Future Reflectios, Winter '92

FUTURE REFLECTIONS

Vol. 11, No. 1

Winter, 1992

Barbara Cheadle, Editor

Contents

Blindness Education Week

The Best Decision We Ever Made by Elizabeth Klunek

Changing What It Means to be Blind

What it Means to be Blind: In Our Hearts and In Our Minds

Braille Workshop

Dr. Ralph Bartley Honored as Distinguished Educator of Blind

Children

Know the System

National Federation of the Blind Recognizes Braille Readers by

Sandy and John

Halverson

Change Through Role Modeling and Networking (A Parent Panel

Discussion)

Sensory Safari

Literature Review: What Color Is The Sun

Edited by Kenneth Jernigan. Reviewed by Lorraine Rovig.

Reflecting the Flame

Marc Maurer, President, National Federation of the Blind

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BLINDNESS EDUCATION WEEK

* Where can you meet up to 2,500 blind people in one week or

less?

* Where can you hear stimulating, informative, and exciting

speakers who are national experts in the education and

rehabilitation of the blind?

* Where can you meet the most active, knowledgeable parents of

blind children (including parents of blind multiple-handicapped

children) in the country?

* In what one week of the year are you likely to learn more about

blindness and how best to raise your blind child, than any other

one week of the year?

* Where, in 1992, can you see--all in one place at one time--one of

the largest exhibits of the newest aids and technology for the

blind in the country?

Answer: Simple. The 1992 National Federation of the Blind

National

Convention at the Convention Center in Charlotte, North Carolina,

from Sunday, June 28 through Saturday, July 4.

Futhermore, you can do all the things above, and more, for a lot

less money than you might think. Your biggest investment will be

your time and energy. But the payback for that investment--in

terms

of new knowledge, new understanding, and the new friends you make

from among the thousands of blind adults, children, other

parents,

and educators who attend the convention--is enormous.

Convention activities this year begin on Sunday, June 28, with an

all-day seminar for parents of blind children. The theme for this

year's seminar is "Integrating Blind Children and Youth in School

and in the Community." The keynote address will be given by Fred

Schroeder, Director of the New Mexico Commission for the Blind,

and

an acknowledged national expert on the integrated education of

blind children. Also on the agenda will be a panel of blind

children and youth talking about their experiences with making

friends, having fun, and learning to "fit in;" a panel of

parents;

a panel of blind adults; and numerous other speakers on topics

such

as independent travel, computer technology, the deaf-blind child,

and residential schools.

Great topics, however, do not make a great seminar. A worthwhile

seminar must have interesting and informative speakers. We expect

our 1992 speakers to be as good as, if not better than, those of

the 1991 parent seminar. You can judge for yourself the quality

the 1991 seminar from the speeches reprinted in this article:

"What

It Means to be Blind in our Hearts and in Our Minds" (a panel of

blind students) and "Change Through Role-Modeling and Networking"

(a panel of parents).

Registration for the seminar will begin at 8:00 a.m.; and the

seminar will start at 9:00 a.m. The registration fee is $8.00

per

family or $5.00 per person. The fee entitles the participant to a

packet of literature and materials and may also be applied, if

desired, toward membership in the Parents of Blind Children

Division (which includes a subscription to Future Reflections).

hour and half will be allowed for lunch (there are many

inexpensive

restaurants and fast-food places nearby), and the seminar will

adjourn at 5:00 p.m.

Q.: What about children? We may want to bring the kids. Is there

anything for them?

A.: On the day of the parent seminar (Sunday, June 28) the

Parents

of Blind Children Division and the NFB Parental Concerns

Committee

will offer child-care for the infants and toddlers and organized

fun and learning experiences for children ages 5 to 12. (We

encourage older youth to attend the seminar with their parents or

other NFB workshops on that day--such as the half-day Job

Opportunities for the Blind (JOB) Seminar.)

Lori Anderson--a blind parent, a former kindergarten teacher, and

currently a teacher of blind and visually impaired children--has

once again volunteered to organize and supervise the activities

for

the age 5 to 12 group. In the five or so years Lori has done this

job, she has taken the children on field trips to nearby

children's

museums, ice-cream parlors, parks, shopping malls, and zoos. She

has brought in puppet shows, clowns, and traveling petting zoos.

And she has organized opportunities for the children (sighted and

blind) to learn more about how blind people use white canes and

Braille.

Lori believes that the activities she organizes should be fun and

educational, but above all they should promote friendships and

greater understanding among blind children, sighted children of

blind parents, sighted siblings of blind kids, sighted spouses of

blind adults, and blind adults. It is a big task she sets for

herself--especially when you consider it is all done on a

volunteer

basis--but every year she succeeds admirably. 1992 should be no

exception. The fee for each child is $10.00. This includes lunch

expenses, fee for field trip or other amusement, cost of craft

materials, etc. Look for more details, including a

pre-registration

form, in the next issue of Future Reflections.

Child-care for infants and toddlers and those who choose not to

participate in the Sunday, June 28, organized children's

activities, is sponsored by the NFB Parental Concerns Committee,

chaired by Carol Coulter. Carol is a blind parent and licensed

child care provider, operating a child care program out of her

home

in Missouri. Like Lori, she volunteers her time to this major

effort. And it is a major undertaking! It takes a tremendous

amount

of volunteer time from many Federation parents who care deeply

about making the NFB Convention an enjoyable and enriching

experience for every member of the family who attends.

Child care is not only provided during the parent seminar on

Sunday, June 28, 1992; but during the convention sessions, the

banquet, and other special meeting times as resources will allow.

Parents are asked to make these donations for child care: $50 for

the week (including the banquet) for the first child and $25 for

each additional child; or $10 per child per day, and $10 per

child

for the banquet night if you do not need the full week of

day-care.

(Parents who cannot contribute the suggested donation should

contact Carol Coulter to discuss what donation they wish to make.

Carol will be available in the child care room before and after

sessions, or you may contact her in advance at: 2504 Glenn Drive,

Columbia, Missouri 65202; (314)-474-3226). Since the suggested

donation does not cover all expenses, other donations from

individuals and groups are much appreciated.)

Q.: Is the Parent seminar on Sunday the only activity of interest

to parents, or the only chance to meet other parents?

A.: Absolutely not! The NFB Parents of Blind Children Division

meeting is held on Tuesday afternoon of the convention (June 30).

At this meeting we get an opportunity to meet and hear from our

parent groups from all over the country. We discuss local and

national projects (such as our annual Braille Readers Are Leaders

Contest), elect officers, hear a presentation from the 1992

Educator of Blind Children award winner, and hear committee

reports. Every year the program is a little different. This year,

after the business meeting and reports, we will break up into

small

groups for mini-workshops. One mini-workshop will be an

orientation

for parents new to our organization. Another will discuss ways to

organize or strengthen a local, state, or regional parent

division

of the National Federation of the Blind. (There is no fee for the

meeting or the mini-workshops, but membership dues are collected

this time.)

The following day, Wednesday evening, July 1, Claudell Stocker,

Head, Braille Development Section, National Library for the Blind

and Physically Handicapped, will conduct a special three hour

Braille Workshop for parents and others who want to learn

Braille.

If you have been considering learning Braille, or struggling to

learn it on your own, you will not want to miss this workshop! It

will be an intensive hands-on learning experience. The goal is

for

everyone to leave the workshop able to read and write some

Braille.

See page 17 in this issue for more details.

In regard to other activities, there are so many special interest

committees and divisions that you are bound to find something up

your alley. Here is a partial list: Parental Concerns Committee,

Committee on Concerns of the Deaf-Blind, Music Division, National

Association to Promote the Use of Braille, Diabetic Division,

Writers Division, National Association of Blind Lawyers, National

Federation of the Blind in Computer Science, and the Student

Division.

Then there is the meat of the convention--the general convention

sessions. These always feature speakers of interest to

parents--from

blind adults talking about their interesting or unique careers

(one

year we had a blind horse trader, another year a blind

pharmacist)

to people of power and influence in the political and

governmental

arena as well as in the field of education and rehabilitation for

the blind.

(For a complete report of the 1991 convention, please see the

September, 1991, Braille Monitor. This issue may be ordered free

charge by sending your request to: Materials Center, National

Federation of the Blind, 1800 Johnson Street, Baltimore, Maryland

21230.)

Q.: You mentioned an exhibit hall. Where and when will that be

available at the convention?

A.: The exhibit hall will be open all day on Monday, June 29, and

at various other times throughout the convention. Location of the

exhibits and a complete schedule of hours will be listed in your

convention agenda, which you will get when you register for the

convention.

Q.: Speaking of registration, when and how do I register for the

National Federation of the Blind convention, how much will it

cost,

and what do I get for my registration fee?

A.: Registration for the NFB convention will begin the morning of

Monday, June 29. The fee is $5.00 per person. You may also

purchase

banquet tickets at the same time. (The banquet is an exciting and

lively affair at NFB conventions, and is considered by many to be

the highlight of the convention.) The banquet is on Friday

evening,

July 3. The cost of a banquet ticket will be in the neighborhood

$25. The convention agenda (in print or Braille) is given out at

the time of registration.

