though his needs would be met by handing him a cane, reading him Rule
One, and getting out of his way. He did go through several lessons, but
he never needed to repeat them for practice. He was a natural traveler.
The lady was newly blind and middle-aged. She was from an urban
setting, but was not used to getting places alone. She was very
comfortable with her friends in her living room. During lessons she
made the narrowest possible interpretation of instructions and then
paused to ask, "Is this right?" I could not bring her to the recognition
of her own responsibility to judge each situation. We parted company
disappointed with each other.
There are people who would associate some of these characteristics with
being sighted or blind, but I have met people in both groups with odd
mixtures of these characteristics.
The amount of time available: Time should be measured in two ways: the
number of hours per day and week, and the number of months to be filled
with this schedule. When I began as a student in a residential
orientation center, I was spending fifteen to twenty hours a week in
guided practice. It worked well for me. I have known people who made
good progress with four to five hours of guided practice in a week. It
seems to me that anything under three hours in a week would be getting
rather thin. These hours I am talking about are hours spent on specific
skill practice. They cannot be the only time spent using the cane.
After all, you are learning these skills to use them in everyday life,
so every time you go out, take your cane and use what you have been
learning. As with any skill, the more you use it, the faster you will
improve.
The next time you send a letter, grab your cane and walk down to the
corner mailbox. Find excuses to take short trips here and there. There
must be some places you want to go, so walk there with your cane. Take
the cane every time you go out. It is this kind of constant purposeful
practice that locks in the lessons and speeds the learning process. If
the only time you use your cane is during the three hours a week you
have lessons, and every other time you go somewhere it is on the arm of
your guide, you are not going to learn how to travel alone.
One thing that helped me a great deal was being with other blind people
who took short trips together. We walked within the buildings, the
grounds, and out for snacks. There is nothing like peer pressure,
seeing that they can do it and having them expect you to join them.
Aren't you just as smart as they are? And if you are still a beginner,
you don't have to be in front.
I spent an intensive six weeks on travel and reached a satisfactory
level of skill. Most people I know who worked steadily for several
hours a week, plus out-of-class "just walking around" became good
travelers or made as much progress as they were going to make for a good
foundation in travel in two to three months. That is from starting as a
beginner.
Can a Blind Person Teach Cane Travel?
By the time I tried teaching other people, I was a good traveler.
Wherever I lived, I had to learn the area, but there was little
difference in difficulty from one place to the next. I crossed narrow
and wide streets with straight or angled crossings. There were traffic
islands and multiple-phase traffic lights with more or less traffic. I
had to think about some intersections more than others, but I went where
I wanted to go.
When I planned lessons for beginning students, I had to consider the
difficulties of the lesson for each day, and gradually increase the
level of challenge. That was my first surprise as a teacher. I scouted
the area of each lesson to identify landmarks, challenges, and hazards.
Having given route instructions at the beginning of the walk, I then
preceded or followed the student. There were always certain places
where I wanted to be nearby to evaluate how the student met the
challenge of the day. The difficulty for any teacher is knowing when to
let the student work out the problem alone, and when to step in with
further instruction. What we did was very basic. At first you walk up
and down the block, then around the block. You cross narrow, quiet
streets, and then busier streets with traffic lights. You work on short
routes the student wants to accomplish, then longer trips. Some lessons
are just for practice, but later they are more and more to meet the
student's needs. You work indoors, outdoors, and take buses. After a
while, you don't have to repeat lessons for practice. Just be sure that
the instructions are understood, and send them on their way. My teacher
ended the course by working us through a 3-1/2 mile hike around a
section of the city. It gave us students a true sense of accomplishment
to be able to manage that trip and what it had to offer. This seems like
the time for the teacher to say, "You don't need me any more.
Congratulations, and goodbye."
