The Miracle of Dallas

The Miracle of Dallas

THE MIRACLE OF DALLAS

by Sally Miller

Editor's Note: Sally Miller, President of the South Carolina Parents of Blind Children,

was elected to the Board of Directors of the National Organization of Parents of Blind

Children at the Annual Meeting in Dallas. It was her first National Federation of the

Blind (NFB) Convention. With her energy and organizational skills, she made quite an

impression on her fellow parents. The NFB Convention also made quite an impression on her.

Here is the report she gave to the 1998 NFB of South Carolina Convention about her

experience in Dallas, and what it did for her and her daughter, Anna:

Anna Catherine Miller

HOWDY! (That's Texan, Y'all.) I'm so glad I have the opportunity to tell you about our

first NFB National Convention experience, and about the work of the Parents of Blind

Children of South Carolina (POBC of SC). When our family attended the State NFB Convention

last year in Charleston (where we live) we didn't know much about the POBC or the NFB. My

husband and I were asked to speak during the Parents Division meeting; we were to tell

"Anna's Story." Little did we know that this experience would change our lives!

Our daughter, Anna, who just turned 10, is adopted. She was born into a family that

wasn't equipped to deal with the fact that she was born blind. Her biological family

equated blindness with mental retardation. In the birth mother's words, "She's blind.

She can't learn." Early intervention would have been helpful in teaching Anna the

basic skills all children need to develop, but because her family believed she couldn't

learn, attempts to help Anna were repeatedly shunned. Anna wasn't stimulated in any way.

She was taught NOTHING. There were no expectations for her life.

Anna came to live with us as a foster child when she was four, and we adopted her a

year and a half later. She still wore diapers, had intestinal parasites, lice in her hair,

and did not speak. We didn't know whether she could hear, or if she would ever talk. She

banged her head constantly on concrete doors, walls—anything hard. She laughed away

the pain. She was existing in a world she had created inside her head, and was shutting

out the rest of the world.

But we believed any child smart enough to find an internal life to live when she had

been given nothing else must have intelligence and potential—it just needed to be set

free. We held her, sang to her, rocked her, and loved her. She eventually came out of the

cocoon she'd wound around herself. She's learned to accept love, to give love, to have

fun, and even how to work (although that's not one of her favorite things). The baby who

couldn't learn DID learn, IS learning, and will CONTINUE to learn and develop.

Anna talks, initiates conversations, and teases her Daddy and her big brothers. Our

boys, ages 23 and 18, have taught their little sister all the important things about life

that big brothers teach little sisters, like "How to Make Really Disgusting Bodily

Noises." The latest one is "How to Burp Louder Than Anyone Else."

Anna's learned what emotions are, that she can have an opinion, and isn't afraid to

express them! She's learning Braille and uses a white cane. She's taken gymnastics

lessons, horseback riding lessons, and adaptive swimming lessons. She roller-skates, rides

her bike, and has wonderful audience skills, which she employs at concerts and other

programs. She helps me cook, and she goes to summer camps. This is the child who couldn't

learn because she was blind!

Anna and I were recently interviewed for a magazine article, and pictures were taken of

us looking at the photo album I created for, and about, her. When Anna was asked what her

favorite part of the book was she replied, without hesitation, "The part where we

went to court to see the judge, and she told me that I'm Anna Catherine Miller, and I

could throw away my old name." This is the child who couldn't learn because she was

blind!

In our search for answers to our many questions about raising a blind child, we found

the NFB. At the State Convention last year I was elected President of the POBC of SC. When

I was nominated I almost fell off my chair. When it was seconded and voted upon I was

numb. I was so rattled I could hardly stand to acknowledge the faith they were putting in

me. My husband quipped (with a smile on his face), "I guess I'll have to call you

'Madam President' now."

For the first few weeks after the NFB of SC State Convention I walked around in a daze,

asking, "Why me? I don't have the answers to the questions parents are going to ask

me. I barely know anything about the NFB. How can I help others when I sometimes didn't

know how to help my own daughter?" And then it hit me, I could do this. I had lots of

questions. And who better to ask questions of than the people who know the most about

blindness—the blind people of the NFB.

My attitude began to change. I'm a mother and an educator. I'm not afraid to ask

questions, do research, or any of the thousand and one tasks that would be necessary to do

this job. My biggest asset was that I love Anna, and I want the best for her, like every

other parent.

I've learned so much, yet I have so much more to learn. I've talked to a lot of people

and I still have more to meet. I've asked questions. And there are that many more to be

asked. I like the NFB and the POBC, and I have come to like my role in making the

connections that will give our children the information, the respect, and the

opportunities they deserve. The person for whom I do this, my daughter Anna, has had her

life changed. Everything I do has an impact on her life, and ultimately, she's the winner!