Those who register are eligible for hundreds of great door prizes

which are given away throughout the convention general sessions

and

the banquet. All door prizes are worth at least $25 and many are

straight cash. But, most importantly, registration entitles you

receive our unbelievably low convention room rates. Those who

attend but do not register for the convention will be asked to

pay

the considerably higher regular room rates.

Q.: I understand the convention will be in Charlotte, North

Carolina, in the Convention Center, but what hotel is the

convention using, what are the room rates, and how do I make my

reservation?

A.: The 1992 NFB convention will use four hotels; the Adam's

Mark,

the Holiday, the Marriott, and the Radisson. Business sessions,

banquet, and exhibits will be held in the Convention Center. The

Radisson is attached to the Convention Center by an overhead

corridor, the Marriott is immediately across the street, and the

Holiday Inn and Adam's Mark are within a few blocks of the

Convention Center. Even though the distances are short, a bus

will

shuttle twenty-four hours a day in a loop from the Holiday to the

Adam's Mark to the Convention Center.

The hotels rates are: singles, $30; doubles and twins, $35;

triples, $38; and quads, $40. These rates are in addition to an

occupancy tax, which is currently 12%. There will be no charge

for

children who stay in the room with their parents if no extra bed

required.

Requests for hotel reservations should be sent to: Convention

'92,

National Federation of the Blind, 1800 Johnson Street, Baltimore,

Maryland 21230. Do not write to the hotels. Even if one of the

hotels should by mistake accept a request for a reservation and

confirm it, this constitutes notice that such a confirmation will

not be valid. Requests for reservations should be accompanied by

$40 deposit for each room requested. Payment may be either by

check

made payable to National Federation of the Blind, or by credit card

(MasterCard, Visa, or Discover). If a credit card is used, the

deposit charge will be made immediately just as would be the case

with a check. If a reservation is canceled prior to June 15,

1992,

$20 of the $40 deposit will be returned. Otherwise, refunds will

not be made. Although we cannot guarantee that requests for a

specific hotel can be honored, we will do the best we can to

place

those who have physical problems that impair mobility as close to

meeting rooms as possible. We will tend to give preference in

room

placement to those who make reservations early, but written

confirmations of reservations and name of hotel may not be sent

out

until sometime in the spring. For more information, or to place a

credit card reservation by phone, call: (410) 659-9314.

Q.: Our family would like to meet some compatible blind adults

and

students. How can we do that at the convention?

A.: About the only way you can avoid meeting blind people at the

convention is if you come and hole up in your hotel room for the

week. Step onto the elevator and say "hello." Chat with your

neighbor in the covention or hotel registration line. Talk to the

blind parents you see as you drop off or pick up your child from

child care (child care, by the way, is a great place for your

children to meet other children and adults--both sighted and

blind.)

Attend division and committee meetings, ask a question or

introduce

yourself to the group or to person next to you. There are so many

different types of divisions and committees to choose between

that

you are bound to find at least one that interests you. Attend the

general convention sessions and sit with your NFB state affiliate

(each state has a seating section clearly marked with a large

state

sign). Blind people from your state will be particularly pleased

meet you, answer your questions, and introduce you to others.

There

are also many social functions at the convention where you can

meet

others. For example, last year we had a concert by Pete Fountain

followed by a dance, a fashion show, a music contest sponsored by

the music division, a reception for NFB scholarship winners, a

casino night fund-raiser sponsored by the student division, and

numerous tours on the half-day set aside for this activity. And

there will be at least as many social activities at the 1992

convention as there were at the 1991 convention.

So, whether it be in the elevator, in a meeting room, in child

care, in a line, over a meal, or over a beer; there is no lack of

opportunity for meeting interesting, cordial, and compatible

blind

people at an NFB National Convention.

Q.: Why did you call this article, "Blindness Education Week"?

A.: Because the National Federation of the Blind National

Convention is truly an educational experience in blindness.

Nowhere

else will you see so many blind people from so many different

walks

of life. Nowhere else will you hear the same kind of debates and

discussions regarding crucial issues affecting the blind. And

nowhere else will you find the same mix of knowledge about

blindness, an upbeat spirit, a warm camaraderie, and a fierce

dedication to achieving the goal of equality and equal

opportunity

for the blind.

THE BEST DECISION WE EVER MADE

by Elizabeth Klunek

When Barbara Cheadle asked me to write an article about my first

National Federation of the Blind Convention, I felt what I really

needed to do was to go back to my first year and a half of

searching and searching and searching for answers to my questions

and fears about my son's education (my son, Christopher, was

about

three years old then.)

My husband and I are from the state of New Jersey, which means we

have to work with the New Jersey Commission for the Blind, the

recognized experts on blindness in our state. I kept asking them,

"But how will my blind partially sighted son read?" The

commission

and low vision specialist told me that he would be fine using

optical devices, and just wait until I see the CCTV (closed

circuit

television; a magnifying device using a t.v. screen) he'll be

able

to use. I listened, but continued my search. For what I didn't

yet

know, but I knew in my heart that, despite all the organizations

had joined, the books I sent away for and read, and all the

meetings I had attended, something was missing.

Then, in the Spring of 1991, I received an invitation to attend

the

annual convention of the National Federation of the Blind of New

Jersey. Speakers like Fred Schroeder (the blind Director of the

New

Mexico Commission for the Blind); Carol Castellano (a parent from

New Jersey); and Ever Lee Hailey (a blind adult) had fresh and

different ideas about blindness. I was excited! I still didn't

have

all the answers to my questions, but I was definitely on the

right

road!

The next decision to make was, "Should I go to the National

Federation of the Blind National Convention in July?" After

making

some phone calls to Federationists and asking a ton of

questions--"My son is partially sighted. Will there be anything

there that relates to me? Any parents with partially sighted

kids?

Any partially sighted adults? Should I bring my son, or leave him

home this year?"--my husband and I decided I should go to New

Orleans and attend the National Convention.

IT WAS THE BEST DECISION WE EVER MADE! I spent five of the most

exciting, exhausting, educational, fun, friendly days of my life

this convention. I was able to speak with educators, parents,

children, young college students, blind parents, and blind people

of every description. Everyone was friendly and eager to share

their knowledge with me and to tell me about someone else who

could

help. (I remember thinking how was I ever going to find somebody

had never met in this crowd, but I always did, and it was always

worth it.) Soon, there were people hunting me up because they had

heard about me and my son and they wanted to talk to me, too.

When I went home I was exhausted, but happy because of all that I

had learned in just a few short days. All of it--the contagious

convention spirit; the late-night conversations; the books and

articles; the speeches; the telephone numbers of people willing

help--came together to help us understand that one of the most

important things out son Christopher needed was Braille.

We are now working on getting Braille into Christopher's I.E.P.

won't be easy, and we know we still have much to learn about

blindness, but we no longer feel alone or without direction.

Dr. Jernigan, President Emeritus of the National Federation of

the

Blind, made a statement at the Convention Parents Seminar that

has

really stayed with me. He told parents that in regard to our

blind

kids, "We have to take care of tomorrow, today." And that's just

what my husband and I are doing. Thanks, N.F.B.!

CHANGING WHAT IT MEANS TO BE BLIND:

THE 1991 SEMINAR FOR

PARENTS OF BLIND CHILDREN

From Barbara Pierce, Associate Editor of the Braille Monitor: The

telephone rang at about seven one evening last June. I was alone

the National Center for the Blind in Baltimore, preparing my

dinner

and anxious to return to my computer. I answered the call--one is

never sure what such evening conversations will cover--and found

that I was talking with a young father from Louisiana. His infant

had just been diagnosed as blind, and he was looking for help.

Someone had mentioned that a big convention of blind people would

take place soon in New Orleans and that there might be some

information there that would help him and his family. He had made

a number of phone calls trying to learn the name of the

organization and the time and place of the convention. None of

the

professionals in the blindness field with whom he spoke seemed to

know anything about the event, a fact which puzzled and

frustrated

him. Finally someone at the Chamber of Commerce told him that the

organization was the National Federation of the Blind and gave

him

the phone number for the National Center.

I told this father about the upcoming convention and the seminar

for parents of blind children that was scheduled for Sunday, June

30, and assured him that if he and his wife attended it, they

would

meet a number of people who could help him get started the right

way with his baby. I also talked with him about the importance of

changing his own notions and expectations about blindness and

what

blind people can do. He did attend the seminar, and though I did

not meet him, I have learned that he talked with other parents of

blind children. I don't know what impact the event had on him,

but

I do know that this was one of the most exciting and constructive

parent seminars we have ever conducted.

