Volume 33 Number 3 Fall 2014
Dear Subscriber,
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Cordially,
Deborah Kent Stein and the NFB Staff
FUTURE REFLECTIONS
A magazine for parents and teachers of blind children published by
the American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults in partnership
with the National Organization of Parents of Blind Children.
Volume 33 Number 3 Fall 2014
Deborah Kent Stein, Editor
ISSN-0883-3419
Copyright © 2014 American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults
For more information
about blindness and children contact:
National Organization of Parents of Blind Children
200 East Wells Street at Jernigan Place, Baltimore, MD 21230 • (410) 659-9314
www.nfb.org/nopbc • [email protected] • [email protected]
Volume 33 Number 3 Fall 2014
FEATURE
Taking Control and Becoming a Driver of My Life
by Mark Riccobono
EARLY CHILDHOOD
Is Your Blind Child Autistic? One Parent's Experience
by Mary McDonach
Teaching Your Visually Impaired Child Sign Language
by Jennie Smith
MATH
The Slide-A-Round Teaching Aid: A New Tool to Teach the Concept of Rounding Numbers
by Jim Franklin
TRAVEL
Tips for Trips: How One Blind Girl Survives and Thrives When Traveling
by Emily Pennington
CAREERS
Playing with Knives
by Laura Martinez
Special Little People
by Brandy Wojcik
ADVOCACY
How Daring to Believe Changed My Life, and How It Can Change Yours
by Mary Fernandez
Encouraging Self-Advocacy
by Debbie Worman
TRANSITIONS
The Transition Conversation: The Journey to Adulthood of Blind Youth with Additional Disabilities
by Lydia Schuck
SPORTS AND RECREATION
Beep Kickball: A New Sport
by Judy Byrd
IDEAS AND PERSPECTIVES
On Long Lines and Tax Breaks: A Mindful Approach to Blindness Benefits
by Arielle Silverman
PROGRAMS AND OPPORTUNITIES
iBRAL Is Here!
by Robert Gardner
#BRLCHAT: Professional Development from the Comfort of Your Home
by Natalie Shaheen
REVIEW
Exposed to Hope: Stories of Families Who Have Adopted Children with Visual Impairments from China
Compiled by Chloe Banks
Reviewed by Paula Ann Sprecher
ANNOUNCEMENTS
ODDS AND ENDS
Are you the parent of a blind or visually impaired child? Don’t know where to turn?
Founded in 1983, the National Organization of Parents of Blind Children (NOPBC) is a membership organization of parents, educators, and friends of blind children reaching out to give each other vital support, encouragement, and information. We have thousands of members in all fifty states plus Washington, D.C., and Puerto Rico.
The NOPBC offers hope, encouragement, information, and resources for parents of blind or visually impaired children. NOPBC provides emotional support and a network of other families dealing with the same challenges you are facing. We also provide information, training, and resources to empower you to take an active role in guiding your child’s development and education. We can provide information on your child’s rights and on the laws and legislative issues that will enable you and your child to become strong and effective advocates.
Have you ever wondered what your blind or visually impaired child will be capable of when he or she grows up? The answer to that question is that blindness/visual impairment does not have to stop your child from doing anything he or she wants to do. We can connect you with other families and blind adults who can serve as positive mentors and role models. They can teach you the attitudes and techniques that will enable your child to become independent and to succeed in life.
What is different about the NOPBC?
Our status as a division of the National Federation of the Blind (NFB), the largest and most influential organization of blind people in the world, provides many benefits. Our members are well informed about the societal, legislative, and technological issues that affect blind people. We also enjoy the resources, support, and expertise of fifty thousand blind people who can serve as mentors and role models for us and our children. Finally, as our children grow up, they have the Federation to belong to.
No other organization for parents of blind/visually impaired children offers more programs, activities, and training to families, children, and youth. One of our most exciting activities is our annual conference. Every year since it was established, the NOPBC has conducted an annual conference for parents and teachers of blind children as part of the national convention of the NFB. The program has grown to include five exciting days of workshops, training sessions, activities for all family members, including sighted siblings, and countless opportunities to meet blind adults and other families and children from around the country.
What is the mission of the NOPBC?
The purpose of the NOPBC is to:
• create a climate of opportunity for blind children in home and society.
• provide information and support to parents of blind children.
• facilitate the sharing of experience and concerns among parents of blind children.
• develop and expand resources available to parents and their children.
• help parents of blind children gain understanding and perspective through partnership and contact with blind adults.
• function as an integral part of the National Federation of the Blind in its ongoing effort to achieve equality and opportunity for all blind persons.
Most states have an NOPBC affiliate chapter. You can find your state chapter at <www.nopbc.org>. If your state does not have a chapter and you would like to start one, please contact us. We may be able to offer training and other assistance to start a state NOPBC chapter.
What are the programs, activities, publications, and resources of the NOPBC?
• National and State Parent Seminars and Conferences
• Future Reflections Magazine
• NOPBC Website
• Books and Videos
• Blindkid & Other Listservs
• Early Childhood Conferences
• Pop-Up IEP Website
• Slate Pals Pen Pal Program
• AAF Free Braille Books Program
• Share Braille Book Exchange
• Writing Contests
• Junior Science Academy
• Youth Slam High School Science Academy
• National Center for Blind Youth in Science Web site
• NFB-NEWSLINE® Newspaper Service
• Where the Blind Work Website
• Free White Cane Program
• Blindness 411 Facebook Group for Teens
• NFB-LINK Mentoring Program
• Scholarship Program
• Straight Talk about Blindness Video Series
• Parent Leadership Program (PLP)
Contact Us:
National Organization of Parents of Blind Children
[email protected]
<www.nopbc.org>
by Mark Riccobono
Reprinted from the Braille Monitor, Volume 57, Number 5, May 2014
From the Editor: At the 2014 convention of the National Federation of the Blind, Mark Riccobono was elected to serve as the Federation's next president. This article, based on a banquet address he delivered at the 2014 convention of the NFB of Missouri, introduces the readers of Future Reflections to President Mark Riccobono's life and philosophy.
It is a little daunting to think about what to say and how to talk about the journey that we've been on together, where we might be going, what our dreams might look like, and how to illuminate some of the tremendous things that have been shared at this convention. Many who are here have the spirit of the Federation--that's what I've felt. I invite you to open your heart to the conversation tonight, whether this is your first time or your fifty-second time, to be open to the idea that there might be something more for us to do, something more for us to learn, and to share this space that we've created for each other this evening. While you open your heart to that, I want to ask you a very important question and request that you reflect upon it: are you a driver or a passenger? And, not just are you a driver or a passenger in your own life, but are you a driver or a passenger in the National Federation of the Blind?
In August of 1996 the president of the National Federation of the Blind wrote a letter that said in part, "I think the first thing you should do is learn about the organization. Then I think you should teach everyone else about it. While you are telling others what we have already done, remember that there are many things to do that we have not tried. In other words, all of the nifty ideas have not yet been thought up."
I have an eye condition called aniridia, which led to my having glaucoma. When I was five years old, I was diagnosed as legally blind. My parents did not know what that meant. They're both good Midwestern folk from the great state of Wisconsin. They went to high school, but neither of them went to college. They didn't know anything about blindness; they didn't know what to think about blindness; they didn't even know what legal blindness meant. But what they knew without question was the value of giving me that good old-fashioned, Midwestern encouragement: encouragement to get out there and do stuff as best I could.
As kids we're not drivers; we're passengers. We do the things that people expect us to do. If you're a blind kid, you look to your sighted family members and to the professionals to be the ones to teach you about driving your own life. But the fact of the matter is that, while other kids were learning to drive in their own lives, I wasn't. Whether I knew it or not, I was blind, and over time I was being taught to be a passenger.
I could recount hundreds of experiences like the one I'm going to share with you now. I went to the elementary school in my neighborhood; it was six or seven blocks from my house. Starting in first grade, I walked to school every day. In third grade I had my first orientation and mobility evaluation. The professional took me out in the neighborhood and walked me around. I seemed to do pretty well, so she said there was nothing to recommend and left. Of course, I'd been walking that same route every day for two or three years. There was no challenge. That was no test of whether I had capacity to go beyond. I was allowed to pass.
In fourth grade we read worksheets that were mimeographed. Mimeograph was a terrible way for anybody to make a copy, and it was hard for anyone to try to read it. It was faded blue ink that even sighted people couldn't read very easily. If they had trouble with it, I certainly couldn't read it! But I had a teacher who had a degree in teaching blind students, and she came by to serve as my reader. That was what she did. She didn't teach me any techniques for operating as a blind person; she was just my reader.
By fifth grade I could no longer read the large-print books that I'd started using in third grade. No one told me that there might be a different way to do my reading, so I turned to the magnification I had. The only magnification device I owned was a monocular. It was meant for distance viewing, not for looking at things close in. But, if you twist it all the way in so that you get to the setting that's meant to look at the closest stuff, you can actually read books with it. It's not very comfortable, it doesn't look very good, and certainly it is not very fast, but that's what I had, so that's what I used. I used it because I knew that, if you were a Midwestern kid, part of a Midwestern family, you had to work hard. You had to read, and you had to compete, and this was the only way I knew how to do that. No one ever suggested there was a better way. I was a passenger.
By sixth grade you're thinking about certain things (like girls). Particularly in the area of being athletic, you want to look impressive. I remember we had a football drill that we were supposed to run. The teacher/coach said we were supposed to run a U-shaped pattern, and when we got to the peak of the U, we were to catch the football.
Now I understood what a U was--no problem. I understood that there would be a football hurtling toward me that I should put my hands up and try to catch--no problem. Knowing I should compete, I ran. I put my hands up, knowing that I had no chance in the world of catching that football. When I missed that ball, the kids made fun of me. Even with my best efforts to compete, I failed, and I must have looked oh so silly!
The gym teacher felt bad for me. He sat me down and tried to make me feel better. He said, "Look, it's going to be okay. Someday you're going to get contacts, and everything's going to be much better for you." What I understood was that, until something changed and I could have normal vision, I had to be content to be a passenger.
I went to a very rough middle school, so being a passenger was actually a good thing. The passengers often sit in the back of the room. Not much was expected of people in the back. Admittedly, the people in the back of the room with me were not the smartest in the group. But they were my buddies, the people who were just getting by--the passengers--not the ones in the front of the room who were driving their lives.
Once in a while a worksheet would be assigned, and I'd have my buddies help me fill it out. I couldn't fill it out on my own, and experience taught me that I had to use any technique I could just to get by. So we did those sheets. My buddies read, I understood and interpreted, and we all got by! We passed, but we were not driving our lives.
In science class, one of the things we were supposed to do at the beginning of each class period was to copy down what was on the board. It wasn't great education, but that's what we had to do. I wasn't going to do it, because I'd have to go right up to the board. I'd get one of my friends in the back of the room to write everything down for me. I don't know what good that did for him or for me, but we followed the rules and wrote what was on that faraway board. Then for the remainder of the class we'd fold a piece of paper into a triangle and flick it back and forth, playing paper football. We'd do that for hours. We didn't learn a lot of science, but I wasn't causing any trouble, and I was passing, getting by as a passenger.
At this point in my life I didn't know there was another blind person in the world. I didn't know I was a blind person. I didn't know what the possibilities were for a kid who couldn't see very well, but I knew I was passing, getting by, and being a passenger.
In Milwaukee at that time, all the high schools had specializations, something that made them stand out from other schools in the area. I went to all the events where they tried to pitch you on their school. I was kind of interested in the broadcast school because I really loved baseball. I loved listening to the greatest baseball announcer in the world, Bob Uecker. I thought that learning to be a broadcaster might be cool. Then I went to the presentation about the high school that specialized in business, where they showed high school students running their own businesses. I thought, "Yeah, there we go: money! Hey, I can do that. I can think up things to sell, and I can run my own business."
So I chose to go to that high school, and it just so happened that it had a resource room for blind students. I didn't know what a resource room was. There was a teacher there who had retinitis pigmentosa (RP), but he wasn't really a blind guy, either--I mean, he read Braille, but he read it with his eyes. He wasn't much of a mentor. Frankly, by that point I had been pretty successful at getting by, even if I had to work my head off to do it, and even if the results were barely good enough to pass.
I didn't identify with the other kids there who were blind. I could see more than they could, and therefore I was better than they were. I did not understand that what was holding me back was the same thing that was holding them back. I'm ashamed to admit it today, but I didn't think I was one of them. Yet, in every life activity, just like them, I was being taught to be a passenger.
I joined the debate team in my first year of high school, and I did pretty well. A debate starts with an eight-minute speech. I was the man for this, because I could memorize my speeches. I was paired up with a guy from the football team. He would say stuff that I'd have to try to fix later, but I couldn't read any notes. That made coming up with a comprehensive defense or a rebuttal much more difficult than making the opening argument.
Now the second year came around, and I went back to be a part of the team. The debate coach came to me after a while, and he was concerned. He said, "Well, have you memorized the speech?"
I said, "No, not yet, I'm working on it. I'm a little busier than I was last year."
He said, "How are you going to participate if you haven't memorized the speech?"
I said, "I don't know."
He said, "Well, I don't think you can be on the team anymore." I never went back. I didn't know there might be a solution out there that would let me be a fully participating part of that team. I was a passenger.
Again, I love baseball. So let me tell you about the time I decided that the best job for me was to be an usher at County Stadium. I went down there, I signed myself up, and they interviewed me. They seemed to think I had something to offer, so they hired me.
I didn't think of myself as a blind person, but I did let them know that I didn't see very well. It happened to be close to the end of the season, and at that time the Green Bay Packers played three of their home games in Milwaukee. I signed up to be an usher at one of the games. It was 1992, the Packers versus the Eagles, Brett Favre's first game, and I was working the bleachers. Oh, the bleachers! That's not the coolest place to be, but I was there, I was at the game, and I was working.
I had this technique--I couldn't read their tickets, but I knew the layout of the section where I was working. I knew the seat numbers. So when a fan came to be seated, I would ask, "What does your ticket say? Where are you supposed to be?" They'd tell me, and I'd point. Sometimes I'd have to turn around to point to their section. Because I didn't see very well, one time I turned, didn't see the folks that were in my periphery, and hit a tray a guy was carrying. This is October in Wisconsin, and he was carrying hot chocolate. He wasn't too happy with me, and I wasn't too happy either. After that experience I decided I didn't like being an usher, that I never really wanted that job anyway. I quit.
I graduated from high school; they gave me a fold-up cane for graduating— congratulations! I didn't know what I was supposed to do with it or why I even had it, but I took it to the University of Wisconsin. I figured it probably wasn't a good idea to fall down stairs in front of coeds, so I took it to orientation. But when I actually got to school, I folded it up and put it in the corner, and that was where it stayed. I wasn't blind, and I certainly didn't want other people to think I was.
Why did I go to college? Because that was what people did. My grades were just good enough, I was smart enough, and I had great techniques for just getting by. But I had to work three times as hard as everybody else. I didn't go to parties because I had to study, I had to read. I didn't read with Braille; I often listened to textbooks on cassettes. I had human note-takers in my classes because I couldn't take my own notes, but then I would have to struggle to read the notes they had written. It was 1994, and the Internet was only five years old. We still used DOS, and only a few people were talking about something called Windows 3.
I survived my first two semesters of college, but by the time I got to my sophomore year, I was falling apart. I had a long-term relationship that was coming to an end because I didn't have a good concept of who I was. I almost failed a class because I didn't have access to the material, and I didn't know how to get it. I was at the end of my rope.
I thought I was the only person in the world dealing with such problems. But I knew there had to be something more. So I reached out. I came across a blind guy in Madison, Wisconsin. He said, "You know, I live here, and I'd be happy to meet with you."
I said, "Great, let's meet at this place," a place on State Street in Madison. I picked it because I knew where it was. This was key for me. If I knew where it was, I was okay. We had to meet during the day, of course, because that was easier for me, too. I couldn't see anything at night.
So I was standing outside--I got there really early (that was one of my strategies), and down the street came this tapping. This guy whipped by me and went right into the place. I'm like, "Hey, I'm right here." How did he miss me? It turns out he was a totally blind guy!
That was the first time I knew there might be something different, might be something I didn't know about functioning competently as a fellow who was blind. Here was a guy who was driving his own life. He was making his own decisions. He didn't hesitate when I said, "Well, why don't we meet here?" I don't know if he knew the place or not, whether he was familiar with it or just had enough confidence to know he could find it.
He told me about the National Federation of the Blind. He said they had national scholarships and state scholarships and local scholarships. I signed up to try to get a scholarship from the NFB. Darned if they didn't call and say, "We're going to give you one, and you need to get on a plane and come to Anaheim, California." Now where did I put that cane?