No One Has to Do Everything Perfectly
One of the things we all need to do is to find a doorway as we walk
beside a wall. Many of us slide the cane along at the angle of the
floor and wall until the cane hits the door frame. That method works,
but I want to point out its weaknesses. Traffic patterns put us on the
right side of the path; the wall is often on our right; and most of us
are right-handed. All that means that we are not covering the body with
the cane, thus leaving us open to a collision. I shift the cane to the
hand opposite the wall to give myself at least some coverage, in case
there is something or someone in the way. Of course, Rule One says I
should continue tapping the cane from side to side to clear the space in
front of me, but with my stride of two-and-a-half feet I will only touch
the wall every five feet and miss a narrow door. Sometimes I swing the
cane in the hand away from the wall and slide the near hand lightly
along the wall. This last method may be the best compromise.
When I lose track of where I am when I am walking around, and I find
someone of whom I can ask directions, my first question is, "What's the
name of this street?" I may know enough to find my own way with that
information. If I have not learned enough, I ask, "How do I get to
...?" If I have to ask another person later, I ask.
I am a poor judge of the distance ahead of my cane. I tend to tap
ankles and trip people. If I want to be sure, I have to give myself far
more space than I really need. It is even worse if the person ahead is
using a cane, and I hear the tap which is five feet ahead of where they
are.
When I am walking directly behind a guide as we pass through a narrow
space, I often step on the heels of my guide. I know you are supposed
to be able to tell which foot is forward by the swing of the shoulders,
but I don't always coordinate well. I have to take very short steps to
keep from stepping on them. It keeps me out of step, but it also keeps
my feet off of theirs.
I often have the bad habit of letting my head nod forward. Didn't we
all have a mother who said: "Keep your head up. Stand up straight!"
The practical reason for keeping my head up is to avoid using it as a
bumper. The cane is supposed to be the bumper. It is supposed to be in
front all the time. Better the cane should get scars, not the body.
There are some days I always drift to the right and other days I drift
to the left. If paying more attention to the line of traffic or to the
shoreline doesn't help, I bring my cane hand back to the middle of my
body and concentrate on keeping the swing of the cane even from side to
side. "Back to basics" straightens me out.
The first trip to almost any place usually includes lots of exploration
and false starts. Sometimes that continues for several trips until I
learn the local geography. If you can learn faster than I can, more
power to you.
There is one situation when I learned to look lost on purpose. It is a
crowded theater lobby during intermission when I am trying to find the
men's room. I take a few steps this way and that way, then pause and
look around with a confused expression on my face. Pretty soon someone
will offer help, at which point I suddenly regain all my travel skills.
What About Other Travel Aids, Dogs and Electronics?
I tend to be a practical person. The rule is: "If it works for you, use
it." I was introduced first to the cane, and was fortunate in that I had
a good teacher. I learned to travel independently, and it has served me
very well.
There are blind people who travel well with a cane and those who travel
poorly with a cane. There are blind people who travel well with a guide
dog and those who travel poorly with a guide dog. I will tell you what
I know about dogs.
Any reputable guide dog school insists on giving travel training along
with the dog, and that is an advantage. Canes do not come with training
attached. A dog can offer companionship. A dog has some memory of its
own and may help in confusing or dangerous situations. Dogs also make
mistakes, just like their masters. There is truth in all of these
points. I like other people's dogs, but I do not want the
responsibilities of feeding, grooming, curbing, and health care that go
with owning a dog. If it is right for you, do it. I think it is more
important that you get places conveniently and safely than how you get
there. It is the human that makes the difference, not the cane or the
dog.
Over the past several decades, I have heard of electronic travel aids
that were attached to the cane, attached to the forehead, or held in the
hand. Each one gave off its own sound or vibration. Each one had
advantages: locating objects at a distance without touching them,
locating obstacles above cane level, being less "obvious", not always an
advantage. They have come, and they have gone, and the cane and the dog
remain. I do not mean to say that there will never be an electronic
travel device that lasts, but it seems to be over the horizon. The cane
and the dog have been here for many years and are still here.
