Volume 39 Number 2 Special Issue on Ethnic and Cultural Diversity
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.
Deborah Kent Stein, Editor
ISSN-0883-3419
Copyright © 2020 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
https://nfb.org/nopbc • [email protected] • [email protected]
Due to the COVID-19 pandemic in the United States, the annual convention of the National Federation of the Blind, originally scheduled for Houston, Texas, from July 14-19, is going virtual. Celebrating its eightieth year, the organized blind movement is delighted to take this opportunity to connect blind Americans for the largest gathering of the blind in history!
The 2020 National Convention will include most of the elements conventioneers expect, with some new twists. Members are requested and non-members are invited to register at no cost for the convention in order to get access to exclusive offers, convention announcements, door prizes, and other content. But, not so fast! Where do we send door prizes? Send door prizes to National Federation of the Blind, Attention: Convention—FS, 200 East Wells Street, Baltimore, MD 21230. Remember that you must register to be eligible, so don't miss out.
Registration for the convention, as well as details of the convention schedule and logistics as they become available, can be found at www.nfb.org/convention.
Those who booked convention reservations at the Hilton Americas or the Marriott Marquis in Houston will receive a full refund of any room deposit collected. The hotel will contact you no later than May 1 to confirm the amount to be credited. (Please be patient and wait to hear from the hotels; they are severely understaffed during the coronavirus crisis.) Similarly, if you previously registered for the 2020 convention online or through the mail, you will be contacted about your registration fees and banquet ticket purchases.
Mark your calendars for July 14-19, and plan to connect with your Federation family across the country. Additionally, as local conditions permit, Federation affiliates will organize in-person gatherings in conjunction with convention events to enhance the convention experience.
The 2020 convention of the National Federation of the Blind will connect blind Americans from anywhere and build opportunities everywhere. Make plans to be a part of it, and join the largest gathering of the blind anywhere!
Registrations must be postmarked by May 31. Please register online at www.nfb.org/registration, or complete and mail all requested information on the form below to: National Federation of the Blind, Attn: Convention Registration, 200 E. Wells Street at Jernigan Place, Baltimore, MD 21230.
Registrant Name: __________________________________________________
Address: _________________________________________________________
City: _________________________ State: ________________ Zip: _______
Phone: ____- ____-______ Email: ____________________________________
Upon registering for the 2020 National Convention, more information regarding the various formats and agenda will be provided as soon as they are available. While registration is free, we welcome and encourage donations to support our ongoing work to protect the rights of all blind Americans.
Please note that the most up-to-date information will be available at nfb.org/convention. If you have questions, please contact [email protected] or call 410-659-9314. We look forward to your participation.
INTRODUCTION
The Sum of Our Parts
by Deborah Kent Stein
Navigating Toward Equity
A Guest Editorial by Rosy Ramirez Carranza
BUILDING UNDERSTANDING AND FORGING CONNECTIONS
Beyond Eye Reports and IEPs: Connecting with Blind Students from Diverse Backgrounds
by Mandi Bundren
Educating Blind English Learners: A Conversation with Conchita Hernandez Legorreta
Mentoring "Bad" Students
by Melissa Lomax
My Education Narrative: Negotiating School and Culture as a Blind Chinese American
by Colin Wong
Found in Translation
by Trinh Ha
Reflections from Turtle Island: The Intersection of Blindness and Indigenous North American Identity
by Justin Salisbury
BUILDING MOVEMENTS, COMMUNITIES, AND FAMILIES
Lessons from Dr. King
by Ever Lee Hairston
A Conspicuous Family
by Karin Norington-Reaves
Adopted, Adapted, and Advancing
by Ahbee Orton
Cambiando Vidas: How a Small Group of Friends Started a Movement
by Conchita Hernandez Legorreta
NEWS
Learning in the Time of COVID-19: The Impact on Blind Students of Current Guidance Issued by the US Department of Education Regarding Students with Disabilities
by Carlton Anne Cook Walker
Dear Secretary of Education
by Mark Riccobono
Letter Regarding Waivers under the CARES Act
by Mark Riccobono
REVIEWS
Haben: The Deafblind Woman Who Conquered Harvard Law
by Haben Girma, Reviewed by Marilyn Green
Crip Camp, A Netflix Documentary
Reviewed by Bre Ausbun
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Celebrating the 2020 Braille Readers Are Leaders Winners
How You Can Help
Announcements
Odds and Ends
Are you the parent of a blind/low-vision child? Don’t know where to turn? Have you ever wondered what your child will be capable of when he or she grows up? Are you concerned that your child’s future will be limited by blindness or low vision? Do you have questions about how to parent a blind child? We are here for you.
Founded in 1983, the National Organization of Parents of Blind Children (NOPBC), a proud division of the National Federation of the Blind (NFB), is a membership organization of families, friends, and educators of blind children. We have thousands of members in all fifty states plus Washington, DC, and Puerto Rico.
We have a very inclusive definition of blindness which includes children who have some usable vision. Instead of focusing on what the child can or cannot see, we focus on the child and what she or he wants to be.
NOPBC is for families, educators, and friends of blind children, including those who have some usable vision. We welcome all families of blind children, and many of our children have both blindness and other disabilities.
We help families and blind children themselves maximize the child’s abilities and opportunities; we hold high expectations for all of our children, regardless of any additional disabilities they may have.
As a division of the National Federation of the Blind (NFB), the largest and most influential organization of blind people in the world, the NOPBC is well informed about the societal, legislative, and technological issues that affect blind people. We enjoy the resources, support, and expertise of fifty thousand blind people who can serve as mentors and role models for us and our children. When we as parents join the NOPBC, our children belong to the Federation family.
The NOPBC:
Most states have an NOPBC affiliate chapter. You can find your state chapter at http://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.
We have been where you are, and we want to support you and your blind child. We know that blindness does not define your child's future. 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.
The NOPBC offers hope, encouragement, information, and resources for parents, families, and educators of blind children. NOPBC provides:
We offer a wide variety of 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. This conference 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.
Contact Us:
National Organization of Parents of Blind Children
[email protected]
www.nopbc.org
by Deborah Kent Stein
When I studied plane geometry in tenth grade, I learned the corollary that "the whole is equal to the sum of its parts." In the National Federation of the Blind, our sum is made up of children and senior citizens, parents and blindness professionals, blind students, and blind people in a host of occupations and professions. Our members come from every part of the country and represent every ethnic and cultural background. The work of the Federation is carried forward by our diverse members in cities and rural areas across the nation.
As blind people we belong to a minority group that is too often overlooked, discounted, and misunderstood by mainstream society. Yet our community itself is comprised of people with a host of identities in addition to blindness. We are Asian Americans, African Americans, people of Latinx heritage, members of indigenous groups, and members of the LGBTQ community. The involvement of people from all backgrounds has long been an implicit aspect of our movement. In recent years, however, the NFB has recognized that we can do a better job of welcoming people from diverse backgrounds, meeting their needs, and helping them become an integral part of our organization.
At the 2019 national convention of the NFB, the Committee on Diversity and Inclusion, co-chaired by Rosy Carranza and Shawn Callaway, sponsored a series of events that focused on the involvement of members with minority identities in addition to blindness. Workshops included "Mujeres of the Federation," "Black Leaders Advancing the Federation," and "Asian Membership Development." At the Presidential Diversity Morning Mixer, Federationists met informally with President Mark Riccobono and other NFB leaders to share ideas about making the organization more inclusive.
A few months after convention Rosy Carranza approached me to suggest that Future Reflections publish a special issue around the theme of ethnic and cultural diversity. Rosy took an active role in recruiting people to write many of the articles in this issue. In her guest editorial she shares her thoughts about opening a conversation around diversity, and she invites readers to contribute their ideas to future issues of this magazine.
Our movement gains strength when we welcome diversity and ensure that all voices are heard. Together we are bolder, wiser, and more powerful than any segment of our movement can be on its own. As I think about the rich diversity of the NFB, I realize that the corollary I learned in geometry class doesn't always hold true. In the case of the National Federation of the Blind, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
A Guest Editorial by Rosy Ramirez Carranza
From the Editor: A graduate of the Louisiana Center for the Blind (LCB), Rosy Ramirez Carranza taught blind students in Washington, DC before embarking on a PhD in minority and urban education at the University of Maryland. With Shawn Callaway, she co-chairs the NFB’s Committee on Diversity and Inclusion.
I am the proud daughter of Mexican immigrants. Throughout my childhood, I witnessed my parents, both employed as farmworkers in California's Central Valley, arrive home with exhaustion in their voices, aches in their bodies, and layers of dirt on their clothing. Their skin was often red and cracked, most likely from decades of stressors such as weather, pesticides, and undervaluing. These images kept me moving through school as the print got too small, the lighting too dim, and the expectations too low. And when a classmate shoved me against the brick wall of our elementary school, declaring to the kids on the playground that I was a dirty Mexican, my pride in my family and my culture lessened the sting.
This special issue of Future Reflections explores the complexities that blind students and their teachers experience in the US public education system. It also examines issues around identity for blind children and youth who also belong to other minority groups, both ethnic and cultural. I hope that these writings will serve as a window and a mirror—an urging to absorb the richness of the human experience and a vehicle to engage in the transformative self-reflection that lies at the core of any educational revolution.
Research agendas in the field of visual impairment largely have emphasized medical, scientific, and psychological understandings of disability. Within this framework, disability eclipses other salient characteristics, generating a diminished, one-dimensional view of blind students and their educational settings. In this publication we seek to build equity by listening to voices that all too often go unheard. We hope to inspire curiosity and action around our students and to improve their access to educational opportunity.
Writing about deeply felt personal issues can be difficult and painful. I want to recognize the emotional labor and social implications that our contributors negotiated as they prepared their work for this issue. For many of us who have experienced educational marginalization and continue to confront inequitable systems because of our race, ethnicity, religious affiliation, immigration status, gender identity, social class, or other identity markers, it is not just a matter of writing our story. Often our personal narrative involves painfully peeling back the layers to reveal a hidden piece of ourselves in the hope that someone will be better off for the struggles that we have endured. It means considering the implications that our words can have on the communities that we represent. It means hoping that these snapshots into our lives will not provoke harsh criticism against us or our families, but instead will lead to a deeper understanding.
If you do not see yourself or your community represented in these pages, we realize that this omission may be painful and disappointing. In assembling the articles for this issue, we did not focus on checking off specific boxes; rather, we sought to attract contributors with diverse and unique perspectives who could stretch our understanding and ignite thoughtful discussion. This special issue gets the conversation going, but it is just the beginning. We encourage you to reach out to the editor of Future Reflections, Deborah Kent Stein, to share your story.
In adopting a broad perspective, it is important to recognize that the United States public education system exhibits continued and intensified segregation by race and class, placing countless poor and minority students in a state of educational peril. Our blind students are not shielded from these realities; rather, disability status can draw them even closer to the center of educational dysfunction and social marginalization. An increased knowledge about creating more equitable educational systems and greater access to our blindness movement are central to building a world in which blind students can live, learn, and lead. As teachers, parents, students, and advocates, this task may take us down unfamiliar paths. Social contexts may blur the lines between blindness advocacy and the broader inequities that threaten the life trajectories of our students.
Whether you are a teacher, parent, or blindness advocate, we urge you to navigate toward the goal of equity. The lives of our blind students are inextricably connected to the failures and successes of all children in the educational ecosystem.
by Mandi Bundren
From the Editor: Blind and low-vision students come from every conceivable background. Teachers face a host of challenges as they attempt to help their students meet their fullest potential. Drawing upon her extensive teaching experience, Mandi Bundren suggests ways for teachers to connect with their students and their families across the cultural divide.
I am a white teacher of blind students, and I didn't grow up in a multicultural family or context. People in my immediate circles didn't tend to discuss perspectives on racial and ethnic equity or gaps in resources across social class. However, I have moved frequently throughout my life, and moving has placed me in many diverse communities. In these communities I have been able to make new connections and gain important insights that strengthen my teaching.
As a fifteen-year veteran teacher of blind students, I have been blessed with diverse caseloads. My students have expanded my perspective beyond my personal background or any assignment I completed in college. I have taught in rural, urban, and suburban settings across the United States. I have taught blindness skills to newly arrived immigrants from around the globe, students who identify as LGBTQ+, students who have survived traumatic life events, and students who live in poverty. As an itinerant teacher I have spent my days traveling between worlds—teaching in vastly under-resourced schools and also serving students in opportunity-rich environments. In every setting I have taken the time to learn about my students' backgrounds and cultures. In this article I will share some tips that have helped me better connect to my diverse students.
1) It goes without saying that the very best way to connect with any student is to develop a positive, supportive relationship. This comes naturally to me as a teacher of blind students, as I generally work one-on-one with students, and I may retain them over several years. Showing empathy and expressing an interest in your students' lives will go a long way toward helping teachers develop a bond.
2) Be aware. Our students are not only blind; each of them possesses a variety of characteristics that can limit or bestow educational opportunities. We can work to become informed about their histories, and we can learn about contemporary issues that they may confront because they identify with a particular community. Don't ignore their struggles, but stand beside them. Indifference will never build trust. Recognize that your students may experience privilege or marginalization due to personal and community characteristics in addition to blindness. Our students are more than eye charts and IEP goals! To support them we need to be mindful of their lived experiences, and we must not be afraid to challenge our own belief structures.
3) Develop or modify your teaching tools to make them relevant to a broad range of cultures. I have a personal library of Braille books on my shelves. My books are transcribed in English, Spanish, and even some French and Italian. I have books that include narratives about refugee children and children whose parents are in prison. I use English and Spanish to label many of my manipulatives. I encourage and assist on field trips that expose my students to different cultures, and I try to be well informed so I can answer the questions my students may ask.
4) Get to know your students' culture and celebrate with them. Showing an interest can help you break down cultural barriers. Don't be afraid to ask detailed questions.
One of my current students is turning fifteen in three-and-a-half weeks. She is ecstatic, and she has been talking nonstop about becoming a quinceañera. I knew what a quinceañera is, but I've never been to a quinceaños celebration, and I never knew all the details that go into planning the event. Now I'm learning from my student as she tells me about the food, the ceremony, and the guests. We've been looking up quinceañera dresses online during our down time. I'm assisting her with the online search and describing the details of the dresses that she cannot see. It's been a fun bonding experience with this student. I'm grateful that I'll be better equipped with knowledge of this rite of passage as I connect with students farther down the road.
5) Don't be afraid to share your own culture with your students. I've often given small gifts to my students at Christmastime. Years back I had a student who had recently immigrated from Pakistan with her family. Although she knew about Christmas, I explained to her about the ritual of gift-giving in the holiday season. She came to school the next day with a Christmas gift for me. She and her mother had gone out and purchased a little coin purse for me and wrapped it in paper with a bow.
6) Educate yourself about your students' rights. Children without citizenship are still protected by the Constitution from discrimination, and they still have a legal right to an education. They are entitled to FAPE (free and appropriate public education) and access to the terms of IDEA (the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act). However, many students and their parents may not realize this. It may be up to you to educate them about their civil rights.
Provide your students and their families with information about social programs to assist with postsecondary planning. About ten years ago I had a student, Eduardo, who had come to the US from El Salvador. His parents had escaped from a dangerous area in their home country, and they came as refugees with their three children, one of whom is totally blind. Eduardo had never received Braille instruction or any formal blindness training. He quickly learned Braille and became proficient with his cane. He moved from being completely reliant on others to being age-appropriately independent. He was only a few years away from graduating, and I knew he had a great shot at going to a university. However, he would need additional training in the skills of blindness before he could fully realize his potential. With an interpreter, I sat down with his mom to explain my hopes for her son and the steps the family would need to take. I shared a local resource with her that would help Eduardo obtain the citizenship status he needed for vocational rehabilitation after high school.
I've had similar conversations with many other parents, helping them understand the supports that are available to help their children thrive. One of the greatest connections that I work to cultivate is a relationship with the National Federation of the Blind. I know that the blind community will be there to offer encouragement and support long after the student leaves my caseload.
7) Don't assume you know why parents aren't involved. I work hard to get to know parents and develop a line of communication that is open and optimistic. Many of us, especially those working in urban or rural/remote regions, find that about half of the parents we work with participate regularly in IEP meetings, while the other half seldom or never attend. It is easy to assume that parents who don't show up just don't care about education. However, by developing deep connections with families, teachers can discover new perspectives on parental involvement. Parents who are unfamiliar with IDEA and special education law may yield to educators as the experts. They may let education professionals take the lead, convinced that this attitude will result in better academic outcomes for their children. Working multiple jobs or having to negotiate with inflexible employers for time off may prevent parents from attending meetings or school functions. Learn why your students' parents aren't getting involved, and make time to communicate with them outside of the scheduled meetings. Call parents when you know they are free. Let them know you understand that sometimes work demands or life circumstances present barriers for involvement in the IEP. Have a brief conversation over the phone to get their feedback and explain their child's IEP. All of these measures can go a long way toward fostering parental involvement as well as establishing a positive rapport with parents.
Never be afraid to use an interpreter. Every time I've used an interpreter I have found that parents who seemed reserved and unwilling to speak up actually have quite a lot of insight and questions.
In closing, I'd like to leave you with a few words from the great community builder Cesar Chavez: "We need to help students and parents cherish and preserve the ethnic and cultural diversity that nourish and strengthen this community." I hope my experiences will help build stronger connections between you and your students.
From the Editor: Latinx students and students from other immigrant backgrounds comprise a significant portion of public-school enrollment in the United States. It is imperative for teachers of the blind to forge strong partnerships with children and families from immigrant communities. It is critical to build encouraging and collaborative relationships in order to support the unique needs of blind/low-vision English-language learners, as these combined designations can leave students vulnerable to decreased academic and social success.