I was supposed to get on an airplane by myself. They acted as if this was normal, no big deal, just what a guy needed to do to get his scholarship. So I went to Anaheim, California, and I showed up at this big old hotel. Blind people were driving their own lives, and I was filled with hope and determination and energy for the first time in a long time. Blind people were making decisions; they were doing the things they wanted to do; they were talking about how to make changes in the world so that they could do more of the things they wanted and needed to do. I wanted that, too, but wanting was just the first step.
I had to get a blind person to read me the Braille convention agenda. I had to get a blind person to tell me which way to go. I wanted to be the one to decide which way to go, but I had to get a blind person with a cane to show me. I met people who didn't know me, but the very first thing they said to me, every single time, was, "You can do better, and I'll help you."
I went out with the president of the student division. It was 106 degrees, it was Anaheim, California, and he says, "Oh, we're late getting back. We'll have to run back to the hotel."
So we ran back, me trying to use this cane that I didn't have confidence in as a walking tool, let alone a tool I could use to run with. We were running, though it was 106 degrees out. Beg off, say I couldn't do it? No way! I'm from Midwestern people, and I was learning that I could run toward challenges and not away from them. Those steps, those hot, frightening steps, led me to a bigger step: one that would change my life forever.
At that convention I decided that there might be something different here. I had hope for the first time in a long time. It had always been there, but it was buried oh so deep. I went home and wrote a letter to the president of the National Federation of the Blind, and darn it if he didn't write me back. I was impressed--I didn't expect that. In that letter Dr. Maurer said, in so many words, "You can drive, and I'll teach you how to do it. But you need to help me. You need to participate in this thing and teach me something. All of us have something to teach one another, and this is the best way to learn." I've taken his lesson to heart ever since.
In 1996 I was kind of like a sixteen-year-old with the keys to Dad's Mustang and a hot date. I really didn't have the experience or training to know what I was getting into. But man, I felt freedom like never before! I started to read our literature, trying to understand what it was that was different. I could read it, but what I had to decide was whether I believed it. It is respectable to be blind! That was not what I thought before that convention. If it was respectable to be blind, I had a new lease on life. Life was something different from what my experience had taught me.
"It is respectable to be blind." Six words, but what do they mean? For me they mean what Dr. tenBroek called "the faith we have in each other." At our twenty-fifth anniversary, Dr. tenBroek called it "a faith that could move mountains and mount movements." It is respectable to be blind and compete on terms of equality. Dr. Jernigan helped us understand that the characteristic of blindness is not what defines us. If we get training, we can compete on terms of equality.
I learned that, to be a driver, you also need to teach. I started teaching other people what I had learned, as fast as I could learn it. That put me on a journey that continues even today.
When I was twenty-two years old, I was elected president of the NFB of Wisconsin. I started giving back, started figuring out how to build stuff. But every step of the way I kept running into an interesting problem: I was getting more than I was giving. It seemed unfair, so I'd try to give more, but still I'd get more back than I gave. Finally I decided this was a truth I needed to learn about the world, the truth that those who give are those who receive.
Acting on this, I started to advocate for blind kids. I didn't know anything about the education of blind children except that they deserved better than the dumpy experience I had had in school. It turned out that this experience gave me strength and passion, and it turned out I also had a talent for telling people what to do.
With my passion to make things better for kids, my commitment to see that they would travel a different road, I was hired to direct the Wisconsin Center for the Blind. I brought some pretty crazy ideas to that venture. At twenty-four, and with the radical ideas I brought, I got some push-back from people at that place who had different ideas about blindness. Day in and day out I heard messages such as, "We don't really think these kids need to carry canes," and "We don't really think these kids who can see some need Braille," and "We don't really think these kids can learn to take notes on their own," and "We don't really think it's reasonable to expect that kids go through the lunch line and carry their own trays." You can bet I needed the energy I got from my brothers and sisters in the Federation so I could keep saying, "Yes, they need to use canes; yes, they need to learn Braille; yes, they can make decisions on their own. Those decisions will make all the difference in determining whether they are the actors or the audience, the spectators or the participants, the passengers somebody drives or the drivers who set their own direction and take control of their lives." I relied on my friends in the Federation to keep me grounded, to remind me that I wasn't crazy. They pushed me so that I came to understand that the space we create in the Federation is reality.
You've got to make decisions when you're fighting those fights out there, and sometimes you're faced with tough ones. There was a special education administrator in the northern part of the state of Wisconsin--his name was Ed, so I fondly called him "Special Ed." He put out a memo that said, "Thou shall not teach Braille more than X number of hours in a week to a kid." Now, this is against the federal law. But he knew people at the state department of education, the very people I worked for, and they didn't say anything to contradict him. In fact, they gave him an award!
I decided I couldn't take it. I had to be a driver, even if it meant personal risk for me. I started talking to folks--this kid who was only twenty-six! When I started talking to legislators and others in positions of power, that didn't make me a popular guy with my bosses. They didn't have enough on me to fire me, but they certainly wanted to muzzle me. I had to decide between hanging onto a secure job that would require me to moderate my views and let those responsible do the driving, or living my life working to bring about a different future for blind children and blind adults. It was a future that almost passed me by and might never be a reality for other blind people unless I decided to act.
When I came to meet with the president of the National Federation of the Blind, he asked me an interesting question. He said, "What do you want to do with your life?"
I thought to myself, "You know, I'm so used to following the path that I've never really decided what I want to do." With some trepidation I told him that I'd like to come work for the National Federation of the Blind. I was honored that he hired me shortly before we opened the Jernigan Institute ten years ago, and I'm celebrating the completion of my tenth year working for the organization.
When I showed up at the National Center, I didn't know what I was going to do. But I found plenty of work, stayed busy, and felt like I was part of a team that shared the same game plan. We opened the Jernigan Institute early in 2004, and we had some interesting displays there. One of the displays was a car that a blind person could drive. I thought, "That's a cool hook. Dr. Maurer has done it; he's figured out how we can hook the engineers. He's managed to give a little something for the public relations folks. It's not very realistic, but it's great; it'll give our members something to talk about." I thought it was a gimmick.
One day in 2007 I came into work, having been working hard on education programs for a long time, and I was called into a meeting. Dr. Maurer said, "We're going to make some changes. Dr. Zaborowski, who has been the executive director of our institute, has cancer, and she's leaving. Mark is going to be our new executive director."
I thought to myself, "Well, this is good to know: I wasn't really asked if I wanted to do that." But I started working on programs that were a little broader than the ones I had been working on. One day I got a telephone call from Virginia Tech. They said, "Hey, we saw that you want to work on a car that a blind person can drive. We'd like to talk with you about it."
I thought, "Oh, I have to go sell this idea now." Full disclosure--I didn't really believe in it that much. I said, "Okay, I'll come talk to you about it."
I was sitting in a room with these engineers at Virginia Tech, and they were saying, "We work on vehicles that drive themselves, and we can just put you in the back seat, push a button, and we're done."
You and I know that's not actually what we had in mind. I got up and started pacing around, letting them know that we weren't interested in being passengers. What we wanted was to drive. We wanted to have technology that gave us enough information to allow us to make the decisions real drivers make. Here I was, trying to motivate them by talking the talk, and part of me was asking myself, "Why am I doing this? I don't really believe in it. It's a hook; it's a fine PR thing; it's somewhere out there in the future, but this is 2008."
They listened to what I had to say, gave it some thought, and said, "Okay, well, it's a little harder than we thought. But we'll work on it."
We got a prototype. I went down to see it, and I thought, "This is kind of nifty; let's take it to the Youth Slam in 2009 and see what happens. We'll put it in front of a bunch of blind kids, see what they do with it."
We put the car in a parking lot with these blind kids who had, decade after decade, been told that they couldn't drive. What do you know, they loved it! They lit up, and they said, "We need this today! When can we get this project done? This will open up opportunities for us; it can change our lives."
I thought to myself, "There is something to be learned here, and these kids are teaching me about it."
Dr. Maurer said, "Mark, go to Virginia Tech and get them to tell you when they can build a real car."
They said, "Well, twenty-two months or so."
I said, "Great. Now our first public demonstration is at Daytona in eighteen months."
"Look," they said, "we said twenty-two months."
"I know, but our first public demonstration is at Daytona in eighteen months." So we decided to go down to Daytona in July of 2010 to announce to the world that we were going to drive a car on the Daytona International Speedway, and we hadn't even built the car!
This wasn't the only thing going on in my life. My son Austin was born in 2006, and my daughter Oriana was born about a month before the 2010 convention. We're there in the hospital, ready to take her home, and as they were checking her out, they said, "Well, here she is. Now, on Monday we want you to go see a pediatric ophthalmologist. Her eyes don't respond as you would expect."
My heart stopped. I felt sick deep inside--not because of blindness (I knew what to do about that). No, what shook my world was remembering that feeling of being a passenger, that second-class feeling I lived with in the education system. I'd been working on education for a while, but right then I felt fear--fear for my child. I said to myself, "Not my daughter! We're not doing this again!" This was the day when I recommitted myself in a new way to this organization. As you parents know, it gets personal when it's your child, your family, your responsibility.
I showed up at the convention in 2010 and worked on publicizing the Blind Driver Challenge. People were talking about it. Some were excited, some were skeptical. Some saw in it the makings of a brighter future; a few saw it as a futile waste of time and money.
After the convention Dr. Maurer said, "We need some blind people who are going to drive this car. Who wants to drive?"
Who wants to drive? Well, I believed I wanted to drive!
Dr. Maurer was very clear. "This will not be a political decision. The best driver drives at Daytona. We need the best representative of the National Federation of the Blind in that car."
We were out there in December on a track in Virginia, testing this stuff out, and Dr. Maurer was out there. I was thinking to myself that this was stupid. This was Dr. Maurer's idea. "He's our president. Of course he should drive; we should throw this contest. I didn't even believe in this when we started." As I thought about whether to throw the contest or do my best, I reflected on that very first letter that Dr. Maurer had sent me in 1996. I decided I had no choice. If I threw that contest, I wouldn't have been keeping faith with that bond of trust, the trust that I would do my best, that everyone there would do their best, and that we'd show our best in Daytona. In pushing Dr. Maurer, we helped push this organization, and we pushed each other. We would do it with love and respect and with each of us giving our best, not just to be the driver of the car, but to be the driver of our own lives.
So with all my love and respect for Dr. Maurer, the man who dreamed this up, dared to commit to it, and dared to stake his and our reputation on what the blind could do if we put our minds and hearts into it, I went out there and I whooped him. Don't tell him I said that! You know, that's what he wanted, the best from all of us, and that's what we gave him. In fact he was happy to be whooped, because that's what we're working on.
I worked on this technology, and it was hard and involved very long hours. We spent a lot of time standing out in the snow while the engineers were fixing stuff. We sometimes wondered just what we were getting ourselves into.
Anil Lewis and I spent a lot of time together on this. We were the two finalists in the contests to see who would drive the car. One of the things we wanted to do at Daytona was a passing maneuver. We knew it would be impressive if we not only could drive around the track, but could pass another vehicle. So one day we kicked these sighted engineers out of the car, and I was working on this--it was the first time I was going to do a pass. I was driving along and I rolled the windows down so that I could hear when the car was next to me. I was passing them on the left. I heard when I was just about passing them, and I honked the horn. The sighted graduate students were all going, "Oooh, how--ooooh, how did he know? He honked the horn at the right time."
Sometimes your blind buddies give you away. They know the techniques of blindness. So my friend Anil ruined it. He said, "He's driving with the windows down." They still didn't get it. He told them about being able to hear the reflection and the noise from the car I was passing, and that this would tell me when I had passed and should honk.
Finally, on Friday, January 28, we showed up. We were driving in a parking lot, and were just goofing off because it was the day before the demonstration. We got everything down; we were ready to go. The graduate students and the undergraduate students from Virginia Tech were there, and we were giving them rides around the parking lot.
The President and the First Lady of the Federation showed up, and I was going to be their chauffeur. I suddenly realized that Dr. Maurer had never ridden in the car with a blind person. Then my family showed up, and we took our first family road trip around the parking lot! Let me tell you--it's a lot harder to strap those darn car seats in than it is to drive!
Austin would like me to tell you that he really liked driving through the puddle. There was a big puddle in this parking lot; we had to drive through it every time around, and that was his favorite part.
The skeptics who don't care much for the Federation or who lack the capacity to dream would say, "Who cares? It's a parking lot." But they wouldn't say that about Kitty Hawk, and they wouldn't say it about that first footprint on the moon. They don't understand the love and the bond of faith that we share in this organization.
People always ask me, "Were you nervous at Daytona?" and what I tell them is this. We had to get there very early on Saturday morning, and we were sitting around and sitting around, and finally I said, "We have to go see the Federationists. Where are they? I've got to see them!"
We walked over from the pits, and we found four hundred blind folks hanging out at Daytona. Whatever nervousness I felt immediately disappeared. I had the same feeling you get at convention, the feeling that together we can do anything--anything! I was honored to be one of the people who would make history that day, not only for the four hundred, but for all of those who worked so hard to make this day a reality.
When I showed up at the finish line at Daytona and stepped out of the car, people asked, "Now, what do you have to say? You've got to say something." But there was nothing to say that was equal to what we did together. They were looking for words about a car and about technology. How could I explain in a memorable quote or a sound bite they would understand that my concept of blindness had been exploded forever? I didn't know what the limits are for us anymore. I knew my future would be different, and I knew that I would never again be a passenger. I resolved to be a driver for my life and for the National Federation of the Blind. I realized that the limits are only what we make of them, that it was my responsibility to be a driver and to fuel this organization.
I also recognize that driving isn't just a one-person job. The dreaming, the science, the testing will require all of us. On a more personal level, I realized that in my life, driving can't be a one-person job either. The members of the National Federation of the Blind have always been part of it. I've been learning to be a driver since I met the organization, and I will continue to learn as long as I live.
When a guy named Dan Parker, a member of ours from Georgia, called up and said, "Hey, I'd like to drive a motorcycle," I kind of thought he was crazy. I thought that maybe he was trying to regain or hold onto his former racing career as a sighted guy. But I believed it was possible. So we supported him, and we've now had a blind guy drive a motorcycle on the Salt Flats in Utah.
I'm here to tell you tonight that there are people in this organization who can teach you stuff. I'm here to tell you our President, Marc Maurer, taught me how to drive. He started in August 1996 when he wrote me that first letter.
Last fall he said he wasn't going to run for the Federation presidency this year. He asked me if I wanted to be president. I told him that I did, that as long as he wasn't willing to continue in the driver's seat, I wanted to do it. I know nothing better to do than to be a driver in this organization, and I was honored when Dr. Maurer gave me his endorsement for the presidency.
If the Federation sees fit to elect me this summer, I will pledge to be the best driver I can be for this organization. I'm prepared to accept the bond of faith that our presidency requires. But I hope that all of you understand that this bond also binds you. It binds you to be a driver in our organization, because I can't be the last blind driver. This organization is bigger than any one person, and it's fitting that we call it "a vehicle for collective action." You have to be willing as well to grab that steering wheel of faith and drive, because this organization is about us.
I appreciate the tremendous driving going on here in Missouri, and I have been inspired by the speeches and the discussions that have occurred here today. It gives me comfort and faith to know that together we can drive into the future. You have and are the spirit of the Federation, the determination, the hope, and the love that created it and that today we share. Let's grab that steering wheel of faith together and drive ourselves toward the future that is promised to us if together with love, hope, and determination we work to transform dreams into reality.
by Mary McDonach
Reprinted with permission from <www.wonderbaby.org>
From the Editor: According to some studies, as many as seven out of ten congenitally blind children are autistic or have autistic tendencies. But do these blind children really belong on the autism spectrum? Parents and professionals have long searched for answers and sought more effective ways to help these children reach their full potential. In this article Mary McDonach, a native of Scotland, describes the insights she gained about her daughter's seemingly autistic behaviors and her relationship with the world around her.
I can only ever write about my experience with my child, and I always write from that perspective first. In this article I would like to address the relationship between blindness and autism, but I do not wish to step on any toes or take issue with what another parent has experienced or lives with daily. I am not writing as a medical professional (though I am one, now retired); I am writing as a mother. Having said that, I would like to share my story.
My daughter, Elizabeth, was born with OCA1A type albinism. That's the one with the beautiful white hair and the visual acuity that can range from almost normal vision to legal blindness.
When Elizabeth was born, she behaved as a blind child because that is what she was. It is said by people with albinism that their eyesight is never worse than the day they were born, and she was no exception. There was strong hope from medical staff that her visual acuity would improve, perhaps even dramatically, but still we had a blind child.
Elizabeth did all the things that a child without sight may do.