8. Songs
The White Cane Freedom March
by Thomas Bickford, Debbie Brown, Lloyd Rasmussen and Ken Silberman
To the Tune of: "As Those Caissons Go Rolling Along"
1. Over hill, over dale, we will hit the concrete trail;
As our white canes go tapping along.
Down the block, cross the street, walking on our own two feet;
As our white canes go tapping along.
On the job or at home, wherever we may roam,
Yes, independent and free! NFB!
We can find our way at night or in the day;
As our white canes go tapping along.
2. On a bus, on a train, even flying on a plane;
As our white canes go tapping along.
As we board, find our seat, no great danger shall we meet;
As our white canes go tapping along.
We're the able blind, so leave your carts behind.
Don't put us in your holding tanks! No thanks!
We'll meet no harm. Take back your helping arm.
As our white canes go tapping along.
3. On we go at full speed. No contraptions do we need;
As our white canes go tapping along.
No rough tiles for our feet, nor the traffic signal's tweet;
As our white canes go tapping along.
No Ph.D.'s, just skillful travelers, please,
Teaching blind people to be free! NFB!
And the rehab snobs can go and find real jobs;
As our white canes go tapping along.
The Lament of the Folding Cane
by Thomas Bickford
to the tune of
"A Pretty Girl is Like a Melody"
My folding cane was quite reliable
When it was still brand new.
I'd fold it and then swing it again.
I'd make it small, then use it all
The time, no matter when.
My folding cane is just a memory,
Now that it fell apart.
The elastic stretched and broke.
Four short canes are a joke,
And now my one-piece cane's the cane
That has won my heart.
Sources of Canes
In many cities there are organizations which sell white canes that you may
examine before you buy. The following nine organizations sell canes
through mail order catalogs. When you compare the catalogs, you will find
that even in this short list some of the equipment comes from common
sources. Most of these organizations sell a wide variety of items besides
canes, but this booklet is concerned only with canes and related
equipment. Each catalog has more detail than this summary. You should
neither order from this summary nor consider it an endorsement.
American Foundation for the Blind, Product Center
100 Enterprise Place
P.O. Box 044
Dover, DE 19903-7044
800-829-0500
FAX: 800-676-3299
Products for People with Vision Problems
Rigid aluminum 24" to 56"
Folding aluminum 24" to 56"
Variety of replacement tips
Replacement sections for folding canes
Replacement elastic cord
Scotch-Lite replacement coating
Autofold
208 Coleman Street
P.O. Box 1063
Gardner, MA 01440-1063
508-632-0667
FAX: 508-630-3303
CompuServe: 76226,1414
Canes by Autofold
Support folding 33" and 36"
Support folding 39" (reduceable)
Fiberglass 56" and 59"
Cutting fixture
Folding aluminum 34" to 60"
Cable cane 34" to 60"
Folding fiberglass
Variety of replacement tips
Replacement cords
Replacement handles and loops
Replacement tube sections
Reflective tape
The Lighthouse, Inc., Low Vision Products
34-20 Northern Boulevard
Long Island City, NY 11101
800-453-4923
Consumer Catalog
Folding support 33" and 36"
Folding aluminum 34" to 60"
Variety of replacement tips
LS&S Group, Inc.
