A Town Built on Empowerment

A Town Built on Empowerment

The Braille Monitor

November,

2003

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A Town

Built on Empowerment

by

Laura Sullivan

From the Editor: On

Sunday, September 14, 2003, the following article appeared in the Sun Journal,

a section of the Baltimore Sun. It is an excellent example of the wrong-headed

reporting that results when a zealous institutional public relations office

gets hold of an unthinking reporter and feeds her or him a story that fits perfectly

with the writer's preexisting prejudices. Such pieces cry out for rebuttal,

and this one received two letters to the editor. Here are the original article

and both letters sent to the paper:

The heavy Alabama heat

hangs low over the square of this old Southern town, rising from the pavement

beneath the remnants of fancy opera houses and hotels built on the back of the

railroad. It could be any other small town, fumbling forward through a century

of economic spurts and hardships. And yet there is something different about

this place, almost imperceptible at first, but there once you notice it: one

in every ten people who live here is blind or deaf.

Largely

a result of being home to one of the nation's oldest schools for the blind

and deaf, Talladega has drawn people who are sight- or hearing-impaired.

The more people have settled here, the more other people want to.

"People

graduate and stay here, or they relocate here so their kids can go to school

here," says town historian Tommy Moorehead, director of the Heritage Hall

Museum. "There's lots of employment here. People learn the lay of the land.

Sometimes it's just easier to stay."

The

signs are subtle but everywhere: A man passes the town square, stops at the

street corner, and presses a button on a pole. "You can cross Battle Street

now," the pole tells him, as the man continues on without missing a beat.

The

menus at the local McDonald's are written in Braille. The sidewalks are flawlessly

even. And most people--even non-impaired people such as the teenage

girl behind the pizza counter, the store manager at the local pharmacy, the

town's police officers--have an unconscious habit of signing while talking,

no matter whom they are talking to.

Talladega,

an Indian word meaning "border town," for its once central location

between two great historic Native American tribes, saw its heyday in the late

1800's and early 1900's when a newly built railroad brought thirty trains a

day to the center of town.

Business

thrived, and the century-old plantations and manor houses built during

that era still line the quiet neighborhood streets. Even then, though, the

nucleus of the town was the Alabama Institute for the Deaf and Blind.

Founded

before the Civil War by a doctor whose little brother was deaf, the institute

has grown over the past century and a half into one of the most renowned institutions

for impaired people in the country. The institute runs three of the town's four

schools that cater to people who are deaf, blind, or impaired. They are the

Alabama School for the Blind, the Alabama School for the Deaf, and the Helen

Keller School of Alabama for children or adults who have multiple disabilities.

The

institute also runs the Alabama Industries for the Blind, a $10 million-a-year

enterprise that employs hundreds of deaf and blind people, who make, among

dozens

of other items, every tie worn by a man in the four branches of the military.

But

the institute also employs plenty of non-impaired Talladega residents--more

than 1,100 work at the institute or one of its many branches.

"AIDB

is such a part of Talladega, you can't see one without the other," says

Lisa Sams, a specialist with the Office of Institutional Advancement at the

institute and a lifelong resident. "AIDB has certainly helped the [town's]

economy, we employ so many people," Sams says. "But it also keeps

so many folks coming in and out of town, and a lot of times people decide to

settle here. I think they find the small-Southern-town community

hospitable."

Despite

the institute's reputation, though, little is known about Talladega outside

the town limits. The reputation it has is more for being close to a NASCAR speedway

than anything else.

"We're

the best-kept secret," Sams says. This community "is a way of

life. When you go outside to other cities, you look around and actually notice,

nobody's signing here."

Along

the historic town square and the newer commercial streets crowded with fast-food

restaurants, the Winn-Dixie and the Piggly Wiggly, signing is everywhere,

from

the checkout counters to the video-rental shop, where all the movies come

with optional subtitles.