We let her call the shots for a while and live a life with no stuffed animals and no sitting up. Then we said, "Enough!" Every child needs challenges, and we found them for her by the spadeful.
Elizabeth's eyesight became very slightly better, not through anything we had done. It was just time and nature. But still she was delayed. She didn't crawl, for example, and why would she? She couldn't find anything except by chance, so why crawl?
Then she realized that people were sitting up from the floor, and in order to get to them she had to stand--so she did. And that was all she did. The bare minimum: Stand! (That's my girl!)
When she was about two years old--just about the time Mummy was about to go bald with worry--Elizabeth walked!!! Yep, just like that she got up and walked five steps across the floor--no big deal, apparently.
And then she started rocking--on every surface, in every room.
And climbing--my fears for her safety still elicit a sort of cute contempt from her. At her nursery she was a "known risk taker!"
And she still wasn't talking, or laughing, but she smiled occasionally--and it was like the sun coming out!
She went to nursery at thirty months, and she was still almost mute. We were offered an MRI by a pediatric neurologist, because by this stage, even her ophthalmologist suspected what he called "an additional diagnosis." We turned down the procedure because of the dangers inherent in general anesthesia. If there was an additional neurological impairment, we'd find out soon enough, we reasoned. But the waiting was not easy.
By this point in the story I'm sure you know what we were worried about. How do you tell the difference between the eye-pressing attendant to a blind child stimulating the optic nerve and eye-pressing of a more self-injurious nature, which can be a symptom of autism?
Elizabeth began talking when she was about two years and nine months old. It was very sudden, and it was in sentences! She was always a child with very well-defined wants and needs, but she developed into a child who could only do certain things in one particular way. For instance, when I read a book to her, I had to say the exact words I had used the first time I had read her the book. She could brook no deviation in the storyline, and her little hand had to follow the story (they were all "touchy-feely" books) in the specific order that she had prescribed.
She had a set of conditions for almost every daily event. And her routine was relentless. She remained a placid, easy-natured child, but became acutely distressed if her routine was messed with.
This routine was not to be confused with her perceived "order" of things, though. Books went in straight, very straight, lines. All over our sitting room, the floor was often covered in her perfectly horizontal books. Long before she had expressive language, she had a developmentally advanced and intuitive understanding of numbers, shapes, and angles.
She also behaved as though particular people were not there. To be fair, she still does this. She doesn't actively dislike anyone, but she only makes an effort to "see" people she is interested in. It probably goes without saying that her taste in people can be described as, at the very least, eclectic.
And then the echolalia almost brought us to our knees--I am not over dramatizing this. If you've survived it yourself, you'll know that. [See Mary McDonach's article, "You Can Say That Again: or, Echolalia, Echolalia, Echolalia," Future Reflections, Volume 30, Number 1, Winter 2011.]
Do you see where I'm going with this?
All of these natural behaviors that can be explained as responses to blindness can equally be laid at the door of autistic spectrum disorder (ASD). And I had seen all of these symptoms before--in the patients I had worked with at various hospitals, the patients with autistic spectrum disorder.
Our GP should receive an award for her patience, thoughtfulness, and genuine interest in the development of our daughter, and for her utter kindness toward us. Time and again we went to her with another piece of the puzzling behavior we were witnessing, and time and again we left her surgery with our minds, at least temporarily, at rest.
Every single time, she asked us if our daughter was distressed by physical contact with us. Each time we replied that she was easily startled, which could cause a degree of distress, but seemed to love physical contact--with just about anyone!
If we had misinterpreted the vulnerability our daughter felt when she was touched--suddenly, from her point of view--then we could easily have rationalized that human contact was unpleasant for her. Instead of becoming practiced at saying things such as, "It's Mummy, and I'd love a cuddle," so that she could anticipate the event, we might have pulled back from touching her because it seemed to upset her. Our withdrawal, in turn, would have meant that she became less practiced at responding appropriately to human contact.
We watched Elizabeth in her almost constant rocking--and one day realized that she was checking every inch of every floor for squeaks!!! She knows our home in a completely different way from the way we do.
We consistently have been blessed by the quality of professionals surrounding our daughter and helping us help her. It was the headmistress of the nursery at which our daughter had a Special Needs Placement who made this most comforting, almost magically reassuring of statements: "This child has an idiopathic learning process, and we must alter the way we assess goal attainment in order to accommodate it." In other words, Elizabeth is responding to the world as a blind child and an individual, and we must take that into consideration when assessing her.
That was the thread that we wove around our fears, eventually stifling them. And in retrospect, it seems so obvious--how could we not have realized that, because her experience of the world was so different from ours due to her lack of vision, her learning would take a different path to get her to the same place?
Some children, just by virtue of chance, are blind or severely visually impaired and also have ASD. I am not saying this lightly, but to emphasize the unlikely matches that nature produces. For instance, some children are born with Down syndrome and albinism. It is very unlikely, but it happens. Unlikely things happen every day.
My experience with my daughter could have had an altogether different outcome. It is possible that, if I had not had high quality professionals around me, I could have believed what seemed to be the evidence of my own eyes. I could have begun strategies that, in the long term, would have been profoundly detrimental to my daughter.
Elizabeth is now in her first year at a mainstream school. She requires special consideration and equipment to diminish the effects of her severe visual impairment. I also am convinced that she truly needs the attitudes of the people working in that particular school. The teachers and other staff members have embraced an attitude of self-education and open-mindedness with regard to giving our little girl the very best educational start. They have this attitude because of their experience, learning, and personalities. Elizabeth is thriving.
But I could have made an irretrievable mistake with the very best of intentions. My experience and the research I've done suggest to me that it is absolutely incumbent on us, as parents, to consider our children's perceptions before we label their box and shut the lid.
Brandsborg, Knut. "Blindness and Autism: What Is the Relationship Between Blindness and Autism-Like Difficulties in Children?" Available at <http://icevi.org/publications/ICEVI-WC2002/papers/03-topic/03-brandsborg.htm>
In this article, the author, a psychologist, tries to explain why there may be a relationship between mannerisms seen in many blind children and autistic behavior: "The sum of all the consequences of being born blind, combined with the way sighted people interact with them, may give a sufficient explanation for the development of additional problems that are usually called autistic."
Ingsholt, Anette. "Blindness, Mental Retardation, and/or Autism."
Available at <http://icevi.org/publications/ICEVI-WC2002/papers/07-topic/07-ingsholt2.htm>
This article tries to elucidate the difference and overlap between these three diagnoses.
Future Reflections Fall 2014 EARLY CHILDHOOD
by Jennie Smith
Reprinted with permission from <www.wonderbaby.org>
From the Editor: For a variety of reasons, some blind and visually impaired children have difficulty with early language acquisition. Parents and teachers may dismiss the notion of teaching a blind child to sign, as signing seems to be inherently visual. However, as Jennie Smith shows, signing can be an effective way to help young blind children communicate, and can spur the development of spoken words. Jennie Smith lives in rural Virginia. She has been a special education preschool teacher for twenty-three years, and she added a teaching endorsement in visual impairment after her son, Max, was born.
Effective communication is a critical skill for children to learn. We all communicate in a wide variety of ways. We use spoken words, different intonations in our voices, subtle gestures (raising our eyebrows, a sly smile, or a quick wink), and not so subtle gestures (waving our arms, stamping our feet, or clapping our hands loudly).
Some research studies claim that over 80 percent of expressive communication is nonverbal. Have you ever noticed how many people move their hands while they talk? In some cultures, it seems impossible NOT to gesture while speaking! I remember being at a conference where we all had to sit on our hands and then engage in conversation with someone sitting nearby. Within seconds, people were lifting their hands to gesture, saying they simply could not keep them still while talking. Do you know anyone like that? Does this describe you?
For many children, especially those with disabilities, learning how to communicate effectively is extremely difficult. Using gestures and formal signs is a way to facilitate expressive language. It opens doors for many kids who, for whatever reason, simply have not yet been able to develop verbal skills.
Almost all young children use gestures when learning to talk. They wave bye-bye, shake their little heads "no," and blow very wet kisses. Such actions clearly express a thought, an intention, or an emotion, and all can be done without speaking.
My son, Max, who is totally blind with bilateral anophthalmia, is one of those young children who is having a very difficult time learning to use verbal language. He is three years old and has four spoken words, two of which he is just beginning to use. However, Max can communicate twenty-seven things to us today because we have taught him to use signs (that number is sure to be higher by the time you read this). Without signs, Max would only be able to say "mama," "dada," "night-night," and "ball." These are all great words to have, but not a very powerful way to make one's needs known throughout the day.
The process for Max to learn signs has been very long, and it has taken persistence from all of us. If my memory serves me correctly, I think I signed three signs with him many times per day for about six months before he began to show any attempt at making a sign by himself.
When I started introducing signs to Max, I was teaching in an intensive program for preschoolers with autism and using a strict ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis) method. This experience gave me the idea to keep at it with Max.
The basic principle is to choose an item that is highly preferred. For Max it was his "lovie bear" that he sleeps with and uses for general comfort. I would say and sign "bear" every time he came into contact with the bear. I took his hands and made the sign on his body two or three times and then immediately gave him the bear.
I used natural daily opportunities to work on signs. I chose this method instead of a structured teaching setting where you give the item and then take it back to do it over again. I think kids learn faster through natural opportunities within an everyday context. Two other early signs for Max were "milk" and "cracker."
Using signs and gestures is language. Research has proved that the use of signs does not prevent children from learning to speak. In fact, studies show that children who used signs as babies had more spoken words as they grew than did their non-signing peers.
There are many resources for learning to make signs. For example, Michigan State University has created an American Sign Language Browser that plays short video clips of common signs to demonstrate visually how to make them. You can pick the words you want to teach your child and see them demonstrated right there on the spot! You can explore this site at <http://aslbrowser.commtechlab.msu.edu/browser.htm>.
This article was originally written when Max was still a preschooler. Today he is nine years old. He learned seventy-five signs before he started to use spoken language. He has received a diagnosis of autism, which helps to explain his challenges with communication. Max is now verbal, but he continues to struggle to use meaningful social language. He rarely uses verbs in his speech, so we are going back to sign language to emphasize the use of verbs in his sentences.
Max loves to play the piano, and his musical skills are amazing! He is all self-taught and plays everything from Disney musicals to Bruce Springsteen to TV jingles. Christmas music is his favorite all year round. He is a happy little guy with a hilarious sense of humor.
by Jim Franklin
From the Editor: Because the teaching methods used in math classes tend to be highly visual, many blind and visually impaired students have trouble grasping math concepts and keeping up with assignments. However, math can be taught using hands-on methods that benefit all students. In this article, Jim Franklin explains how he developed the Slide-A-Round Math Manipulatives to teach students how to round numbers. Jim Franklin is an inclusion elementary special education teacher at Elm Street Elementary School in Rome, Georgia. Over the past fifteen years he has taught students in inclusion, resource, and self-contained settings.
For years students have been rounding numbers up to ten million. Most teaching strategies involve the use of paper and pencil, dry erase board, and markers. Students are expected to master the skill of accurately drawing a number line and to understand the concepts of rounding and estimation. However, with the implementation of rigorous Common Core Standards across the United States, students now are expected to meet more complex standards in a shorter amount of time than they were allowed ten years ago, regardless of economic status, vision and hearing impairments, language and cognitive deficits, and other disabilities. Our country's best and most experienced teachers frequently state that they need more time to help their students achieve mastery in class and on state standardized assessments.
Less than three years ago, my elementary students struggled with the pressures of mastering math standards and objectives and with standardized testing expectations. One day my system assistant special education director called and wanted to bring a group of teachers and administrators to observe my class. We were working on rounding numbers, so I started to look for an approach different from the same old number line that only goes to one hundred. I consulted with our math specialist—nothing! I talked with the math teachers from varying grade levels—nothing! I searched "rounding math manipulatives" on the internet—again, nothing! I was frustrated that students are expected to grasp abstract concepts with a "one size fits all" instructional mentality.
As I walked down the hall to my classroom, an idea came to me. Instead of using a number line as a visual teaching tool for rounding, what if I created moveable slides? The students could change the number increments to help them solve a variety of rounding problems. I got to work creating a number line that would do just that. I made a basic, generic number line with half circles to help the students know which side of the figure to "fall down" in rounding by tens. Then I created slides with a window on each end to help students place the numbers correctly. I had the basic plan for the Slide-A-Round Teaching Aid.
My colleagues loved my idea, so I looked for a way to create a sturdier version of my paper model. I started by cutting up an old garage-sale sign. I located a local printing company willing to apply printed stickers by hand. Needless to say, this was not a cost-effective way to create a student-friendly, durable product.
I continued to get feedback and advice from others—students, math teachers, special education teachers, teachers of the visually impaired, occupational therapists, etc. The students gave me by far the most relevant feedback. They helped me see my manipulatives with a much-needed difference in perspective.
The first student to use my manipulative was Michael, a fourth-grader with a diagnosis of EBD (emotional and behavior disorder). He was very withdrawn and had an extremely low tolerance for frustration. Academically, he was one to two years below grade level in math calculation and math reasoning, and he was served in my inclusion math class. Despite his difficulties, Michael was a student who usually wanted to please his teachers.
Michael and I went to a table at the end of the hallway to work on his classwork. At the time, students were expected to round numbers to the nearest ten and one hundred. As usual, Michael got to work immediately. However, after four or five problems, I began to see "the look" on his face. His head drooped, and his eyes started to water. He refused to respond or to ask me any questions. I offered encouragement to boost his self-confidence. I watched him struggle to remember the strategies he had been taught.
I also noticed that Michael attempted to draw several number lines, but they were incorrect. The numbers on his paper had an extremely short life span; he would write, then erase, over and over again for every problem.
After about thirty minutes he finally reached #20, the last frustrating problem. It was a painful experience for both of us. But I knew I had something to help him, tucked in a folder on the chair beside me.
I asked Michael if he was finished. He nodded, with his eyes staring at the tile floor beside his chair. I reached over to get his paper to grade. It was very easy to grade because several parts of his number line were incorrect, and some math problems did not have answers. He knew that he did not have a passing grade, but when I wrote a "40" on the top, it was as if a truck had hit him.
I tapped on the table to get his attention. "Michael," I said, "if you listen and watch me for five minutes, I'll give you something to help you with these math problems. Tomorrow, we'll redo this assignment. Are you willing to do that?"
He gave me a sniffling "yes."
The next day at fourth period, we went to the same table. Briefly I demonstrated my manipulative to Michael, and he began to work. This time, when he was finished, he handed me his paper and proudly stated, "I think I did better, Mr. Franklin."
He watched every move my pen made as I corrected his paper. Reluctantly he asked, "Well ... How did I do?"
I wrote an "80" and circled it. I looked up at him and saw the most self-confident grin I had ever seen. "Do you want to show Mrs. Phillips, or do you want me to show her?"
"I do!" he exclaimed, and dashed up the hallway. The look on his face was priceless. At that moment I knew I had an idea with the potential to help students, not only in Rome, Georgia, but in other parts of the United States.
The basic concept surrounding my math manipulatives with interchangeable slides generated several other manipulatives based on the same principle. I created a number line to ten million and manipulatives that address elapsed time, weight, money, decimals, and equivalent fractions. A few of these manipulatives were created because other teachers approached me with "Do you have anything that will help students with ...?" My reply was always, "Let me think about it and see what I can come up with." When they tried the new tools in their classrooms, I was excited by the results and the positive feedback.
At this point, I knew I was ready to find a manufacturer who could quickly produce a product that parents, classroom teachers, and school systems would be able to afford for their children. I located a manufacturer in Montana who built a steel mold for the student versions. Next I began searching for a way to create a 32-inch teacher's aid for each manipulative. I knew that the approach of using a steel mold was much too expensive. When I spoke with the owner of a manufacturing company in Arizona, he suggested machine-cut sturdy plastic with printer-applied labels. I was glad I decided to go this route, especially after I consulted with a teacher of the visually impaired in my school system. She sat down with me to offer advice about which manipulatives could be converted for the use of blind and low vision students. I learned that Braille dots would need extra clearance on the moveable slides, so changes had to be made in the 32-inch, table-size versions. I also recognized the need to add a 24-inch version (individual desk size) for students with low vision.
In May 2012 I visited the Alabama Institute for the Blind. I discussed my manipulatives with the director, Teresa Lacy, who suggested that I also contact Will Evans at the American Printing House for the Blind (APH). It is amazing to me how many people have gone out of their way to offer suggestions and advice on how to help our students be academically successful. APH agreed to have its math consultants do a product study of effectiveness. Even though I had already seen firsthand how students responded and achieved, it was pretty nice to receive affirmation through APH on its "Fred's Head" blog for November 2012. "This is a great product for students who are blind and visually impaired. It gives tactile representation to abstract concepts in mathematics."