This article begins with a blog post by educator Conchita Hernandez Legorreta. It is followed by Rosy Carranza's interview with Conchita, exploring and elaborating upon ideas expressed in the blog.
In "Growing Up at the Intersection of Disabled and Immigrant," Conchita Hernandez Legorreta writes about her educational pathway as a blind, undocumented, English learner. Today she occupies the roles of education champion and community change-maker. The piece that follows first was published in "Rooted in Rights," https://rootedinrights.org/growing-up-at-the-intersection-of-disabled-and-immigrant/.
I am an immigrant with a disability. When I was five years old my parents decided to move our whole family from Mexico, including five kids, two of whom have a disability, to the United States. My mother still talks about the decision: having children with disabilities. She dreamed of something bigger for us, but immigrants are not eligible for many services, including rehabilitation services and outside therapy services for children.
My siblings and I were enrolled in public school. We were thrown into a world in which we did not know the language or culture and had no way of expressing our concerns or asking questions. I remember not being able to participate in what was occurring at school, and it took me longer than usual to learn my alphabet because I could not see the board or understand what the teacher was saying.
At five years old I did not have any advocacy skills, and I did not know about the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) or my right to a Free Appropriate Public Education (FAPE). And other than explaining that we lived in poverty, I could not tell my classmates why I could never leave the country or participate in certain activities.
I think the driving force that kept me focused and persevering through all of this was the support of my family. While the idea of disability as something to pity was present in my family, the support from my family, which I lacked in school, was everything. My siblings would help me with homework and chores. We came up with modified games so that I could play and participate. My siblings taught me daily living skills such as how to tie my shoes and how to dance all the latest moves. They became the service providers that I could not receive out of school due to lack of money and immigration status. Overall, my family had my back, because what else do you have when you know that at any minute everything can be taken away?
There was always a fear of deportation back to a place that I vaguely remembered, where "people like me" didn't go out in public alone, where the only opportunity was to be a beggar or live with your family your whole life.
Eventually I received services through an Individualized Education Program (IEP), but I now realize how low-quality those services were. At the time California had healthcare services for undocumented children. This was a much-needed service for my family, but it meant if I got sick, I would have to take a whole day off from school to account for the wait time at the understaffed, overcrowded free clinic designated for our care. Once I learned English, I’d also have to take days off from school to translate for my parents.
It wasn't until my senior year in high school that I came to realize what being undocumented and having a disability really meant. Due to my status, I was told I would not be able to get financial aid, or get accepted to college. My teachers knew about vocational rehabilitation services but decided not to inform me of them because I was not eligible.
Many of my friends who were in a similar situation had alternatives, as they could be employed doing labor that I could not do because of my disability. I had nowhere to turn, and I was beyond frustrated.
It felt like pure fate that I received my green card in the middle of my senior year in high school. By this time most college applications had been turned in, but there were private schools that had later application dates. I ended up applying to a private school and getting in. It was not easy for me, being at the intersection of being an immigrant and having a disability, because of all the obstacles to services and programs that would have benefited me, but it made me who I am today. My life is what it is because my parents decided to make a very difficult choice, and I am bearing the fruit of that decision.
Rosy Carranza: I had an opportunity to talk more extensively with Conchita about the education of blind English learners (EL), a population that she taught as a public-school teacher in Washington, DC and that she continues to serve via her work as the Maryland Statewide Blind and Low Vision Specialist. Here are some highlights from our conversation:
Rosy Carranza: Conchita, what is the first step that a teacher of blind/low-vision students should take when an English learner is assigned to their caseload?
Conchita Hernandez Legorreta: They should get to know the family and their specific situation. The teacher should ask about language, access to information, and the best method to communicate. Inform the parents about services you provide in an easy-to-understand vocabulary. Many parents do not understand the basic services that are being provided. Often they are left out of having any follow-up at home, not because they do not want to help, but because there is a lack of communication by providers on what parents can do.
RC: We know that teachers of blind students often enter the field with minimal training to address the unique needs of English learners. What are some actions that teachers can take to up their knowledge in this area?
CHL: There is a lot of research and best practices out there for working with English learners. I would really recommend Colorin Colorado https://www.colorincolorado.org. This site houses research-based information and lots of resources to help teachers understand the issue and how to support families and students. As TVI's, we put a lot of pressure on our students to learn new skills. We should be doing the same ourselves, since our educational training is not enough and did not teach us how to work with this population.
RC: Are there any misconceptions that you want to clear up regarding teaching the blind/visually impaired English learner population?
CHL: We need to move from a deficit model in both of these categories. Blind students are not by nature deficient because they cannot see. Likewise, English learners are not deficient with their lack of understanding English. If anything, research has shown how English learners develop brain patterns and thinking processes that help them in other areas due to their bilingual abilities. I also think that family engagement is often viewed as a barrier. Most parents of EL students want to be engaged, and they are often the biggest proponents of educational attainment for their children. I hate seeing the proliferation of the idea that these parents just aren't interested! In most cases they are not engaged because you as a provider have not found a way to involve them. Perhaps you don't call them by their name, put effort into pronouncing their name correctly, use their language to invite them to school events, or provide translations of basic forms. I encourage teachers to be creative and proactive.
RC: In presentations and trainings you talk about the importance of developing a communication plan with each of your EL families. What are some key components of such a plan, and why is one necessary?
CHL: A communication plan is key to working with EL students. It lays out all the information that will be useful in communicating with families. This includes determining the primary language spoken at home, the grade level in which parents can read that language, the mode of electronics available at home (many families rely exclusively on smartphones), and the best way to contact parents with important information. How will parents communicate with you? How will you make sure the student is not serving as an interpreter between providers and the family? How will the family be notified of school functions? How will parents request translation and interpreting services? Who is the point of contact in the family for any other information that must be communicated effectively—it cannot be the child!
Each family is different. Some may prefer a Watts App message, some may prefer a paper to be sent home, and some may prefer a phone conversation. The communication plan should be individualized, and it should be implemented for each child from Day One.
RC: What should teachers of the blind know about EL students and IEPs?
CHL: First of all, the law requires that families receive all information in their preferred language. Families have a right to an interpreter for all IEP meetings. Parents should be a part of the decision-making process and should feel like experts in the life of their child. They should not merely attend an IEP meeting in order to sign a document. When holding IEP meetings, make sure parents understand the lingo being used. The fact that the discussion is being translated does not ensure that it is meaningful to the parents.
Your contact with the parent cannot take place solely at the IEP meeting. Parents should be viewed as valuable allies.
RC: You've provided wonderful insight for teachers. What is one piece of advice that you offer to blind students who share a background similar to yours?
CHL: I grew up as an English learner, and from my personal experiences and my work in education I know that our families are not being served in the way they should be. The most important thing you can learn to do is advocate for yourself and your family. Ask all the questions, ask about all the services. Having to navigate two very different worlds can seem like a burden at times, but it is going to prepare you to be powerful and invincible. Give back by using your personal experiences to demand better for our communities.
by Melissa Lomax
From the Editor: The stereotypical blind student is compliant, even a bit passive. In reality, of course, blind students run the gamut, like students everywhere. Some quietly follow the rules, some now and then are risk takers, and some flagrantly buck the system. Drawing upon her experience as coordinator of youth programs at Blind Industries and Services of Maryland (BISM), Melissa Lomax shares some strategies for mentoring students whose behavior has earned them the label “bad.”
In my work as a youth services manager in a program for blind teens, I sought to hire summer counselors who valued strong mentoring relationships. When I interviewed for the job, I asked each applicant, "Do you have a blind role model? If so, tell me about this person." Each year I was disappointed with many of the responses. Stevie Wonder was the most frequent answer, while other candidates simply said no, they had no one. Luckily, however, several applicants had had experiences similar to my own. We were honored to have had blind role models who made time to learn about us and teach us.
The disparity in responses to my question led me to wonder why so many blind youth continue to miss out on life-changing mentor relationships. I noticed that many blind youth from the inner city unjustly receive the label of bad, and consequently they miss out on mentorship. Though it is not always spoken aloud, the label bad can be identified by the actions of professionals and teachers. It all starts with negative assumptions. If labels regarding a student's behavior are ever acceptable, a more fitting term than bad would be misunderstood. In my role in their lives, I made sure not to operate under the belief that young people were anything close to bad. I knew such labeling would diminish the quality of the services I could provide.
During discussions with me, some students expressed themselves through foul language, raised voices, and abrupt departures. Never will I claim that these actions should be overlooked and accepted. As one who values respect, I would be doing a disservice to these students by failing to address such behaviors. However, I choose not to take punitive steps to achieve my desired results. I choose to understand.
In this field I am primarily asking students to do three things: to learn and rely on new skills and techniques, to become more self-confident, and to accept that their blindness is not the end of life but the beginning of a series of adaptations to reduce its impact to a mere nuisance. For many educators, mentors, counselors, and other like-minded professionals, these three goals appear attainable—we have seen too much success to think otherwise. But for most students, these goals are scary. Students may express fear by crying, shutting down, or making excuses. Other students deal with fear more aggressively.
Contrary to commonly held misperceptions, students who resort to disrespectful behavior fit no set categories. They are not always younger or older, male or female, or black or white. As an African-American woman I am acutely aware of social perceptions regarding minority communities. I made sure to look past the superficial label of bad that several of my black adolescent students carried when they arrived. I set out to assure them that, though others may have given up seeking connections and finding common ground with them, I most definitely would not.
Initially, I believed I had this population figured out, but I was wrong. One young male student in middle school taught me lessons I would later implement for all of my students.
This student—I'll call him Tony—decided to express his fear in a disruptive way while he attended one of my summer programs. I was determined to find the source of his fear so I could encourage him to get beyond it. During his third outburst, I had my opportunity. When I heard screaming from across the building, I ran toward the sound.
It turned out that Tony had refused to help clean the kitchen after class, and as he protested he stopped using his inside voice. Hastily I removed him from the scene and helped him express himself calmly. As Tony described his class, I realized that two issues were at play. First of all, Tony did not know how to clean, and he did not know how to ask for help. Second, he liked and valued his instructors as people, but in that moment he did not feel comfortable sharing his need for help with his teacher. He could not trust people easily unless they were African-American females.
I knew our program could help Tony deal with both of these issues. I assured him that his outbursts were not enough to deter us from giving him the opportunities the program could provide. I assured him that we could work together to transform his thinking about the issues that troubled him. Once I validated his feelings and gained his trust, I explained that his negative behavior would no longer be tolerated.
When I contacted Tony's guardian, it was not to have him depart my program after his third strike. I scheduled a meeting to celebrate his breakthrough and consult with her on solidifying our new plan of action. In the end, Tony and I both won. His outbursts disappeared, and his skills and confidence increased! Moreover, I worked with him to step away from his need for a mentor just like his nurturing grandmother. I helped him see that in this program, he needed someone who could help him build confidence. When he shared that he loved to create music but did not feel equipped to broadcast his talents, I connected him with a male counselor who happened to be a musician. This connection produced results I can still see today. Tony produces instrumental music that he uploads to YouTube. The confidence he gained has spread to other areas of his life.
Experience remains my best teacher. This phrase holds great significance when I reflect on my journey to connect my students with great mentors. Tony attended our program in 2018. I know that my success in working with him grew out of a similar situation that occurred three years prior. While I was managing a summer program for high schoolers, I pulled aside a student named Rick to speak with him about his conduct. The conversation quickly escalated, and he began to raise his voice in frustration. It turned out that he had a problem with his assignment to talk to mentors I had chosen for him because he felt that none of them could fully understand his position. He felt that blindness was an injustice for him in a family and neighborhood where he was expected never to show weakness. I, too, am African American, but I realized that although I looked like him, I was not really like him. At that time in his life, he did not need a person in his dream career, from his state, with his eye condition, or even possessing his same skin complexion. He needed a blind individual who faced and triumphed through the same struggles he faced back in his hometown.
That conversation altered my approach to pairing students with mentors. When my organization had an opportunity to create a year-round program for transition-age students, I knew that in addition to workshops, the students needed mentors. I took on the task of mentoring each student myself. This approach not only fit with our limited resources at the time, but it also gave me an opportunity to pinpoint my students' specific needs. While some needed academic guidance or help dealing with social situations, others needed instruction on independence skills or advice coping with difficult experiences. I let the students choose which aspect of me they needed in that time.
In 2019 I made the choice to resign from my youth management position to pursue a career change. Before I left I spoke with the students who were interested in continuing a mentoring relationship. I asked them, "What type of person do you need to learn from at this time?" From there, I set out to establish strong matches that would elevate each student to a higher level of confidence and independence.
I encourage anyone who sees the tremendous value in connecting students with an insightful blind mentor to follow the same steps I did. First, get to know the student well enough to have an open, honest conversation about the type of guidance needed in that moment. Next, look for mentors outside of the unspoken "mentor catalogue," as the desired demographic may not be represented well due to a lack of awareness. Then encourage students to customize their own experiences by assessing any changes in their needs and finding mentors best suited to help. With these steps it is my hope that more youth will grow to realize that they can indeed give back to future generations. We can work to eliminate the belief that students of color, students from low-income backgrounds, or those with a variety of life circumstances are not needed or valued in the mentorship arena. In fact, these students, with their unique perspectives, deep community connections, and boundless gifts, can bring increased diversity, equity, and inclusion to our blindness movement.
by Colin Wong
From the Editor: Colin Wong works as an orientation and mobility instructor in Phoenix, Arizona. He serves on the board of the NFB of Arizona, and he is second vice president of the Phoenix Chapter.
I grew up in a poor, traditional, Chinese household. Our individual lives revolved around providing whatever we could for the family. Grandma often misquoted John F. Kennedy by saying, "Ask not what you could do for yourself, but what you can do for your family." My parents had little formal education, but they were hardworking, determined, proud refugees. My dad came from China, and my mom came from Cambodia.
During my junior year of high school, I unexpectedly lost my vision. My parents and the culture that surrounded them viewed blindness as a life-ending, crippling, infectious disease that rendered a person helpless and useless. Nevertheless, my dad was unwilling to give up on me or to let me give up on myself. His Chinese values of remaining courageous during struggles, relying on family, and working hard gave me support and helped me cope with my vision loss. My dad taught me that I would need to face discrimination and prioritize education in order to be successful.
Cultural beliefs and practices can make positive contributions to our lives, yet simultaneously they can usher in discrimination. The myth of the Model Minority is one stereotype that imprinted itself upon my life and the lives of my family members. This widely held myth views Asian Americans as a monolithic group of highly successful, obedient, innately intelligent individuals for whom the American dream is accessible and deserved.
You may wonder why this myth is problematic. I will point out some of the issues involved. First, the myth ignores the uniqueness of each ethnic group in terms of its cultural values and traditions. First of all, it lumps Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Korean, and other Asians into the same category, regardless of their diverging cultures or specific needs. Second, the Model Minority myth pits Asians against other minority groups, sending the message that African Americans, Latinx, and other groups would succeed in American society if they just tried hard enough. It holds up Asians as examples of excellence while failing to recognize that racism, economic inequities, and social structures continue to place barriers in the lives of African Americans and Latinx.
When it came to blindness, the Model Minority myth created an educational resource gap for me. This line of thinking assumes that Asians will be successful no matter what due to their will and determination. I witnessed firsthand how governmental and educational resources were directed away from my Asian friends and neighbors, neglecting those who truly needed help. I vividly remember my Latinx friends receiving Spanish versions of documents to take home to their parents, while my teachers told me that documents in Chinese were not available. I always interpreted when parent-teacher conferences or IEP meetings took place, even though I was the main subject of the conference. I also received very little support with homework assignments, as everyone assumed that I was good at math.
These attitudes among educators had some positive aspects for me. I was forced to take an increased amount of responsibility for my educational outcomes. On the negative side, my school's failure to implement culturally relevant practices meant that my parents' responsibilities became my duties. I matured quickly as a result.
Even before I lost my vision, my dad told me to prioritize education. I was taught that education is the determining factor that separates successful people from those who don't make it in life. I knew that failing in academics was not an option. I proceeded through eleventh grade as a newly blinded young man, carrying the weight of this cultural and familial expectation on my shoulders.
After I became blind, the expectations around my capabilities decreased at school and within my family. My parents told me to graduate from high school and get into a good college, yet they had zero expectations regarding my career. My teachers expected less out of me than they did when I was sighted. They told me that I should take fewer honors classes because of my blindness. My O&M instructor even told me that my dream of teaching other blind people how to get around was impossible because my blindness would not allow me to observe students safely. Yet I started getting awards and special recognition as a newly blind high school student, even though the attention was not well deserved.
I had many struggles related to my intersectionality. My high expectations of myself as a Chinese student seemed out of reach because of the lowered expectations that my disability created. I struggled to understand whether to associate with my Chinese identity by valuing education or to take the easier path and follow the expectations that the world held for me as a blind person. I was also viewed through the Model Minority lens at times, which further complicated my situation.
Although I graduated from high school and enrolled in college, these conflicting perspectives had an impact on my confidence. In college I changed majors at least eight times because I struggled to understand what career was possible for me. Yet I couldn't drop out because my values regarding education persisted.
Eventually I left behind all the warnings about things I couldn't do. I moved forward toward realizing my dream of becoming an orientation and mobility instructor. The strength that I drew from my family and my persistence to gain an education are the two factors that turned me into the successful person I am today. My ability to advocate for rehabilitation services and my connection with the blind community were also critical elements.
When I became blind, I had many issues with my education that I never had as a sighted student. The biggest issues stemmed from inaccessible documents and low expectations. From my experience, low expectations are the largest barrier that prohibits blind people from living their dreams. The failure of educators to recognize that students may have needs associated with their race or ethnicity also can place students at a big disadvantage in terms of their opportunities.