In July, Anna and I had a GREAT ADVENTURE. We attended the NFB National Convention in

Dallas, Texas. It was our first National Convention, but it won't be the last. We were

overwhelmed by the experience. We met parents, grandparents, and children from all over

the U.S. and from other countries. We got to talk with them, play with them, and learn

about their successes.

However, Anna was upset when we first arrived at the hotel in Dallas because there were

so many white canes bumping into her. But the kind people with those canes took the time

and effort to stop and talk with her a few minutes. They reassured her that it was okay to

bump into other canes and people. They were blind too. All she needed to do was say,

"Excuse me," and go on her way. By the second day Anna decided she could be

independent too, just like her new friends. I was pulling a luggage cart with my purse and

briefcase. Anna stopped in the hotel lobby and said: "Mommy, I want to do it by

myself. I want to use my cane and pull the cart. I WANT TO DO IT BY MYSELF!" And she

did! She let me give her verbal directions, and I stayed close in case she needed me, but

for the most part she did it by herself. This was the child who couldn't learn because she

was blind!

Everyone who's seen Anna since our return has commented on the fact that she carries

herself differently, and that she has matured in that short space of time. Her

self-confidence has soared. She wants to use her cane on her own, although she still wants

verbal directions sometimes. And she's speaking up louder and more frequently. Before the

NFB National Convention Anna had her life categorized as 1) before adoption, and 2) after

adoption. Now she's making another distinction: 1) before National Convention, and 2)

after National Convention.

Anna also had the opportunity to shine when the NFB Kids Camp at the National

Convention went to a ranch. Anna has been taking riding lessons for 4 years with the

Charleston Area Therapeutic Riding. She used her skills to show other children how to ride

horses. It was a good experience for her, because she got the chance to show the things

she CAN do. This is the child who couldn't learn because she was blind!

Last week Anna informed us that she wanted to get her hair cut short. She has been

wearing it very long. When I asked her why she wanted to get her hair cut, she said,

"So I can take care of it myself." WOW! This is the baby who couldn't learn

because she was blind!

I could go on and on telling you of the experiences Anna had, but I want to tell you

what happened to me, too. A year ago I knew very little about the NFB and nothing about

the Parents Division. So I was stunned when I was elected president of the POBC of SC. It

took me months to recover enough from the shock of it to start reading and learning about

the Federation and its philosophy. I thought I was getting it down pretty well, but I

still wasn't prepared for the NFB National Convention experience. In my wildest dreams I

could not have thought it possible to be in a situation where there was so much live

energy. The attitude of Federationists toward themselves and others—the sheer power

it exerted—swept me off my feet. Dr. Jernigan said, "My generation of blind

adults must work to help today's blind children . . . have better opportunities than we

had when we were growing up." I saw these words in action at the convention.

Among the many workshops I attended was the IEP workshop where we parents discussed the

new IDEA regulations. We viewed some of the videotapes in a series called "How to

Avoid an IEP Disaster," which is put out by the NOPBC. (It's great, by the way.) We

also had the privilege to hear from some great parents and educators and were able to ask

questions of them. (By the way, more teachers are embracing the philosophy of the NFB and

we need to foster this so that we can continue to find common ground with them to work

together for our children.)

I now know how working on behalf of the children to improve their education has helped

to dispel the myths of blindness. At the NFB Convention I saw the difference in every

generation. I saw it in the young adults with their families (raising both blind and

sighted children), being so rooted in the philosophy themselves and teaching it to their

little ones. It was a joy to watch the college-age children, so poised, confident, filled

with self-esteem, and so sure of where they were going and how they were going to get

there. And the teens were so delightfully full of themselves. There was no groping with

their hands for they used their white canes. They didn't have to have someone reading to

them, because they were reading Braille. And the younger children were, like my daughter

Anna, learning about blindness from the real experts—the blind adults of the

NFB—experts who valued them and who were helping them to understand that being blind

is okay.

The National Convention was a turning point in our lives. I saw the results of those

years of efforts for myself in Dallas. It happened for my daughter. I know it works.

It's hard for parents to always know what is the right thing to do for their blind

child. They need help from the day the baby is born. The school age children and their

parents desperately need us right now. They need to know that we are here for them. To

find the children and their parents, to educate and surround them in the right attitude

and understanding of blindness is a tall order. But look at the difference the NFB has

made in the life of one child, my daughter Anna. The child who couldn't learn because she

was born blind! I wish every blind child could have the same chance Anna's had. I want as

many blind children as possible from South Carolina to attend the National and the State

NFB Conventions with their families next year. It takes a lot of money, but speaking from

personal experience, it's worth it!

Because of the NFB Convention, Anna has matured a few notches, and I have caught the

commitment that goes with the attitude and understanding.

The outstanding works Federationists have done to prepare the way for a younger

generation was breathtakingly obvious and beautiful in Dallas. For more than 50 years

you've successfully advocated for the blind, ALL the blind, including the children. It's

because of your commitment I am here today as a member of the POBC of South Carolina, a

partner in this exciting mission. Thank you.