My first true experience working directly with a blind student came at the Ohio "Out of Sight" Assistive Technology Conference in Columbus, Ohio, in April 2013. I was invited to exhibit and present by Paula Mauro, the director of CISAM, the Center for Instructional Supports and Accessible Materials. For many of the attendees, this was a conference; for me, however, it was an opportunity to gain valuable insight into how visually impaired students would benefit from my manipulatives.
A fifth-grade student and his mother visited my exhibit booth. While I discussed my manipulatives with the mother, I noticed that the boy's eyes were about a foot above my VI Fractions 16ths manipulative displayed on the table. When the boy began to talk about fractions, the conversation moved quickly to involve him. While he was moving the slides, he stated, "If these labels were in yellow and black, I would be able to see them better."
At the next break I called my manufacturer about the possibility of customizing the colors of the labels. I was delighted with the response! Since the Ohio conference, the customization of labels for my VI manipulatives has been a popular topic with parents, teachers, and administrators. With shrinking school budgets, my goal is to provide time- and cost-effective ways to meet the individual needs of all students. Teachers have the option of making their own Braille labels, which they can apply themselves on the appropriate numbers. They can also use tactile dots from a crafts store, placing them on the proper lines. Raised lines can be made with thin-cut strips of masking tape. A TVI from Illinois suggested using larger, "mailbox type numbers" on some of the manipulatives.
The freedom to individualize my manipulatives provides flexibility and increases the likelihood that the manipulatives will be used effectively to increase student achievement.
Since I received the endorsement from APH, representatives from many school systems and schools for the blind have inquired about my manipulatives and strategies when I present/demonstrate around the United States, via email or by phone. I continue to stress one of my most important teaching strategies: "The best teaching is when students are being taught future standards that they do not know they are being taught at that time. When the students eventually reach those standards, it seems like review." That strategy is not only part of my everyday instruction, but also the driving force behind how my manipulatives were created.
I want to close with a comment I received from Dr. Barry L. McDaniel of Student Support Services at the Louisiana School for the Deaf and Blind after I presented at the Southeast Regional Assistive Services Technology Center. "Slide-A-Rounds could be a useful teaching aid for teachers, allowing for meaningful learning situations for students regarding time, fractions, weight, decimals, and money."
You can learn more about Slide-A-Round Math Manipulatives at <www.slidearoundmath.com>.
Reprinted from The Student Slate, Summer 2014
From the Editor: Emily Pennington is a junior at Xavier University in Cincinnati, Ohio, and is majoring in accounting. She won her second NFB national scholarship in 2014, making her a tenBroek Fellow.
Saturday, June 30th, 2012. I'm standing in the Dallas Airport on my way to my first ever national convention to learn about the NFB, have a great time, and collect my scholarship. All around me, people hurry by, many of whom speak rapid, fluent Spanish. I'm supposed to take the Super Shuttle to the hotel, and I'm trying to appear more confident than I feel.
Fast forward two hours. I have successfully taken the shuttle to my hotel, checked in at the desk, and found my way to my room, despite the challenge of using my cane, pulling my suitcase, and reading the Brailled room numbers all at once. Having just found my restaurant of choice and taken myself out to lunch, I am feeling much more invincible than I did before I successfully maneuvered the new situation of traveling completely independently. If I got through that morning, surely I could get through whatever life's travels throw at me in the future.
I'm now twenty years old and have traveled several times before and after the 2012 National Convention. Whether I have traveled by plane or Greyhound, with or without a friend, I have worked out a system of dos and don'ts that makes my trips go much more smoothly.
Tip 1: Prepare in advance and show up early. I am by nature a detail-oriented planner, so this strategy comes easily to me. As early as possible, I always request a Meet and Assist for when my plane lands. I call and confirm that it is set up several days before I leave. Additionally, I always make sure my boarding pass is printed out and accessible via my iPhone, just in case there is an issue at the airport. To further reduce the chance of any problems, I always show up early--be it to the airport, Greyhound station, or any other departure site. It never bothers me to have extra time on my hands; I'd rather sit in a cramped chair reading a book for an hour than risk an insanely long security line, crazy gate change, or some other last-minute debacle. Besides, arriving early means I am more justified in buying that pre-travel slice of pizza.
Tip 2: Be polite but firm when advocating for yourself. My first experience traveling without an adult was, ironically, on my way to the 2009 NFB Youth Slam in Maryland. I was fifteen years old and traveling with a friend from Cincinnati who was also attending the program. As we stepped off the plane in Chicago for our layover, the airport workers who met us at the gate came with the dreaded wheelchairs. At first, we politely refused them; we could walk just fine, after all, and we didn't want to appear otherwise. However, they kept insisting, saying it would be quicker to transport us that way. They essentially bossed us into the wheelchairs, and we were too young, shy, and polite to say no once and for all. Looking back now, I'm ashamed of how timid and pliable I was that day. Even in my everyday, non-traveling life, I found that I was too polite and not assertive enough. Now I am much less afraid to say no--even if it means a somewhat brusque tone. Still, I try to be friendly with the people who assist me on my travels. I make small talk with them, try to joke with them, and always thank them when we part ways. After all, if these people come away with a positive image of an independent, assertive, and friendly blind person, it might broaden their horizons in the future.
Tip 3: It's okay to ask for help. I understand that everybody's traveling styles are different. Some prefer to navigate new airports, bus stations, and the like completely by themselves, while others always travel with a friend or family member. I would classify myself as someone in the middle group; I have traveled and will continue to travel long distances on my own, but I do ask for help along the way. If I'm flying from home, I usually have one of my parents get permission to go through security with me and stay with me until I'm ready to board. I feel more comfortable and familiar with them, and it gives them peace of mind to know that their first-born daughter--blind or not--is safe. They are always very respectful and let me do my own talking. As I mentioned earlier, I also request a Meet and Assist when I land. I make sure to pay attention to where I am being escorted and to be assertive about my needs--or lack thereof. But I feel no shame using sighted assistance in an airport I've never visited before, let alone one I'll rarely set foot in again. Although I don't take credit for coming up with this line, I always tell people that an important aspect of independence is knowing when to ask for help. In combination with solid communication skills and my much-improved assertiveness, it makes me feel--and come across as--an independent traveler even if I don't know the area by heart.
Tip 4: Have your essentials in your carry-on. Whether you're taking a plane, train, or bus, you will not be able to access your luggage for the duration of the trip. Therefore, it is important that anything you want and need during that time is stowed in your carry-on bag. I always have my purse and Braillenote Apex on hand, which can be put in my backpack when I get tired of carrying them around my neck and shoulder. I happen to be one of those people who get migraines if I don't eat and drink regularly, so I keep some snacks and my medications within easy reach, too. In case my luggage gets lost, I keep anything that is hard to replace--such as my Apex charger--in my backpack so I will have it no matter what. I am also very careful to protect my stuff from pickpockets. When I sit in an airport or bus station with my backpack on the floor, I always face the zipper pockets toward me and rest my hand or leg against the pack so I can feel any disturbances.
Of course, these tips do not necessarily ensure a perfect travel experience. I still encounter occasional last-minute annoyances and obstacles, and I'm sure that will not change. After all, bad weather and flight delays are unavoidable.
I understand that everybody has differing opinions on how to travel. That being said, I hope that my tips--which, I'm sure, will continue to accumulate over the next seventy years--help some new, intimidated travelers. Who knows; perhaps a veteran who reads this will be inspired to nod and say, "Hear, hear!" In short, although I still have a lot to learn, I feel ready to take on more airports, bus stations, states, countries, continents, and--one of my favorites--national conventions with gusto.
by Laura Martinez
From the Editor: A couple of years ago a blind chef named Christine Ha became a national celebrity when she won a televised Master Chef competition. Christine Ha is not the only blind person to become a chef. Laura Martinez has acquired impressive credentials in the world of haute cuisine. Her story helps break down the notion that work as a professional chef is out of bounds for a blind person.
I was born in the city of Salvatierra in central Mexico. When I was very young I was diagnosed with retinoblastoma, a form of cancer that attacks the retinas. After extensive treatments, I was free from cancer but had become totally blind.
In Salvatierra, as in most of Mexico, there was no program to mainstream blind students. My only option was to attend the residential school for the blind in Mexico City. My parents didn't want to send me so far from home, and I didn't want to go to a boarding school. To me it sounded a lot like the hospital, and I'd had too much of hospitals already!
Since I was home all day, I spent a lot of time with my mother. Although she was very protective and kept me away from the stove, she wasn't afraid to let me use knives in the kitchen. I would help her cut up fruit and chop vegetables for our meals. Eventually I got my own knife to play with. I used to go outside and practice chopping leaves and twigs.
When I was nine years old, my family emigrated to the United States so I could attend school at last. We moved to the town of Silvis, Illinois. I didn't know any English, and I had never been exposed to Braille. I attended a public school that had a resource room for blind students. For the first year I had an interpreter with me in the classroom. By the end of that year I knew enough English to be on my own. With the help of my teacher of the visually impaired (TVI), I learned Braille and got caught up academically. By the time I was twelve I entered junior high school.
When I was in high school I transferred to the Illinois School for the Visually Impaired (ISVI) in Jacksonville. I lived away from my family for the first time and got exposed to a lot of things that were new to me. For the first time I was allowed, even encouraged, to use a stove. Cooking on the stove was very exciting to me because it had been forbidden for so long.
After I graduated from high school, I knew I still needed to improve my orientation and mobility (O&M) and other skills. I enrolled in the adjustment to blindness program at the Iowa Commission for the Blind. I also started to think seriously about a career. Since I loved cooking and experimenting with foods, I began to do research on culinary schools.
To my delight I was accepted at the Cordon Bleu Institute, one of the leading culinary schools in Chicago. I explained in my application that I am blind, but when I went for a tour of the school after my acceptance, the staff seemed shocked to meet me in person. They may have thought that I had some vision, and they were very upset to discover that I am totally blind. I found out later that they fired the senior advisor of student services who accepted me.
After my visit, the school threw one roadblock after another in my way. The new advisor of students claimed that they had lost all of my paperwork. I said, "That's not a problem. I have copies of everything." They still came up with excuses about why I wouldn't be able to start in September. They said I had to go in and talk with them, but they kept breaking appointments with me and not returning my calls.
Finally I decided I needed help. I contacted Patti Chang, president of the NFB of Illinois. Patti called the national office of the NFB in Baltimore. That same day Charlie Brown, an attorney who is active with the NFB, called the director of the culinary school. The director said she had no idea what was going on and assured him that I was welcome to enter the program. One call from a lawyer was all it took to break down the barriers!
When the school was trying to reverse my acceptance, they kept saying, "Our teaching is very visual." The teachers would demonstrate a technique in front of the class, and the students were supposed to learn by watching. I talked to the school about ways to accommodate me, and they hired someone to describe to me everything the instructor was doing. I got most of the books I needed through Learning Ally.
Even after I was enrolled in the program, the dean tried to sabotage me. I felt that he wanted me to fail so they could kick me out. In one of my classes, students were assigned to work with partners. I was assigned to partner with a young man who had some cognitive and behavioral problems. He had a very hard time following directions, and sometimes he would walk out in the middle of a project. Because we were partners, we both got blamed for the errors he made, and I failed that course. I did well in my other classes, however, so I passed with a grade point average of 3.7.
The program at the Cordon Bleu Institute involves a year of classes, followed by a three-month internship. The school claimed that they couldn't find an internship for me at a restaurant, as they did for my classmates. I ended up doing my internship at the Chicago Lighthouse for the Blind and Visually Impaired, which runs a cafeteria for its students and staff.
While I was completing my internship, I met a woman who knew a reporter at the Chicago Tribune. The Tribune ran a story about me. CBS News picked up the story and sent a reporter to film me at the Lighthouse. Along with the reporter and film crew came Charlie Trotter, a world-class chef who ran an exclusive restaurant in Chicago.
Charlie Trotter tasted the food I had prepared and said that it was excellent. Then, to my astonishment, he offered me a job on the spot. I learned later that he was dyslexic and had struggled in school because of his disability. He really believed in giving people with disabilities a chance. When he offered me a job I was utterly speechless. Finally I managed to say it would be a great honor to work for him.
After I graduated from the institute, I started my job at Charlie Trotter's. I did a little bit of everything in the kitchen. I worked what we called "the hot line," which involved grilling, frying, and sautéing. I made bread, cakes, and fancy pastries. I also made salads and garnishes.
When I started on the job, my rehab counselor provided me with an assistant who helped me get oriented. My assistant showed me where things were in the kitchen and helped me label spices and other ingredients in Braille. Since ingredients were constantly being used up and replaced, the job of labeling was never done. I kept a Braille labeler on hand so I could label new supplies as they came in.
At first the other chefs were nervous working around me. The kitchen at Charlie Trotter's was very fast-paced, and they were afraid I wouldn't be able to keep up. I reminded them to explain things to me verbally instead of just pointing, and after a while they got used to it.
I worked at Charlie Trotter's for two years and eight months. Then, at the end of August 2012, the restaurant closed. As soon as Charlie announced that we would be shutting down, I began to look for another restaurant job. Even with my experience and with Charlie's recommendation, no restaurant wanted to hire me. I taught classes at the Chicago Lighthouse and at Friedman Place, a residence for blind people with additional disabilities. I also have prepared demonstration meals for Whole Foods and catered fundraising dinners for the Animal Rescue League.
With my mother and my husband, I plan to open a restaurant of my own in late September. La Diosa Restaurant will be a café that offers fusion dishes, combining French, Mexican, and Italian flavors. Drop in the next time you come to Chicago. Maybe I'll take you on a tour of our kitchen. I have a great collection of knives to show you.
by Brandy Wojcik
From the Editor: Those of us who are blind often must deal with questions about our competence to handle the activities of everyday life. Such questioning is especially intense when it comes to our ability to care for young children and keep them safe. Brandy Wojcik has been taking care of children since she was a child herself, and childcare has become her life's work. In this article she describes the roots of her interest in caring for children and explains how she works as a home childcare provider.
It's a summer evening after I have spent the day teaching, playing with, and caring for six children in my home. The first child arrived at 6:15 A.M., and the last one left at 6 P.M. Our day was spent playing outside, taking a trip on the bus to my chiropractic appointment, painting, and enjoying a new sensory activity, as well as dealing with all the usual diaper changes and feedings. For me it was an ordinary day.
I like to say that my career as a childcare provider was launched before I turned four. One day my preschool teacher brought her infant son to our class to let us see what a new baby looks like and to show him off to her fellow teachers. As my mother was due to have my little sister pretty soon, the teacher took extra time with me. While I sat on the floor by the classroom window, she laid her three-week-old baby in my lap. There he relaxed as I marveled at how tiny he was. The teacher even let me feed him his bottle. I think I was the happiest three-year-old on the planet! I've loved and cared for young children ever since.
I was very fortunate as I was growing up. Every day of my life, my mother and teachers expected me to do what other kids my age were doing. My mother didn't make excuses for me because I was blind. She didn't care how I got the job done, but she was determined I was going to succeed.
My mother often tells the story of when I was six months old and an early intervention teacher came to our home. The teacher told my mother, "You need to have normal expectations for your daughter, or you will have to take care of her forever." My mother had no intention of taking care of me forever! She was an amazing mother until I was eleven. She remarried when I was twelve and started the second part of her family. At that point, after being mainstreamed through elementary school, I took up residence at the state school for the blind.
At home I had been a normal kid who was expected to do chores and participate in school activities. I cooked, played hard, and volunteered at the local childcare center. I was a child growing into an adult who did what all my peers did.
That momentum continued when I attended the school for the blind. My teachers, resident instructors, and Scout leader took me under their wings. During the school year I took half of my classes at the local public high school, only taking the blindness-related classes on the school for the blind campus. I ran track, mentored elementary students, and sang in the choir. I acted in plays and served on the student council at both schools.
I went home on occasional weekends, as well as holiday breaks and summer vacations. At home I cooked, cleaned, hung out with the neighborhood teens at the local pool, and read a ton. When my mother worked, I took care of my younger siblings. I often went to enrichment camps.
One day my mother said, "You aren't going to just hang at the pool and hide in your room reading all summer." We put an ad in the neighborhood newsletter, and I began to babysit. Neighbors in my mom's social circle saw me caring for my younger siblings and hired me to babysit for their children. They told their friends about me, and before long I had a large clientele.