As a Chinese American, I was stubbornly taught that I could not give up on my education or expectations. Without those values, I could have dropped out of school. I might have lowered my own educational expectations because of what school authorities believed was possible for me. Here are a few things that teachers of blind students can take from my education narrative:
I am fortunate to have survived the school system despite the barriers and lowered expectations that were placed in my path after I lost my vision. The Chinese values that I adhered to allowed me to understand the importance of education and work past my disability. I know that I am not a model minority or a broken sighted person. I am not someone who let circumstances draw me away from my cultural foundations. I am lucky to have made it to the place where I am, and I hope that my story can help other students reach their potential.
by Trinh Ha
Reprinted from Future Reflections, Volume 37, Number 1, Winter 2018
From the Editor: The United States has always been a nation of immigrants. People journey from every part of the globe to create new lives and help to build their adopted country. Inevitably some of these newcomers are blind children. They face new customs and a strange new language in addition to the challenges of mastering the skills of blindness. Through the story of her adjustment to life in a new land, Trinh Ha provides insight into the experience of blind students who immigrate from other nations. Trinh Ha was awarded an NFB National Scholarship in 2017.
On February 11, 2012, my family arrived in Fort Smith, Arkansas. For fifteen years I had grown up in the southern part of Vietnam, where it's hot year-round. I was shocked when an icy gust of wind greeted me as soon as I stepped out of the airport. "It's too cold here!" I exclaimed. The cold was my very first impression of the United States of America. Little did I know that the climate was not the only challenge awaiting me in this new journey of my life.
My first few days were tough. Due to a twelve-hour difference in time zones, my parents, my two siblings, and I would go to sleep during the day and stay awake at night. We cried a lot, too. I missed both of my grandmothers, my relatives, my friends, my house, my dog. I even missed the old mangosteen tree I loved to hide under to get away from the hot sun. I disliked car rides; they gave me terrible headaches. I missed the way the wind rustled against my hair and my skin when I rode on a motorcycle.
To make matters worse, my grandpa yelled at me whenever I told him I wanted to go back to Vietnam. He has lived here since 1975. He worked hard for twelve years to arrange for my family to come to this land of opportunity.
About a week and a half after we arrived, Grandpa took me and my older sister to Southside High School for a meeting. Both of us have been blind since birth. At Southside I met my teacher of the visually impaired (TVI), Miss Sarah Ashworth. Initially the people in charge recommended that my sister and I should go to the Arkansas School for the Blind in Little Rock, about three hours from Fort Smith. Of course, we didn't agree. We didn't want to be even more homesick than we were already! Since we knew no English besides basic sentences, it was finally decided that we would spend the rest of the semester at Southside, working one-on-one on the language with Miss Sarah.
For the next few months I felt as though I had magically been transformed into a little kid hiding in the body of a teenager. I remember vividly that very first day I came to class. My sister, Miss Sarah, and I were the only people in the room. I sat in the first seat of the row of desks facing the door, nervously curling and uncurling a lock of hair around my finger.
"Miss Sarah, can you please say it again?" I asked shyly, trying hard to hide the little catch in my voice.
"Sure," she replied. Slowly she repeated the question she had asked me.
"I'm really sorry, but I still don't understand," I told her.
I felt hopeless. Throughout the years, I'd learned to use my other senses to master my blindness and function independently. However, nothing had prepared me for this situation. Suddenly I was struggling to communicate and understand other people.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, I heard Miss Sarah type something into her phone. "This is our classroom," she said aloud. Then she used Google Translate to provide us with the sentence in Vietnamese.
That gave me an inspiration. From my bag I pulled a sheet of paper and my slate and stylus, the only tools I had used for writing Braille back in Vietnam. "S-c-h-o-o-l," I chanted. "S-t-u-d-e-n-t." I knew the alphabet; that's what I tried to tell my teacher. And she got my message!
Just like that, my sister and I began to re-learn how to speak and write. We were very grateful for the fact that, except for a few minor differences, the Braille symbols for the English and Vietnamese alphabets are the same. We had to study the Braille contractions, but that wasn't too hard.
We started out by learning individual words. Before she typed each word into her phone to give us the translation, Miss Sarah would spell it out so we could write down the letters. Then she would say the word aloud and have us repeat it after her.
After a few weeks we started to work on forming complete sentences. I lost track of how many times I had to remind myself that many rules of English grammar work opposite from the rules in Vietnamese. In English, adjectives come before nouns, for instance, and my first name needs to be written before my last name.
After dinner every night I always thought about the things I wanted to tell Miss Sarah the next time I saw her. Then I would ask my grandfather to teach me how to say them in English. Most of the time during my first few months in America, I went to sleep with a working brain, silently reciting two or three sentences over and over so I wouldn't forget them in the morning.
To help with my reading and listening skills, Miss Sarah asked me to read to her, or she would read to me and ask me to answer questions. I started out with books for little kids, such as Goldilocks and the Three Bears and The Paper Crane. By the time school was out for the summer, I had ventured to read the Nancy Drew series.
In the middle of June, my aunt gave me an electronic talking Vietnamese-English dictionary. The device quickly became one of my best friends. Whenever I encountered a new word I didn't understand, I used the device to translate it to my mother tongue. I also got into the habit of writing down new words I learned and putting them into a special folder I called "My Vocab List" for later reference.
When fall rolled around, my sister and I were put into regular classes along with other students. I left Vietnam in the middle of eighth grade, but I enrolled in the tenth grade. The idea was to keep me with my sister to make the transition easier for both of us as well as for the teachers. None of them would admit it at the time, but our teachers were nervous and intimidated when they found out they would have us as their students. After all, English as a second language (ESL) relies heavily on visual cues. How would they teach two blind ESL girls? Because they weren't sure what to do, our teachers tended to exempt us from any assignment they deemed too hard.
About one-and-a-half months into the semester, the school district bought me and my sister each a Braille Sense U2. Before that, I didn't know that Braille notetakers existed. I fell in love with the device as soon as I discovered what it was capable of doing. I used it to download mystery novels from Bookshare. I used it to go to many websites to practice the rules of grammar and syntax.
A few months with Miss Sarah had helped considerably with my English, but I missed out on many aspects of social interaction. Some teachers naturally spoke very fast, and after a while I became lost and confused. It was one thing to know daily English words, but the language of subjects such as history and biology was nothing more than a jumble of foreign sounds to my ears. Most of the time I didn't understand what I was supposed to do. It was painful to sit for hours without having any clues about all the laughter or discussions in the classroom. I am still proud of myself for managing never to fall asleep during lectures.
It took me extra time to get the simplest assignments done because first I had to translate them into my mother tongue. More than once while I studied late into the night, I couldn't help wondering what made my grandpa so certain he had led me down the right path by bringing me to this country. The language was foreign, the food was foreign, the culture was foreign, and the educational system was foreign. My heart ached whenever I found myself struggling over a question that I knew was a no-brainer, simply because I didn't comprehend its meaning.
However, I didn't complain out loud. I wanted understanding from my teachers, but I didn't want them to lower their expectations for me. I would not have a chance to improve if they excluded me from class activities. They had to let me know where I excelled and where I fell short.
Sometimes during lunch at school, some friendly students who were not afraid of my blindness or my cane would come to talk to me. Unfortunately, my lack of communication eventually drove them away. I wasn't sure if they understood that just because I was blind and was not proficient in the English language yet, I was not stupid. I had experiences to share and interesting stories to tell, if they only stayed long enough, if only they were patient. I needed time to process what they said, to manipulate the thoughts in my mind, and to think of the words I could use to form appropriate answers.
I also struggled with cultural differences that led to a lot of misunderstandings. In Vietnamese culture, a person who gives a compliment never expects a thank-you in return. A verbal expression of thanks is thought to reflect a lack of modesty on the part of the person who receives the compliment. I wonder what people must have thought of me when they saw me smile and blush, or when they heard me deny their compliment by saying that I did not deserve it. Furthermore, in Vietnam hugging is reserved for relatives. I wonder what people must have felt when they saw the discomfort in my face after someone gave me a goodbye hug. It took me a long time to get used to the American way of expressing feelings.
I am forever in debt to Miss Sarah, the teacher who long ago became my second mom. She's always believed in me more than I believed in myself. She saw the adventurous, curious person behind the shy, quiet girl I seemed to be on the outside. Her love and devotion encouraged me to keep pushing to get through the difficult times. She talked to me and got to know me. She spent hours taking me around the shopping mall to introduce me to American fashion. She explained to me why people use certain phrases or idioms. She convinced me to fly to San Francisco by myself to attend a chemistry camp, even though she ended up spending a sleepless night worrying about me.
Time flies, and it's been almost six years since I stepped out of the airport on that cold February day. Currently I am a sophomore at the University of Central Arkansas, pursuing a Bachelor of Science degree in nutrition. I have come to understand why millions of people dream of starting new lives in this country. I understand now why my grandpa brought my family here. I have discovered that I actually enjoy learning languages, and I have found out that I love challenges. Those months of confusion were simply a test of my diligence, creativity, and perseverance. With willpower and the right support, anything can be accomplished.
by Justin Salisbury
From the Editor: Justin Mark Hideaki Salisbury (Mi'kmaq-Nova Scotia) is a board member of the National Association of Blind Students. Recently he left a position in Honolulu to begin a new job as coordinator of educational programs at Associated Services for the Blind in Philadelphia.
Before I discuss indigenous North American identity and blindness, I will start by choosing some words. We sometimes hear that it is correct to use the term Native American to describe indigenous people. I often just say Indian, and I have learned to do so from other Indian people. I like the term Indian because it has fewer syllables. In this article I include all indigenous people from the landmass that is known to most of its present inhabitants as North America. To my people, the Mi'kmaq and Passamaquoddy, it is known as Turtle Island. There are some differences in traditions from one Indian nation to another, but I will attempt to address common themes.
In Indian circles we often are very comfortable having frank conversations about oppression, privilege, and Indian identity. These discussions have helped me talk about these issues very directly. Many of us who are blind may not be used to talking in these terms about blindness issues. I hope the readers of Future Reflections will be open to my perspective.
To discuss Indian identity, it is vital to start by explaining settler colonialism. Throughout history, settler colonialism has sought to replace the original population of a territory with a new society of settlers. Like all forms of colonialism, it is based on domination, typically organized or supported by an imperial authority. It involves replacing the customs and culture of the original people with those of the colonizing culture, which are believed to be innately superior. Once the culture of settler colonialism becomes established, members of the dominant group take it for granted. Settler cultures include those established by British, German, French, Spanish, Belgian, Chinese, Japanese, Dutch, Portuguese, and Danish colonists around the world.
Settler colonialism and the notion of manifest destiny have heavily influenced the popular concept of what it means to be an American. Americans are often taught that the desire for conquest is an innate human tendency, inherently disregarding the worldviews of indigenous peoples. To most indigenous people, life simply is not about conquest.
Traditional Indians want to be connected with the purpose behind the things we do. We seek a connection with the web of life we participate in and benefit from, a world that sometimes suffers from the things we do. We are often taught to look at the purpose behind things before we act. By tradition we are more reflective than settler groups. However, many of our traditions have been stripped away from our members. This loss of identity is something that many of us ponder.
Indians face a constant barrage of attempts to invalidate our identity. If the settlers can demonstrate that we do not exist anymore, they can release our claims and argue their full rights to the land. Just as the government attempts to determine who is blind and who is not through its definition of "legal blindness," the federal government "recognizes" Indian tribes or nations. Some nations, such as the Lumbee, are not federally recognized, so they are excluded from some benefits and programs.
I do not belong to a federally recognized US tribe because my people are from Canada. Belonging to Canada First Nations gives a person no status for benefits in the US. Both Indians and blind people are often asked to show a card that proves that we are Indian or that we are blind. Sometimes I feel the urge to ask to see the card that others carry to prove their race or visual acuity.
Nearly all Indians today are people of mixed ancestry, and this interracial background helps form our identity. In some places people regard me as Indian, in others as Latinx, and in others as White or as Ashkenazi Jewish. The truth is that I am all of these things. Many settlers try to invalidate a person's entire identity by saying, "Oh, we're all a mix of everything," as if belonging to multiple groups somehow eclipses indigenous people's social standing or challenges their claim to the land.
Indians have the highest suicide rate of any ethnic group in North America. A sense of belonging helps protect people from suicidal ideation. When we are separated from our people by blood quantum requirements, we are told that we do not belong. For blind Indians, the Federation can help provide that sense of belonging that we might otherwise lack.
The question of belonging is most painful when Indians ourselves attempt to shed our Indian identity, perhaps to escape the discrimination that comes with it. In my family I have often heard mixed-race Indians take conversations on deliberate tangents to declare their white identity. White people who feel secure in their identity don't need to make such claims. In the same vein, some blind people pretend to belong to the sighted majority. I have heard blind people with residual vision talk proudly about how much they can see, as though trying to validate their sighted identity. Sighted people don't need that validation.
Much of the invalidation of Indian identity comes from a practice known to us as paper genocide. Governments document us in ways that strip us of our identity. This practice involves blood quantum requirements that must be met for a person to be officially considered Indian. As we mixed with other groups, we quickly were recorded as everything but Indian. Often we are told, "You don't look Indian," much as blind people often hear, "You don't look blind."
Eradicating indigenous cultures is part of the erasure of identity that strengthens the settlers' claim to the land. Through forced assimilation, many of our people have lost our tribal languages. I know a little bit of the Mi'kmaq language but none of the Passamaquoddy language. For our communities, being able to speak the language is a major source of pride and value.
Our languages had no written form before writing was introduced by European missionaries. We have been discouraged from writing in our languages by those who want to eradicate them. Most Indian languages have no Braille code. Braille helps us access language, and language is culture. Thus Braille could help us access our culture more fully.
Many Indian young adults share a sense of shame and embarrassment about not knowing our traditions. Perhaps we don't know how some powwow regalia should look or how to perform a particular ritual. Often we are expected to learn by watching and following wordlessly. For blind people this form of teaching creates a familiar problem; we are at a disadvantage when actions are not communicated to us in ways that we can access nonvisually.
Similarly, blind people may feel shame and embarrassment if they have not mastered Braille, cane travel, and the other skills of blindness. My training at the Louisiana Center for the Blind helped me overcome that embarrassment. By learning to ask questions I have become a better consumer of cultural learning. My ongoing work in the blindness field calls on me to be a role model, and I must push myself beyond shame and embarrassment.
Indians and blind people are both subject to many stereotypes and misperceptions. The public has a vast misperception that all blind people receive money from the government simply because we are blind. There is a similar misperception that Indians all receive money for being Indian. Supposedly we receive a resource that we have done nothing to deserve, a resource that makes it easier for us to get ahead.
Blind people and Indians have both been the subjects of comic or stereotypic representation. The cartoon character Mister Magoo is depicted as a figure of fun when he makes bumbling errors due to his poor vision. Indians are often represented with Halloween or Mardi Gras costumes. We often point out, "My culture is not a costume."
Racial sports mascots reinforce the notion that Indian men are threatening. These stereotypes hurt our employability, especially in careers where being hostile and threatening is not particularly desirable. Racial stereotype may seem to fit us for work as a bouncer at a bar or a career in the military, but many Indian men gravitate toward careers such as counseling, teaching, and nursing. For Indian men who are blind, blindness- and race-related stereotypes may exclude us from a broad range of jobs.
While Indian men are stereotypically thought to be fierce and dangerous, Indian women have been seen as passive. Historically there has been a widespread attitude that male settlers could do whatever they wanted to an indigenous woman. Similarly, blind women are often expected to be passive recipients of whatever treatment they receive. Often these attitudes fly in the face of reality. Countless blind women have shown themselves to be capable, powerful, and self-directed. In many Indian traditions, families and communities have strong matriarchal structures. It is very natural for us to have a woman in charge. Non-Indians seem to grasp this concept less instinctively. American Indian women are excellent leaders and organizers. A group of Indian men will often struggle to make a decision without a woman's input.
How were people with disabilities regarded in traditional Indian societies? I have heard stories that we would abandon people with disabilities to die, but this may be settler propaganda. In the tribal village everyone had to do something useful to help the community. A person with a disability who could build canoes, stitch clothing, or brew medicinal teas could play a vital role.
As Indians we often face barriers accessing services we need, such as healthcare, government benefits, or vocational rehabilitation. We are often told, "Go get it from your tribe—don't take it from us." I even have been denied critical healthcare in the emergency room and told directly that it was because of my race. No civil rights organization seemed to care. I should not be forced to go to the Indian Health Services clinics, where I am not eligible anyway without membership in a federally recognized tribe!
In another scenario, I was denied vocational rehabilitation services with the claim that "American Indians aren't eligible for VR." I was told to pay for my own rehabilitation with my casino money. Some tribes have plenty of resources, including tribal VR programs, but most do not. I don't get casino money, and very few Indians actually do. The myth that all of us get a check for being Indian sometimes fuels jealousy and hostility in other ethnic groups.
Many of our treaties involved giving up our land and our livelihoods in exchange for education, healthcare, food, housing, and other benefits from the US government. These benefits would continue for seven generations, until our people could adapt to the new society. The US government has yet to deliver on most of those promises. Although in some cases the government partially delivered, those promises never really took effect.
The blind community deals with a similar phenomenon. As blind people we sometimes face jealousy from other disability groups over benefits we receive that are not available to them. Blind people get an extra standard deduction when we pay our income taxes. We have a higher substantial gainful activity threshold for Social Security benefits than people with other disabilities. This benefit is due in part to our need for out-of-pocket work-related expenses such as readers, drivers, and assistive technology. Some states have separate rehabilitation agencies for the blind, while other people with disabilities are handled by general rehab agencies. These advantages may kindle resentment in other people with disabilities who feel that blind people are given undeserved privileges.