From their various perspectives, a number of speakers addressed

the

subject of "Changing What it Means to Be Blind." The morning

began

when keynote speaker, Barbara Pierce, took a look at the parent's

responsibility to mold the blind child's attitudes and experience

in order to nurture the development of competent, resilient blind

adults. Then other national leaders in the movement--Dr. Kenneth

Jernigan, President Marc Maurer, and James Gashel--looked at

their

own experience and the ways in which the National Federation of

the

Blind has assisted them to succeed in their own lives and work.

Following these speakers, a panel of blind students talked about

the problems blind children face and the impact of the National

Federation of the Blind in solving them. (See the following

article, "What it Means to be Blind: In our Hearts and in Our

Minds.") A panel of parents wrapped up the morning session with

the

topic "Change Through Role-Modeling and Networking" (see page 27

this issue.)

The afternoon session of the seminar was devoted to a series of

45-minute small group workshops. Workshop topics included: Math

and

Sciences, Braille, Physical Education and Sports, Cane Travel,

The

Blind/Multiply Handicapped Child, Networking, and Open

Discussion.

There is no way to convey the information and excitement

communicated in the afternoon small group sessions. One had to be

there to appreciate the scope and usefulness of the entire

seminar

and the warmth and support of the members of the Parents

Division.

WHAT IT MEANS

TO BE BLIND:

IN OUR HEARTS AND IN OUR MINDS

From the Editor: Peggy Pinder, Second Vice President of the

Federation and Chairman of the NFB Scholarship Committee,

moderated

the panel. Here is the way the discussion went:

Peggy Pinder: It is a humbling experience to have the opportunity

to follow three such powerful, effective, and experienced

speakers,

and since I don't have to worry about that, I am sure that the

panel participants are also very humbled. [Laughter] I think it

very fitting that we have had three long-time, effective, and

capable leaders in the National Federation of the Blind--Barbara

Pierce, Dr. Jernigan, and Jim Gashel--telling you about

themselves

and how they reflect on the blind child and the blind child's

future.

We're lucky to have three students to balance those three

leaders--three of our young leaders of the blind to serve on this

panel, discussing "Blindness in Our Hearts and in Our Minds." As

have thought about these three panelists, it seems to me that

there

are three things they have in common: all three of them are

blind;

all three of them have achieved academic success and distinction

(proved not only by their winning National Federation of the

Blind

scholarships, but also, as you will hear, being genuinely

distinguished, capable, scholars in their chosen fields). That's

the second thing they have in common--academic distinction and

success in objective terms. The third thing is a commitment to

change. It would seem that these last two are inconsistent. Why

would they want to change if things are working for them now? Why

change? Change what? And change to what? I think those are the

questions that the panelists are here this morning to talk about.

I will begin by introducing to you one of this year's scholarship

winners, Olegario Cantos from California. Ollie will be a senior

Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles, where he is working

a Bachelor of Arts degree in political science. Last year he was

appointed to serve as vice president in charge of student

services.

He has an office as well as having his academic responsibilities.

This coming academic year, he will be serving as executive vice

president and chair of the Student Senate. That is an elected

position. He was elected by his peers to serve, as he put it,

"second in command of the students." He has also been serving and

will continue to serve on the Legal Aid Foundation for the city

Los Angeles, and growing out of that and his other work, he was

nominated for and has now been presented one of the outstanding

youth awards that the city of Los Angeles grants.

In addition to these and other achievements that I won't go into,

Ollie was also recently selected to serve on a jury. Jury service

for blind people isn't common and isn't taken for granted. Most

blind people called for such service are excused. Ollie was not

excused. He was seated on the jury, and he was selected as the

foreman. And in this criminal trial (being a former prosecutor I

have to tell you the end of the story) the jury found the

defendant

guilty. With all of these credentials, as you can see, this is a

gentleman who has made a success. Here is Ollie Cantos.

Olegario Cantos: When I was asked by Barbara Cheadle to speak

about

the National Federation of the Blind's changing what it means to

blind, I gave the topic a great deal of thought. How could I put

this into words? Then I remembered a Chinese proverb that was

given

to me by my mentor Sharon Gold, President of the National

Federation of the Blind of California. The proverb goes like

this:

"Be not afraid of growing slowly; be afraid only of standing

still." It was then I realized in looking back that coming to a

deeper understanding of the reality of blindness was a result of

constant process of growth and change, and it is a process that

will never end.

I was born two months prematurely, being diagnosed as having

retrolental fibroplasia. As a result I had no vision in my left

eye

and partial vision in my right. Since I did have some residual

vision, all emphasis in my life in everything I did was placed on

the use of that vision, and my attitudes were shaped accordingly.

I remember as a child what I thought about blindness. At first I

did not know what blindness was. Then, as I grew older, I

interacted with other children, children who happened to be fully

sighted. They were allowed to run around, play tag, and use

playground equipment. Though this was sometimes true in my case,

there was a subtle difference. More often than with other

children,

I was either prevented from or discouraged from engaging in any

vigorous activities. "Why can't I do things like everyone else?" I

asked.

The reply was, "Well you can't see too well, and there are just

some things that you can't do." This was in reference to vigorous

activity. Gradually I acquired a misconception of myself, that I

was inferior to the sighted, that having sight meant having

ability, and that my lack of sight necessarily meant that I was

not

quite as capable as those with full visual capacity. By the same

token, I also felt lucky. After all, I did have some vision,

unlike

totally blind people, who were unfortunate enough to be, I

believed

at that time, in need of constant care and special attention.

Based

upon this misconception about blindness, I often remarked, "Oh

God,

don't accuse me of being blind; I am not helpless." This was my

philosophy about blindness--the philosophy of avoidance, and it

affected every area of my life. It affected what I believed about

certain issues, including Braille.

When I was in first grade, I was taught how to read and write

just as were children who were sighted. At first it was slow. We

were all slow because reading and writing were still new to us,

but

soon a gap developed. This gap between their reading and writing

speed and mine began to increase. In time fellow students became

faster and faster in both reading and writing while I generally

remained at the same level. In fourth grade something else

happened. The print in the text books became smaller. In

addition,

the reading assignments were longer and more complex, requiring

more time. Moreover, they were made more often than in the

earlier

grades.

Now I was faced with a dilemma. What was I to do? This material

was

really hard, and I had to find a way to deal with it. I thought

that the most important factor was that I could read print, and I

must do this at all costs so help me God, and that is what I did,

for a while. I increased my use of adaptive devices such as

magnifying glasses and closed circuit televisions, and, to some

degree, it did work. However, there was a drawback. I could read

a maximum speed--and I tried very hard--of twenty words per

minute

for fifteen minutes at most. Yet I was very, very happy with this

performance. After all, I managed to avoid having to learn

Braille,

which I believed was only for totally blind people and was a last

resort if a person could not read one letter of print. This

conviction was strengthened by my belief that Braille was bulky

and

slow. I thought, especially later in the light of various

developments in equipment and technology, that Braille was

obsolete.

My beliefs with regard to the use of Braille also affected my

belief in the use of the long white cane, or of any cane for that

matter. I vowed, "I don't need to carry a cane. I will never,

never

carry a cane; not until the day I die will I carry a cane." Why?

Because I thought people would think I was helpless, because,

after

all, blind people are helpless. Since I was not helpless, I felt

was not blind. Since I was not blind, I did not need to carry a

cane, and I refused. This was my stance, but I gave little

consideration to the fact that I got into more accidents than did

the average sighted person, and this was not due to clumsiness.

Literally, I fell down steps, tripped over curbs, and otherwise

bumped into obstacles in my way that I could easily have avoided

simply walking around them. To justify this state of affairs, I

said, "Well, I don't get into accidents that often, not that

often." But I did not ask myself why I should get into any

accidents at all.

Then I found the National Federation of the Blind, and I attended

my first national convention last year. I tell you, ladies and

gentlemen, for the first time, for the very first time, I gained

full sense of who and what I was, and I know who and what I am. I

am a person who happens to be blind, equal in every way. I am

equal

in capability and competence. We are neither tragically deprived

nor wondrously gifted. Rather we are equal to the sighted except

not having the physical ability to see. I now know, because of

the

National Federation of the Blind, that the obstacles that we as

blind people face do not come from blindness itself but rather

from

prevailing public attitudes. The reality is that, given the

proper

training in basic skills and the opportunity to succeed, we will

able to compete with the sighted on terms of full equality. If

only

my parents had known back then what they know now, if only they

had

had within them the philosophy of the National Federation of the

Blind, things would have been so different in my life. They would

have fought for me to learn Braille. They would have made sure

that

I was well versed in cane travel. Most important, they would have

known that it is respectable to be blind

After last year, when I returned from the convention, I knew that

I had a challenge ahead of me, that of telling my parents about

the

new philosophy I had found. So when I walked in the door carrying

a long white cane for the very first time, they said it was the

most pitiful state in which they had ever seen me. "You have

never

carried a cane in your life; why do you need one now? After all,

you haven't been getting into that many accidents, and even if

you

were to get into some, at least you weren't carrying a cane." I

asked them what was wrong with carrying a cane. They said, "If

you

carry a cane, don't you understand, people will think you are

blind."

