Life After High School: An Orientation Center for the Blind

Life After High School: An Orientation Center for the Blind

Future Reflections May/June 1983, Vol. 2 No. 3
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LIFE AFTER HIGH SCHOOL:
AN ORIENTATION CENTER
FOR THE BLIND
by John W. Smith
It was mid-March of 1978 and I was going through
three of the most agonizing days of my life. It was
the second semester of my freshman year at Grace
College of the Bible in Omaha and I was beginning
to think about the coming summer. Should I take
summer school? If I did, how would I manage
living alone in an apartment? What about going
back home to get a part-time job at the local radio
station -- something I wanted very much to do. But
I didn't know how I'd even get around in town by
myself. I had no idea how the streets ran. Not to
mention I was unable to see well enough to cope
with several tasks of a radio announcer. What
would I do?
Of course, there was the option of going to the
orientation center for the blind in Lincoln,
Nebraska. My counselor had presented the idea to
me at least two years before that. We had even
visited the center once --and I hated the very idea
of it! After all, I wasn't really blind--not totally
anyway, and I spent ten years at the Nebraska
School for the Visually Handicapped. Surely I could
tough it out... or could I? I was up against a wall.
After much discussion with friends, inner turmoil
and lots of prayer, there seemed to be no other
alternative. I had known about, and was using,
readers and texts on tape and had even sought a
little home teaching for cane travel. But it just
wasn't going to be enough. The years of hard
nosed bluffing as a partially-sighted guy had come
to an end. So, from May through December of
1978, I went through the orientation center in Lincoln. It was one of the most difficult and
wearing seven months I had ever spent; yet it was
also the most rewarding.
Most everyone at the center apartments had a
roommate. But for my first six weeks, I had none.
Since no one was there to constantly be a
supportive friend, I fended for myself--the thing I
feared most two months before. But I was away
from home, and being among people who didn't
know me (most were there to teach or learn the
same things I was going through) allowed me to
grow without the old fears and restrictions.
Learning to travel and cook were essentials, since
they were things I would use from then on.
Learning Brille made me wish I had learned it in
grade school at the school for the blind. So many of
my attitudes were changing. I could begin to do
things I had only dreamed of before, and blindness
didn't have to be a barrier. What freedom!
Wearing sleepshades while learning was
something I had previously despised with a
passion. But once I was willing to pay whatever
price it took to be an independent blind person,
wearing shades was really a benefit. Nothing was
as thrilling as traveling in downtown Lincoln
alone -- something I had never done anywhere
even without shades. Certainly I could do it now.
Using power saws, routers and other tools to build
a beautiful set of bookshelves in shop was truly an
accomplishment for the guy who used to think
alternative techniques were a sign of inferiority.
While in the center, I met students and staff who
were members of the National Federation of the
Blind --an organization with a philosophy I hated,
until I discovered it was the same philosophy I
thought I had already believed in. I mean, in the
past, I had wished blindness were only a nuisance.
Now I knew it didn't have to be more than that. I learned from, and did things with, people who
have become my dearest friends.
When I began to see the effects of the public's
misunderstandings about blindness in the lives of
other blind people, it was hard not to be bitter.
But I learned compassion from my fellow blind and
have since sought to help improve the quality of
life for us all. The avenue for such accomplishment
is through the N.F.B. My wish is that other blind
people have the same opportunity to grow as I
have.
When I returned to college after my center
training, friends were amazed at my new
confidence and how much less I was dependent on
them for help. In college, my roommate learned I
was as much fun as anyone else. Often he helped
answer questions others wouldn't ask. He did
well, I might add.
In college, and at my job as a radio announcer
today, I make use of both Braille and print. I'm
still inclined to use my sight more than is best
sometimes. That's only natural I suppose. But
when sight is actually a hinderance, it's much
easier now to think of more effective alternative
techniques that don't require sight. Even today,
where I live in Crete, Nebraska, I have had people
ask why I need the long white cane, since I don't
"look blind." Imagine that! That cane is one thing I
thought would mark me most as a helpless,
incompetent and abnormal person. But that was
before I understood what blindness is about.
The fact is, I don't fear blindness or having to do
some things a little differently than I would if I
had sight. The key is to determine what method
will be to my advantage. I did not hesitate to use
readers in college. I live in an apartment now where I'm the only one who is going to do my
cooking and cleaning. I don't have to wait to get
married for my future wife to pamper me. At
work, I'm responsible for announcing, recording
commercials, and other things that require more
of me than I could do by my limited sight alone.
Independence doesn't mean living out a one-man
show, or being a leach disguised as a self-made
individual. I've learned to accept help and
friendship as never before --all because
orientation center training and the National
Federation of the Blind helped me be free from the
old confining fears and myths about blindness.
Blindness limits us only as much as we permit it
to.
At the time John W. Smith submitted this article,
he was single and working as a radio announcer in
Crete, Nebraska. He is now married to a young
woman he met while a student at Grace Bible.
College and has made a major career change. He
and wife Carol now live in Baltimore, Maryland,
where he is employed as a rehabilitation teacher
with Blind Industries and Services of Maryland
(BISM).
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