The cultural rules within our Indian communities can make self-advocacy difficult. Some Indian cultures believe that a person should only speak when spoken to. This attitude requires someone else to initiate our advocacy. We have to break this rule in order to advocate for ourselves. Indian traditions often involve living in harmony with each other without imposing on other people's ways of life. However, the settler society has upended that value.
Traditional Indian cultures have a sense that nature provides exactly enough of something when we need to use it. The process of tanning skins is one example. The brains of animals are used in the tanning process, and there is exactly enough brain in an animal to tan its hide. When we are raised with this understanding of the world, we may find it hard to push for the things we need. If we are told that there is no funding for the services we need and no mechanism to provide those services, we might interpret this to mean that the Creator does not want services to happen for us. If something does not turn out the way we hoped it would, we may be receiving a message from the Creator. If we follow this pattern of thinking when we hit an accessibility barrier or run into overt discrimination, we may think that we are not meant to succeed. Such thinking can close many doors for a blind person. On the positive side of this thinking, however, we are taught to be resourceful, and we might conclude that the Creator gave us the National Federation of the Blind as a resource to help us when we encounter barriers.
Most Indians are very hesitant to trust residential schools. In our families we have heard stories of how residential schools were used to "kill the Indian and save the man." Indian children were sent far from their families and communities to schools where they experienced regular physical and sexual abuse, malnutrition, and a lack of access to healthcare. When Indian children spoke their tribal languages, even after hours, they were beaten and humiliated. In some instances, abuse survivors were forced to bury their classmates in mass graves near the residential school grounds.
Like Indian children, blind children have a long history of being sent to residential schools far from their homes. Since the shift to mainstreaming in the 1970s, many schools for the blind primarily now serve students whose districts are "unable" to educate them. Today most of the students at residential schools for the blind have multiple disabilities or come from urban and rural districts with very limited resources. A disproportionate number of Indian children grow up in districts that have insufficient resources to serve blind students. Residential schools for the blind could provide them with the kind of education they need. Indian families have learned not to trust residential schools, creating a major barrier for children who could benefit from attending residential schools for the blind.
In the National Federation of the Blind, we often talk about the impact of low expectations on the lives of blind people. Many of our Indian families are happy if their children survive to adulthood and stay out of prison. We have the highest incarceration rate of any race in the US and the highest rate of being killed by police officers. Alcoholism and substance abuse are big problems in Indian communities as a means of coping with intergenerational trauma. Substance abuse is also a problem for many people in the blind community, who deal with poverty and a low sense of self-worth.
I invite others to elaborate on what I have written and to further the discussion. I believe that both communities—blind and Indian—are looking for the same things. We want to live in harmony with our neighbors from the privileged majority groups. We want the opportunity to contribute. We want to operate without the confines created by stereotypes and misinformation. We do not want to be denied the things that we need or want because of implicit bias or overt discrimination. We want to make our dreams a reality by working together with love, hope, and determination.
by Ever Lee Hairston
From the Editor: Ever Lee Hairston is a powerful speaker and a dedicated leader in the National Federation of the Blind. In this article she reflects on the intersection between her experiences as a person who is black, female, and blind.
I grew up on Cooleemee Plantation in western North Carolina. My father and my paternal grandparents all lived and worked there. My father was seventh in a family of twelve children, and I'm the third child in a family of seven. All seven of us were born on the plantation.
My younger sister was born with a serious liver disease, and she was in and out of the hospital. Our parents worked very hard to pay her medical expenses, but she died when she was sixteen, during my first year of college.
For elementary and high school I was bused to segregated schools for black children, passing several whites-only schools along the way. We never got new textbooks. All of our books were hand-me-downs. I enjoyed school, and I was always on the honor role. In high school I was a cheerleader, and I was even a debutante!
For two weeks every fall, and again for two weeks in the spring, my siblings and I had to stay out of school to work in the fields. We chopped cotton in the spring and picked cotton in the fall. I dreaded that field work, and I hated every minute of it! I'll never forget the day we came across a bunch of snakes! I ran screaming out of the field and sat on top of a big bag of cotton. I thought, there has to be a better life for me out there somewhere! That's when I made up my mind that I would work and save money to go to college.
During high school I began to notice that I had trouble seeing at night. My older sister and my two younger sisters all had the same vision issues, but we never talked about it in the family. One night my grandfather asked me to drive the tractor. As I headed down the road toward the house, it seemed to me that it was darker than usual. I told my grandfather, "I can't drive! I can't see!" but he didn't believe me. "Drive the tractor!" he said. "It's time for us to go home." He finally took charge when I started weaving back and forth on the road and nearly landed us in the ditch. Even then I'm not sure he believed that I couldn't see at night.
Shortly after I graduated from high school, I read a notice in the paper. An agency was looking for young women to work as live-in maids in New York. I decided to go to New York and make enough money to attend nursing school at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina. My parents fully supported me, but when I left home my grandmother warned me, "Gal, someone's gonna hit you in the head, and you'll be back here!" What a sendoff!
When I got to New York I was one of the first girls chosen to work. Men came to the agency and chose the girl they wanted. I noticed that if you had light skin you were more likely to be chosen than if your skin was darker.
I went with the man who wanted to hire me, and he took me to his home to meet his wife and children. Then he drove me back to the agency so I could sign some papers and accept the job. On the trip back he told me, "On your days off, you will be with me. That will be on Thursdays and every other Sunday." All I could think of was what my grandmother had said to me! No, he wasn't threatening to knock me on the head, but I was being threatened in another way.
When we got back to the agency, I ran inside and hid in the bathroom. I stayed there, crying and terrified, until I heard an announcement over the public address system. It said, "All girls who have not been chosen, get on the bus! We're going out to Hempstead, Long Island."
They drove us out to another agency, and the next morning the selection process started again. This time it was different, though, because husbands and wives did the choosing together. Again I was one of the first girls chosen. I went to work for a very nice family named the Bronsteins. Their little girl had kidney disease, and I strongly connected with her because of my sister. Sadly, she passed away before the summer was over.
One evening I took the bus into Brooklyn to visit a relative, and I got home much later than I expected. When I arrived at the Bronsteins' house, I couldn't see the front sidewalk. I had to shuffle with my feet to find my way to the house. It turned out that Mrs. and Mr. Bronstein were watching me from the front stoop. When I reached them they had a lot of questions. "Have you been drinking?" "Are you okay?" "What's going on with you?" Finally I broke down and told them, "I can't see." That was the first time I admitted to anyone outside my family that I couldn't see at night.
At the end of the summer I told the Bronsteins I was going back to North Carolina to enroll in nursing school. They were such kind, generous people! They bought me a plane ticket to Raleigh-Durham, and I took my first ride on an airplane. But when I applied to nursing school I was disqualified because I failed the eye exam. I had to give up my dream of becoming a nurse.
After that crushing disappointment I had to make new plans. I moved in with my aunt and uncle in Durham and enrolled at North Carolina Central College. During my second year there, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., visited the campus and spoke to us about our civil rights. At that time Sears Roebuck refused to hire black people, and blacks couldn't eat at Woolworth's lunch counters downtown. We couldn't attend the local movie theater unless we went in the back entrance and sat in the balcony. Experiencing that discrimination in Durham, and remembering the segregated schools I attended growing up, I welcomed the opportunity to fight for my civil rights. When I listened to Dr. King I really wanted to be part of his movement!
On one of our first protests, we marched five miles from North Carolina Central to Sears Roebuck. We were more than two thousand strong! When we reached Sears Roebuck we all sat down, holding hands, singing, and praying. The police came and ordered us to move, but we refused. After a while they drove buses at us and stopped just short of running us over! They started grabbing us and literally throwing us on board. Then they hauled all of us off to jail. I went to jail with Dr. King.
The police packed us into the jail cells like sardines in a can. All through that night in jail, we kept on singing. Dr. Ralph Abernathy came and got Dr. King out during the night, and the rest of us were released the following morning.
Being in jail that night was frightening, but the worst part for me was the disapproval of my parents and my aunt and uncle. They were terrified that they would lose their jobs because of my activism. It took a lot of courage for me to demonstrate against their wishes, but I knew I was doing what was right.
I worked in New York every summer while I attended college. While I was in New York in the summer of 1963, I heard that buses were taking people from New York to Washington, DC, for a massive demonstration. I was in the crowd at the Lincoln Memorial when Dr. King gave his landmark "I Have a Dream" speech. That was truly a historic moment!
I was still having problems with my vision, of course. Back at college the exam for my biology course was given at night. The room wasn't well lit, and I couldn't read the exam questions. I couldn't see the page well enough to complete the exam. In tears I went to the professor and told her I was unable to see. She was completely unsympathetic. "I've heard a lot of excuses," she said, "but this one takes the cake." I failed the exam and failed the course. It was the only course I ever failed.
It was devastating to me whenever people refused to believe that I couldn't see. They always said I didn't "look blind," whatever that meant. They thought I was faking as an excuse to get out of things.
I graduated from college in February 1965 and moved in with my brother and his wife, who lived in Camden, New Jersey. I found a teaching position that would start in September. To bring in some extra money, I applied to work as a bank teller until the fall.
I walked into my interview full of confidence. I had a college degree, and I was up north, in New Jersey, far from the segregation of North Carolina. I was shocked when the banker told me, "I would love to hire you, but we haven't begun to hire blacks yet."
When I walked out of the bank, I felt overwhelmed. I had run into so many denials in my life—denials because of my eyesight and denials because of my race. I was crying as I walked down Broadway in Camden. A man passing by recognized me because he knew my family. He walked me home, and I told him my whole story. It was the first time I really talked to anyone about my struggles. Four years later we were married.
My future husband took me to an eye clinic in Philadelphia. The doctors told me I had retinitis pigmentosa (RP), and they said I would more than likely go blind. I couldn't face the truth, and I kept trying to fake my way through. I only taught for three-and-a-half years. In 1969 the principal found out I was going blind, and I was forced to resign.
I got married in 1969, and my son was born a year later. When he was a year old I received another blow. My husband left me for another woman and took off to Mexico. I was convinced that he left me because I couldn't see.
Still pretending that I had normal vision, I went to work for the city of Camden. I got a series of jobs; whenever the staff found out that I couldn't see, I would move on. Finally, in 1983, I took the Civil Service exam and got an entry-level job as a counselor with the New Jersey Department of Human Services. The department sent me to Rutgers University to take courses in counseling. I felt this was an excellent opportunity. You don't need eyesight to be a counselor. Maybe at last this was a job where I would be secure.
As I moved up the ladder and became a supervisor, some of my coworkers resented being supervised by a black woman who was going blind. That's the way they saw me. By that time, though, I had developed a tougher skin. If they didn't want to be supervised by a blind black woman, that was their problem, not mine! By that time I had learned about the National Federation of the Blind. I hoped that some day I would get more involved with the organization and get the help I needed.
In 1987 I attended my first NFB national convention where I met Joanne Wilson and learned about the Louisiana Center for the Blind (LCB). I attended the LCB in 1990, and for the first time I got instruction in Braille, access technology, and orientation and mobility. The only way I could go to the center and hold onto my job was by taking sick leave, and I was only allowed six months. Most people who attended the LCB took nine full months to complete the program. Joanne told me not to worry. "If you work really hard," she said, "you'll be able to finish the program in the six months you have." She was right.
When I returned to work in April 1991, I was promoted to director. The skills I mastered at the Louisiana Center for the Blind made all the difference! The job was great! There was still one Caucasian gentleman who refused to take orders from me, but I was getting tough. I wrote him up, and he ended up leaving the job.
When I went to the Louisiana Center I became a part of the National Federation of the Blind. I started a chapter in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, where I lived. When we began we only had three members, and we met around my kitchen table. Today Cherry Hill is one of the largest chapters in the New Jersey affiliate.
I was president of the state's southern chapter, and Joe Ruffalo was president of the chapter in the north. I kept my position as chapter president until I retired in 2005. I also became first vice president of the New Jersey affiliate, and I worked very closely with Joe. We did some great work in New Jersey.
With a Braille teacher named Agnes Allen, I founded a program called LEAD. LEAD stood for Leadership, Education, Advocacy, and Determination. Agnes and I coordinated the program, which aimed to teach travel and other skills to blind teens. We taught the teens to take trains and subways, and we taught them to advocate for themselves. Looking back, I think I became so involved because of my experience with Dr. King. I wanted to help others grow as Dr. King helped me. I wanted to help these blind teens learn to fight for their rights.
The NFB became a very important part of my life. From the time I got involved, I went to every convention. I wanted to see more black officers and board members around the country. Yet when I had the opportunity to become president of the New Jersey affiliate, I worried that, because of my race, I wouldn't get the support Joe Ruffalo had. I decided not to take the position. I don't know that I've ever admitted that to anyone before.
In 2000 I was invited to address the national convention. Shortly before that I was interviewed on the TV program 60 Minutes. A book had just been published about my family, and 60 Minutes aired a segment about us.
When I told my story at the 2000 NFB convention, doors opened up for me. I was asked to serve on the NFB National Scholarship Committee, and at the time I was the only black woman on the committee. Later, when I was elected to the NFB board of directors, I was the only black female on the board. I felt I was working to make change. If I could serve as a member of the scholarship committee and the board, I would open the way for others to follow. I see it happening now, with a number of African Americans holding positions on the scholarship committee and on the board and serving as affiliate presidents.
When I got involved in the civil rights movement of the 1960s, I was fighting for the rights of African Americans. But later, when I became involved in the organized blind movement, I felt I was fighting for my rights as an African American, as a female, and as a blind person. "Black, Blind, and Female" was the title of my speech at the 2000 convention. In both movements we have to have the courage to do what we feel is right, and in both we have to have the skills we need in order to compete. When delegations from the NFB go to Washington Seminar, we have to be confident and sell our message.
Sometimes I hear people say that there need to be more black leaders. Sometimes people say there need to be more blind people in leadership positions, too. But saying we need more leaders isn't enough. First we need to have the education and the skills, and then we have to fight for what we believe in. We experience discrimination; that's reality. Discrimination means we have to fight a little harder, but I'm never going to stop. If I can be a role model for others, then that's my mission.
Editor’s Note: You can learn more about Ever Lee Hairston by reading her memoir, Blind Ambition: One Woman's Journey to Greatness Despite Her Blindness (Brown Girls Publishing, 2015, ISBN 9781625179159, available in paperback and as electronic download at bookshare.org.) The Hairstons: An American Family in Black and White, by Henry Wiencek (ISBN 9780312253936), is available in paperback and as DB50321 from NLS BARD.
by Karin Norington-Reaves
From the Editor: Karin Norington-Reaves is CEO of the Chicago Workforce Partnership, the workforce development administrative agency for the city of Chicago and the surrounding suburbs of Cook County. She is also on the city's steering committee for the 2020 census, and she serves on the board of the Chicago Lighthouse for the Blind. Her daughter, Rachelle, has participated in the Chicago BELL Academy every summer since 2017.
I am a single mom raising my fifteen-year-old biological son, Alex, and my seven-year-old daughter, Rachelle, whom I adopted from Haiti. I am African American, but my son and I are much lighter-skinned than Rachelle, so we get a lot of stares when we're out in public. We also attract attention because Rachelle is blind due to bilateral anophthalmia, which means that she was born without eyes. We are definitely what the adoption community calls "a conspicuous family."
I first met Rachelle when she was a year old. In the summer of 2013 I went to Haiti with a close friend who was adopting a little boy from an orphanage. My friend had to spend a lot of time at the embassy being interviewed and completing paperwork. I couldn't go with her because security was very tight, so I spent most of my time at the orphanage playing with the children. I noticed Rachelle lying in a crib, and I remember commenting that she was always asleep. She was completely bald; her head had been shaved during a ringworm outbreak.
I went over to Rachelle's crib and stroked her head. She grabbed my wrist and wouldn't let me go. Her hand explored up and down my arm and along each of my fingers, and she forced me to give her affection.
When I thought Rachelle had gone back to sleep I tried to slip away, but she flipped over and reached for me again. I picked her up, and she snuggled in my arms.
At that point one of the child-care workers, or nannies, came over and said to me, "You know, she's blind." I said, "So?" Blindness didn't seem like a big deal to me. My stepfather was blind. He was a third-degree black belt in karate, and he taught sign language to deaf children.
During that week in Haiti I fell in love with Rachelle. The nannies let me take care of her whenever I was at the orphanage. I fed her and bathed her and played with her.
On my last morning in Haiti I kissed Rachelle good-bye. I prayed that she would be given a good family and that she would grow up to be a strong, independent woman.
As I turned away in tears, I overheard one of the nannies say in Creole, "She'll be back for that one someday. You watch!"
"I understood you," I said, and she said, "I know."
Before I left for Haiti with my friend, my son asked me, "When are we going to adopt someone, Mom?" He was eight years old at the time. I pointed out that I'm a single mother, and I didn't think adoption was going to happen for us. "Besides," I said, "I don't know that you'd want to share your mom with someone else." But he argued, "I'd be a terrific big brother!"
When I got home from Haiti, my son looked at my pictures of the kids in the orphanage. He commented that his older brother and sister have been there for him sometimes, and he said, "I'd like to be there for someone else."
Two months later my friend sent me a list of special-needs children in need of a forever family, and I found Rachelle's initials on the list. My friend called and said, "I think that's Rachelle. You should investigate!"
"Listen," I said, "I have a very demanding job, and I'm a single parent. There's no way I can adopt a child, especially a kid with special needs."