I said, "So people think that I am blind."

They said, "But don't you see that if people think you are blind,

they'll think that you are helpless." Thus raged the battle. It

got

to the point of a heated argument. One of them said, "If you

carry

that thing when you are with me in public, I will not acknowledge

that I know you." Later we had a discussion about Braille. I told

my parents that I was going to learn it. They responded that

Braille was just for totally blind people. "I don't want anyone

know that you are blind."

I said, "Look, all my life I have sacrificed efficiency because I

had to read print, and look where it has gotten me. I have done

well enough, but I could have done better."

"Well," they said, "We are not going to budge." I said that I

would

not budge either. They thought they wouldn't, but they did. They

budged, and in time they grew to understand and to see,

especially

my mother. When she returned from the convention of the National

Federation of the Blind of California in November, she said,

"Look

Ollie, you better make sure to learn all that Braille, and learn

fast. I am watching you. Make sure to carry your cane at all

times." I am proud to say, ladies and gentlemen--and believe me

that

last year I would not have dreamed this would happen--but I am

proud

to say that they are here at this meeting today. Mom and Dad,

where

are you? Stand up. [Applause]

This is illustrative of the way that each of us has the power to

touch the lives of everyone else. We must persevere. What often

happens--many of you may have had this experience--is that school

districts may resist or completely refuse to give Braille

instruction to your children. They may refuse to teach your child

how to use the long white cane or any cane. Remain persistent,

because when they see that you mean business, when they see that

as an organization mean business, they will at least listen. When

they listen, they will begin to learn. When they learn, they will

begin to transform their newly acquired knowledge into actions in

their own lives. Once that happens, a ripple effect occurs. One

person affects a few, who affect a few more,who affect a few

more,

who affect countless others. Can one person change the world? Yes

indeed.

One year ago, I attended the convention of the National

Federation

of the Blind not knowing one character of Braille. I can say with

pride today that I am increasingly making Braille an integral

part

of my life. In fact, the speech that I have given to you today

was

the result of Braille notes right here. [Applause] And July 2,

1991, will mark the very first anniversary of my use of the long

white cane, and I know who I am, and I will never go back.

[Applause]

It has been said that the National Federation of the Blind

changes

what it means to be blind, but what should it mean to be blind?

means that your blind children have the right to learn how to

read

Braille alongside sighted children who are learning to read

print.

[Applause] It means that your child has the right to carry and to

learn to use the long white cane so that he or she can travel

independently in society. It means that some day, when your

children grow up to be the leaders of tomorrow, they will apply

for

jobs and be considered on the basis of their abilities and not be

victims of discrimination. It means, ladies and gentlemen, that

finally, some day, we will all walk down the streets knowing that

we have been accepted by society as the first-class citizens we

are. This is our motivation. This is our drive. This is why we

have

the Parents Division. This is why we have the National Federation

of the Blind. May we remember always to grow and never to stop,

and

may the future be brighter for your children and for your

children's children. Thank you.

Peggy Pinder: You can see that this gentleman will be a long-time

leader of the National Federation of the Blind.

We go now to our next panelist, who won her National Federation

the Blind scholarship in 1988. Melissa Lagroue will be a senior

next fall at Birmingham Southern College, where she is earning

her

Bachelor of Arts degree in Elementary Education. During her

college

years Melissa has faced what many blind people have, one way or

another--discrimination based on blindness. This last academic

year

Melissa, who is in process of doing the course work and student

teaching to become a credentialed teacher in Alabama, was told by

the Education Department that her application for teaching

credentials was going to be reviewed. The professor who told her

this believed that, as a blind person, she could not be a teacher

and should be removed completely from the Department of

Education.

Melissa didn't agree. She responded, and through not only her

strong efforts and advocacy, not only through her contacts with

the

National Federation of the Blind and the resources and

encouragement she drew on here, but also from other professors on

the Education Department faculty who were convinced that Melissa

could and would be a teacher, Melissa, was victorious. She will

remain in the Department of Education and will earn her degree

and

her teaching credential.

In addition to Melissa's work, she also does other things such as

volunteering to teach non-English speakers English. She

volunteers

a great deal of time to the National Federation of the Blind

itself. She serves as the president of the National Federation of

the Blind of Alabama Student Division and has worked hard to

organize student divisions in other states. She has also worked

the very, very difficult question of standardized testing for

blind

people, which is a difficult issue. Through her work and that of

others in recent years, some day blind people will be able to

take

standardized tests with valid scores, exactly as do sighted

students.

Finally, I'd like to mention something else about Melissa, which

some of you may not know. Not long ago Melissa came to New

Orleans

for another purpose. She heard and accepted a marriage proposal

from John Williamson. So New Orleans has meaning for Melissa

beyond

the NFB convention, and I want you to join me in congratulating

well as welcoming Melissa Lagroue.

Melissa Lagroue: Why have you come? Why are you here? What can

the

Federation do for you, and most important, what can the

Federation

do for your kids? A lot! When I came to the National Federation

the Blind convention in 1988, which was my first convention and

first exposure to the National Federation of the Blind, I had

some

really nifty ideas about blindness. I thought all blind people

should know Braille. I thought that some blind people should use

canes. And I thought that a few blind people could succeed and be

competent. I was wrong. Of course, blind people should use Braille;

that we know is true. But let's talk a little about the cane.

I started out in first or second grade--I lost my sight when I

was

six--using Braille. That was fine. I understood that. I even

thought

it was equal to print, and all was well and right with that. Then

my mother said, "You really ought to use a cane. You go around

holding people's hands, and that is not going to do very well for

you in junior high and high school." I said, "No, there's no

way."

What my mother didn't do was to shove a cane into my hand and

tell

me to "use it or you will not get where you want to go." What she

did was to hold my hand and lead me around. What I did was hold

to people all the way through high school. It was a great way to

meet guys, I thought. [Laughter] I can tell you that I didn't

meet

John that way.

Let me say some other things about blind people's succeeding. I

applied for a National Federation of the Blind scholarship, and I

thought, "There's no way I won't get one. Blind people aren't

competent; they're not making the grades that I am. They are not

out there doing the extracurriculars that I am doing. There's no

way that I won't get one." Well I did get one, actually, and I

came

to the convention thinking, "Hah, this is going to be a cinch;

this

is not going to be a problem." As some of you know, the Student

Division conducts a poker-a-thon, where you can go and play

cards.

That was going on the first night when I came to the convention

for

the first time. I went over and found that place, using my

munchkin

cane that came up to here, and I found the place. I thought,

"This

is where I am supposed to be, and now I can meet all of these

dorky

blind people." That's honestly what I thought. I walked in and

met

people who are today some of my best friends. It was amazing to

because, you see, the only blind people I had ever known were

those

guys that didn't have the training they needed, that didn't have

the skills they needed, that didn't have highly qualified,

competent role models from the very beginning to show them that

they could be more than society thought they could be. Those were

the guys that I knew. Those were the guys that I refused to

associate with.

When I first came to a National Federation of the Blind

convention,

I thought, "They're making me come because they want to look at

me.

I don't want to be around these blind people, so I'll come, and

I'll get the money, and I'll leave, and I'll never think of the

National Federation of the Blind again." That was three years

ago;

this is my fourth convention.

That's what I thought, and that's what I believed. But I've

learned

something different now. You see, I was academically successful;

did a lot of extracurriculars; I was a debater, a drama person

wandering around the stage. I thought that was neat, but where I

was not successful was in my own personal attitudes towards

blindness. I didn't think that it was respectable to be blind. I

thought it was embarrassing to be blind. I thought that it was

horrible to get up in front of a whole group of people, holding a

white cane, for instance. I thought that the white cane was this

huge signpost that said, "You are blind," and as Ollie would say,

"You are helpless." He is right; that's where a lot of us are

coming from.

His experience was different from mine; he didn't get the skills.

I got the skills. I got the opportunity to get more skills than I

did because my parents knew that blind people could do stuff;

they

just didn't quite know what. Before I went to my first

convention,

I told my parents that I had to go because these ridiculous

people

wanted me to, and why didn't they just give me the money? They

said, "To that organization? They are so militant; they are so

obnoxious! We hear that they have a guy who stands out on the

runway in front of airplanes." [Laughter] Well, times have

changed

since then, and my parents' ideas are a little more positive

about

the National Federation of the Blind, as are the ideas of some

other parents we know.

But what you can get is something that I never got. What you can

give to your children is something my parents couldn't give to

me.

It is going to take some strength on your part. You're going to

have to make your child sit down and learn Braille. There's no

question about it. You're going to have to sit down and hand your

child a cane and talk to him about the merits of cane travel, why

it is necessary. Then, when he throws the cane down and refuses

use it, you're going to have to leave him. I don't quite mean

literally standing in the middle of a shopping mall, but if it

takes walking away from your child to make him pick up that cane

and get where he needs to go, then you'll have to do it. If you

don't, your child will be hanging on to people all the way

through

high school.