People sometimes ask me, "Weren't they afraid to trust you with their children? Were they worried because you're blind?" Actually, my blindness never seemed to bother them. I think they saw that I was competent in my skills. I could prepare food in any kitchen, and I could clean up in any house. I dressed like the other teens in the neighborhood, and I was well-groomed. I could get around in the neighborhood with no problem, and I had passed CPR training. I brought my Braille notetaker to take down emergency phone numbers. When I arrived at an unfamiliar home for the first time, I asked for a quick tour so I could get oriented.
Of course, when someone had a question, I explained how I would know what was happening around me. Usually the person would laugh and say, "Why didn't I think of that?"
Through middle and high school I volunteered at a local childcare center. I babysat for many children, including a few of my teachers' kids. During the summer between my junior and senior years in high school, I got my first paid job in a childcare center. For as long as I could remember I had said that I wanted to be a teacher, and this job confirmed it. As I learned to implement lesson and care plans for infants and toddlers, I was in my element and loving it.
I was accepted to the University of Texas, where I earned a degree in elementary education. I had minors in music and special education, with a focus on reading instruction. Due to dialysis, two kidney transplants, and severe gastroparesis that resulted in surgically implanted feeding tubes, it took me seven years to complete my degree. Nevertheless, in my academic courses and in my student teaching, I did everything the other students did. I accessed the material using text-to-speech software. I labeled things in Braille and took tests electronically. I never had anyone take notes for me, and I didn't get extra time to take tests due to my blindness. When I left school I wanted to be able to say that nothing special was done for me as I pursued my degree.
Throughout college I worked in two childcare centers in their infant rooms. I loved every minute of it, but when my student teaching began, my schedule no longer allowed me to work the hours of a center. Instead, I began to nanny and babysit for friends in the evenings. Also I became a top selling and recruiting leader in a home-based business with Discovery Toys. I often taught child development and business building seminars to other Discovery Toys consultants and parents. Each time I taught a seminar, I learned more about children and how they learn.
When I graduated from college, I realized that my health made it hard for me to put in the fourteen-hour days, inside and outside the classroom, required of an elementary school teacher. I also realized that I preferred to teach the youngest children, from infancy through kindergarten. I began to work as a nanny full-time. At the end of a nanny job I decided I would like to work from home, and opened my first childcare business from my apartment. Within two weeks I had two little girls. After two months I had three children full-time and two part-time.
I loved what I was doing, but I knew I wasn't going to go far in my little apartment. I'll save the long story for another time. The upshot is that I moved to Michigan, where I run my childcare business from my rented house.
I operated in my home in Michigan for nearly two years as an unlicensed childcare provider. I've wanted to become a foster parent for many, many years, and I began the process of becoming approved. In order to claim my income and prove that I am financially stable, I had to become licensed as a childcare provider.
Obtaining my license should have been no problem. I had submitted all my paperwork and was waiting for the computer to generate my certificate. Then someone unknown to me turned me in as an unlicensed provider, claiming that because I am blind I might not be able to provide proper supervision to children. Days before my license was to arrive in the mail, I heard a knock on the door.
It was one of the state's licensors for childcare providers. She just showed up unannounced. I had to agree to close down until I had my license. Furthermore, the licensor decided that, as a blind person, I might not be able to supervise the children in my care. She launched a full-scale investigation of my abilities as a blind caregiver.
Naturally I tried to educate her. I gave her the NFB's pamphlet, Parenting without Sight. The foster care agency assured her that I was doing my job as well as any other provider. Nothing seemed to work. At that point I reached out to my friends, my previous employers, parents of children currently in my care, and leaders in the NFB. Collectively we sent the licensor over thirty recommendations via email and even more by voicemail. In the end she admitted that she was overwhelmed but appreciative. Six weeks after the unannounced visit, I held my childcare license in my hand.
I sighed with relief, but I still faced one more hurdle--my ninety-day review. All childcare family homes have this announced visit. The licensor comes to review whether your paperwork and home are meeting standards.
When my visit occurred, the licensor brought her supervisor along. They grilled me for two hours while I was busy caring for two toddlers. As they left at last, they said, "You are licensed for the next three years. You will only hear from us if someone has a complaint."
I'm now operating at full capacity. Full-time I have four children ages two and under, and I have one four-year-old part-time. My sixth space is reserved for my foster child when he or she arrives.
People often ask me, "What do you do with the children and how do you do it?" Actually, I do very little different from any other childcare provider. Our day looks much like the days of the other care providers I converse with through various family home childcare support groups online. The biggest exception is Braille. My house is plastered with Braille. The crayons, paints, and markers are all Brailled. My paper trays are labeled so I know what color paper is on each particular tray. Puzzle pieces are labeled to tell me what they are (a fish, a lobster, a crab). Shaped puzzles are labeled with their colors, as are blocks, pegs on our peg board, and other toys. In this way I can identify whatever color or object a child is looking at. My household appliances also have Braille labels so I can cook independently.
I have hundreds of Braille and print/Braille children's books. In most cases I hand Brailled the text onto clear plastic sheets and added the Braille to the print pages. I also purchase already Brailled books from Seedlings Braille Books for Children and the Beulah Reimer Legacy.
To teach children to color within the lines, I have pictures with glue lines traced over the print lines so we can work on this together. Older children also are mentors, coloring and playing with the younger ones. Younger children often want to do what the big kids do, so this is a very useful tool for advancing visual skills such as drawing and writing. I also use letter tracing applications on my iPad. When children are ready to begin formal reading instruction, I have Brailled many learning tools such as letter and word tiles, games, flash cards, and early readers.
For music and movement I have people show me the motions for unfamiliar action songs. I also use a music and movement series called Dancing Beats. Children can watch the DVD and copy the actions. Music is a huge part of our day!
I provide many sensory activities for the children. Currently we have Rainbow Rice and Alphabet Pasta in our sensory table, and there is another tub of water, beads, and boats. I strongly believe that busy children are happy children. Children who are busy and happy tend to be well behaved. They don't have time to find trouble.
How do I manage to keep so many small children safe? Basically, I do what any provider does--I keep a safe, clean home. If the children can reach something, they can have it. By the time they can reach things they can't have, they know and understand the rules about toys and other things higher up. I have locks on the front and back doors so children can't let themselves out. I also have a gate to block off one room. If I need a child to be contained for some reason, I can be assured he or she is safe while my attention is with the others.
From an early age I teach the children to answer when I call them. When they are around nine months old, we begin to play call and response games. By the time they are a year old, the children come when I call them. I teach them through a lot of play and praise. It is extremely important, as we spend several hours a day outside playing, and we take frequent trips into the community. All of my children wear Squeaky Shoes or bells or carry a shaker in their pockets so I can locate them when we are outside. Nevertheless, it is very important that they also come when I call.
For meals, each child has a regular seat at the table. With this arrangement, I don't have to worry about who is where. If a child gets up, I know who is gone. When I hand out food, I know who is getting the plate. This is especially important, as some of the children in my care have severe food allergies.
All children need to become independent, and I teach them to be as independent as possible. They learn that this is our school at home and we need to care for it. If something isn't right, they should tell me or fix it themselves. For example, all of the older children put random, abandoned Sippy Cups, teethers, and pacifiers on the counter for me to clean them. When children finish eating, they take their dishes to the sink. By three they are washing their hands independently.
We have a place for everything. Children begin learning to help clean up toys at about a year and a half. We put on a playlist of songs about cleaning up, and we all clean up the mess together. They love having a part in the work that needs to be done. Because I've taught them to clean up after themselves, I rarely have to crawl around a giant mess of toys searching for missing pieces.
My least favorite part of being a licensed childcare provider is the huge amount of paperwork. I have a few tricks that help me keep it under control. I type in all of the forms that I can store in the computer. Each time I need a form, it is ready to go. I'm required to keep an attendance record. I have it posted, and parents sign in and out each day. At the end of the week I file the record in a folder for attendance. We are required to keep emergency cards with us at all times. The cards are too small for me to Braille all the information on them, so I type all the information in the Notes section of the parent's contact in my cell phone. Each child has a labeled folder where I keep all of his or her documents. Back in high school I had a wonderful team of teachers who insisted that I label all print papers with Braille at the bottom. I may have complained back then, but the habit has saved me time and time again. Labeling papers is automatic now.
For the things that I can't manage to do independently, I have hired a reader and driver. I hired her by advertising on a local garage sale group on Facebook. I put her through an extensive interview process and required driving record and background checks. I needed to know that she could perform the responsibilities of the job with ease, and that she was a safe driver who could be trusted with my special little people. She helps me with a wide variety of tasks that range from helping me Braille books and prepare art projects to driving me to doctor's appointments and stores that are out of town. When I have foster children in care, she will drive my child to parent visits and drive us to the child's appointments.
When I'm not busy with my childcare business, I'm active in my community. I sing in my church's choir, teach Sunday school, attend local concerts in the park, take walks in the neighborhood, spend time at our local knitting shop learning to knit, tend my small vegetable and flower gardens, and enjoy going out to eat with friends.
Childcare and foster care licensing require continuing education. To complete these requirements, I attend local conferences, read books and write reviews, watch DVDs, and attend webinars. I enjoy helping others when they have questions. It is rare that a few days go by without someone calling or emailing me, looking for advice about their child. I love helping blind people who are interested in the childcare field know the work is possible for them. I would be happy to help anyone who has questions.
For now I'm content to care for the five children in my childcare, and I eagerly await my first foster placement. However, someday I wish to run my own play-based childcare center.
It is impossible to share all the components of my journey to my successful childcare career. It has been full of successes and failures. I look forward to many more years of caring for children and mentoring others.
by Mary Fernandez
Reprinted from the Braille Monitor, Volume 57, Number 1, January 2014
From the Editor: Mary Fernandez won a National Federation of the Blind scholarship in 2010. She graduated from Emory University in 2012 with degrees in psychology and music, and she is currently working as a paralegal at the law firm of Brown, Goldstein and Levy. This article is based on a speech she gave at the annual meeting of the National Association of Blind Students (NABS), which was held in Orlando, Florida, in July of 2013.
I moved around the kitchen, using a measuring cup for the first time to make ice cream. I argued with my peers that we needed to put some caramel in our chocolate ice cream. In a sly move I sneaked up to the ice cream maker and poured in some caramel. When they all tasted it, they said, "Someone put caramel in here," and unknowingly proclaimed my brilliance by repeatedly complimenting the texture of the ice cream. Since we were all under sleepshades during the cooking activity, no one had solid proof that I had been the miscreant who dared put in the caramel.
That same weekend I got to use a chainsaw, in heels of course, and for the first time listen to blind adults talk about their lives, their dreams and aspirations, and the ways they had made those dreams and aspirations come true. That was the first weekend I visited the National Federation of the Blind headquarters, and from that weekend forward, I have never looked back. I walked away having seen three things I did not associate with blindness: belief, hope, and passion.
I was born in Colombia, South America, and lived there with my grandmother until the age of seven. My mother left to come to the United States when I was two years old. A year later I became totally blind from glaucoma. As a three-year-old I thought everything in my world was still fine, but then my older brother started going to school. In Colombia parents pay for children to attend school. Since my brother was sighted and I wasn't, he had priority. I remember that I went to school for about a week, but since the teachers didn't really know how to teach a blind child, I was declared unteachable.
In the meantime, I was taken to what seemed to be every eye doctor in the country. I despised eye doctors! All they kept saying was, "This girl is blind. She needs to sit around all day. You shouldn't be running around, little girl; you're blind." Then to my grandmother they would explain how I wasn't a normal child because of my blindness. I didn't know how to verbalize to these adults that that wasn't right. I couldn't see, but I wanted to know things. I wanted to explore the world around me, and why did my brother get to do those things, and I didn't? What made me so different from other children?
Finally, when I was seven years old, my mother came back to Colombia to bring us to the US. When I came to America, I knew no English, had had very little interaction with children my age, had very poor social skills with people outside my family, had never attended school for longer than a week, and had the unhealthiest and most negative attitudes about blindness. When I first started school, I was terrified; I did not know how to act with children my age. And, to top it all off, some old man came by and put a cane in my hand and told me I had to walk around with it. I was like, "Sure, in your dreams, Dude," and promptly dropped the cane on the floor.
After repeated prodding and questioning, I told my O&M instructor that canes were for old people, and I was seven, not an old lady. He tried to tell me blind people used canes to help them travel. I knew better! While I used the cane when he was around, I would do anything possible not to use it otherwise.
It didn't help that the school had given me an aide who would let me travel sighted guide with her all the time. Once my mother got wind of this, she wasn't having it. She told me that, if it was the last thing she did, she would have me using that cane and learning how to use it properly. Now, remember I hadn't had a mother since the age of two, but I quickly learned that this woman's word was the law. So sulkily, ungracefully, and with the poutiest face in the world, I used that stupid cane.
Though using a cane was awful, I did find Braille to be really cool. I loved my Braille teacher, but even after I had been here for a year, I refused to speak English to her. In a show of my defiant nature, I got it into my head that no one would get a word of English out of me until I could speak it without an accent. Though I liked Braille, for some reason I didn't want to practice it at home. Not even my mom's threats worked until the day she had enough. She gave me a Braille book, Freckle Juice by Judy Blume. As I kicked and screamed, she shut me in my room and said I would not be coming out until I read that book.
For about half an hour I cried and sobbed and went on and on. But finally I settled down and started reading. When I was done, I very sweetly asked her if we had more books at home. In a very nonchalant voice, she replied that we did.
Though I had acquired passable blindness skills and did well academically, I was still very socially awkward. All of the schools I attended insisted that I have an aide with me everywhere I went. Though my mom did the best she could, she unfortunately did not know about the Federation's Parents of Blind Children Division and didn't speak enough English to research resources beyond those the schools provided.
So I was stuck with an aide. I was also very self-conscious about my blindness and felt ungainly. I started feeling like such a freak of nature that, in my freshman year of high school, I would come home and start crying for no reason. My mother kept asking me what was wrong. I didn't know how to explain to her that I hated being blind, that all the other kids thought I was weird, and that I didn't like having an adult with me all the time because I felt that this was why nobody wanted to talk to me.
All of this changed in April of my freshman year. I went to the National Center for the Blind for a weekend trip with other blind students my age. All of a sudden I talked and laughed and felt comfortable. I learned that there were differing levels of sight, but I realized that I felt better when everyone was under sleepshades. That weekend planted a seed that grew into an idea that would become an essential trait of my personality: to be confident, to believe in my abilities, and to believe in myself.
I went home happy, but of course things didn't change just because a little attitude change had occurred inside me. That summer I participated in Rocket On!, a STEM summer program at the NFB Jernigan Institute. We got to work with NASA to build and launch a rocket. That in itself was cool, but aside from that I got a whole week of being around blind people and sighted people who didn't care that I was blind. I felt good enough about myself that I used my straight cane, got a crush on a boy, and even flirted--a characteristic that would become an essential part of my character.
I determined that things were going to change at home. When I had my IEP meeting for the next school year, I walked in with my straight cane and said, "I don't want an aide with me at all times." I might as well have said that I wanted to bring my pet duck to school, judging by their shocked reactions. Reluctantly, the school told the teachers that I wouldn't have an aide in class. The head of the English department was alarmed and apparently told my aide that she had to be in the classroom: what if I fell out of my chair? The principal of the school then got involved and said that he felt uncomfortable with me not having an aide. I told my mom, "Well, too bad for him." She agreed. The battle lasted a full semester, but finally I started walking to class by myself just fine, and I didn't even fall out of any of their chairs.
As the years went by, I became more deeply involved with the NFB, understanding and incorporating its philosophy. I sadly realized that the way the administrators at my school reacted wasn't unusual. No, I wasn't in Colombia anymore, and yes, I was allowed to go to school, but the world viewed me as far less than an equal. Expectations were so low that people were surprised I could walk and talk at the same time.
As I stand before you today, I have hope. I have hope because each and every one of you has now been introduced to the NFB in a big way. There are thousands of blind people living in this world who have jobs, families, and a good measure of perseverance and stubbornness. I am hopeful because you have been introduced to the concept of self-advocacy. You now know that we all believe in you and that we are not only willing to fight for you anywhere you may need us, from your school to the halls of Congress, but that we want you to join the fight. There is a moment in every life when the belief that others have in us is the thread that keeps that fragile, silken fabric of hope from falling apart. It is that hope which feeds our dreams and allows us to go on. And I am hopeful because you now know of the passion and love we pour into this organization. Everyone here today, be he or she a lawyer or a scientist, believes in you and shares the hope that one day we will be first class citizens and have the passion to pursue that dream.
The great children's writer Shel Silverstein said:
Listen to the MUSTN'TS, child,
Listen to the DON'TS,
Listen to the SHOULDN'TS,
The IMPOSSIBLES, and the WON'TS.
Listen to the never haves,
Then listen close to me—
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be.