My friend said, "You pray for her every day. You talk about her all the time."
Finally I decided to investigate. I got hold of a social worker, and the moment I mentioned Rachelle's name, she put down the phone and ran through the office, shouting that someone was interested in adopting Rachelle.
They gave me a couple of months to think about it because I still had some concerns. One of my worries was money. One day my friend asked me to meet her in a church parking lot. She handed me a check to help me start the adoption process.
In order to adopt Rachelle I had to go through a lot of extra steps. I had to write a letter to the Haitian government, promising that I could give Rachelle everything a blind child would need in order to succeed. Even though I started the adoption process in the fall of 2013, Rachelle and I were not formally matched until April 2015. I didn't see her again until July 2015, and it was another full year before I finally brought her home. That was fast compared to a lot of international adoptions; sometimes it can take as long as seven years before a child comes home!
When Rachelle finally came home she was almost five years old. I took off eight weeks from work to help her get acclimated. She could barely walk, and she had never had a cane in her hand. She hardly spoke Creole, and of course she knew no English. She had developed the habit of sucking her thumb to comfort herself, and her teeth were badly skewed as a result. She had intestinal parasites and a host of other health problems, including juvenile arthritis. We made five visits to the emergency room in a period of six months.
In order to communicate with Rachelle, Alex and I learned some Creole before she arrived. At first she would say single words in Creole, such as milk and bed, but she learned English quickly. After four weeks with us she was able to participate in her first evaluation. She could answer some of the questions verbally, and through her behavior she responded to others. For instance, when the evaluator handed her a brush, she put it up to her head. She knew what things were, even though she didn't have the words for them yet.
Unfortunately, one technique that helped Rachelle gain attention at the orphanage was biting. When she first came home she would bite whenever she wanted attention. She'd bite me, and she'd bite Alex. She bit Alex all the time. As soon as I left the room she'd lean over and bite him. She wanted me to come back. She'd bite her brother, he'd scream, and I'd come running—it was a very effective strategy for getting what she wanted!
Not long ago Alex told me, "When I first met Rachelle, I didn't love her. But I love her now." One way my kids bonded was by sitting together in the back seat on car rides. Rachelle hated riding in cars! She would scream and rock and cry whenever we had to drive somewhere. Alex would sit with her to keep her company and comfort her. It really helped. Now they're very close. I tell people, "I knew he'd be a good big brother, but I didn't realize he'd be a great one!"
Alex loves teaching things to Rachelle, even things I might not like. He taught her to climb the ladder to the top bunk in his room before I thought she was ready to do that. He also taught her to open the car door and walk by herself to the house.
After she’d been with us for six weeks, I enrolled Rachelle in the preschool run by the Chicago Lighthouse for the Blind. I shadowed her for her first two weeks in the program, stepping back more and more so she could be with the teachers and the other children. The preschool is for children from low-income families. It's an inclusive program, so a number of the children have disabilities. Rachelle was the first totally blind child who had ever been enrolled in the preschool.
Now Rachelle attends Otis Elementary School, a Chicago public school that has a program for blind and low-vision students. She is mainstreamed most of the day, and she is pulled out for things such as Braille and orientation and mobility [O&M]. Actually she has more push in than pull out this year; the teacher of blind students works with her while she's in the regular classroom.
Before Rachelle started kindergarten, the school district set as a goal that she would learn ten Braille letters by the end of the school year. Fortunately she had an excellent Braille teacher, and in October they adjusted her goals. The new goal was that she would learn ten Braille letters by January. By March she had mastered the whole alphabet! She was reading contracted Braille and learning Nemeth Code by June. Academically, she was on track with her typical kindergarten classmates. Now, in first grade, her reading fluency is above grade level.
Relating to peers is still a challenge for Rachelle. She's funny and inquisitive, and she engages very well with adults, but she's still learning to play with other children. When we're at the park, children seldom invite her to play with them, and that breaks my heart.
One of the social challenges for Rachelle is her need to learn boundaries. At the orphanage many staff members took care of her throughout the day. Visitors would come in and play with her the way I did when I met her in 2013. Now Rachelle needs to learn boundaries; you don't hug and kiss everyone who walks into the classroom. Her mom and her brother and her grandmother are her family, and she must not expect to have the same kind of attention and love from everyone she meets. She still grabs people to direct them to what she wants, much as she grabbed my wrist when she was in her crib at the orphanage.
O&M started for Rachelle when she was in preschool. I have a video of her getting her first cane. She knew just what to do with it! She picked it up and explored it from end to end. Then she started trailing the wall, even before she had had any instruction! Now she uses the cane everywhere she goes. It's with her all day at school, and she uses it whenever we go out.
I have a very demanding job, and I'm blessed to have found a wonderful caregiver who fills in when I have to be away overnight. Danielle is a special education teacher, and she has been part of our family ever since Rachelle came to us.
A lot of adoption literature focuses on families that adopt children from a different racial or ethnic background. I think that literature is very relevant to families who adopt children with disabilities. As a parent you have to think carefully about how you will react to people's comments and behavior. The way parents choose to react telegraphs a message to their kids. If you as a parent get super defensive, your reaction may convey to your children that there is something wrong with them. If you're hostile, are you encouraging them to be hostile, too?
Adoption classes encourage parents to think about what their responses will be; but truthfully, nothing can prepare you for some of the experiences you will have. For instance, I think of my friend, who is white, who adopted her son from the orphanage in Haiti. One day they were grocery shopping, and the young man at the register said to her, "Which aisle did you find this one in? I need to get one, too. Are they on sale?" I suppose he thought he was being funny, but the comment was insulting!
People stare at Rachelle when we're out in public. Sometimes Alex steps in front of her to block their view. I'm very aware of the difference between curiosity and judgment. When kids are curious I will say to them, "Do you have a question?" They'll say, "What's wrong with her eyes?" I tell them, "She doesn't have eyes. That's the way God made her. But she can run and jump and play and talk. She can do everything you can do. Would you like to know her name?" I've also seen kids who are just being jerks, and I'll say, "Stop staring at her! That's rude!" I don't engage with them; they're not the children I want her to play with.
I've seen adults who are rude too. One day when we were out Christmas shopping, a young woman walked up to us and asked, "Is she blind?" When I said yes, she said, "Awww!" I've had people burst into prayer. One woman kept hollering, "It's a baby who's blind! It's a baby!" Rachelle doesn't react when people say strange things to her or about her, but I know she notices. She is very aware of people, and she remembers everything.
Before Rachelle came home I met with an ophthalmologist at the Illinois Eye Institute. I wondered whether I should have Rachelle fitted for prosthetic eyes. The doctor looked at me and said, "That would be for you, not for her. She is who she is. She's accustomed to being in her body. Prosthetics won't do anything for her."
When Rachelle came to us she had to deal with so many issues that I didn't want to add the process of fitting her for prosthetics on top of everything else. Whenever she wants to get prosthetics, when it comes from her, I'll be totally on board. Probably it will become important to her when she reaches adolescence.
Sooner than later Rachelle will be a teenager, with a whole new set of issues around self-identity and self-awareness. She'll be dealing with all the regular teenage stuff—the pull and the push, I love you, I hate you, leave me alone. She'll be realizing that she's adopted, that I'm not her birth mother, that she doesn't know anything about her birth family and where she came from. On top of that, she'll be grappling with the reality that she can't drive a car because she's blind. I will get the triple whammy of teenage angst! I'll be done for! I just hope I'll be remarried by then so I'll have a partner to help me get through!
In the meantime, we have plenty of things to enjoy, and a lot to look forward to. Rachelle is very musical. She has perfect pitch. She loves singing, guitar, and piano. She plays beep baseball at school and at the park district. She's starting to do track and field for Special Olympics.
Rachelle loved BELL Academy from the beginning, and she can't wait to take part again this summer. One of the BELL volunteers, Chaquita, has been a real mentor to her, and they keep in touch throughout the year. We have a great photo of Rachelle and her friend Charlie giving each other high fives when they got words right. It's the cutest thing ever!
Even though my stepfather was blind and very accomplished, a lot of people in my family were terribly opposed when I announced that I was adopting Rachelle. Two of my aunts were especially hung up on her blindness. Rachelle has shot down every stereotype anyone carries. She's every bit the blessing to us that we are to her. I'm proud of her, and I'm proud to be her mother. I'm proud that she chose me!
by Ahbee Orton
From the Editor: Ahbee Orton is enrolled at Blue Mountain College in Mississippi, where she is pursuing a degree in business administration with a concentration in management. In her spare time she likes to sing and play the piano.
"Wow! It's hard to believe, but I am enjoying this beautiful weather and a feeling of calm as I sip my Starbucks green tea in New York City!" These thoughts ran through my mind while I explored the Big Apple last September on my graduation assignment from the Louisiana Center for the Blind (LCB). From a spot outside the Empire State Building, I took in the bright sunlight, the crowds, and the multiple languages. I was at peace, happily surprised to realize that I could travel alone and have fun.
It is amazing what can happen within only nine months, the length of time I attended the LCB. This trip was the culmination of all my hard work, sweat, and tears in training to become an independent adult. Let me go back to my roots so that you may better understand who I am and why I came to training. I want you to understand the context of my experience in New York City using my newfound skills and confidence and to know something about my future endeavors.
I had a traumatic beginning. I lived with my birth family for my first two years, until I was abandoned at the Triangle Market in Meizhou, China. I was found by the police, who put my picture in the paper in the hope of locating my family. When no trace of my birth parents was found, I was placed in an orphanage where I lived for two more years. I was adopted at the age of four by a loving Christian family.
My parents say that they saw my picture and instantly knew I was the perfect child for them. They were aware of my poor vision, but they did not discover the extent of my blindness until we began to interact. They noticed that I would color with my eyes closed, and I would stick my foot out when I walked. I was timid, and I would cry to be carried everywhere. Yet I could be adventurous, running down a hotel hallway once I was acclimated to my surroundings.
My parents carried me a lot at first, but once they gave me a toy stroller, I pushed it ahead of me and went all over the place on my own. Later a cane gave me even more freedom.
Once we reached the United States, many visits with eye specialists resulted in a diagnosis of Leber congenital amaurosis (LCA). I also have nystagmus, or uncontrollable movements of the eyes. Although I am blind, my parents encouraged my independence. They wanted me to learn as much as anyone else my age.
I lived in Texas for seven years with my parents and my two younger sisters, their biological children. I enjoyed a fairly positive childhood. I entered pre-kindergarten from just before Thanksgiving of 2004 until the summer. Then I attended kindergarten for two years. After my first year of kindergarten, my classroom teacher said I had learned everything I needed for that year. However, my teacher of blind students knew it would be good for me to attend kindergarten one more year in order to increase my Braille and English language skills.
After kindergarten I entered first grade reading at grade level, and my mom saw a tremendous improvement in my speech. I went on to participate in a class for gifted and talented children for several years. Through the class I gained great knowledge of many subjects, and I researched and gave presentations on several topics. I got pulled out of class with several other kids for a couple of hours each week to learn and study together. I also participated in and won the Braille Challenge and the Braille Readers Are Leaders competitions multiple years. I even won trips to the National Federation of the Blind national conventions several years in a row after I won prizes in the Braille Readers Are Leaders competition. These competitions truly strengthened my Braille knowledge and skill level. In addition, I worked diligently competing in spelling bees in third and fourth grades, and I managed to place second in the district spelling bee in fourth grade against an eighth grader.
My family moved to China when I was eleven. My parents volunteered as English teachers at a newly formed college in rural Guizhou province. When we returned to the United States we moved to Florence, Alabama, where I finished grade school. I continued to compete in spelling bees in seventh and eighth grades, and I also joined the school band. I played the flute in the band, and I played it in concert band during my high school years. I played the piano keyboard during marching seasons in high school, too.
Along with these activities, I took several pre-AP and AP (Advanced Placement) courses. Taking these courses made those years very tough, since we had to fight and advocate for my equal access to materials and services.
Despite our advocacy for services, I still ended up with an O&M instructor who was not allowed to take me away from the school grounds for lessons. I also received inadequate instruction with the screen reader JAWS. Devoted to my studies, I did not get out much. I fell into the habit of taking people's arms whenever I went anywhere. As a result I decided to pursue training in blindness skills before I started college. I did some research and chose to attend training in the adult program at the Louisiana Center for the Blind.
I was fortunate to have parents who advocated for me and a community of blind people in the National Federation of the Blind who cheered me on. Yet I was in need of skills and confidence to help me achieve my dreams. I had some skills, but I did not realize they were mediocre until I met the instructors at the LCB. The instructors floored me with their vast knowledge, abilities, and confidence. I knew then and there that I had a lot of learning to do, and I needed to be there for sure!
I made my greatest strides in travel class. When I neared the end of my training, my travel instructor, Marco, asked me where I wanted to go. I had been pondering this requirement for a long time, and I set my mind to conquering the streets of New York City. For many years I'd had the idea that one day I'd like to set foot in New York City and experience the bustling crowds and tourist attractions. When I was about to enter fifth grade, I planned to go on the trip to New York City and sing at Carnegie Hall with my honors choir. I did not get to fulfill this ambition back then because I left for China with my family.
I had been so excited and ready for that marvelous trip years ago. Who knew I would achieve this goal, all by myself!
I booked my round-trip Greyhound bus ticket and made my hotel and flight reservations independently. I took the Greyhound from Ruston, Louisiana, to Dallas, taking a cab to my hotel and gracefully declining any unnecessary assistance along the way. Then I got settled in my room and ordered some food to be delivered from a Chinese restaurant. It was my Gotcha Day, September 12, my family's celebration of my adoption. Why not celebrate in my own way with some delicious delivery and plenty of rest.
The following day, I chilled, ate breakfast at the buffet, did more research on my trip, got signed up for Lyft, reserved a shuttle time, and ate my leftover Chinese food. I headed to catch my flight and went through the airport without the help of an airport assistant. I did, however, continually tell people I got it and just needed directions to the gate, etc.
Once I located my gate, I went to a Mexican restaurant for supper. My vegetarian enchiladas came out quickly and tasted better than I had expected. Then I discovered someone had been very kind and paid for my food. I did not quite like this, because I did not want people to pay for me just because I am blind. But also I encourage others to be kind to everyone. Oh, well.
I made the flight, boarded without assistance, and found my seat. I reached New York very late, and I chose to take a cab to the hotel. I made it to my room in the hotel after midnight.
Saturday was a big day. I woke up, got breakfast, and asked for directions to the address Marco had given me, 350 Fifth Avenue, the Empire State Building. It was only a short walk from the hotel, and it was easy to find after some exploring. Then I went into the Starbucks located inside the building and got myself a green tea. I walked outside and asked a pedestrian to take a picture or two of me in front of this main entrance, to document this remarkable moment. I sipped my hot, medium-sized green tea while I enjoyed the warm temperature, the constant flow of foot traffic, and the multilingual conversations.
I ventured to the subway and took it to Chinatown, where I spent the bulk of my day. I ate a vegetable and noodle soup at a Thai restaurant in this area and walked around the place. I explored the streets by walking into the shops and asking for the things they sold. I found a candy shop and bought jelly candies, white rabbit candies, and some seaweed. I also bought a dragon replica from a shop before lunch and found a bakery where I purchased four moon cakes in the late afternoon.
While I strolled the streets and enjoyed the shops, I also spent some time in a gift shop. I bought five magnets for souvenirs, and one more was given to me. I briefly strolled around in Columbus Park, where I sat and listened to some street performers who were playing Chinese instruments and singing Chinese music. This park is a popular, scenic area where Chinese people hang out.
I took the subway back to a street that was walking distance from my hotel. Then I walked back to the hotel. As I returned I discovered a convenience store and bought a couple of items. I finally returned to my room. I was exhausted and glad to be alone, since on the crowded streets people were so eager to help me.
New York was definitely a good test of my ability to stay calm with the number of people who asked to help me. It was a great improvement from the beginning of training. I used to let others help me when I was not supposed to because I was fearful. On those New York streets I was at ease with myself, and I did not need assistance.
The following day I took the subway to Central Park and experienced a pedicab tour. The guide was kind enough to take my picture at many scenic places, such as the Walking Mall, the Bethesda Fountain, the Tunnel, and Bow Bridge. After the tour I headed to an indoor mall in Columbus Circle in search of Whole Foods and their delicious soup. After finding the store, I made a last-minute decision to go instead to a Vietnamese restaurant I found on the internet. Next, I chose to walk around the area, and I found several businesses. I discovered a street with live performers and sat to enjoy the music. A lady was singing with a small band accompanying her. Kids were playing, and senior citizens were watching the families have fun.
Then I took a train back to midtown and explored even more. This time I discovered a Forever 21 store. I was surprised at the sheer variety of products the store was selling. I walked a few blocks over and to my left and found a restaurant where I ordered vegetable soup. I ended my adventures with a banana, strawberry, and berry smoothie. Yum! The whole day was wondrous!
This trip definitely tested my patience, but it showed me that I had gained confidence and abilities through my training. I discovered that my travel skills worked well in unfamiliar areas, even alone in a big city. I found that I could advocate for myself. I felt liberated, relaxed, and at peace with myself. This trip taught me that I had grown tremendously over the past nine months of intensive training.
With the training I have received and the knowledge and confidence I have gained, I can do whatever I pursue. I have several goals for myself. I will attend college in January to major in education or business. I want to get married and raise a family of my own one day. I would like to travel to foreign lands and help others in need. I am working on an autobiography. I hope to live a fulfilled life with family, a good job, and lots of laughter.