In some ways, I feel I am preaching to the choir because you guys

are here, but this is why you need to bring more people with you.

Their kids are going to be hanging on to people, let me tell you.

Do you want to know one of the most uncomfortable situations you

can be in? It is going out on a date with someone and not being

able to get to the bathroom by yourself. Can you imagine walking

to your date and saying, "Excuse me, could you take me to the

bathroom? And while I am in there bumbling around, trying to find

where to go, could you please stand outside the door and wait for

me?" It is not a pleasant experience. I speak as one who knows.

I've done it. You do all sorts of stupid things to try to hide

your

blindness.

You can also teach your kids philosophically. You can teach them

that it is respectable to be blind. How can you do that? By

providing them with the role models that we have in the

Federation.

We have some incredible people running around here--some awfully

successful people and some awfully fun people. That's what it

comes

down to. I always thought that blind people were boring. They

didn't succeed and weren't fun, and I found out that I was wrong.

You need to sit down with your kids and talk to them about

blindness. There are going to be some pretty painful and

uncomfortable times.

This is something else that my parents didn't do because they

didn't know they needed to. I was seventeen years old, and I was

sitting down with my father, who was teaching me how to sign my

name. That hurt. As you know, when you are in first or second

grade, you learned how to sign your name. Everybody else does.

When

you are sighted, you do it that way. I didn't. I was seventeen

years old, scribbling out M, E loops over, L is a little taller,

I--that's a straight line; and I couldn't do it, I couldn't make

legible. That was one of the hard times, and my mother couldn't

it. She just did not have the heart to do it. She sat down and

said, "I can't do this; it hurts me that you are blind right

now."

That may sound strange, yet it might hit home.

Remember, get done early what you can do. Teach Braille early.

Make

sure your child learns how to sign his or her name early. Get the

cane in your child's hands. Make sure that the skills your child

needs will be taught. Make sure that the philosophical attitudes

are there.

I remember going to EPCOT in high school when I didn't use a

cane.

I held on to my mother, and we got to go to the front of the

line.

I would die before I would do that now, but I didn't know any

better at the time. I did not think about tomorrow, but you have

to. I suppose there are things now that I do that many people

don't

understand. There are privileges I don't accept now, and people

don't know why I don't. You have got to teach your kids not to

take

what they don't need. You have got to teach yourself not to allow

them to take what they don't need. You must provide them with the

role models. You can tell them why they shouldn't take what they

don't need. Explaining takes a lot of patience. It took a lot of

tears on the part of my parents anyway. But you can do it; I know

you can, and with the Federation's help you will.

Peggy Pinder: Our final panelist is Michael Gosse from

Connecticut.

He is a Ph.D. candidate in the field of electrical engineering at

Lehigh University in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Michael was a 1985

scholarship winner. He will receive his Ph.D. in the spring of

1992. His area of expertise, and the subject of his thesis, is

data

transmission through the use of microwaves, and he tells me that

his concentration is in the area of stability, which he says is

not

an obvious thing to want. I am not sure I agree with him.

[Laughter] He has also published on the topic "Monolithic

up-converters"--just in case any of you were wondering about the

topic of his published works thus far.

Michael has also experienced, as has Melissa, that blatant kind

discrimination that a blind person can face, you never know when.

In the course of his work towards his Ph.D., Michael has served

a teaching assistant, as many Ph.D. candidates do. We will

shortly

get a sample of his classroom manner. But in the course of his

studies, he sought at one point to become an instructor of

nuclear

physics not only to civilians but also to Navy classes. Now the

United States Navy categorizes its instructors in nuclear physics

as combat-ready personnel. And since they are, they cannot be

blind

people. Michael could not be the teacher since they'd have to

commission him as an officer and treat him as a combat-ready

person. Now the logic of that argument has always escaped me. I

think it escaped Michael, and I think that some day one of the

things we need to accomplish is acceptance of the notion that our

blind men and women want to serve our country in its armed

services

just as other people do. While combat may not be an option for

blind people, there are a great many things in the armed services

that blind people can do. Michael also writes poetry. He is a

triathlon competitor, and the longest one he has completed is

thirty-two miles of consecutive swimming, running, and biking,

which makes me tired even to think about. Here, for our final

panel

presentation, is not only the person I have already described to

you but somebody who, since 1985, has shown a great deal of

dedication and increasing commitment to the National Federation

the Blind and who was recently elected by the National Federation

of the Blind of Connecticut to serve as its president: Michael

Gosse.

Michael Gosse: Before I start, I just want to point out that our

first speaker, Ollie, is a 1991 scholarship winner and that our

second speaker, Melissa, was an '88 winner and I was an '85

winner.

I love patterns; three years separate each of us. I love that

sort

of thing. [Laughter] I could go into patterns, but I won't. Next

Monday I am going to be teaching my first course ever, as a

professor, and I'll walk into the classroom, and lay down the

rules

of the course as every professor does, and I will also make the

students aware of the fact that I am blind. After giving my

little

speech--raising your hand won't do you much good in my

class--I'll

pick up a piece of chalk and start writing my equations all over

the blackboard. That will confuse a lot of people, not the stuff

will be writing, although that will confuse them some, but just

the

fact that I am writing on the blackboard when I just finished

telling them I was blind. Whether I had joined the National

Federation of the Blind or not, I would probably have told the

class that I was blind, because when I was little my parents made

it clear to me that there was nothing wrong with it. And I didn't

know any other blind people or any of the stereotypes. I was kind

of a sheltered child. If I didn't have to read it, I didn't read

it. There was never any information about blindness coming to me

other than my parents' telling me that I could be whatever I

wanted

to be, so I didn't know that the stereotypical blind person stood

on the street corner and sold pencils. I had none of that in me,

I wasn't afraid to admit to anybody that I was blind.

My parents did a very good job teaching me that achievement was

something that you did for yourself and that you had to get

around

other people to do it sometimes but it was up to you. And that

was

the early lesson of childhood when I was still under their

guidance. But later on when I started to want to do things that

interested me, I would occasionally run into "Well you can't do

that."

"Why not?

"Because you are blind."

"But that doesn't make sense; that's not what you taught me when

was little." Blindness at that stage of my life, say around nine

twelve, started becoming an excuse, not for me, but for them. If

didn't succeed in something, the question was raised, "Does this

have something to do with your vision?" And that used to annoy me

a lot. I used to cry when they did that.

I remember French class and getting a progress report, which

meant

you weren't doing well. That didn't surprise me at all because I

knew I wasn't doing well, but it surprised my parents. So they

sat

me down, and we had this long discussion. "Do you think it's

because of your vision?" That made me very upset, and I said to

them something along the lines of "Why can't I just fail like

everybody else can?" It was just French; it wasn't anything to do

with my lack of intelligence, or whatnot. I just didn't like

French, and I didn't want to do well in French, didn't care about

French. But it was obvious to me that, if I had really wanted to,

I could have done well in French because, after all, I was doing

well in history and things like that, and French wasn't all that

different, so it couldn't be my vision. I wasn't going to let

them

get away with that.

They did that throughout my high school career, and at that point

I started looking for an identity. I didn't have one. Before I

was

fine; I was legally blind. I could explain that to people and

what

it meant to me, but as my parents started compartmentalizing

me--"Well are you not able to do this because you are blind?"--I

started thinking that maybe I shouldn't be blind. Maybe I should

sighted. And I can probably go through my life as a sighted

person

and use the excuse occasionally that I can't do that because I

can't see too well, but not let people know that I am blind. I

could probably do that. But that's not the identity I want.

Like Melissa, in my college years I got an application for an NFB

scholarship. One of the scholarships was specifically for

scientists, lawyers, engineers, and so forth; and I figured, "How

many engineers can there be in the country who are blind, come

on?

I'll apply and win this scholarship." But unlike Melissa, I

didn't

win the first time I applied, but I went to a convention and

found

out quickly why I hadn't won. [Laughter] There are people like

Melissa and Ollie running around doing very well, and I was doing

well but hadn't really come to terms with my identity.

Also, occasionally you run into a little discrimination. And even

though you can step around it as an individual maybe, that

doesn't

sit well with me. I can't just think of myself. If I thought only

of myself, what kind of teacher would I be? I would go in and

teach

my class for an hour and say well if you didn't catch it then you

wouldn't catch it any time. Or I could give myself a little more

room and help other people at the same time as I am helping myself.

When I was seven or eight, we started doing phonics. I don't know

if people in the audience know what phonics is or not or if it

has

gone out of style. I thought it was out of style then. It was,

learn how to say the words properly and then you can learn how to

spell them properly. Well, I didn't want to do phonics, so I told

my parents that I couldn't read the phonics workbook. They said,

"Okay, you don't have to do phonics."