Where

in most towns access between strip mall parking lots is usually blocked, Talladega's

strip malls have pathways linking one shopping area to the next, and any hanging

branches are carefully clipped. Some blind people in Talladega are so comfortable

on the streets and sidewalks that they keep their canes folded up.

Kim

Casey, the manager of the local McDonald's, whose boyfriend is blind, says

that because Talladega has always been so conscientious about meeting people's

needs--both

disabled and non-disabled--it makes it easy for everyone to just

blend together as people.

"I

love it here. It's like ... " she pauses, searching for a word. Her hands

think of it first.

"It's

too cool. It's one of a kind," she says, signing. "But you'll never

hear about it." She doesn't remember when exactly she learned to sign.

She just always has.

For

many years, town officials say, it seemed people would attend one of the schools,

either moving here with their parents or staying as boarders, but then would

leave after they graduated. The schools emphasize independence, even adventure,

and encourage students to go out and join the world.

Back

then the schools' higher education programs focused on trade skills, such as

piano tuning for blind students, that could be taken anywhere. They also taught

broom making, a craft that takes years to learn.

But

in recent years, educated under the philosophy that they could do anything,

fewer students wanted to stay around to make brooms. Those who left, having

developed careers outside Talladega, didn't find much reason to come back.

The

advent of computers brought another change. The institute's industries have

grown and changed, bringing in millions of dollars, all of which goes to pay

salaries and enhance the schools. The industry arm makes computer supplies and

designs programs, jobs that many former students find rewarding and are returning

to take part in.

Ray

Fulghum graduated from the Alabama School for the Blind in 1956. He left Talladega

to join a company that makes pianos. For thirty-seven years he lived all over

the state, eventually going into business for himself.

By

the early 1990's his best friend, whom he met in the school's dorm in second

grade, had moved back to Talladega. Fulghum decided to return too, after landing

a job with one of the institute's industries.

"I

ventured out, I did my thing," Fulghum says. "But sometimes there's

something to be said about being in a place where everyone is just like you."

Fulghum

has been around blind people his whole life. Both his parents, who also went

to the school here, were blind, and so are his son and a granddaughter, all

stricken by congenital cataracts. His great-nephew, though, born with

the same problem, has some sight, thanks to advances in medical technology

that have corrected the cataracts.

"It's

hard out there to get people to accept people with disabilities," Fulghum

says. "You get tired of being stereotyped, of people thinking you're drunk.

"People

here, they're used to it," he says. "They don't think anything about

blind people walking around town. Everybody intermingles here, and life just

goes on."

There you have the article.

Here is the letter from Michael Jones, president of the NFB of Alabama and a

past employee of the institute:

September 15, 2003

Dear Sun Editor:

Michael

Jones

Please allow me to comment

on the Sunday Sun's article regarding "A Town Built on Empowerment."

I was a resident of this community for more than four years, and "empowerment"

would be the last word that would come to my mind in describing Talladega. I

was shocked by the shameless promotion in which your reporter engaged with apparently

very little research. Reading this article, one is led to believe that Talladega

is a forward thinking and technically progressive community, at least for people

with disabilities. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I

found the town to be extremely backward in attitudes about the capabilities

of people who are blind or disabled. Consider for example a visit that I made

to a doctor's office. The personnel in that office were extremely nervous and

uncomfortable in their dealings with me. They continually asked me if anyone

was with me. Of course no one was since I am quite capable of traveling independently,

but this information seemed to unnerve them. I asked one person if she was used

to interacting with blind people, and her response was shocking, especially

for a town that is supposed to be so progressive. She said, "We are used

to you people being brought over by an instructor, not coming alone."

Mr.

Moorehead, director of the Heritage Hall Museum of the City of Talladega, brags

that people move to Talladega for employment. One wonders where he arrives at

such information when the unemployment rate for Talladega is 9.3 percent, a

figure almost twice the state average. One also finds it hard to believe that

blind and deaf people find the industries for the blind a great employment bonanza,

considering that the average wage for a blind worker is a paltry $5.91 per hour.