In closing, I give thanks to all the staff at the Louisiana Center for the Blind. I am grateful to my instructors, my fellow students, and my family and friends who pushed me through the difficult and easy times and who believed in me on days when I did not believe in myself.
by Conchita Hernandez Legorreta
From the Editor: Conchita Hernandez Legorreta is a doctoral candidate in special education at George Washington University. She serves as statewide specialist in blind and low-vision services for the state of Maryland, and she chairs METAS, the organization she helped to found.
When I think of the single most important thing that has made a difference in my life, I would definitively say that it was encountering the National Federation of the Blind. I first learned about the NFB during my last year as an undergraduate in 2008. A blind college professor convinced me, much against my will, to attend the NFB national convention. At the convention I realized that I could do much more than I ever had imagined. I was excited by the possibilities and utterly angry that I had been kept from this information all of my life.
At the convention I learned how a small group of determined blind people started the NFB more than seventy years ago because they were not happy with their situation in society. Little did I know at the time that they would become my example to follow.
I was born in Mexico, and I moved to the United States with my family when I was five years old. My parents saw the difference that living in the United States made for children with disabilities. However, my family was undocumented, which meant that I could not access many services.
Although I received mediocre IEP services, my education was better than what I could have gotten in Mexico. I consider myself extremely fortunate to have found the NFB and obtained the tools I needed to live a full life. However, it does not sit right with me that other blind and low-vision individuals do not have the same opportunities. I have gone back to Mexico frequently, and the situation there in terms of disability is very different. In Mexico, 60 percent of people with disabilities are illiterate, and they have few economic and educational opportunities.
One day as I sat at home planning the next DC NFB BELL Academy, my good friend Garrick Scott called me. Garrick has worked with youth with disabilities in various programs and projects. At the time he was president of the Georgia affiliate of the NFB.
Garrick explained that he had been asked by some traveling nurses if he could visit a school for the blind in Mexico. The nurses wanted the blind students to meet positive blind role models. Garrick thought it would be a good idea for me to go along, since I come from Mexico and speak Spanish. I convinced Garrick that we would not take a simple field trip to the school. Instead, we would plan a curriculum and a series of workshops for the students. Most importantly we would teach them a positive philosophy about blindness.
Soon after Garrick and I started planning our trip, Sachin Pavithran and Richie Flores joined forces with us. Sachin works on state and national policy in Utah. We used his expertise to set up meetings in Mexico with local government leaders. Richie has a master's degree in rehabilitation and works at UC/Berkeley, guiding students with disabilities. He is also involved with sports, so we started planning sports activities and gathering sports equipment to take to the students. What began as a small trip to show Mexican blind students a good role model soon turned into a full endeavor with a curriculum, supplies, and a team of top professionals.
As people learned of our upcoming trip, we started getting donations of canes, Braille paper, and money. Our team realized this trip could not be an isolated event. We had to plan a sustainable program. We started having conversations with people in Mexico to get their input and guidance. METAS (Mentoring, Engaging, and Teaching all Students) was born out of this idea. Taking inspiration from the original twelve founders of the NFB, we also decided to change the reality for blind people. We officially became a nonprofit in 2016 and started letting people know we were on a mission to bring a little bit of the NFB to blind people in Mexico.
The amount of support we received was beyond anything we had hoped for! Individual blind people were our biggest supporters, giving us money and supplies. They felt, as we did, that we were the lucky blind people, truly living out the motto "Live the life you want." Now it was our turn to give back. The National Federation of the Blind of Texas quickly became one of our biggest supporters, donating canes for all of the students at the school. The NFB of Utah also strongly supported our work. People reached out to us from across the country to ask how they could help, and help they did!
Finally we arrived at the school in Guadalajara and started our workshops. All of our practice at NFB BELL Academies®, Youth Slams, student seminars, and state and national conventions paid off. This is what we had been training for! We worked with students and teachers from 8 a.m. until 3 p.m. for a full week. For many of the students it was the first time they ever had a cane in their hand. We played a game in which students took turns hitting a piñata while the other students practiced correct cane grip and motion.
One of the students we met was a five-year-old girl named Perla. She would walk around the school without a cane, but she loved to follow our every move. When we put a noise-making ball into her hands for the first time, she jumped with joy. She was enthralled with a ball that could make sounds. As we continued to visit the school over the years, we saw Perla grow up. We watched her become a confident young woman, holding a cane and walking with purpose.
During our first visit to the school, Richie and Sachin took two students on a mission to buy cake for our celebration. The students had never traveled independently before, and they certainly had not traveled accompanied by any blind adults. Not only were they excited about going to pick up the cake, but they were happy to be using their canes and navigating the streets with two blind role models.
Since that first visit to Mexico, we have taken three more trips to the school for the blind in Guadalajara. We also have found ways to work in the United States.
One of the conversations we started to have through METAS concerned the lack of training for Spanish-speaking families in the United States, especially those that might be undocumented. Unless someone has a green card, they are ineligible to receive rehabilitation services, denying them access to blindness-skills training. We reached out to the NFB of Texas and pitched them the idea of hosting a weekend workshop called Cambiando Vidas (Changing Lives) for Spanish-speaking individuals and their families. We wanted to open up the workshop to any blind or low-vision Spanish speaker, regardless of immigration status. We realized it would be important to include families. We wanted families to learn about our positive philosophy and to be engaged in learning.
Norma Crosby, the president of the NFB of Texas, loved our idea. We decided to host the workshop in McAllen, Texas. McAllen is a border town that is surrounded by border patrol. This means that if someone living in McAllen is undocumented, they cannot travel anywhere. They are prisoners in their own city.
When we opened up registration to the workshop, we decided our limit would be ten blind people and their families. By the time I went online to check how many people had registered, I discovered that we had seventeen blind people and their families, and we had to close registration. It was abundantly clear to us that this workshop was a needed service that no one else was providing.
During the Cambiando Vidas workshop, we held several classes. In the home management class Irma Pyka focused on organizational skills and cooking Latin food. Ana Marquez and Gabe Cazares taught Braille. Raúl Gallegos and Rolando Hernandez taught technology and the use of NFB-NEWSLINE®. Daniel Martinez taught orientation and mobility. Garrick Scott and I focused on working with families. All of us worked together to make the workshop a success!
Many of the participants in this initial workshop are still highly involved in the NFB of Texas. They have attended national convention and Washington Seminar. The NFB of Texas continues to host the Cambiando Vidas workshops, and it has conducted some workshops across the border in Mexico. We are very excited that this endeavor has continued, and we hope more affiliates will partner with us to bring this resource to their respective states.
In 2018 I had the great honor of winning one of the Holman prizes, enabling me to host a conference in Mexico. The Holman Prizes are given each year to blind people from around the world who have designed projects to help change what it means to be blind. METAS used the prize money to host our first national conference in Mexico. We hosted a three-day conference with workshops for blind people, parents, and professionals. The conference was free of charge, and we provided breakfast, lunch, and childcare to all participants. We had an amazing team that made the conference a huge success with more than three hundred participants from Mexico and Colombia.
Garrick Scott and Sachin Pavithran coordinated our logistics. Richie Flores coordinated sports activities and seminars. Daniel Martinez and Janna Stein provided information on teaching resources. Irma Pyka held workshops on independent living. Yadiel Sotomayor and Enrique Mejía gave orientation and mobility seminars and trainings. Norma Crosby, Glenn Crosby, and Debbie Stein led discussions on blindness philosophy. Carlos Serván gave information on what good rehabilitation can look like. Teresa Romeo and Jackeline Saba provided a parent perspective. Among our Mexican presenters was Hector Figueroa, who is a blind politician and charro (a type of Mexican cowboy).
Throughout the conference we urged participants to learn to advocate for themselves and their children, and we guided them toward the creation of an advocacy organization. They elected officers and have started doing work in Mexico. We encouraged parents to set higher expectations for their blind children, and we helped organize them to demand that schools do a better job of educating blind students. We are still in contact with many of the participants, and we continue to guide them forward.
METAS plans to continue holding programs and projects in Mexico and the United States. To quote a child I once worked with during the NFB BELL Academy, "I learned that being blind is a superpower!" I could not agree more. Our collective action is making a difference all over the world. It really does just take a small group of people to create a movement.
by Carlton Anne Cook Walker
From the Editor: Almost overnight the COVID-19 pandemic has upended life as we knew it. The closure of schools across the United States left teachers and parents scrambling to devise effective ways for students to continue learning at home. Parents, teachers, and advocates raised concerns that the rights of students with disabilities might be swept aside during the crisis. In this article Carlton Anne Cook Walker, president of the National Organization of Parents of Blind Children (NOPBC), reviews a series of directives issued by the US Department of Education regarding students with disabilities. She also explains what the National Federation of the Blind has done to ensure that the rights of blind students and other students with disabilities are not eroded during the COVID-19 crisis.
When the COVID-19 pandemic gripped our nation in March, businesses and institutions across the country were ordered or strongly encouraged to close their doors. The closure orders have had a significant impact on the public schools. Between March 16 and March 24, schools in all fifty states, the District of Columbia, and all five US territories (American Samoa, Guam, Puerto Rico, Northern Marianas, and US Virgin Islands) were under state orders or recommendations to shut down. While this time period encompassed the scheduled spring break for some schools, most had ten to thirteen weeks of the school year remaining when the shutdown orders were issued.
On March 12, 2020, even before state-ordered school closures took effect, the US Department of Education (USDOE) published guidelines specific to COVID-19-related school closures regarding the provision of special education services and FAPE (free appropriate public education) to students with disabilities. The March 12 document indicated that schools had no duty to provide education services to students with disabilities unless the school provided "educational opportunities" to students in regular education. In those cases, the USDOE recognized that schools must provide "equal access" to those educational opportunities and must provide FAPE to students with disabilities.
Ongoing controversy surrounds the USDOE position that schools only have duties to students with disabilities when they provide educational opportunities to nondisabled students. This position has been the guidance of the USDOE in the Trump administration since at least September 2017. However, earlier guidance from the USDOE did not indicate that schools could avoid their responsibilities to students with disabilities by withholding educational opportunities from all students. The current guidance was not mentioned in 2014 (regarding educational services to students with disabilities during school closures related to the Ebola pandemic) or in 2012 (with regard to areas ravaged by Hurricane Sandy), both occurring under the Obama administration.
By advising school officials that they could avoid their legal obligations to students with disabilities, USDOE opened a Pandora's box. As schools began to close their doors, many school officials declared that they would not offer any instruction to any students, and they blamed students with disabilities for this decision. These school officials opined that it was too difficult to provide services to students with disabilities via distance instruction. They shared with the general public their fears of an avalanche of litigation resulting from their failure to follow students' IEPs (individualized education plans) during the crisis.
These claims were not well founded. First, during in-person instruction, many schools routinely have violated provisions of students' IEPs on a regular basis.
Far from being fearful of litigation, some school officials routinely dismiss parental complaints about IEP violations. They know how difficult, time-consuming, and expensive it is for parents to hold school officials accountable in administrative hearings and in court. If these recalcitrant school officials were truly afraid of IEP-related litigation, blind students would be receiving accessible materials on time, Braille instruction early and often, adequate and age-appropriate cane travel instruction and use, and necessary accessible assistive technology at school and at home.
In fact, for most blind students the transition from in-person instruction to at-home distance instruction should be an easy one—at least if the district has been following federal special education law by providing accessible materials and assistive technology for the student to use at home. Moreover, for years, quality disability-related education services (such as physical therapy, occupational therapy, and speech therapy) and blindness-specific instruction (such as Braille instruction, training in the use of accessible technology, and cane travel instruction) frequently have been provided via distance instruction. Claims that these services cannot be provided remotely are either a result of ignorance or of intentional misdirection.
The blaming of disabled students for the lack of instructional services to all students created a backlash against students with disabilities. Across the country, parents of nondisabled students began to complain that their children were being left behind because of "those children." Even some parents of children with disabilities, including parents of blind children and of blind children with additional disabilities, joined the utilitarian chorus: "So long as the majority of students are being served, it's reasonable to ignore the education of disabled students."
On March 16, twenty-four states, the District of Columbia, and Puerto Rico announced school closures. On the same day, the USDOE published another document addressing new COVID-19-related concerns affecting schools. Notably, and possibly as a result of the growing backlash against disabled students, the USDOE explicitly addressed the affirmative duty of schools to "take appropriate action to investigate or otherwise determine what occurred when responding to reports of bullying and harassment of students based on actual or perceived disability, race, color, or national origin." This document also reiterated the March 12 guidance regarding duties to disabled students. It noted that IEP team meetings need not be held in person and that evaluations not performed in-person could continue during school closures.
The next day, on March 17, the USDOE's Office of Civil Rights (OCR) put out a YouTube video and a press release confirming schools' legal obligations to disabled students and pointing out the feasibility of meeting those obligations. "Online learning tools must be accessible to students with disabilities," the USDOE stated, "and they must be compatible with the various forms of assistive technology that students might use to help them learn." Assistant Secretary of Education for Civil Rights Kenneth L. Marcus also advised, "Students with disabilities must have access to educational technology utilized by schools, and OCR will continue to work to ensure that no student is excluded from utilizing these important tools."
By March 20, nineteen more states closed their schools, bringing the total number of states with mandatory closures to forty-three. The next day, on Saturday, March 21, the USDOE issued another document, apparently seeking to spur school district officials to meet their legal obligations to students. This new USDOE guidance repeated earlier guidance and directly addressed concerns schools had put forth regarding special education services. While it acknowledged that some services, including "hands-on physical therapy, occupational therapy, or tactile sign language educational services" cannot be provided via distance education, it reminded school officials that many special education services can be offered via distance education.
Unfortunately, it appears that this guidance was hastily written. It offered an example wherein the USDOE advised that it would be permissible for a teacher to provide written educational materials to sighted students and offer only audio access to a blind student. However, long-standing federal law has not been changed due to the COVID-19 crisis, and a closer look at the language used in the guidance makes it clear that this is a very narrow example that cannot be applied to most blind students. The "blind student" example in the new USDOE guidance reads as follows: "For example, if a teacher who has a blind student in her class is working from home and cannot distribute a document accessible to that student, she can distribute to the rest of the class an inaccessible document and, if appropriate for the student, read the document over the phone to the blind student or provide the blind student with an audio recording of a reading of the document aloud."
Please note important conditions contained in this example. For the read-aloud to be permissible, the teacher would need to be unable to "distribute a document accessible to" the blind student. This should be difficult to prove because, presumably, the school provided Braille or accessible electronic documents before the school closures. Braille production does not require hands-on interaction with a student; it only requires the embossing of educational materials that should be no more difficult than the printing of those same educational materials. Alternatively, an accessible electronic file could be used by the Braille reader with a school-provided refreshable Braille display, or it could be embossed at home on a school-provided embosser.
Fortunately, the USDOE example notes that the teacher may read the materials aloud or provide the student with an audio recording only "if appropriate for the student." If the student needs to interact with the text (as all of the nondisabled students get to do), audio alone would likely not be appropriate for the student. If nondisabled students are provided with text to access the assignment, schools need to prove why blind students do not need the same access to text.
The March 21 USDOE "blind student" verbiage evidenced a lack of understanding about accessible education options for blind students, especially with regard to distance learning. The example of read-alouds was behind the times, given present technology. It is unfortunate that the USDOE chose the example they used, but it certainly does not mean that schools can shrug off their responsibilities under federal law to every blind student by simply providing an audio version of materials available to nondisabled students in readable text.
USDOE guidance made clear that schools must provide all IEP services, including special accommodations and modifications (SAMs), unless they cannot do so. Schools should work with parents to find ways to deliver IEP SAMs, beginning with methods used before school closure and methods long accepted under federal law. These methods may include the drop-off of materials, distance instruction, and provision of accessible assistive technology at home. These methods can be incorporated into the current IEP as an amendment for which no formal meeting needs to be held. If the school and parent cannot agree, the IEP team should meet (via distance technology) to discuss providing IEP SAMs during school closure.
As noted above, IEP and evaluation meetings need not be held in person, and there are no provisions for timeline extensions due to school closures. These matters will likely be very case-specific, but schools that fail to hold timely IEP meetings during the COVID-19 pandemic may find themselves out of compliance when schools, enforcement agencies, and courts reopen.
The USDOE has taken a clear and unequivocal stance that COVID-19 has not changed federal law and that students with disabilities still have rights to FAPE. However, some interest groups have asked Congress to change federal law and strip disabled students of their rights. In fact, drafts of the landmark CARES Act (Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security) contained a provision to allow USDOE Secretary Betsy DeVos to grant wide-ranging waivers to states that would cause disabled students to lose significant substantive and procedural rights and protections under the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) and the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 for a minimum of twelve months. The National Federation of the Blind (NFB) and other disability-rights organizations jumped into action. Members from across the nation asked their federal representatives in the House and Senate to vote against any law that takes away students' education and civil rights.
Our advocacy worked—to a point. The final CARES Act contained a section titled, "National Emergency Education Waivers." In part, this section directed Secretary DeVos to submit within thirty days a report recommending never-before-available waivers of the IDEA, the Rehabilitation Act, and two other federal statutes related to education and civil rights of disabled individuals during the COVID-19 emergency. Congress placed no restrictions on the type or duration of the waivers Secretary DeVos could recommend, meaning that students with disabilities might lose all of the education and civil rights protections that have been available to them for more than three decades.
Once again, the NFB and other disability advocacy organizations mobilized. We urged our members to continue communications with their congressional representatives, but we did not stop there. On April 10 our President, Mark A. Riccobono, sent a letter to Secretary DeVos, urging her to recommend no waivers of these important laws. President Riccobono's letter emphasized three important points:
(1) Waivers of these laws would not "meet the needs of students" as required by the CARES Act and would, instead, keep student needs from being met.