I was told, "You mustn't run and be a child." But with the help of my mother, I did. I was told, "Don't advocate for your right as a student to walk from class to class on your own." But I did. I was told by the director of a study abroad program in college, "You cannot go to Paris with us; the program moves too fast; it's impossible." But I did. We were told, "A blind person has never driven a car." But we did.
So listen close. We tell you tonight, tomorrow, this whole week, that as long as the NFB is an organization, anything can be. As long as you believe in yourself, and even when you don't, blindness will not stop you. Because anything could be. Listen close, because anything you want can happen, and anything you dream can be. Thank you.
by Debbie Worman
From the Editor: Based in Winnetka, Illinois, the Hadley School for the Blind is a distance education school that offers a broad array of courses in multiple formats to blind persons and their family members. Debbie Worman has been a Hadley instructor since 1988. She teaches in all four of Hadley's program areas and also provides information and referral services. She is a licensed professional counselor who has worked with senior citizens, foster care families, and teen mothers.
When three-year-old Carson's grandma tried to hold his hand while he climbed the stairs, he exclaimed, "No, Grandma! Me do it!"
Brittany, sixteen, will soon attend her annual Individualized Education Program (IEP) meeting. In preparation, she is compiling a list of her goals, questions, and concerns to share with team members.
Forty-two-year-old Sarah recently began a new job. She scheduled a meeting with her employer to discuss reasonable accommodations that will enable her to perform her job successfully.
Hank, seventy-eight, called the Hadley School to enroll in the "Using Raised Markers" course. To maintain his independence, Hank is interested in learning how to label his appliances, food containers, and medications.
Carson, Brittany, Sarah, and Hank demonstrate that, at any age, it is important to speak up for oneself. The ability to do so is called self-advocacy. Effective self-advocacy skills include:
No one is born with self-advocacy skills. Skills must be learned and continually practiced throughout life. As the parent, grandparent, or other family member of an individual who is blind, you can play a key role in encouraging the development of self-advocacy in that person.
Begin by conveying the "You can do it!" attitude! Stress that believing in one's abilities and speaking for oneself are crucial. Effective self-advocates exude confidence. To help build self-confidence, you must take an active role in your family member's life.
Jackie, mother of six-year-old Elijah, shared that he is expected to dress himself each morning before school, no matter how long it takes, before they can leave the house. Hadley instructor Ginger Irwin calls this "tough love." "Parents have to be tough enough to make their children perform a task themselves. It is very important to wait patiently and let children complete tasks on their own, and at their own pace, even though it means that sometimes the tasks may not be completed perfectly."
Allow your family member to be as independent as possible. Let him or her shoulder responsibilities, learn to take risks, and experience consequences.
Individuals learn self-advocacy skills by observing others. Practice being a good self-advocate and demonstrate assertiveness and effective listening skills.
Your family member will observe how you advocate on his or her behalf. Be very cognizant of how you speak about blindness. Tim admits that he never realized his wife heard him discuss her visual impairment. "I was somewhat embarrassed about her vision loss, and I guess I conveyed this, not only to others but to my wife, too." Tim is now enrolled in Hadley's Family Education courses and feels he has developed a more positive view of blindness by gaining knowledge and understanding about his wife's diagnosis.
As an advocate for your child, are you knowledgeable about the IEP process? Where can you go to learn more about reasonable accommodations in the school setting or workplace? Is your family connected with a national blindness organization such as the National Federation of the Blind? How can Hadley assist you and your family member?
Knowledge is key in building advocacy and self-advocacy skills. With your family member, search for answers and invest time and energy in gathering pertinent materials.
In addition, encourage your family member to seek out information about his or her visual impairment. Effective self-advocates are able to discuss their visual impairment and its impact on their lives. A wonderful example is thirteen-year-old Taylor, who created a YouTube video explaining his eye condition to share with his teachers and peers.
Remember, too, that over-helping your blind family member will lower his or her self-esteem. Because you are doing extra work that is not necessary, your own happiness may be affected. Hadley instructor Naomi Tuttle says, "You're not always going to be there for your family members, and you need to allow them to have their own voice." Self-advocacy skills give them that voice!
To learn more about encouraging self-advocacy skills, check out the following Hadley Family Education courses at <www.hadley.edu>:
by Lydia Schuck
From the Editor: Lydia Schuck conducts research for a federally funded project that helps school districts support transition programs for youth with disabilities. She is the mother of a twenty-one-year-old blind daughter, a past president of the Michigan Parents of Blind Children, and an active member of the Lansing Chapter of the National Federation of the Blind. This is the third of five articles she plans to write about the transition from school to community for blind and visually impaired young people. Her previous articles appeared in Future Reflections, Volume 32, Number 3; and Future Reflections, Volume 33, Number 1.
In the past, the philosophy of the National Federation of the Blind (NFB) has been explained in this way: "Given the right training and opportunities, the average blind person can do the same things the average sighted person can do." However, people vary in countless ways, whether they are sighted or blind. As a parent, you may know that your blind child with additional disabilities faces many challenges that are far from average.
Much of the blindness and visual impairment that occurs in children is due to extreme prematurity or to an assortment of complex genetic syndromes. It is estimated that more than half of all blind and visually impaired children have one or more additional disabilities. The range of additional disabilities includes hearing impairments, seizure disorders, cerebral palsy, autism, and cognitive delays. Virtually any disability or medical condition that can be found elsewhere in the population can appear along with blindness. Blind children with significant developmental disabilities may not grow up to be lawyers or entrepreneurs, and they might never hold leadership positions in the NFB. Yet they and their families still can benefit from NFB and NOPBC involvement.
The NFB has adopted a new brand statement: "The National Federation of the Blind knows that blindness is not the characteristic that defines you or your future. Every day we raise the expectations of blind people, because low expectations create obstacles between blind people and our dreams. You can live the life you want; blindness is not what holds you back." The new brand statement fits the realities of families that include blind children and adults who have additional disabilities. Through training and opportunities, the not-so-average blind person can achieve the same goals as the not-so-average sighted person. The new brand statement reflects the former slogan, but now it embraces a much wider range of people.
During your child's journey to and through adult life, blindness does not have to be the storm that sinks the ship. Your child can live the life he wants.
Although transition needs and experiences vary from one person to another, the legal requirements are the same for all students. The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) requires that transition plans consider individual strengths, needs, preferences, and interests. Some young people will be better able than others to talk about their individual strengths and wishes. In some cases, the youth may not be able to speak at all, yet parents, teachers, and other important people in his or her life can provide the information.
When you think about the future, you look ahead to your child's adulthood, even though he may never reach full maturity or be able to exercise self-determination. You probably will ask the same questions other parents ask themselves. What might my child be able to achieve? How does she want to use her unique abilities? How can she have the most satisfying life possible?
Some individuals may never reach adult skill levels in crucial areas. Nevertheless, parents, teachers, blindness professionals, and young adults themselves will all agree that it is important for them to learn and do as much as they can. Independence means something different for each person, yet it is vital for everyone.
For any young person in transition to adulthood, IDEA requires assessment of the youth's current strengths, needs, preferences, and interests in employment, education, and training, and, if appropriate, independent living. Post-high school goals are listed in the Individualized Education Plan (IEP) in each of these areas. The student's IEP should contain annual school goals that are linked to the goals post-high school. Finally, transition services and activities are added to the IEP to enable youth to reach their post-high school goals. These services are provided until a student reaches a certain age. In most states transition services continue until the student reaches his twenty-second birthday or until he receives a diploma, whichever comes first. A notable exception is the state of Michigan, where school districts provide services through age twenty-six.
Even when a student with additional disabilities has earned an academic diploma, some parents and school districts hold back graduation. In this way the student who does not yet have good independent living skills or who needs job training can remain eligible for programs sponsored by the school district. Some students have syndromes that slow their maturation, so the extra years are a buffer between high school academics and independent adult life. For students who will never earn an academic diploma, these years are used to develop skills until the student ages out of the program. What happens next for those students would be a good subject for discussion within state Parents of Blind Children (POBC) groups.
It may seem hard to believe, but transition assessments have been created for individuals of every skill level, including those who have limited abilities to speak. The Personal Preference Indicators and Child Personal Preference Indicators are two assessment tools that are intended to be completed by parents and by other adults in the young person's life. However, transition assessment does not even have to include a special form or specific process. Even an informal conversation with your child is a kind of assessment, a way to determine where her strengths, needs, preferences, and interests are right now. Make a few notes about your child's expressed interests, put a date on the paper, and take it to the next IEP meeting. It is an informal assessment that could be very helpful in the planning process.
An interesting and useful term in the rehabilitation context is the notion of "job carving." A specifically designed job may be carved out if a student's assessment identifies a particular strength, or if you know about something your child enjoys as a hobby. For example, a young blind woman with additional disabilities enjoys vintage music. She might apply for a job at a vintage record store as a clerk. Through a negotiation with the owner of the business, her job may include dusting the records, stacking, and straightening, but not using the cash register or working at the counter. This is a carved job, because the usual clerk would do all of these tasks.
One of the strengths of the transition assessment process is that the youth can use her interests as a starting point for goal setting. Hobbies can generate interesting goals!
Take a look back at the new NFB brand statement. Blind individuals with and without additional disabilities can live the lives they want. Disabilities other than blindness may present formidable barriers, but blindness alone should not hold a person back. Good training in alternative techniques and access technology make a world of difference, but a person's quality of life is not the sum of his individual abilities. Quality of life is enhanced when a person lives the life he wants to live. For some youth, achieving a semi-independent life in the local community is the primary post-school goal. This goal requires the school to develop annual educational goals and transition services and activities for the student's IEP. Every goal is worth planning and striving for.
Families of children with additional disabilities are deeply aware of how valuable each person is, regardless of work, education, or even the ability to perform simple self-care tasks. Nonetheless, these families sometimes find themselves severely stressed by the challenges they face every day. Friends must always acknowledge that caring for a child with severe disabilities is not easy, even if the parent has become highly skilled. Such families need support, friendship, and acceptance from other families.
The National Organization of Parents of Blind Children (NOPBC) is a membership organization with many state and local chapters. Positive attitudes about blindness, particularly reflecting the NFB's brand statement, are an essential element of POBC activities. One of the first things to know about POBC groups is that they are not primarily support groups. POBC acknowledges that parents may grieve after a diagnosis of blindness. POBC provides a place to talk freely about family and individual challenges as needed. However, the main reason to meet and work together is to move forward the opportunities for blind people in our society, particularly for our kids and their futures. This focus on positive action keeps parents from getting stuck in hopeless worry.
Community and school activities for typical children and youth may need to be adapted in order for a blind child to be included fully. In the same way, activities for families of blind children must include adaptations for children with multiple disabilities, if those families are to be included. As the parent of a blind child with additional disabilities, you may have to explain your child's needs and suggest ways for her to participate in an activity that is being planned. If an activity just won't work for your child, you might want to come without her, just to talk with other parents. You will benefit from the time you spend with other families, and your POBC group will be stronger because you bring a unique perspective.
We can say that blindness does not have to hold our kids back because of the advocacy of NFB members since the beginning of the organization. Not every parent can or wants to be involved in local or state NFB activities. However, parenting a child with multiple disabilities can be very isolating. Local chapter outreach may allow a parent to socialize with people who understand blindness and the world of disabilities. Any parent who wants to gain lifelong friends and help expand opportunities for blind people should join a local chapter. However, adult blind NFB members must avoid oversimplifying your child's needs and offering cookie-cutter solutions that you know will not work. Blind adults were blind children at one time, but they do not know your child like you know him. Mutual respect and listening well can go a long way here.
Take, for example, a blind young adult who has Asperger syndrome with extreme anxiety. He may not be able to attend activities with NFB acquaintances. However, NFB members can become friends and mentors by exchanging emails and talking on the phone. A warm relationship with a blind adult can fill a need for the blind youth and for the parent who is the child's primary social contact.
NFB’s Immediate Past President Marc Maurer once said of a state affiliate's relationships between members, "Try to love each other." This is good advice for all of our chapters and affiliates. Be as involved as you can with the NFB and POBC. The friendship and support of other parents and of blind adults will be helpful to you. In addition, your family's involvement will help other people understand the unique needs of blind individuals with additional disabilities. Go to meetings when you can, read the NFB magazines, and share information with other families. While you may not find other families quite like yours right away, those families are out there. They will be glad to know that you are there, too.
I am the mother of a blind young adult who is active and verbal, but who has additional disabilities that make employment and ordinary relationships very difficult. For several years we were not able to attend POBC activities because our child did not want to attend and would not be able to have fun at the event. If our child had attended, I would have spent my time running tube feedings and preventing tantrums due to anxiety, not to mention monitoring and feeding our younger children. Still, I went to the local chapter meetings and state affiliate events whenever I could. As our kids became more independent, I have been happy to be more involved. We will probably always provide some level of support to our blind daughter, and she will probably continue to enjoy friendships with NFB members in our home state of Michigan.
Child Preference Indicator and Personal Preference Indicator are free resources from the University of Oklahoma Zarrow Center, <https://www.ou.edu/education/centers-and-partnerships/zarrow/transition-assessment--severe-disabilities/preference-indicators.html>. Other free resources, such as the ME! Scale, are also available from the Zarrow Center.
Job carving and job creation resources:
<http://www.communityinclusion.org/article.php?article_id=126>
by Judy Byrd
From the Editor: Judy Byrd is the director of the Beep Kickball Association in Atlanta, Georgia. At the 2014 convention of the National Federation of the Blind, she spoke to parents about beep kickball and introduced the game to the kids in childcare. You can watch a video of beep kickball at <www.cnn.com/video/data/2.0/video/living/2014/05/27/pkg-firfer-beep-kickball.cnn.html>.
\Do you remember playing kickball at recess? Kickball teams are all the rage these days--unless you're visually impaired. But now there's a new game in town--beep kickball. Beep kickball is an adapted sport for those who are visually impaired or blind.
Beep kickball is played on a baseball diamond just like beep baseball, using a ten-inch soft foam kickball that beeps. Players wear sleepshades to equalize their differences in vision. There is no pitcher. There is no running around the bases, and nobody throws the ball. There is no second base, just first and third bases. The kicker kicks the ball and runs to tag the base (either first or third), which is buzzing to reveal its location.
The goal of the game is to tag the base before one of the six fielders picks up the ball. If the kicker tags the base first, it's a run. If a fielder picks up the ball first, the kicker is out. There are three outs per inning. Six innings, game over!
In the Beep Kickball Association, we like to introduce kickball to children as young as five years old. We hope that sports will become part of their lives as they grow up. The earlier a young child becomes active, the healthier he or she will be.
I invented beep kickball in 2011 while I served as a volunteer with the Center for the Visually Impaired in Atlanta. When I helped start the Atlanta Beep Baseball Team, I noticed that all of the players were older teens and adults. I wondered what games the younger kids played. Then an idea came to me: same sport, different ball--beep kickball!
\By 2014, over fifty schools and summer programs across the nation had adopted beep kickball. Some children play it in physical education classes, some in parks and recreation programs, and some at camps for the blind. Beep kickball is also being taught at universities to undergraduate and graduate students studying adapted PE, kinesiology, and therapeutic recreation. It is my hope that some day beep kickball will join goalball and beep baseball as a third mainstream blind sport.
Atlanta and Dallas are the first cities to start beep kickball teams. It is our hope that other cities will follow. Beep Kickball Play Days have become popular in Atlanta, giving children an opportunity to come out and play.
Like their sighted peers, children who are blind and visually impaired learn self-confidence, determination, persistence, fairness, and patience through team sports. These traits are all valuable as a child grows toward adulthood, but they are hard to understand and develop without practice. Participation in sports is a wonderful way to practice these skills while having a great time with family and friends.
Games such as beep kickball have additional benefits for children who are blind. Kickball helps players increase their mobility and agility, traits especially important to young children. A background in sports may help teens and young adults face the challenges of applying for a job and living independently. Newly blind adults benefit from being active again. They enjoy the opportunity to do things they thought they would never be able to do again--be active outdoors, meet challenges, and have fun with other people.
A picnic or retreat is the perfect setting for playing beep kickball. Sighted players can join in the fun simply by putting on sleepshades.
The equipment for beep kickball is quite affordable. The beeping ball costs $130, and a set of buzzing bases is priced at $100. Ball and bases should last for years because they have replaceable parts. To place an order, go to <www.BeepKickball.com>.
For more information, contact me at (770) 317-2035 or [email protected]. The Beep Kickball Association is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit corporation, and all proceeds go toward promoting the sport.
by Arielle Silverman
From the Editor: Arielle Silverman earned a PhD in psychology from the University of Colorado and is embarking on postdoctoral studies at the University of Washington. She is a past president of the National Association of Blind Students (NABS).