Lest

one think that blind people are getting their fair share from the Alabama Institute

for the Deaf and Blind employment opportunity, one might (and your reporter

should) consider further that not one blind person out of the reported 1,100

employees of the institute is employed in an administrative or managerial job.

That means that not one blind person is empowered with the authority to make

decisions at the institute. Furthermore, blind people are empowered with a full

1 percent of the workforce beyond that of production workers at the institute

in Talladega.

Now

the institute is not alone in its lack of employment of blind people. The local

city and county governments have empowered blind people with jobs in their structure

at a rate of 0 percent. It is a pity that your reporter could not have opened

her eyes to see beyond the rose-colored veil that was pulled over them. I wonder

if she asked any of the merchants if they empowered blind people with a job

in their businesses.

Empowerment

is not, as Talladega would have one believe, red lights that make noise, smooth

sidewalks, or smiling faces. It is dignity one achieves by self-confidence gained

by belief in one's abilities and competent training. Blind people who think

of themselves as appearing drunk are not examples of empowerment, nor are they

examples of the type of quality training that one would expect to come from

an institute that trains blind people to live in the world. However, poor training

standards at the Talladega-based institute are the norm rather than the exception.

Consider for example this past year's high school graduation class from the

school for the deaf, where only one student out of twenty-eight earned

a regular Alabama high school diploma. Also consider that fewer than 10 percent

of the school for the blind's graduates ever finish college.

Talladega

brags about being the best-kept secret. There is a reason for the town of 15,000

being unknown: it needs to be.

J. Michael Jones, President

National Federation

of the Blind of Alabama

Now here is the letter

NFB President Marc Maurer wrote:

September 17, 2003

Dear Sun

Editor:

Marc

Maurer

I am writing in response

to the Sunday Sun's article titled, "A Town Built on Empowerment."

As president of the National Federation of the Blind, a 50,000-member consumer

and advocacy organization of blind people, located in Baltimore since 1978,

I am disturbed by the implications of this article and especially the incongruity

of the story with its title. Where is the empowerment if one's world is redesigned

to meet every possible obstacle--a busy street, an uneven sidewalk, or a hanging

branch? Where is the empowerment when the aspects of everyday walking are so

altered, no matter the well-intended reasons?

I

don't doubt that living in Talladega is pleasant. It is a town that takes special

care to protect the blind from inconvenience or perceived harm and has a citizenry

with a sensitivity and awareness of the concerns of disabled people (Braille

menus are welcomed by the blind in any restaurant). But isn't there an implication

in the article that living in any other city, Baltimore for example, or New

York, Chicago, or Los Angeles, would be too difficult or scary for a blind person?

We

at the National Federation of the Blind believe that it is impractical and unrealistic

to expect major changes in the world in order to be able to live in and enjoy

it. And we want to be able to live where we need or want to be. Therefore our

advocacy is for more and better mobility training (training that will provide

the strategies needed to cross busy streets, to check for hanging branches or

uneven sidewalks) and, of course, for more information in Braille. As a blind

man I have learned the techniques of travel, and most street crossings (other

than ones so dangerous we might all wish for some assistance) will not benefit

from audible traffic signals. But I can't read print, access the flat-screen

ATM, or surf Web sites not compatible with speech output devices. These are

the barriers to education and jobs for which I will require modification.

The

National Federation of the Blind has for more than sixty years understood what

is really needed to improve the lives of the blind, and its members have been

dedicated in meeting the challenge to provide what is needed. In January 2004

the NFB will open its Research and Training Institute in south Federal Hill.

The Institute will conduct research into the most effective methods for teaching

our children Braille, the technologies needed to improve nonvisual access, and

the strategies needed to allow our senior blind to continue living independent

lives. The Institute will develop, evaluate, and implement programs to increase

employment opportunities for the blind. Provide us the training that prepares

us for the opportunities in education and employment, and we will go about our

lives very much like everyone else.

Cordially,

Marc Maurer, President

National Federation

of the Blind

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