(2) The USDOE had provided the same school closure guidance to schools since September 2017, so schools should have been prepared to follow federal law during any unforeseen school closures. The letter noted, "While the COVID-19 emergency is widespread, its impact on education at the local level is far less than in previous state, national, and international catastrophes. LEAs [local education agencies] impacted by COVID-19 have far more resources than those impacted by hurricanes and other natural disasters."
(3) Some schools and organizations such as the NFB successfully have provided accessible instruction and resources despite school closures, providing evidence that schools can follow the law, as written, without waivers of education and civil rights for students with disabilities, including blind students.
A copy of President Riccobono's letter of April 10, 2020 follows this article.
Many advocacy groups urged Secretary DeVos to grant only limited waivers, but others believed that broad waivers would be granted. On April 27, Secretary DeVos issued her report, and she rejected calls for waivers of substantive rights of students with disabilities. Her report noted, "Schools can, and must, provide education to all students, including children with disabilities." Further, the report stated, "The needs and best interests of the individual student, not any system, should guide decisions and expenditures," and "Services typically provided in person may now need to be provided through alternative methods, requiring creative and innovative approaches."
The press release accompanying the secretary's report presented the same focus on student need found in President Riccobono's letter: . . . there is no reason for Congress to waive any provision designed to keep students learning. With ingenuity, innovation, and grit, I know this nation's educators and schools can continue to faithfully educate every one of their students."
Of the waivers Secretary DeVos did recommend, most dealt with allowing agencies to have more time to spend funds so that they will not lose them, granting extended time to complete service obligations tied to scholarship funding, and other administrative functions unrelated to direct services. One of the waivers Secretary DeVos recommended provides additional protection for disabled children who receive early intervention services. It allows those services to continue past the child's third birthday until school-age services begin. Another waiver allows vocational rehabilitation agencies "to replace expired or spoiled food products at Randolph-Sheppard vending sites required to close due to COVID-19, thus allowing facilities to reopen more efficiently following the COVID-19 pandemic." Each of these waivers increases the rights of disabled individuals rather than limiting them, as some groups had requested.
The National Federation of the Blind blog, "Don't Be a Barrier: Be Accessible NOW," highlights existing and new NFB resources that set forth legal protections for blind students of all ages. On March 16, a blog post requested participation in the NFB Education Technology Survey designed to gather data for advocacy purposes. It encouraged parents and teachers to report accessibility-related concerns by emailing [email protected].
Many schools were not adequately prepared for a long-term closure. Administrators and educators struggled to determine what, if any, education would be provided to students. Despite the guidance from the US Department of Education, many states and local school districts were reluctant to embrace their mission of education. Sadly, many blind students and their families were left without instruction, accessible materials, or assistive technology.
As Dr. Kenneth Jernigan often said, "If a blind person has proper training and opportunity, blindness can be reduced to a physical nuisance." Yet, during the COVID-19 crisis, too many blind children across the country were not receiving any education from their schools. On March 24, the NFB launched a Distance Learning Resources initiative that provides blind children and their families with fun, accessible activities, interactive Zoom lessons, Braille book readings, and how-to videos in which blind adults demonstrate nonvisual methods of performing tasks around the house.
On May 4, one week after Secretary Devos' report, NFB President Mark A. Riccobono sent a letter to the chairs and ranking members of the US Senate and US House Committees overseeing education. He urged Congress to accept the very limited waivers Secretary DeVos recommended and to expand two of them in order to "improve educational opportunities during the COVID-19 pandemic and [to] protect students with disabilities whose needed services were adversely impacted by unplanned school closures," and "help Randolph-Sheppard entrepreneurs reopen their business, return to work, and employ their workforce." A copy of President Riccobono's May 4, 2020, letter appears in this issue of Future Reflections.
While the USDOE has declined to request unnecessary waivers of the IDEA or the Rehabilitation Act of 1973, some groups are still clamoring for Congress to strip disabled students of their rights. If their efforts are successful, state departments of education around the country may request and receive waivers that will turn back the clock. Such waivers would enact into law substandard educational opportunities for students with disabilities.
We must urge our congressional representatives, our state departments of education, and our local school districts to focus on learning for all students. As President Riccobono noted, "Without the unnecessary crutch of waivers, LEAs can focus on meeting their students' needs. Underperforming LEAs [can] reach out to, and learn from, successful LEAs and organizations like the National Federation of the Blind."
by Mark A. Riccobono
National Federation of the Blind
Mark Riccobono, President
200 East Wells Street at Jernigan Place
Baltimore, MD 21230
410-659-9314
www.nfb.org
April 10, 2020
The Honorable Betsy DeVos
Secretary
United States Department of Education
400 Maryland Avenue, SW
Washington, DC 20202
RE: CARES Act Education Waivers
Dear Madam Secretary:
Section 3511(d)(4) of the Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security Act (CARES Act) requires that you submit a report to Congress "with recommendations on any additional waivers under the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (20 U.S.C. 1401 et seq.), the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 (29 U.S.C. 701 et seq.), the Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 1965 (20 U.S.C. 6301 et seq.), and the Carl D. Perkins Career and Technical Education Act of 2006 (20 U.S.C. 2301 et seq.)." As President of the National Federation of the Blind, the largest organization of blind people in the United States, I urge you to refrain from recommending any additional waivers under the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act or under the Rehabilitation Act of 1973. No additional waivers are necessary to meet the needs of students during the emergency, and none should be recommended to Congress.
Emergencies have long been part of the educational landscape. In recent years, several states and local educational agencies (LEAs) across the country have faced emergency situations, including hurricanes, floods, and other natural disasters, requiring the long-term closure of schools. These emergencies often left entire communities without internet, power, or shelter. Despite these severe situations, Congress has never sought to allow the Secretary to waive provisions of the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) through any legislation addressing national crises. While the COVID-19 emergency is widespread, its impact on education at the local level is far less than previous state, national, and international catastrophes. LEAs impacted by COVID-19 have far more resources than those impacted by hurricanes and other natural disasters.
Moreover, the Department of Education ("the Department") has provided guidance to LEAs for years regarding their responsibilities to provide their students with disabilities free appropriate public education (FAPE) during emergency situations, including school closures. States and LEAs across the nation received notice of their disaster-related responsibilities in US Department of Education guidance issued in September 2017. The Department reissued that guidance in September 2018, and the COVID-19 outbreak guidance issued in March 2020 remains identical.1
Certainly more than two years is adequate. Many LEAs across the nation are following the Department's guidance and providing FAPE to their students with disabilities, including blind students.2 They utilize accessible technological solutions for distance learning, and they continue to provide blind students the materials and tools they need at home to learn.3 Given that many LEAs are already meeting their long-known responsibilities without waivers, it is clear that waivers are not "necessary" to allow "States and local educational agencies to meet the needs of students during this national emergency."4
Some states and LEAs are focusing their efforts on planning their waiver requests in anticipation of your recommendations to Congress, as opposed to meeting their legal obligations to provide FAPE. Blind students, and other students with disabilities, should not be stripped of their rights to FAPE simply because some LEAs have not done their due diligence for years and now seek to further avoid their legal obligations. Our nation benefits when these students receive the FAPE they need to be ready for post-secondary education, post-secondary employment, and living independently. Failing LEAs should not be rewarded for their multiple and long-term failures to comply with IDEA, Section 504, and Title II of the Americans with Disabilities Act.
LEAs may use IDEA Part B funds to mitigate the damage caused by their lack of preparedness. Additionally, the CARES Act also provides a tremendous amount of financial support for states and LEAs in this time of national emergency. Section 18003 provides $13,229,265,000 dedicated to elementary and secondary schools, and section 18003(d) emphasizes the use of these funds for underserved student populations, including students with disabilities.5 With this massive appropriation, even unprepared LEAs can meet their legal obligations to the students they serve. Waivers that will allow a further delay of educational services are in no way necessary, and schools must ensure that, to the greatest extent possible, each student with a disability can be provided the special education and related services identified in the student's IEP developed under IDEA, or a plan developed under Section 504. (34 CFR §§ 300.101 and 300.201 (IDEA), and 34 CFR § 104.33 (Section 504))." From: "Non Regulatory Guidance on Flexibility and Waivers for Grantees and Program Participants Impacted by Federally Declared Disasters" (September 2017, https://safesupportivelearning.ed.gov/sites/default/files/disaster-guidance.pdf), "Non Regulatory Guidance on Flexibility and Waivers for Grantees and Program Participants Impacted by Federally Declared Disasters" (September 2018, https://www2.ed.gov/policy/gen/guid/disasters/disaster-guidance.pdf), and "Questions and Answers on Providing Services to Children with Disabilities During the Coronavirus Disease 2019 Outbreak" (March 12, 2020, https://www2.ed.gov/policy/speced/guid/idea/memosdcltrs/qa-covid-19-03-12-2020.pdf).
The National Federation of the Blind and other organizations have stepped up to provide educational opportunities for blind students and their families during the COVID-19 emergency. Our Distance Education Resources provide interactive online lessons, how-to videos, and written lesson ideas to meet the educational needs of blind students. LEAs receiving federal money can do the same.
Without the unnecessary crutch of waivers, LEAs can focus on meeting their students' needs. With the additional funds from CARES, LEAs can implement or enhance systems to deliver high-quality and equitable educational opportunities to their blind students and other students with disabilities. As a father of two blind daughters, I urge you to report to Congress that no waivers are necessary and to encourage underperforming LEAs to reach out to, and learn from, successful LEAs and organizations like the National Federation of the Blind.
Sincerely,
Mark A. Riccobono, President
National Federation of the Blind
1. “If an LEA continues to provide educational opportunities to the general student population during a school closure, the school must ensure that students with disabilities also have equal access to the same opportunities, including the provision of FAPE. (34 CFR §§ 104.4, 104.33 (Section 504) and 28 CFR § 35.130 (Title II of the ADA)). SEAs, LEAs, and schools must ensure that, to the greatest extent possible, each student with a disability can be provided the special education and related services identified in the student’s IEP developed under IDEA, or a plan developed under Section 504. (34 CFR §§ 300.101 and 300.201 (IDEA), and 34 CFR § 104.33 (Section 504)).”
From: “Non-Regulatory Guidance on Flexibility and Waivers for Grantees and Program Participants Impacted by Federally Declared Disasters” (September 2017, https://safesupportivelearning.ed.gov/sites/ default/files/disaster-guidance.pdf), “Non-Regulatory Guidance on Flexibility and Waivers for Grantees and Program Participants Impacted by Federally Declared Disasters” (September 2018, https://www2.ed.gov/ policy/gen/guid/disasters/disaster-guidance.pdf), and “Questions and Answers on Providing Services to Children with Disabilities During the Coronavirus Disease 2019 Outbreak” (March 12, 2020, https://www2.ed.gov/policy/speced/guid/idea/memosdcltrs/qa-covid-19-03-12-2020.pdf).
2. Due to the long-term nationwide shortage of professionals in blindness education, many blind students have been receiving services using distance technology tools for years. School closures should have no impact on blind students receiving education in this manner.
3. Since August 2006, IDEA regulations have required IEP teams to provide assistive technology at the student’s home if access is necessary for the student to receive FAPE.” 34 CFR § 300.105(b).
4. Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security Act, Section 3511(d)(4).
5. This grant of more than $13.2 billion represents an almost doubling of the Fiscal Year 2020 final federal IDEA Programs appropriation of $13.86 billion and more than a fifty percent increase of the $26.1 billion federal appropriate for Elementary & Secondary Education. From: http://www.nea.org/assets/docs/Final-FY20-Appropriations-for-Education-Related-Discretionary-Programs-with-State-Tables.pdf
by Mark Riccobono
From the Editor: On May 4 NFB President Mark Riccobono sent the following letter to Sen. Lamar Alexander and several other members of Congress regarding waivers to current regulations that were recommended by the US Department of Education. In his letter President Riccobono supports the recommended waivers and suggests additional steps to help blind people weather the current crisis.
National Federation of the Blind
Mark Riccobono, President
200 East Wells Street at Jernigan Place
Baltimore, MD 21230
410-659-9314
www.nfb.org
May 4, 2020
The Honorable Lamar Alexander
Chairman
Committee on Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions
United States Senate
455 Dirksen Senate Office Building
Washington, DC 20510
The Honorable Robert "Bobby" Scott
Chairman
Committee on Education and Labor
United States House of Representatives
1201 Longworth House Office Building
Washington, DC 20515
The Honorable Patty Murray
Ranking Member
Committee on Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions
United States Senate
154 Russel Senate Office Building
Washington, DC 20510
The Honorable Virginia Foxx
Ranking Member
Committee on Education and Labor
United States House of Representatives
2462 Rayburn House Office Building
Washington, DC 20515
Dear Chairman Alexander, Chairman Scott, Ranking Member Murray, and Ranking Member Foxx:
I write to you regarding Secretary DeVos's report required under Section 3511(d)(4) of the Coronavirus Aid, Relief and Economic Security (CARES) Act. The National Federation of the Blind is pleased that no objectionable waivers undermining the educational rights of blind students were included in the report. This correspondence highlights two of the Department of Education's recommended waivers, along with two additional legislative proposals to Congress that would improve the lives of blind Americans and students with disabilities. As President of the largest organization of blind people in the United States, I urge Congress to incorporate these four waivers in upcoming coronavirus legislation.
We commend Secretary DeVos for including "explicit authorization for Part C services to continue during the delayed Part B transition evaluation timeline," so that children with disabilities are eligible for Part C services until a determination is made for Part B services. Prior to this national crisis, toddlers with disabilities would often go without services for weeks after their third birthday simply because their evaluation, determination of eligibility, and overall transition to Part B services were not conducted in a timely manner. As such, the National Federation of the Blind recommends the granting of this waiver, so that toddlers with disabilities may continue to receive Part C services during these unprecedented times.
We also recognize that Part B services have been impacted by this national crisis, and students with disabilities who are close to exiting services, due to age or high school graduation, need those missing services so that they will be prepared for post-secondary education, post-secondary employment, and living independently. We urge Congress to extend Part B eligibility for services for twelve months after a local education agency's resumption of in-person instruction or eighteen months after the end of the child's IEP eligibility (based on age or graduation from secondary school), whichever occurs later by granting transition waivers to all students within twelve months of exiting IEPs: Section 612(a)(1)(A) of the IDEA (20 U.S.C. § 1412(a)(1)(A).
We agree with the Secretary of Education's proposed waiver authority under the Rehabilitation Act, which allows the use of FY 2020 vocational rehabilitation funds to replace spoiled and expired supplies for Randolph-Sheppard businesses following the COVID-19 emergency. This will aid blind vendors in reopening Randolph-Sheppard facilities after the pandemic.
In addition to the Secretary's recommendation above, we urge Congress to grant a waiver to the Rehabilitation Act allowing states to spend rehabilitation funds to ensure a fair minimum return for all Randolph-Sheppard vendors. We propose the below language, which states, "State agencies designated by 20 U.S.C. 107(a)(5) may use funds appropriated pursuant to 29 U.S.C. 701 Sec. 110 to assure a fair minimum return to blind vendors operating vending facilities on federal and other properties for a period of time not to exceed September 30, 2021." This will ensure that blind merchants are provided a fair and equal opportunity to strengthen and maintain their businesses long after this unique national emergency.
These waivers will improve educational opportunities during the COVID-19 pandemic and will protect students with disabilities whose needed services were adversely impacted by unplanned school closures. They will also help Randolph-Sheppard entrepreneurs reopen their business, return to work, and employ their workforce. We thank you for your thoughtful consideration and are happy to provide any additional clarification should it be necessary.
Sincerely,
Mark A. Riccobono, President
National Federation of the Blind
CC: The Honorable Betsy DeVos, Secretary, United States Department of Education
by Haben Girma
Reviewed by Marilyn Green
From the Editor: Marilyn Green is a library associate with the Chicago Public Library system. She serves as second vice president of the NFB of Illinois.
Haben: The Deafblind Woman Who Conquered Harvard Law
by Haben Girma
Grand Central Publishing, 2019, 288 pages
ISBN: 9781549181702
Available in paperback, Kindle, and Audible editions
Available on Bookshare and from NLS/BARD as DB96188
Deaf and blind, female, and Ethiopian—these are a few characteristics of Haben Girma, author of Haben: The Deafblind Woman Who Conquered Harvard Law. In vignette-style chapters, Girma captivates the reader with narrative scenes of loving parents, travel adventures, and academic hardship and success.
Themes of self-advocacy and daring expeditions run through the pages of this memoir. Born female and deafblind to immigrants from Eritrea and Ethiopia, Girma challenges her parents to trust her instincts and support her quest for independence. Guided by curiosity and an eagerness to prove her full capacity, Girma attempts to demonstrate her bravery by confronting a bull in Asmara, Eritrea; works with high school students to build a school in Mali, West Africa; and sharpens her blindness skills at the Louisiana Center for the Blind. These experiences instill a positive attitude about blindness and build a sense of confidence that ultimately serves Girma as she meets ablist thinking and navigates what it means to be deafblind in spaces that cater to the sighted and hearing population.
Girma peppers her autobiography with memories of confronting ablism on her college campus. From social settings to workplaces and places of public accommodation, Girma presents meaningful accounts of the subtle and sometimes overt biases that complicate equal access and opportunity for the blind. Girma employs persuasive arguments, a polite demeanor, and an appreciation and understanding of the Americans with Disabilities Act in her efforts to achieve equality, opportunity, and security.
Readers are taken on a series of journeys, international and domestic, daring and conventional, academic and social in Haben Girma's memoir. The challenges of navigating hearing and sighted spaces and her successes with self-advocacy fill the pages of this memoir, which connects its readers to four communities through the journey of one.