In the United States, blind people are often granted special privileges that aren't available to the sighted. A blind child may be offered a pass to the front of the line at an amusement park or extra time to complete a school assignment. Blind adults may have the opportunity to receive special cash benefits from the government or to claim tax deductions because of blindness. It is tempting to accept such benefits, and at times they really can make a positive difference. However, as I've learned from my own experience, special benefits due to blindness come with certain costs attached.
In this article, I'd like to spell out a few of the costs of accepting special privileges. As you decide whether to request or accept special treatment for your blind child or student, I think it's vital to be mindful of the advantages and costs involved. It's also important for you to include your children or students in the decision-making process.
The first point to consider is that accepting special treatment can undermine a blind person's self-respect. If a blind kid skips to the front of the line, or if his parents use a "Handicapped" parking sticker meant for people with mobility impairments, the child is presenting himself to the world as more disabled than he really is. This can have an effect on his self-esteem and his feelings about blindness.
When I was growing up, my parents sometimes got special passes to skip the lines at amusement parks or in the airport. I automatically got upset whenever my parents did this. I didn't understand why it upset me so much until recently. Now I realize that the special treatment made me feel as though I was slow and inferior. Most of the time I saw my blindness as insignificant, but when I skipped the lines, I felt as if I was wearing a scarlet H for "HANDICAPPED" (with all the outdated connotations of that word) on my forehead. Of course, not all blind kids will feel this way, but the effect can be cumulative. Lots of special treatment over many years can convey a negative message about blindness and about one's respectability.
There was no medical reason why I couldn't wait in line. I understand that waiting in long lines with little kids is stressful and inconvenient for everyone concerned, whether or not the kids are blind. But sometimes it's worth a little inconvenience to convey to a blind child that he is capable of waiting in the line and, more generally, living up to the expectations society holds for everyone else.
My second point is that accepting special treatment can threaten one's freedom. When I was in high school, some of my blind friends turned eighteen and started to collect Supplemental Security Income (SSI) checks. Briefly I considered the appealing prospect of some extra spending money coming in each month. Then I read the not-so-fine print: SSI recipients can only accumulate two thousand dollars in assets. I thought I might like to have a part-time job or apply for some scholarship help during college, and I wanted the freedom to save as much money as I could. After some reflection, I declined the opportunity to apply for SSI. I realize that SSI and SSDI (Social Security Disability Insurance) help many people make ends meet, especially during college or periods of unemployment. But in my particular case, I felt that the loss of fiscal freedom outweighed the benefit of monthly cash payments.
For similar reasons, I used vocational rehabilitation and other blindness services sparingly during college. Such programs can be very helpful, but they also present a lot of bureaucratic pitfalls. Sometimes they can limit a student's freedom to explore an unusual major or career path without a counselor's support. It is important to be mindful of what a service has to offer as well as the hoops one has to jump through before deciding whether or not to utilize that service.
Finally, there are times when accepting special treatment encourages dependency and hinders growth. When a blind person is always getting help, she never finds out whether she can handle the task independently. Sometimes I choose to decline offers of help simply so I can learn how to do something on my own, because I know there will be times when help is not available.
One of the most common accommodations for blind students is extended time for test-taking. Many standardized tests include double time as a typical accommodation for all students who use screen readers or Braille. This trend concerns me deeply. If these students are assumed to require more time for test taking than their sighted peers, then there is less incentive to help them improve their reading speed and facility with technology.
I recognize that there are a number of reasons why a blind student may need extra time for tests or homework. Perhaps she started her education as a print reader and made the transition to Braille in middle school or high school, so she is still learning Braille and catching up with her classmates. Maybe the student has some disabilities in addition to blindness that interfere with his reading fluency. However, it is also possible that difficulty using a screen reader or a slow Braille reading speed may be due to a deficit in the quality or amount of instruction the student receives. Perhaps the student would benefit from daily Braille reading practice or intensive computer training. The student may be struggling to use outdated or malfunctioning technology. Perhaps the tactile diagrams on the homework sheets or tests aren't drawn properly, or maybe the student hasn't been taught to interpret tactile graphics. Such problems should be addressed directly, not ignored by giving the student less work or extra time.
Furthermore, if students are always given extra time, they are likely to struggle in job settings where such accommodations are not available. It is never too early for blind kids to start learning how to function well without special treatment.
As a blind adult, I try not to accept special privileges because of my blindness. I do not cut lines, use a "Handicapped" parking sticker, pre-board airplanes, or claim the special blindness tax deduction. I am sure my husband gets a lot of weird looks at the airport when we both insist on standing in the regular lines.
Contrary to what some people think, I don't do these things to prove my capabilities to others. My reasons run deeper than that. I get meaning and fulfillment from being an equally contributing member of society and following all the typical social conventions, even putting up with the nuisance of standing in long lines or having to pay taxes. I like to think of my blindness as a characteristic that has no negative bearing on my place in society. If I accept special privileges because of blindness, my actions would contradict the positive view of blindness that I hold dear. I also like the freedom to make my own choices and the empowerment of knowing that I can succeed even when special treatment is unavailable.
I earned my college degrees and my doctorate without having the curriculum modified for me in any way. When I applied for jobs, I did not have to request any accommodations at all. I had become accustomed to using my few pieces of technology to help me do my job well.
Special privileges for the blind are well-meant, and sometimes it is appropriate to accept them. But the choice to accept or reject a special accommodation is not a simple one. When an accommodation is accepted on behalf of a blind child, the decision may have ramifications for his or her self-esteem, freedom, and ability to grow into a self-reliant, responsible adult.
If you are weighing such a decision, think about your reasons for considering special treatment. Is there a need for it? How does your child feel about it? How might your decision affect your child's ambitions or skills in five, ten, or twenty years? Is there a more empowering way to help your child, such as by requesting tutoring in a particular area instead of asking for less homework? With this mindful approach to special treatment, I am optimistic that the next generation of blind children will grow into competent, responsible, contributing members of society.
by Robert Gardner
Reprinted from The Illinois Independent, Summer 2014
From the Editor: Many families were disappointed when the National Federation of the Blind was forced to discontinue the annual Braille Readers Are Leaders contest in 2012. In an effort to fill the gap, a group of Federationists in Illinois pioneered a statewide contest. In this article, one of the contest organizers, Robert Gardner, tells the story.
iBRAL is here! No, we're not talking about iPad or iTunes. We're talking about iBRAL! In 2012 the National Federation of the Blind discontinued its annual Braille Readers Are Leaders (BRAL) contest after twenty-nine years. To fill the void, the National Federation of the Blind of Illinois (NFBI) decided to run its own contest for kids within the state. Say hello to the Illinois Braille Readers Are Leaders, or iBRAL, Contest for Kids!
The decision to organize the iBRAL contest came about in October of 2013, spurred by the Braille Literacy Committee within the NFBI. With help from Natalie Shaheen of our national office, the committee put together rules and forms and set up a contest page on the state website--all within a month! Working with the resources available in Illinois, the contest was simplified from the one formerly run at the national level. Registration opened on December 1, 2013. The contest included five grade categories from kindergarten through high school. Reading commenced on January 4, 2014, Louis Braille's birthday, and the contest ran for six weeks. The object of the competition, as before, was to read as many pages as possible during the contest period.
The reaction to the iBRAL contest was immediate and enthusiastic. One mother wrote on her son's registration form, "Thank you so much for organizing this event in Illinois. The BRAL contest was the single biggest motivator for my son to really work on his Braille skills." Another typical comment on a registration form came from a teacher of the visually impaired (TVI). She wrote, "This is my first student to enter a Braille competition, and we are both super excited!"
The overall response to our contest to promote the reading of Braille by schoolchildren was fantastic. Within the few weeks allowed for registration, we had twenty-six applicants, ranging from a first grader to several students in twelfth grade. We were amazed that our brand-new, never-before-heard-of contest received such a wonderful response. Much of the thanks goes to the well-organized Public Relations Committee of the NFB of Illinois. The PR Committee sent out a blitz of information to schools, parents, and agencies all over the state.
Lois Montgomery of the NFBI Blackhawk Chapter volunteered to be the contest administrator. She created an email account for iBRAL, where she received registrations at the beginning of the contest and reading logs at the end. In this way, all of the material could be handled electronically. The email account also allowed Lois to communicate easily with parents and/or TVIs who acted as Certifying Authorities for the contestants.
"The contest seemed simple on the surface," Lois said, "but it was surprising how much work it ended up being." Then she added, "But it was so gratifying to read some of the comments we received!"
Lois gave an example of what a TVI said about one of her students. "Thank you for letting us participate!" the teacher wrote. "This was a great way to encourage Braille reading for him!" A parent wrote of her son, "He wanted to make sure he would do well. He just brought me his last book to log, and told me his fingers hurt. No wonder! He read five hundred pages today alone!"
"Sometimes," Lois said, "the feedback we got was touching." For example, a TVI wrote of one of her students, "We had a GREAT time reading! Pierre has just started reading Braille in the past few years, and is finally reading with some fluency and reading for fun! He is seventeen years old, and has autism along with his blindness and cognitive delays. He was diligent daily about telling people he had to read for the Braille contest. Hope to do it again next year! Thanks!"
Cash prizes were awarded to first, second, and third place winners in each grade category. Special thanks go to National Braille Press and the national headquarters of the NFB for donating additional prizes. When we contacted Joanne Sullivan of National Braille Press about purchasing gift certificates to use as prizes, she told us we wouldn't have to buy them. NBP, that great supporter of Braille, would donate a twenty-dollar gift certificate to each contestant! In addition, the national office of the NFB donated a slate and stylus to each child who entered the contest. When it was all over, each child received a generous goodie package from iBRAL, whether or not he or she won a prize.
An additional bonus for category winners was the offer to attend, free of charge, the seminar for parents of blind children held by the NFBI in April 2014. In conjunction with the parents' seminar was a day-long conference for blind high school and college students. One winner and his family accepted the invitation.
The Braille Literacy Committee in Illinois, along with the entire state affiliate, is proud of its accomplishments. We took the idea, the dream, of creating a statewide Braille reading contest for children and turned it into a reality. Many people contributed to the success of the endeavor, including those who made phone calls to publicize the contest and our webmaster, Byron Lee, who made the contest electronically accessible. Lois Montgomery deserves special thanks for overseeing the details of registration, compiling the reading logs, and putting together the prize packages.
The NFBI is already committed to running a 2015 iBRAL contest for kids in Illinois. In our first contest in 2014, we were astounded by the amount of interest we received. We hope that, with more work and more publicity, our second contest will be even more successful. Go Braille! Go iBRAL!
More information about the Illinois Braille Readers Are Leaders contest for kids can be found at the NFBI website, <www.nfbofillinois.org>, at the link "iBRAL Contest."
by Natalie Shaheen
Reprinted from Division of Visual Impairments Quarterly, Volume 58, Number 4.
From the Editor: Natalie Shaheen has a background in special education and teaching blind children. She serves as director of education programs at the NFB Jernigan Institute.
If you're a teacher or orientation and mobility instructor, do you look forward to conferences, conventions, and other professional gatherings? Do you thrive on the energy, camaraderie, and intellectually stimulating conversations that occur when a group of passionate professionals comes together? Do you leave these gatherings wishing you had more opportunities to converse with your colleagues in the field of blindness from across the country and the world? By leveraging the power of the technology that is ever-present in our lives, we now can increase our access to these important learning opportunities throughout the year.
Over the past several years, educators and other professionals have begun to utilize social networks and other web services to create community-driven, dynamic, and free professional development opportunities for themselves. One popular vehicle for facilitating these professional learning opportunities is the Twitter chat. In the field of education, there are Twitter chats for special educators, kindergarten teachers, social studies teachers, first-year teachers, principals, and more.
A Twitter chat is an online conversation organized by a community around a topic important to its members. As you may have deduced, these chats take place on the social networking site called Twitter. Each conversation generally lasts an hour. The frequency with which these conversations occur depends on the needs and desires of the community.
Why would a group of professionals want to have a conversation about their work on a social networking site? Couldn't those conversations be carried out through email lists, phone calls, or in-person conversations? And why use Twitter as opposed to more popular networks such as Facebook?
Twitter's greatest asset is that it is public—a characteristic you may previously have seen as a disadvantage. One of the greatest challenges we face in the field of blindness is the lack of information the general public has about the work that we do and about the needs of the children and adults we serve. The public forum of Twitter affords us the opportunity to learn from our colleagues around the country while simultaneously raising awareness and educating the public. Furthermore, we can engage professionals outside of our field in relevant conversations. For example, if we are having a conversation about blind and low-vision students who have additional disabilities, it would be advantageous to involve special educators and related service professionals in the conversation. Through Twitter we can engage professionals in those fields, even if we are not personally connected to them.
Twitter is also free, searchable, accessible, archivable, quick, and hip! Anyone with an Internet connection and an average level of technology literacy can access Twitter. You can even access and search for information on Twitter without creating an account! Messages sent through Twitter are limited to 140 characters, so they take mere seconds to compose. As an added plus, students and young pre-service teachers, whom we hope to convince to pursue a career in our field, will think we are cool when we tell them we are tweeting!
Established in August 2012 by a handful of teachers of the blind and visually impaired, #BrlChat is a Twitter chat for professionals in the field of blindness. The community has grown steadily and now includes people from around the world. In addition to teachers, the community consists of university faculty, pre-service teachers, blind students, parents, rehabilitation counselors, librarians, and blind and low-vision adults.
During this school year, the community voted to have the chats on the third Wednesday of each month at 9 p.m. Eastern Time. Members of the community generate topic ideas that are posted in a monthly topic poll. The topic that wins the most votes drives the next conversation. Previous #BrlChat topics have included:
Each conversation is archived as an Excel file and posted on the #BrlChat webpage at <http://goo.gl/S45l0l>. It can be accessed at any time by anyone who is interested.
To participate in the conversations, all you have to do is sign up for Twitter and be online at 9 p.m. eastern time on the third Wednesday of each month. Enter the hashtag "#BrlChat" into the search box, and you will see what others are saying. If you have something to add to the dialogue, include the hashtag #BrlChat in your tweet.
For those who are unfamiliar with Twitter, here is some helpful vocabulary:
Tweet: a message of 140 characters or fewer posted on Twitter. This is analogous to a status update on Facebook.
@Username: The way to refer to a person on Twitter in a tweet. This author's username is @nlshaheen.
Follower: Person who has agreed to receive your Tweets. If you choose to receive another Twitter user's tweets, you are following him or her. This is similar to the "friend" concept on Facebook.
@Mention: A public message directed to a specific Twitter user. You might tweet: "@nlshaheen what is tonight's #BrlChat topic?"
Retweet or RT: When one person on Twitter reposts something that was tweeted by someone else previously. For example, you might see a tweet from @nlshaheen that says: "RT @JohnDoe Braille rocks!" This means that first John Doe wrote, "Braille rocks!" When Natalie saw the tweet from John, she liked it so much she wanted to share it with her followers, so she retweeted John's message. This is the equivalent of a "like" on Facebook or a "+1" on Google+.
Hashtag: A way for people to categorize or label a tweet. If you use Gmail, you are likely familiar with the concept of "tagging." A single tweet can contain multiple hashtags. The hashtag for our Twitter chat is #BrlChat. The pound sign always precedes a hashtag.
If you are new to Twitter, you can find links to several helpful Twitter 101 guides on the #BrlChat webpage. If you read through the Twitter 101 guides and you still find yourself confused, contact me at [email protected] and I will be more than happy to give you a quick tutorial over the phone.
It is important for us to educate ourselves about the workings of the various web services we use. It is also important that we know the policies of our employers as they relate to social media. Many school districts have specific guidelines for their teachers that govern the use of social networking sites.
You should know that Twitter is public by default. That means that anything you tweet can be seen by anyone in the world. If you wanted to see everything @nlshaheen ever tweeted, you could go to <www.twitter.com/nlshaheen>. Without even logging into the service, you can see everything I have posted. Keep this in mind when you compose messages.
There is a setting that will make your tweets "private," but there are two things to keep in mind regarding "private" tweets. First, if someone retweets one of your tweets and that person's tweets are public, your tweet is now public, too. Second, if you are using Twitter for professional purposes, as this article advocates, having public tweets makes networking easier.
Join the #BrlChat community next month on the third Wednesday at 9 p.m. for some fast-paced, free professional development from the comfort of your home! The conversations are open to anyone who is interested in participating; all opinions are welcome. The more diverse the chat participants are, the more interesting the conversations will be!
If you cannot attend the next Twitter chat, remember that you can always post your comments on Twitter beforehand or after the fact, and you can access the archive on the #BrlChat webpage.