The teacher said, "Okay, you don't have to do phonics." When I

was

in high school, I had a fifth-grade spelling level, and it is all

because parents and teachers listened to a seven- or

eight-year-old

kid lie to them, frankly lie to them; and they didn't think

"We'll

have to find another way." That's what you as parents always have

to keep in mind; you have to find another way. There is always

another way; there's always a solution. That's what engineers

to think anyway. There is always something we can rig up,

something

to make things work. Good old Star Trek's Scotty would never give

up, right? [Laughter]

I remember my first convention; it was actually a state

convention

in Connecticut. I walked into that room knowing that I was a

finalist for a state scholarship, and I met other blind people

for

the first time. I realized that you could get blinder than I was,

which should have occurred to me before then. They were doing all

sorts of things. Throughout the morning, hearing them speak, I

could see that this was my identity. In each one of these

people--that is how I thought of them then, these people--there

was

a part of me. There was something I could identify with in each

one

of them. I didn't need to look for the part of me to identify

with

the sighted community because there were plenty of people like

me.

But I could identify with each of these blind people, with some

experience. When I heard them speak and I heard them say that

blind

people can do this and blind people can do that, I knew they were

right, right then, and so I decided to join. But I didn't decide

get involved; they decided that for me. [Laughter] But it was

finally walking into a room and having people understand me that

was significant. I think that the worst thing a blind child can

is grow up isolated from other blind children or other blind

people. I made do when I was a child and made up my own rules and

regulations about blindness. I was so naive; I really was. I was

eighteen years old, I think, when I had my first itinerant

teacher

who was blind, and he was a special blind person. He must have

been

really rich because he had a driver. [Laughter] I was eighteen

years old, and I didn't figure out that the state was paying for

his driver. I thought it was really cool, though, and I wanted

one.

[Laughter]

In my freshman year of college, I took a lot of flack from the

chemistry teacher, who didn't want me in her lab. I was a hazard.

I had gone through two years of high school chemistry (one extra

year, including independent research), so I knew I could go into

her lab and could perform any experiment she wanted me to. She

allowed me in after I talked her into it, and it is a

two-semester

course. Halfway through the second semester, after I had been doing

my lab work for a semester and a half, she comes in and stands

to me at my lab bench and says, "Can I help you do that?"

I said, "sure." What we were doing was taking stranded pieces of

copper and wrapping them around a piece of zinc and sticking it

into a tube. So I let her do that for me--wadding up the copper

and

shoving it in the tube. Then while she was standing there, I made

sure that I carefully measured out all the necessary acids to

pour

into this tube on top of this wadded piece of copper and perform

the rest of the experiment.

She said, "Wow, you can actually do this, can't you?"

I said, "No, I've been faking it for a semester and a half." It

turned out, and this shocked me a great deal, that she had a

fourteen-year-old son, who was legally blind. Just imagine, if

she

didn't think I could wad up a piece of copper and put it into a

tube, what does she think her son can do? That's why you have to

get involved and do something. Thanks.

Peggy Pinder: Listening to our three panelists, I have heard

something, and I hope you have heard it too. I've heard all of

them

say in their own ways that they are responsible for their own

competence, that they are responsible for the skills by which

they

do things and the attitudes that form those skills. They are

responsible for their competence, and they are proud of the

competence that they have. I've heard them say that, but I have

also heard them say something else, and I want to join with them.

In each of their own ways they've said to you, join with us.

Become

a part of us. That's partly where the competence comes from. That

is where the pride comes from, and that is where the change

comes.

Change what? Change the notions of incompetence, change the fact

that we can't do some things unless we get a different skill and

different attitude about it. Change the old notion of blindness

helplessness, which each one of these people held, and so did I.

Change that. Change it to the pride and competence, and change it

through the National Federation of the Blind. So I join with them

in inviting you to join with us to change what it means to be

blind.

BRAILLE WORKSHOP

Do you remember struggling through your first reading book, and

how

mom or dad patiently helped you with those hard words? Do you

remember laboring together over math problems (and maybe feeling

little superior because you were catching on faster to this "new

math" than mom or dad)? The importance to children of having

literate parents is one of the reasons literacy campaigns

nationwide have zeroed in on this population.

Yet, there are parents who can read and write--are even college

educated--but are illiterate when it comes to helping their child

with reading and writing. You know who they are. They are parents

of Braille readers.

This was not such a problem years ago when most blind children

went

to residential schools for the blind. They were surrounded by

Braille readers and Braille materials at school. It was a

nuisance

if mom or dad didn't know Braille, but that was all it was--a

nuisance. Today, the only person in a child's life who is likely

know Braille is his/her Braille teacher. This teacher may not

even

see the child on a daily basis. There is no one else--no other

classmates, no other teachers--for the child to turn to for help

and

encouragement. It is more crucial, then, for today's parents of

blind children to put forth a little extra effort to learn

Braille.

Parents need not become certified Braille transcribers (although

there are many advantages to the blind youngster if they do

this).

Even a little bit of knowledge can help.

This is why the NFB Parents of Blind Children Division was so

pleased to accept the offer of Claudell Stocker, Head, Braille

Development Section, National Library for the Blind and

Physically

Handicapped, to conduct a three-hour Braille workshop for parents

who attend our 1992 NFB National Convention in Charlotte, North

Carolina.

Claudell Smith Stocker has an extensive and impressive background

as a teacher and a Braille expert. She has seven years'

experience

as a teacher of children and twenty-eight years' experience in

teaching Braille and other communication skills to blind adults.

She is the author of four textbooks: Modern Methods of Training

Braille (American Printing House for the Blind); Listening for

the

Visually Impaired (Charles Thomas Publishing Company,

Springfield,

Illinois); A Remedial Primer for Teaching Braille Reading (State

Kansas, Rehabilitation Center for the Blind, Topeka, Kansas); and

Braille Writing Simplified (unpublished). In her current position

as head of the Braille Development Section at the National

Library

Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped, she deals with

issues of certification and training of Braille teachers and is

responsible for planning the direction of Braille research and

development.

The workshop will be conducted the evening of Wednesday, July 1,

from 7:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m. (The exact location of the workshop

will be in the NFB Convention Agenda, which you will receive when

you register for the convention in Charlotte. It may be in the

Convention Center, or it may be in a meeting room of one of the

four convention hotels.) A small fee of $5.00 will help cover the

cost of a slate and stylus and other materials. The workshop is

limited to 25 persons on a first-come, first-served basis. You

may

reserve a spot for yourself in the workshop by filling out and

sending in the following pre-registration form.

The Braille workshop is just one of the many exciting,

informative

activities planned for the 1992 National Convention of the

National

Federation of the Blind. For more information about the

convention

and how to make your hotel reservations, see the article on page

"Blindness Education Week," of this issue.

DR. RALPH BARTLEY HONORED

AS DISTINGUISHED EDUCATOR

OF BLIND CHILDREN

One of the most valuable people in the life of a blind child is

the

dedicated, skilled, and caring teacher of blind and visually

impaired children. Classroom teachers come and go, and one or two

poor teachers can usually be tolerated without much damage.

However, because positive attitudes about blindness and

proficiency

in the alternative techniques of blindness are so vital to a

blind

child's self-esteem and future success in life, he or she can

ill-afford a poor, or poorly prepared, teacher of the blind and

visually impaired.

A few years ago, in recognition of the importance of educators of

blind children, the National Federation of the Blind instituted

Distinguished Educator of Blind Children Award. An outstanding

educator is selected each year to receive this award, which

consists of $500 cash, a special plaque, and an expense-paid trip

to the NFB National Convention where he/she receives the award

and

also is given the opportunity to speak to the Parents of Blind

Children Division regarding his/her philosophy about the

education

of blind children. Dr. Ralph Bartley, superintendent of the

Kansas

State School for the Visually Handicapped, was the 1991 recipient

of this award.

Dr. Bartley has been an outstanding educator of blind children

for

about twenty years, and for much of that time he has worked

closely

and cooperatively with the NFB in his state in order to enhance

the

education of blind children. Dr. Bartley gave a most helpful and

insightful presentation to the Parents of Blind Children Annual

Meeting on the afternoon of Tuesday, July 2 at the convention

(see

the next article, "Know the System.") The actual presentation of

his award came later in the convention during the banquet on the

evening of Friday, July 5.

Here is what was said at the banquet award presentation:

Sharon Maneki, President of the National Federation of the Blind

Maryland and Chair of the Distinguished Educator of Blind

Children

Selection Committee, presented the award. She said:

Fellow Federationists, his evening it is my privilege to

introduce

someone who needs no introduction--that is, the Distinguished

Educator of Blind Children. We in the National Federation of the

Blind started this award because we expect excellence and we

demand

excellence. And when we find excellence, we recognize it. It is

always a difficult task for this committee to find the right

person. We on the committee try to adopt Robert Frost's position

education. He said that there are two kinds of teachers. There

are

the quail hunters, the ones that fill the students up with so

many

facts and figures that they don't really remember anything. Then

there are the other kind who are more like the pilot instructors

who inspire and lead their students so that they can soar to their

own heights. The committee, consisting of Allen Harris, Joyce

Scanlan, Fred Schroeder, Jackie Billey, and me, found a

distinguished educator who has worked at every level of various

schools for the blind. He started in college as a supervisor of

the

dormitory, was a classroom teacher, was a principal, and now is

superintendent of the Kansas State School for the Visually

Handicapped. Dr. Ralph Bartley is a man who believes in

education.