Review by Bre Ausbun
From the Editor: Bre Ausbun teaches Braille at the Louisiana Center for the Blind.
Crip Camp
A Netflix Documentary
Release date 2020
Available from Netflix with audio description
Imagine for a moment that everyone around you has something in common; collectively, as a community, people participate in extracurricular activities, go to school, and work. Societal expectations require each member of the community to ensure the prosperity of the others. People laugh together, celebrate together, live together, cry together . . . except for you. You are different. Your differences are acknowledged; they are highlighted. Your differences are inadvertently turned into a tool of incidental exclusion.
You are told that school is not for you. Work is out of the question. Your place is to be helped, not to help. You are lonely.
For many disabled persons, this scenario, to some degree, is very much a reality. Environments are not inherently accessible; instructional materials are not always provided in formats that we can read and interpret; low expectations of our potentiality result in lack of employment.
But all is not bleak. The work of those who came before us has shone a light on the future. Together we are changing what it means to be disabled in our community and beyond.
Crip Camp, an original Netflix documentary, delves into the lives of a group of disabled friends and activists who once believed their experience was one of tragedy and necessary charity. In their experience at a summer camp for disabled youth, their old reality was overturned forever. Together they forged a sense of belonging and established high expectations. They realized that the true barriers in life were not their disabilities but society's low expectations of them and their capabilities. Through their newly formed bonds and their new sense of determination, these campers went on to shape and implement Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973.
From the start of the documentary, there is significant emphasis on disability as collective identity. The campers made a crucial discovery: there are others out there just like you. Others act as you do, feel as you do, and accomplish tasks in a similar manner. When you find this community, a sense of belonging occurs, and empowerment will follow. Perhaps others have more experience interacting with the world; perhaps you know how to do something another may not. In these instances of commonality, natural mentorship occurs.
Crip Camp spends a significant amount of time discussing the power and implicit or explicit results of peer-to-peer mentorship. When we are marginalized, a minority in a given community, our identities are suppressed, and we lose confidence in ourselves. We have nowhere to turn. We have no way to discover what we are capable of accomplishing. As a result, the expectations that others set forth for us become a reality, even if we want to accomplish more. When we find others who are like us in appearance or in action, people who are living the lives they want to live and accomplishing all of the tasks we believe we want for ourselves, we begin to recognize that the possibilities are endless. We, too, can achieve the same degree of success.
Peer-to-peer mentorship can occur by association and observation or through direct involvement. In Crip Camp, disabled campers interact with older disabled counselors who push them out of their comfort zones. The counselors encourage them to do more and dream bigger.
Pervading the film is the power of collective action. The disabled campers realized during their summers that the world is not going to change without direct intervention; and the world they experienced at camp was the world they desired to live in. They hungered for a world where they could be recognized as equal; where they could contribute to the greater good; where they could make mistakes, learn from them, and grow. One voice cannot change the world alone. Individually, our voices are but squeaks in the night; collectively they are a roaring tiger, powerful and unable to be silenced. Through the establishment of disability as an identity, and through the development of a mentor matrix, the campers banded together, shaping legislation and a future where separate is no longer considered equal.
Many other themes are explored throughout this film, and numerous lessons can be learned by disabled and nondisabled persons alike. Although there are instances of strong language and other PG-13 themes, I highly recommend this documentary for all people. Crip Camp is truly a film made by disabled persons, about disabled persons, and for everyone. It celebrates our trials, our tribulations, and the successes in our history.
On December 1, 2019, Braille readers across the United States began to log the pages they read for the 2020 Braille Readers Are Leaders contest. For the next seven weeks, until January 19, 2020, contestants logged the Braille pages they read. Sponsored by the American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults, the contest was created as a way to encourage Braille literacy.
School-age participants entered the contest in any of five categories: grades K-1, 2-3, 4-5, 6-8, and 9-12. This year's contest also included a category for adults who wished to hone their Braille reading skills. Altogether ninety-three contestants from twenty-two states took part in the competition.
At the close of the seven-week reading period, contestants submitted their reading logs. Based on the number of pages read, three winners were declared in each category. First-place winners were awarded $25, second-place winners received $15, and third-place winners and honorable mentions were awarded $10. Every participant was sent a packet of Braille-related gifts.
In addition to the regular competition, participants could be nominated to receive a Breaking Reading Limits Award. These awards are given to readers who face special challenges in their effort to master Braille reading. Such challenges include, but are not limited to, being an English-language learner or having disabilities in addition to blindness.
For many participants the contest was an inspiring challenge. "I just want to say thank you for this incredible opportunity," wrote the mother of a fifth-grader from New York. "My daughter is so hopeful, and she really is going to try to read as much as she can, which will benefit her greatly. This contest is at the perfect time, just when she needed a boost." The mother of a sixth-grade student from Illinois wrote, "Thank you again for the opportunity for us to have Braille in our lives. As the mom of a son who has low vision due to a progressive eye condition, I welcome any and all ways to encourage my son to read more Braille."
The top reader in this year's contest was Aisha Safi of Chevy Chase, Maryland. Aisha, who is in fourth grade, read a whopping 7,798 Braille pages!
One participant in the adult category was Caroline Karbowski of Ohio. A college student majoring in biology, Caroline has taught herself to read Braille tactilely. “The contest was a great way to practice,” she wrote. “It was a lot of fun.”
Following is a list by category of the 2020 Braille Readers Are Leaders winners.
First Place: Susan Ford, Boise, ID
Second place: Tara Chavez, Albuquerque, NM
Third place: Terry Wilcox, Des Moines, IA
First place: Shaindel Eisenberg, Lakewood, NJ
Second place: Eliya Farnsworth, Mesa, AZ
Third place: Mason Bakken, Kuna, ID
First place: Clara Scelsi, Pell City, AL
Second place: Eleanor Mason, Wausau, WI
Third place: Aaliyah Ochoa, Mesa, AZ
First place: Aisha Safi, Chevy Chase, MD
Second place: Jace Lyden, Belle Plaine, KS
Third place: Zanyiah Bell, Bowie, MD
First place: Refael Shuter, Richmond Hill, NY
Second place: Mercy Rao, Columbia, MD
Third place: Isaiah Rao, Columbia, MD
First place: Ammar A. Tarin, Gilbert, AZ
Second place: Holly Connor, Clayton, MO
Third place: Samuel Thurston, Chesapeake, VA
Honorable mention: Kaitlyn Overshiner, Dain Bridge, IN
Honorable mention: Airel Schlosser, Indianapolis, IN
Saredo Goumaneh, grade 9, St. Cloud, MN
Jace Lyden, grade 5, Belle Plaine, KS
Paul Wales, grade 9, Silver Spring, MD
Congratulations to all of the 2020 Braille Readers Are Leaders winners!
For one hundred years the American Action Fund has brought Braille to thousands of blind children and adults. The Action Fund ships free books each month to any blind or deafblind child who wants them. The Braille Books for Blind Children program also ships to schools and libraries.
Recently we received a note from a Braille book recipient: "I work at a rehabilitation center with a blind client. When we receive our books from the American Action Fund, she reads them aloud to her classmates, which has greatly improved her confidence. These books allow me to engage her about things I know we both understand and to help find new assignments. The Action Fund has been a lifesaver. It has helped my student learn new skills and made me a better teacher."
The lives of blind people across the nation are deeply inspired by the resources provided by the American Action Fund. These resources include tactile art kits, Braille Books for Blind Children, and Future Reflections. These programs are only made possible through your support.
This is a time of uncertainty for all of us, but we humbly ask for your help. Before any of us suspected the upheaval that this coronavirus would bring, the American Action Fund had planned important work. That work must continue.
Please support the American Action Fund by making a contribution. By working together we can help blind children and adults all over the country live the lives they want, even in these difficult times. Help us continue to support Braille, tactile art, and so much more.
You can donate online by visiting https://actionfund.org, or you can send a check made out to "American Action Fund" to 1800 Johnson Street, Baltimore, MD 21230.
Your gift will make a difference. Please help by giving a tax deductible gift so the American Action Fund can continue to provide Braille books to children, publish Future Reflections for parents and teachers, and much more.
There is another way you can help. You can join our Legacy Society.
Often the simplest and most significant way to make a charitable donation is to plan to give a legacy gift. It is easier than you might think. You can plan to give all or part of a bank account, insurance proceeds, investment assets, real estate, or a retirement account. You can even give a required minimum distribution from your IRA directly to charity and avoid taxes on that money. You can bequeath a specific dollar amount or percentage of your estate, after taking care of your loved ones, to an organization whose mission is important to you. Your bequest carries with it the values and ideals that have been important to you throughout your lifetime and supports an organization whose mission you hold dear.
In addition, planning for a legacy gift may reduce the total amount of your taxable estate. Such a reduction can have a positive impact on any amounts you have designated for your heirs.
The American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults Legacy Society honors and recognizes the generosity and the vision of special friends of the Action Fund who have chosen to leave a legacy through a will or other planned giving option.
If you wish to give part or all of an account, simply fill out a P.O.D. (payable on death) or T.O.D. (transfer on death) form. For pensions and insurance assets, simply designate a charity as a beneficiary. If you would like to leave a legacy to the Action Fund in your will, simply include the following language:
"I give, devise, and bequeath unto the American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults, 1800 Johnson Street, Suite 100, Baltimore, Maryland 21230, a Maryland nonprofit corporation, the sum of $______________ (or) _________ percent of my net estate" or "the following stocks and bonds: ____________________, to be used for its worthy purposes on behalf of blind persons."
If you have questions or would like more information, please reach out to Patti Chang at 410-659-9315. If you have included the American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults in your will or have made some other provision for a future gift to us and would like to tell us about it, please contact Patti so we can recognize you as a member of our Legacy Society.
Legacy gifts provide for generations of blind children and adults. Please consider the American Action Fund in your future plans.
2020 National Federation of the Blind Scholarship Finalists
On May 6, 2020, the National Federation of the Blind announced the finalists for its annual scholarship program, which provides financial assistance and connects students with mentoring and other resources. The thirty scholarship finalists are listed below in alphabetical order with their home states and vocational goals.
Robert (Rob) Blachowicz, Arkansas: Counseling
Christopher (Chris) Bove, Rhode Island: Public Service
Brianna (Bri) Broadwater, Maryland: Psychologist or Educator
Michael (Mick) Carey-Thomann, Alaska: Lawyer
Sean Carlson, Oregon: Vocational Rehabilitation Instructor
Natalie Charbonneau, Oregon: Animal Genetics and Conservation Researcher
Moreblessings Chikavanga, Texas: Civil Rights/Disability Lawyer
Kevin Darcy, Colorado: Anthropology Professor
Matthew Duffell-Hoffman, South Carolina: Electrical Engineer
Paxton Franke, North Dakota: Forensic Pathologist
Lauren (Elaine) Hardin, Georgia: Higher Education Student Affairs Administrator
Kaitlyn (Kat) Hippe, Wisconsin: Languages and Education
Emily Kiehl, Ohio: Information Technology
Josh Loebner, Tennessee: Inclusive Advertising
Sara Luna, Illinois: Museum Accessibility
Victor Marques, Michigan: Vision Rehabilitation Therapist and Access Technology Specialist
Griffin Miller, Pennsylvania: Actuary
Brian Mucyo, Arizona: Human Rights Lawyer
Marissa Nissley, New Jersey: Attorney
Sherry Pablo, California: Public Health, Health Policy and Management
Precious Perez, Massachusetts: Music Educator
Teresita Rios, California: Attorney
Syed Rizvi, Massachusetts: Civil Rights Lawyer
Dannielle Schutz, Nebraska: Medical Scientist
Nicolas (Nick) Spohn, Pennsylvania: Mechanical Engineer
Logan Stenzel, Minnesota: Finance and Technology Entrepreneur
Marie Villaneda, Indiana: Orientation and Mobility Instructor
Monica Wegner, Minnesota: Corporate Attorney
Alek Wolfe, Vermont: Broadcasting
Brayan Zamarripa, Oklahoma: Media Production
STEM DIVE Challenge (Diversity and Inclusion Video Exposition)
https://www.nsf.gov/ehr/stemdive.jsp
Contact: [email protected]
Deadline for entries: June 25, 2020
The National Science Foundation (NSF) invites grantees from all NSF programs to showcase in the form of a short video (one to three minutes) how forging partnerships, networks, or alliances has contributed to an increase in diversity and inclusion in STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics). All entries must be submitted by a principal investigator (PI) on any previous or currently funded NSF award. These videos will be used by NSF and its programs in various platforms such as websites, fair exhibitions, or printed materials to exhibit how grantees have encouraged and supported diversity and inclusion in STEM pre-K-grade 12, higher, and informal education. This challenge is also designed to attract broader interest in STEM and to inform the greater community about best practices and effective practices for increasing diversity and inclusion, partnership and networking strategies, and dissemination approaches for growing the STEM workforce. Up to four $2,500 Experts' Choice and up to two $1,250 People's Choice awards will be given for the most compelling videos in several categories. Videos should be sent by email to the address above.
https://www.nfb.org/programs-services/nfb-bell-academy
Many parents and teachers have expressed concern over the NFB BELL® Academies and what the Federation will do this summer to support our blind youth. This summer BELL Academy will be condensed into three nationally taught and coordinated sessions with support from the NFB BELL affiliates. The three two-week 2020 BELL In Home Edition programs will be held June 1 through June 20; June 22 through July 3; and July 27 through August 7. Registration is free of charge, but spaces are limited.
Approximately eighteen lessons will be selected from the NFB BELL Academy curriculum, and videos will be created to show families how to do each lesson. Each registered student will receive the necessary materials by mail. Each day during the two-week sessions there will be two opportunities for families to connect via web or phone with an experienced teacher, one session at 11 a.m. and one at 6 p.m. EDT. These sessions will give families the chance to connect with teachers and to get to know one another. The 11 a.m. session during the June 22-July 3 BELL Academy will be conducted in Spanish.
Educational Apps
https://www.nfb.org/programs-services/legal-program/education-technology-survey
During this time of increased reliance on online tools to educate our children, which may or may not be accessible, the National Federation of the Blind wants to collect data regarding the experiences of blind parents and parents of blind children. The NFB would like to know the types of apps that are being used for online learning, how these apps are being used, and whether these apps are accessible to blind parents and/or blind children. The NFB would like to hold school systems and educational companies that create apps accountable. Blind children and blind parents have just as much right to access these educational tools as sighted parents and children do. Please set aside fifteen to thirty minutes of your time to fill out this survey.
https://www.nfb.org/resources/distance-education-resources
The National Federation of the Blind is committed to ensuring quality education for blind students and to providing activities and lessons that are fun and educational for blind children and their families. When virtual education is necessary or encouraged, we want blind students to be able to continue learning alongside their sighted peers.
Activities from The Bee: The Bee is an NFB e-newsletter that outlines strategies and hands-on activities for parents and children to perform together to foster Braille skills and early movement and travel.
Interactive Lesson of the Week: In addition, each Thursday at 11 a.m. EDT a lesson for blind children and their families is offered via Zoom. Past lessons are available on the website.
Braille Story Time: We want blind children to have the opportunity to see fluent Braille readers in action. The website includes videos of blind people reading stories in Braille.
How-To Activities: Resources to help engage your children in activities around the house and teach nonvisual concepts.
Meet Me Accessibly
by Jonathan Mosen
http://mosen.org/zoom
In this ebook, technology expert Jonathan Mosen explains how blind users can make the most of the Zoom platform for virtual meetings and classes. During the COVID-19 crisis the author has generously made the book available free of charge to anyone who needs it.
Zoom Hot Keys and Shortcuts
https://support.zoom.us/hc/en-us/articles/205683899-HOT-KEYS-and-KEYBOARD-SHORTCUTS-for-ZOOM
Since countless meetings and conferences are now being conducted via Zoom, this article on keystrokes will help blind PC and Mac users participate fully without needing a mouse. These keystroke commands also are available in the Zoom client settings under accessibility.
Books from National Braille Press
www.nbp.org
88 St. Stephen St., Boston, MA 02115
Tactile Landmarks
This book includes tactile drawings of five architectural landmarks: the Empire State Building, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Great Pyramids, and the Sydney Opera House. The booklet can be purchased separately, and it also is included with purchases of the print/Braille book Iggy Peck, Architect.
Tactile Book of Dinosaurs
This book of tactile images shows children what dinosaurs really looked like. Each page shows one dinosaur with a description in print and Braille. The last page is a size comparison, showing how big or small the dinos were compared to humans. Each raised-line picture is ready to be colored in.
Touch the Stars, Fifth Edition
Available in print/Braille format
This astronomy book was written for blind and low-vision stargazers. It features nineteen new tactile illustrations.
Available from National Braille Press
www.nbp.org
How to Learn about Almost Anything: A Guide to Educational iOS Apps for Blind Users
by Anna Dresner
National Braille Press
www.nbp.org
Available as DAISY download
Technology writer Anna Dresner takes you on a tour of forty of the best learning apps for all ages, interests, and knowledge levels. Categories include apps that teach VoiceOver, reading and writing, arithmetic and higher math, science and technology, current events, and general knowledge.
The Puzzle Master Presents and The Puzzle Master Presents, Volume Two
by Will Shortz
National Braille Press
www.nbp.org
Available in downloadable eBraille format
Each of these books contains two hundred word puzzles by Will Shortz, with the answers provided at the back of the book.
The Big Book of Braille Puzzles: Fifty Searches, Anagrams, and Ladders to Help You Master Braille
Available in large print/Braille
These fifty puzzles will help you master common Braille contractions, strengthen overall Braille reading skills, and provide hours of fun.
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