Finally, if you have ideas for future chat topics or feedback about how the community operates, please send your thoughts to me on Twitter (@nlshaheen), by email at [email protected], or by leaving a comment on the #BrlChat webpage at <http://goo.gl/S45l0l>. Happy tweeting!
Compiled and Edited by Chloe Banks
Reviewed by Paula Ann Sprecher
From the Editor: Paula Sprecher is a teacher of the visually impaired (TVI) in Chicago. She and her husband Alan are the adoptive parents of two blind daughters from overseas, Rupa from India and Aihua from China.
Exposed to Hope: Stories from Families Who Have Adopted a Child with a Visual Impairment from China
Compiled by Chloe Banks
Available as a downloadable ebook from Bethel China at <www.bethelchina.org/exposed-to-hope-stories-from-families-who-have-adopted-a-child-with-a-visual-impairment>
Have you ever considered adoption? Through the act of adoption, a child is given a chance to become part of a forever family, to be loved and to reciprocate love, to experience life to its fullest, and to live out hopes and aspirations for a bright future. In essence, the child is transformed from a dreamer into a doer.
When a child is adopted, he/she is given a second chance at life. No, you will not give this child life, but you will provide a life worth living and one of healing, one of freedom, one of hope, one of choices, and one of learning to trust. If you are interested in the subject of adoption, this book is a must read for you!
Exposed to Hope is a compilation of vignettes written by parents who have adopted one or more blind or visually impaired children from China. In China, blindness is considered an intimidating special need. Many potential parents who consider adopting a child with a special need disregard such children in search of a child with a disability that can be corrected, such as a heart murmur or cleft palate. They may seek a child with a disability that they anticipate will be easier for them to cope with psychologically, one that will be acceptable to the extended family and to society itself. An overall theme running from story to story in this book is that learning to rear a child with a visual impairment is not an overwhelming, insurmountable task—it just takes some forethought, patience, imagination, and, at times, a sense of humor.
Taking precedence over the child's visual disability are more immediate concerns, such as attachment issues and language learning. The book strives to promote a greater understanding of why adoption is relevant and to encourage more families to consider adopting children with visual impairments from other countries.
Through the vignettes in Exposed to Hope, the reader will find answers to a number of questions that may be looming in the back of his or her mind. What kind of family chooses to adopt a visually impaired child from another country? How does adopting a blind child change the life of a family? What resources are available to support a blind child and his/her family? What techniques can best facilitate the acquisition of English?
Each story in the book is unique because the thirteen families are heterogeneous. The adoptive families include sighted couples as well as couples with visual impairments, families who already have biological or adopted children, and families with no children at all prior to adoption. There are families who have adopted children with other disabilities or health conditions in addition to visual impairments, families who have recently adopted or who have adopted a while back, families who have adopted children ranging in age from infancy through the teens, and families who have chosen children with a variety of eye conditions.
Historically, adoption from China was perceived primarily as a way to find families for healthy baby girls who were abandoned as a result of China's one-child policy, due to China's preference for male children. Over time, however, circumstances have changed. Now the majority of Chinese children available for adoption are boys, children over the age of three, and children with special needs. Currently, there are about three times more boys than girls waiting in Chinese orphanages.
In reading this book, it was interesting to discover that one in five people in China has a visual impairment. The services of eye doctors are abundantly available in urban areas for families who have financial resources. On the other hand, few services are available to support families who have a child with a visual impairment if they are poor or live far away from urban areas. Parents in rural areas are concerned that they will not be able to pay for medical treatments or special education, and they fear that their blind children will not be able to live normal lives. When a family feels helpless and under-resourced, abandonment is likely to take place.
Over 15 percent of the children on China's Waiting Children's List have some form of visual impairment. It is highly likely that these children will remain on the Waiting Children's List for years. When they turn fourteen, they are no longer eligible for adoption. Children who are visually impaired and have little adult interaction may never learn to speak, crawl, or walk; no one takes the time to encourage them or to figure out ways they can be taught. Without appropriate care, intervention, or education, these children live on the streets or are kept hidden from view in institutions.
In China it is rare to see an adult with a visual impairment who lives a successful, independent, fulfilling life. This lack of positive role models leads families to abandon their babies who are blind. In contrast, families who have financial means are able to provide a wide array of specialized medical, educational, and leisure-time services for their offspring, similar to those we may take for granted here in the US. However, this is not the case for most families in China.
At the end of Exposed to Hope there are appendices that contain links to websites, articles, blogs, and forums about both blindness and adoption. These resources are intended for those who are interested in reading more about visual impairment or the process of adopting from China. In addition, the families who share their stories offer helpful advice regarding the adoption process, such as where to begin when bringing a special needs child home, where to acquire services, and much more. An overriding theme of hope is conveyed throughout this down-to-earth, heartwarming book.
On July 5, 2014, the National Federation of the Blind elected Mark Riccobono to serve as its next president. (See Mark Riccobono's article, "Taking Control and Becoming a Driver of My Life," elsewhere in this issue.) "Reflecting the Flame," a video celebrating the work and achievements of the outgoing president, Dr. Marc Maurer, can be seen at <http://youtu.be/j-E1Vp7l_MQ>.
Free Braille Books Program
American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults
<www.actionfund.org/free-braille-books>
[email protected]
(410) 659-9315, Extension 2287
The American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults has back selections from the Free Braille Books Program and would like to get them into the hands of children who will enjoy them. All of these gently used books are in contracted Braille. They are at two reading levels. The first level is for children in grades K-2. The second level is for children in grades 3-6. If you would like to have some of these books sent to you, please call or email to make your request. To sign up for new books in the program, visit the Action Fund website.
Free Slates and Styluses
<https://nfb.org/free-slate-program>
The National Federation of the Blind believes every blind person should have all of the available tools as a means of gaining independence. The slate and stylus have long been and continue to be valuable tools for writing Braille, and they have the same flexibility, portability, and affordability as a pen or pencil. The NFB has launched a program to give a four-line, 28-cell, aluminum slate and round, plastic, bulb stylus, free of charge, to any blind person in the United States or Puerto Rico who requests them.
2013 Touch of Genius Winners
National Braille Press
<www.nbp.org>
In June 2014, National Braille Press and the Gibney Family Foundation announced the winners of the 2013 Touch of Genius Prize for Innovation. The first award went to the iBraille Challenge Mobile App submitted by the Braille Institute and California State University/Los Angeles. The mobile app supports Braille reading and writing for blind and visually impaired students and is aligned with the Braille Challenge®, a national Braille reading and writing contest. In addition, the iBraille Challenge App allows teachers to gather much-needed data on how children learn Braille. The second award went to Pranay Jain and Anshul Singhal of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology for their Tactile Caliper. The Tactile Caliper is a mechanical device that displays complete measurements in Braille that can be read instantaneously with accuracy as fine as one-sixteenth of an inch. The innovative mechanical slide system that is used to form the Braille cells allows simple Braille read-outs to be added to an array of items, including home appliances, science and engineering tools, and educational devices at a low cost and without the need for electricity. Each of the award recipients received a prize of $20,000.
2014 APH Hall of Fame Inductees
American Printing House for the Blind
<www.aph.org/hall/news.html>
The APH Hall of Fame is dedicated to preserving the tradition of excellence manifested by specific individuals through the history of outstanding services provided to people who are blind or visually impaired in North America. On October 17, 2014, APH will induct two new members into the Hall of Fame: Michael Collins and Newel Perry. Michael Collins (1947-2008) served as supervisor of the campus-based deaf-blind program at the Perkins School for the Blind and then as founder and director of the Hilton-Perkins International Program, with the mission of training teachers of children in the developing countries who are deaf-blind or have multiple disabilities. Newel Perry (1873-1963) is sometimes called "the father of the modern civil rights movement of the blind." His work spawned the California Council of the Blind in 1934 and the National Federation of the Blind in 1940.
Digital Technology Access in Higher Education
<http://nfb.org/digital-tech-access>
Contact: Valerie Yingling, (410) 659-9314, Extension 2440
[email protected]
Under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) and Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973, institutions of higher learning are required to provide equal access to their programs and services. However, blind and visually impaired students sometimes encounter barriers such as inaccessible websites, textbooks, exams, and laboratory equipment. The NFB is gathering information about the experiences of blind/visually impaired students in higher education through an ongoing survey. Students are encouraged to complete the survey at the close of each semester to keep the NFB up-to-date on their access experiences, both negative and positive.
AnimalWatch Vi Suite Research Project
<www.awvis.org>
Contact: Penny Rosenblum, (520) 621-1223
mailto:[email protected]
The AnimalWatch Vi Suite Research Project at the University of Arizona has developed an iPad app and supporting materials to help students build problem solving skills while learning about endangered species. Forty-eight blind or low vision students in the US will be recruited to participate in an intervention study during the 2014-15 school year. To qualify, students must be learning math content appropriate to grades 5-9; be able to access an iPad with screen enlargement, VoiceOver, or a Braille display; and be familiar with educational apps.
Web Accessibility Training Day
<https://nfb.org/web-accessibility-day>
NFB Jernigan Institute
200 E. Wells St. at Jernigan Place
Baltimore, MD 21230
September 9, 2014
The National Federation of the Blind, in partnership with the Maryland Technology Assistance Program, has gathered experts in the fields of access technology and policy. Topics will be of interest to persons in government, education, and business. The event will be conducted as a training initiative of the newly launched NFB Center of Excellence in Nonvisual Access to Education, Public Information, and Commerce.
Matilda Ziegler Magazine
On July 25, 2014, the board of directors of the E. Matilda Ziegler Foundation announced that the Matilda Ziegler Magazine for the Blind will cease publication. The magazine was founded in 1907 with the goal of producing reading material for the blind as much as possible like that available to sighted readers. The magazine helped to fill an information void that no longer exists today, thanks to the availability of Braille, recorded, and digital materials. The Ziegler Foundation will use its resources solely for scientific research through grants to highly innovative medical researchers who are making important advances in vision research.
The Future of Braille: NLS Braille Summit Presentations and Outcomes
<www.loc.gov/nls/index.html>
The Library of Congress has released a report that contains the proceedings of the June 2013 Braille Summit and reflects the hard work and great ideas generated by those who attended. The Braille Summit reflects the effort of the National Library Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped (NLS) to keep Braille at the forefront of library service. The summit recommended that NLS support efforts to update Braille technology and specifications. It also recommended that NLS provide a low-cost Braille display in the same way that it provides audio playback equipment.
The Journey to Life after High School: A Roadmap for Parents of Children with Special Needs
<www.abilitypath.org/lifeafterhighschool>
Available for free download, this report examines laws that impact youth with special needs and the various paths a young adult may take after completing high school. It explores steps to be taken before graduation and the young adult's legal and medical rights. The report includes a state-by-state directory of supporting agencies.
2014 NFB Library Card
Contact: Norm Gardner, [email protected]
This SD card holds a trove of NFB history and philosophy, and it will work with any computer or digital audio player. It includes recordings of all of the convention banquet speeches delivered by NFB presidents Jacobus tenBroek, Kenneth Jernigan, and Marc Maurer; thirty books in the Kernel Books series; and a large collection of key speeches and articles by NFB leaders.
Bookshare
<www.bookshare.org>
Bookshare is an online library of digital books available for download in DAISY, BRF, and other digital formats. With nearly 300,000 titles, ranging from stories by Dr. Seuss to textbooks on neuroscience, Bookshare is an invaluable resource to students at all grade levels. Any student with a print disability such as visual impairment or dyslexia is entitled to a free Bookshare subscription, thanks to a generous grant from the US Department of Education. Bookshare provides a variety of webinars and podcasts to help parents use its ever-growing collection.
Dads of Disability: Stories for, by, and about Fathers of Children Who Experience Disability (and the Women Who Love Them)
by Gary Dietz
ISBN: 0615971865
This book addresses the scarcity of stories from the perspective of fathers of children with disabilities. The forty-one essays and poems illustrate fathers' experiences as they parent a child with a disability. The collection uses storytelling to illuminate the emotional lives of fathers.
Changing Social Attitudes toward Disability: Perspectives from Historical, Cultural, and Educational Studies
Edited by David Bolt
Routledge, 2014
ISBN: 0415732492
Written by a selection of established and emerging scholars, this book aims to break down some of the unhelpful boundaries between disciplines so that disability is recognized as an issue for all of us across all aspects of society. It encourages readers to recognize disability in all its forms and within all its contexts. This multidimensional approach to changing social attitudes will be important reading for students and researchers of disability from education, cultural, and disability studies, and all those interested in the questions surrounding attitudes toward disability.
Pen Pal Magazine
Contact: Adrijana Prokopenko
mailto:[email protected]
Pen Pal Magazine is intended to help blind people and others build new friendships through international correspondence.
Tech Vision
<yourtechvision.com>
Tech Vision is a company that strives to ensure that children and adults with visual impairments or other reading challenges can learn the technology and skills that will help them succeed at school and in life. The site offers lessons on the use of Microsoft Excel, Microsoft PowerPoint, Mac-iTools, and more. Other links on the site lead to information on using Siri on the iPhone, learning the new Unified English Braille Code (UEBC), mastering Skype commands with speech software, and doing math problems in Word. Tech Vision's e-newsletter can help subscribers keep up-to-date on the latest offerings.
Talking Infrared Thermometer
Brooks Technology
<http://www.brooks-technology.com>
Contact: Phil Brooks, (408) 781-4577
The Talking Infrared Thermometer (Model IRT-1) can measure the temperature of a wide variety of objects without contact. It has a special scan function to help a blind person quickly locate hot items, such as a burner on a flat cook top stove, or to ensure that a pot or pan is centered over a burner. The device has only three buttons and has a built-in talking tutorial. It can be set to speak in English, Spanish, or French, and to say the temperature in Fahrenheit or Centigrade.
Bio-Rad DNA Model Kit
<http://www.amazon.com/Bio-Rad-Educational-Science-Kits-Model/dp/B00G3J4DYQ>
As common as DNA is, it can be a tough topic to understand. This soft foam DNA model can be of help. When assembled, the model measures two feet tall and six inches wide. Just as in nature, the pieces of the model fit together in only one way--adenine (a) fits only into Thymine (t), and Guanine (g) fits only into Cytosine (c). The print letters on the pieces are indented and are accessible by touch. Attach and assemble the ATCG base pairs along the sugar-phosphate backbone and then twist to transform the model into the double helix shape.
National Resource Center for Blind Musicians
<www.blindmusicstudent.org>
Neighborhood Studios of Fairfield County, Inc.
391 E. Washington Ave.
Bridgeport, CT 06608
Contact: David Goldstein, (203) 366-3300
[email protected]
The resource center provides information and referral services for blind and visually impaired students of all ages as well as their parents and teachers. It also offers learning opportunities for blind music students headed to college, and it maintains a network of blind/visually impaired musicians willing to share their coping strategies and their knowledge of Braille music and technology.
O-Rings
<http://incrementstudios.com>
The O-Rings are a set of stackable rings that differ in size, weight, density, texture, and color. They can be used for seating, building, and exploration to address sensory stimulation, gross motor activities, scale distinction, and spatial reasoning. In addition to ordering instructions, the website provides videos on how the O-Rings can be used.
Bilibo
<www.amazon.com/Moluk-0004-Bilibo-Blue/dp/B000UEQI1G>
Developed in Switzerland, the Bilibo is a shell-shaped sensory toy made of molded hard plastic. Seated in the Bilibo, a child can control its movements by touching the floor with his/her hands and feet. The toy can help enhance spatial awareness, gross motor skills, and balance, as well as imaginative play.
2014 Toys-R-Us Toy Guide for Differently-Abled Kids
<toysrus.com/DifferentlyAbled>
In its twentieth year of supporting the special-needs community, the Toys-R-Us Toy Guide for Differently-Abled Kids will once again provide a resource for purchasing safe toys tailored to children's physical, cognitive, or developmental disabilities. Shoppers can choose toys according to the skills and needs of the child for whom they are shopping. The Toy Selection Index is divided into separate skill-building categories. The guide aims to help spread the joy of play to families of children of all abilities. The 2014 Guide will be available at all "R" Us stores and online on August 11.
Fashioneyesta
<http://fashioneyesta.com>
Fashioneyesta is an online fashion and lifestyle resource for blind and visually impaired people. It is the creation of Emily Davison, a blind student at Goldsmith University in London. The website includes articles, interviews, videos, and more, tailored to meet the fashion needs of both women and men.
New York Beyond Sight
<www.nybeyondsight.org>
From the Staten Island Ferry to the Empire State Building, from historic homes to monumental sculptures, this site provides short verbal descriptions of nearly one hundred New York City attractions in MP3 format. The files can be downloaded to a portable device such as a Victor Stream for listening on a family trip.
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