His school promotes competitions and events like Braille Student

the Year, Braille Math Student, and White Cane and Braille

Appreciation Days. When the organized blind of Kansas said we

need

a Braille bill, he was right there in the forefront, right with

the

blind. Dr. Bartley receives a plaque and a $500 check, and I'm

going to present the plaque to him and read it to you now.

Distinguished Educator of Blind Children

The National Federation of the Blind

honors

Dr. Ralph E. Bartley

Superintendent

Kansas State School for the

Visually Handicapped

Distinguished Educator of Blind Children

For your outstanding efforts

to ensure that all blind children

in Kansas and throughout the nation

will continue to have the opportunity

to learn to read and write Braille.

For your leadership

in promoting greater educational

opportunities for blind children.

For working in partnership

with the organized blind.

You are our colleague, our friend, our ally.

You champion our movement,

you strengthen our hopes,

You share our dreams.

July 5, 1991

Dr. Bartley accepted the plaque and said: Dr. Jernigan, President

Maurer, Chairman Maneki, and members of the Award Committee, with

great feelings of honor and humility I accept the National

Federation of the Blind's Distinguished Educator off Blind

Children

Award. You've not only recognized me, but also many others who

have

made major contributions. In Kansas we are fortunate to have many

persons who dedicated themselves to the education of blind

children. Some of these are here with us today. Among them:

President Susie Stanzel of the NFB of Kansas, and many others,

the

Baleks, Steve and Lynn Hallenbecks, Peg Halverson, the Hemphills,

the Kellys, Raymond Peel, Remlingers, the Thompsons, and many

others. I would also be remiss tonight if I did not mentions with

a word of thanks my parents, Tommy and Barbara of Henderson,

Kentucky, who are with our four children (Jennifer, Ben, Jody,

and

Jessica.) I would like to thank them for their sacrifices so that

I might be here tonight. I would also like to recognize our Kansas

Braille Readers are Leaders, Angela and Jennifer, and their

teachers, Virgine, Madeline, Jackie, and Darlene. Finally, I want

to tell you that in 1953 I started school, and two very

significant

people in a particular reading series got me started on the right

road to my own education and my own ability to read. Those two

people were Dick and Jane, along with Sally and Spot. Those

people

help me learn today. Well today, I do not have a Spot and Sally

my life, but I still have a Dick and Jane. To Jane, my wife,

thank

you. And to Kansas State Representative Richard J. (Dick) Edlund,

thank you for all that you have done and especially thank you for

the great legacy you are building in Kansas. The cornerstone of

that legacy is our new Kansas Braille Bill. Without you the

Kansas

Braille Bill would not be a reality, and Ralph Bartley would not

here tonight. Thank you.

KNOW THE SYSTEM

Summary of Remarks by Dr. Ralph Bartley

at the NFB Parents of Blind Children Division

Annual Meeting, June 30, 1991.

One of the highlights of the POBC Annual Meeting is a

presentation

from the 1991 Distinguished Educator of Blind Children Award

winner. It is both inspiring and informative to hear one of the

top

educators in the country explain how they teach, what they teach,

and the why's of what they teach. This year our award winner, Dr.

Ralph Bartley, is an administrator who came up through the ranks

a teacher.

Early in his presentation Dr. Bartley talked about his philosophy

of education. "If I had to put it in a few words," he said, "I

think [I would call it] common sense approaches to independence

[and] common sense approaches that lead to independence." Dr.

Bartley then credited Richard J. Edlund, former President of the

NFB of Kansas, former National Treasurer of the NFB, and

currently

the 33rd District Representative to the Kansas House of

Representatives, as the key person in developing his approach to

the education of blind children.

"He [Dick Edlund] took this young, first-time administrator (the

principal's job in Kansas was my real first administrative job)

and

he brought me along. He kept telling me, `Ralph, use some common

sense.'"

Dr. Bartley also credited the Braille Monitor (the monthly

publication of the NFB) as being a prime factor in his beliefs

and

attitudes about blindness. He pointed out that he had been

reading

the Braille Monitor for years and continues to read it.

In describing the impact his philosophy has on the on-campus

program of the Kansas school for the blind, Dr. Bartley described

the 1991 graduating seniors as examples of "philosophy in

action."

"We had eight students graduate this year....Those students

ranged

from a student who went half-time to public school and half-time

our school, was in the gifted program,...and [had been] elected

president of his [public school] Junior class (the class had 400

Juniors) [to] a student...who was severely multiply handicapped

and

blind and who will be going on to a supported employment program

a community living type of situation."

100% of these students, Dr. Bartley pointed out, had a place to

after school. "Five are working, and three are going on to a

university program. They all received diplomas."

As an aside, Dr. Bartley expressed his strong belief that any

student who had completed his or her educational program, as

judged

by his/her IEP, should receive a high school diploma. Whatever

the

student's potential, the high school diploma recognized

achievement.

Dr. Bartley then proceeded to point out that Kansas State School

for the Visually Handicapped had a larger mission that just

serving

the 55-65 students on campus. "Our mission at the school is to

serve all [blind and visually impaired] students in the state."

explained that although this usually means providing evaluation

and

consultation services to local school districts, the school also

provides direct services--such as cane travel instruction--from

time

to time as needed. Since Kansas is geographically a wide state

(about 450 miles across) and the school for the blind campus is

located on the eastern border of the state in Kansas City,

Kansas,

the school hires a consultant/teacher in western Kansas to serve

the local schools in that part of the state, while the staff on

campus serves the eastern part of the state.

The Kansas State School for the Visually Handicapped also runs a

four-week full-day summer program primarily aimed at blind public

school students. This program has been in operation for about

fifteen years. Dr. Bartley explained that when the program first

began, the public school vision teachers were suspicious of the

school's motives; they were afraid the school intended to recruit

the kids for enrollment. It was a "public school versus

residential

school" attitude. Dr. Bartley reports that he feels Kansas has

gotten beyond that [he even hires public school vision teachers

for

the summer program]; but warned parents not to let this attitude

prevail in their respective states. "It is detrimental to our

programs," he said, "to have public schools and the blind school

fighting each other. There is too much to be done [to have this]

going on."

Dr. Bartley then stated his strong belief in, and support of,

public school programs for blind and visually impaired kids. He

pointed to his professional background (he was trained at

Northern

Illinois University as a public school vision teacher), as well

his association with "...the best vision teacher in the

state....She works for the Kansas City, Kansas, school

district...my wife, Jane Bartley," as factors in his support of

the

integration of blind children into regular programs.

Dr. Bartley then moved on to advise parents: "Know the system. If

you don't know the system, you can't know how to work the

system."

He then described some of the elements of the system in Kansas

that

both worked for, and against, good well-funded educational

programs

for blind kids.

One element of the system that boosts the chances for good

programs

is the fact that the Kansas State School for the Visually

Handicapped is supervised directly by the Kansas State Board of

Education, whose members are elected by the citizens of Kansas.

"They [the Kansas State Board of Education] supervise three

agencies: the school for the blind, the school for the deaf, and

the Kansas department of education. They hire and fire three

people; me [the superintendent of the school for the blind], the

superintendent of the school for the deaf, and the commissioner

education."

The National Federation of the Blind has long supported the

concept

of separate agencies for the blind; agencies which are not buried

under other, larger "umbrella" agencies in the state. Dr. Bartley

asserted that having the school for the blind report in at a high

level certainly works well in Kansas, especially at budget time.

"An advantage we have as a separate agency is that when the Board

approves my budget, the budget goes directly to the Governor and

then directly to the Legislature." This gives him, Dr. Bartley

explained, the opportunity to personally defend his budget

requests

with the Governor and the state House and Senate committees. He

cautioned parents to stay on top of funding issues in their

states.

Dr. Bartley then moved on to discuss one of the biggest problems

getting funding he and everyone in services to the blind faces:

numbers. As a group, the blind are often described as a

low-incidence population. All this means is that while the needs

may be great, the total numbers of those who are blind are low

compared to other groups of the disabled. "For example," Dr.

Bartley explained, "the state of Kansas is a smaller state, only

about 2.5 million people, and in that 2.5 million people only

about

460,000 are school-age children. Of that 46,000 there are only

about 250 children who are identified as blind or visually

impaired." The first thing he hears when he talks budget is, "But

there are so few kids." And it doesn't matter what program your

blind child is in, Dr. Bartley explained, you'll hear the same

thing. The public school vision teachers hear it, parents hear

it.

This only makes it more imperative, he pointed out, that

educators

and parents be prepared to defend and promote quality educational

programs for blind children.

Moving on, Dr. Bartley proceeded to highlight his beliefs in four

other areas related to the education of blind children.