1808-27 Janke Drive
Northbrook, IL 60062
708-498-9777
800-468-4789
FAX: 708-498-1482
Folding support 33" and 36"
Folding aluminum 32" to 60"
Rigid aluminum 36" to 60"
Maxi-Aids
42 Executive Boulevard
Farmingdale, NY 11735
800-522-6294
Voice/TDD 516-752-0521
FAX: 516-752-0689
Aids and Appliances
Folding support 33" and 36"
Adjustable aluminum support, 29" to 38"
Folding aluminum 34" to 62"
Rigid aluminum 36" to 60"
Telescopic aluminum
Rigid fiberglass 30" to 64"
National Federation of the Blind, Materials Center
1800 Johnson Street
Baltimore, MD 21230
410-659-9314
Aids and Appliances
Wooden support 35", 39", 42"
Folding metal support 33" and 36"
Rigid hollow fiberglass 24" to 65"
Telescoping fiberglass 45" to 67"
Repair kit for bottom section of telescoping fiberglass
Folding fiberglass 52" to 66"
Rigid hollow carbon fiber 49" to 65"
Telescoping carbon fiber 39" to 65"
Folding metal 44" to 56"
Variety of replacement tips
Rainshine Company
158 Jackson Street
Madison, WI 53704
608-259-8231
Rigid fiberglass 30" to 64"
Replacement tips
SenseSations
Associated Services for the Blind
919 Walnut Street
Philadelphia, PA 19107
215-617-0600
SenseSations
Folding aluminum support 33" and 36"
Folding aluminum 42" to 56"
Rigid aluminum 44" to 54"
Variety of replacement tips
Replacement elastic cord
Replacement cane sections
Replacement wrist loop
Scotch-Lite reflective tape
Minor adjustments of equipment
Vis-Aids
102-09 Jamaica Avenue
P.O. Box 26
Richmond Hills, NY 11418
718-847-4734
800-346-9579
FAX: 718-441-2550
Folding aluminum 34" to 60"
Telescoping adjustable aluminum 46" to 54"
Tip assembly for folding cane
Variety of replacement tips
White Cane Industries for the Blind
Route 3, Box 89A
Jenkins, MO 65605
417-574-6368
Aluminum folding 36" to 60"
Aluminum rigid 36" to 60"
Special order variations
Return used canes for repair
Variety of replacement tips
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Benson, Stephen. So What About Independent Travel. The Braille Monitor,
January, 1985, pp 30-40.
Blasch, B. B., Long, R. G., and Griffin, Shirley N. Results of a National
Survey of Electronic Travel Aid Use. Journal of Visual Impairment
and Blindness, November, 1989, v. 33, n 9, pp 449-453.
Dodds, A. G., and Davis, D. P. Assessment and Training of Low Vision
Clients for Mobility. Journal of Visual Impairment and Blindness,
November, 1989, v 83, n 9, pp 439-446.
Kruger, Irving J. Orientation and Mobility in the Vocational Area. New
Outlook for the Blind, March, 1960, v 54, n 3, pp 87-90.
National Conference on Mobility and Orientation: (Introduction), New
Outlook for the Blind, March, 1960, v 54, n 3, pp 77-81.
Nichols, Allan. Why Use the Long White Cane? The Braille Monitor,
February, 1992, pp 54-58.
Pogrund, R. L., and Rosen, S. J. The Preschool Blind Child Can be a Cane
User. Journal of Visual Impairment and Blindness, November, 1989,
v 83, n 9, pp 431-439.
Rusalem, Herbert. The Dilemma in Training Mobility Instructors. New
Outlook for the Blind, March, 1960, v 54, n 3, pp 82-87.
Sauerberger, Dona. Cane Technique: Tricks of the Trade. Metropolitan
Washington Orientation and Mobility Association Newsletter, March,
1992.
Sauerberger, Dona. Readers' Comments on Teaching Cane Techniques.
Metropolitan Washington Orientation and Mobility Association
Newsletter, May, 1992, pp 3-4.
Wainapel, S. F. Attitudes of Visually Impaired Persons Toward Cane Use.
Journal of Visual Impairment and Blindness, November, 1989, v 83, n
9, pp 446-448.
Whitstock, Robert H. Orientation and Mobility for Blind Children. New
Outlook for the Blind, March, 1960, v 54, n 3, pp 90-94.
Willoughby, Doris, and Duffy, Sharon. Handbook for Itinerant and Resource
Teachers of Blind and Visually Impaired Students. Baltimore:
National Federation of the Blind, 1989.