Teacher Training: "This is a problem. The universities have so

much

control over the [teacher] certification process, but yet they

are

not turning out enough people, so we have a [shortage]. My

[belief]

is either turn out the people or get out of the business." One

solution for the problem, Dr. Bartley stated, was alternative

certification. In other words, establish an alternative

certificate

for people who have the necessary skills (knowledge of Braille,

for

example) or experience, but who don't have a university degree or

certification in the education of blind children. This has been

done in other areas of regular education, such as math and

science,

Dr. Bartley pointed out, so why not visual impairment? He urged

parents to look to trends in regular education--such as

alternative

certification--for solutions to problems in special education for

the blind.

Accreditation: Recognizing the National Federation of the Blind's

history of support for quality accreditation and, as a

consequence,

our long opposition to the National Accreditation Council for

Agencies serving the Blind and Visually Handicapped (NAC)--an

agency

which has besmirched the name of accreditation by

indiscriminately

accrediting some of the worst agencies for the blind in the

nation--Dr. Bartley emphatically stated: "We [the Kansas State

School for the Visually Handicapped] are not NAC accredited." He

then pointed out that the school is accredited by the same body

the state of Kansas which accredits the regular elementary and

secondary schools. In regard to accreditation, Dr. Bartley

believes

that residential schools should seek accreditation from state or

regional bodies which accredit other schools in their

communities.

Again, he urged parents and educators to watch for trends in

regular education. For example, there is a new accreditation

process called "Outcomes Accreditation" which he believes can

prove

to be a very appropriate process for residential schools for the

blind.

Cane Travel: "I always get asked," Dr. Bartley said, " `When do

you

start a kid with cane travel?'...When I first started (this was

back in the mid-sixties) everybody told me [that] you don't start

a kid [on cane travel] until junior high, tops....That didn't

make

sense to me and so,...about ten years ago, I began to tell

people,

`When they are shoved out the door of kindergarten, give them a

cane.' Now, I think they ought to issue canes [to blind kids] in

the hospital." Dr. Bartley said if anyone accused him of being

unprofessional because of these views, they should know that he

has

four degrees, including a degree in the education of the blind,

and

a doctorate in educational administration.

Braille: Dr. Bartley reaffirmed his strong support for Braille

instruction for blind and visually impaired children. (Kansas had

recently passed a Braille bill which provided that no blind or

visually impaired child should be denied the opportunity to learn

Braille. Dr. Bartley had been a key supporter of that bill along

with the National Federation of the Blind of Kansas. It was this

joint support and effort which made passage of the bill

possible.)

Dr. Bartley then completed his remarks with a description of the

long-term, ongoing cooperation between the Kansas State School

for

the Visually Handicapped and the state and local chapters of the

National Federation of the Blind of Kansas. "It is the strength

our program," Dr. Bartley said. "There is a lot of cooperation,

there is a lot of communication. I am not saying we always [agree

with each other] or that everything is always rosy in Kansas, but

we have been talking ever since I came to Kansas, and that was

fifteen years ago." Dr. Bartley described how the Kaw Valley

chapter of the NFB of Kansas helps sponsor the school's two major

awards: the Braille Student of the Year award and the Braille

Math

student award. The chapter has purchased prizes--a Perkins

Braillewriter and a talking calculator--for the winners.

Shortly before convention, Dr. Bartley told the audience, the NFB

of Kansas had sponsored a week-end Braille 'n Speak workshop on

campus for students and other interested persons. The minimum per

session (each session lasted a day) was 12. There were enough

people signed up to extend the workshop into Sunday; 16 people

attended on Friday, 17 on Saturday, and 12 on Sunday. "Our

students

had the opportunity for a day-long seminar with Dean Blazie

(inventor of the Braille 'n Speak and head of the company which

manufactures it); this would not have been possible if it had not

been for the NFB of Kansas," said Dr. Bartley.

Dr. Bartley also explained that the school for the blind and the

NFB in Kansas had cooperatively conducted numerous seminars for

parents of blind children in the state. The school also uses NFB

materials, such as the outstanding publication Handbook for

Itinerant and Resource Teachers of the Blind and Visually

Impaired,

by Doris M. Willoughby and Sharon Duffy.

Perhaps the most significant cooperative program, however, is the

Career Day sponsored by the NFB of Kansas for students at the

school for the blind. Blind adults come in to talk personally and

candidly with the students (no teachers are in the meeting) about

careers and life in the sighted community. Dr. Bartley explained

that this provides the students with the opportunity to meet and

get to know blind role models.

With this, Dr. Bartley concluded his remarks and accepted

questions

from the audience. As might be expected, his speech and views

were

received with great enthusiasm and perhaps a little envy from

parents who would like to have more educators and administrators

like Dr. Bartley in their own states.

NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND

RECOGNIZES BRAILLE READERS

by Sandy and John Halverson

148 students representing 32 states plus Canada read a total of

18,300 pages in our 1990-91 Braille Readers Are Leaders Contest.

This annual event is sponsored by the National Federation of the

Blind Parents of Blind Children Division and the National

Association to Promote the Use of Braille.

What an exciting time it was for us in our first year as the

contest judges! The Post Office must have wondered what kind of

business we were engaged in when the mailbag of entry forms, book

lists, and letters left at our door was followed by overnight

deliveries from parents and other certifying authorities

desperately trying to comply with the contest deadline.

The letters from parents and teachers made it worth the burial of

our dining room table as the real work of judging began--from

unopened envelopes to piles of categorized and alphabetized entry

forms and book lists. Letters like the following also put things

into perspective on those days when the paper shuffle seemed

never-ending.

Dear Mrs. Halverson:

Thank you, thank you for this wonderful contest! What a great way

to motivate kids to read Braille. When my daughter Cathy entered

kindergarten in 1988 she was able to read regular print by using

low vision lenses. But because we knew her eye condition could

change, we insisted that Braille instruction be included in her

I.E.P. It was, and she learned enough Braille that first year so

she could read letters, numbers, punctuation, and single letter

contractions. During the summer following her kindergarten year,

Cathy's vision changed so that she was no longer able to read

regular print and could only read print which was written in

heavy

black ink. Because we realized that the world does not have a

great

supply of material written in large letters and thick black

lines,

we had a statement added to her I.E.P. which mandated that her

classroom materials and textbooks be provided in Braille.

The school district was not really prepared to comply with this,

and the Braille which Cathy got during first grade was often

inadequate. For this reason and also because she was coping with

the changes in her vision in many areas of her life, she resisted

Braille with an incredible degree of stubbornness. This

resistance

continued throughout first grade and through this past summer.

She

had learned most Grade 2 [Braille], but would only read when it

was

absolutely necessary, and even then with a good deal of

complaint.

When I saw your contest described in Future Reflections, I

decided

to offer her the opportunity to enter, not really believing she

would agree to do so. She surprised me by being eager to try, and

so I set about finding books for her to read.

When she began the contest she was able to read only a few pages

a time, and her rate was very slow. I am very pleased to tell you

that by the end of the contest she was reading full length books,

and her reading speed has increased dramatically. Since the end

the contest she has read two more books!

A note on the books I have listed: most are books which we

obtained

either through Seedlings Braille Books for Children or the

National

Library Service. However, because I have a Braille embosser I

often

transcribe books for her when she brings them home from the

school

library or orders them from a book club, so that she has a range

material from which to choose. I hope these books can be counted

even though they are not commercially available. I have copies on

disk of all the books I transcribed, and I would be happy to

provide those to you if there are questions about the number of

pages included in them.

Again, thank you for a wonderful idea, and I hope this contest

will

continue to expose blind children to the pleasures of reading.

Sincerely,

Mary Lou Mendez

Cathy's mom

Although Cathy was not among the category winners this year, she,

and every child whose skill and enthusiasm for Braille has

increased because of this contest, is the very heart and soul of

what this contest is all about.

Every participant in the contest received a Braille certificate,

purple ribbon, and a note from the judges urging them to enter

again next year. Winners received a special two-page Braille

certificate, a ribbon, a print certificate, and a T-shirt. (If

your

student or child entered the contest, but did not receive these

items, please let me know so the problem can be corrected.

Although

all items were mailed out last spring, we have discovered that

some

never arrived.) We have sometimes been asked why we would give

out

print certificates in a Braille contest. We feel certificates of

accomplishment are meant to be shared with others, perhaps framed

and hung in the home. Since most relatives and friends are

sighted,

it is appropriate that the student have a certificate that others

can read and appreciate, too.

So who were the winners of the 1990-91 contest?

Our print-to-Braille category recognizes those contestants who

are

making the transition from print to Braille. Our first place

winner

in this category was Travis Roth from Dorchester, Nebraska, who

was

a first-time participant in the contest. He read 1,462 pages.

Angella Tatum from Kansas City, Kansas, was the second-place

winner

with 771 pages; and Jennifer Echols from from Olathe, Kansas,

placed third with 674 pages.

In the kindergarten and first-grade category, Arielle Silverman

from Scottsdale, Arizona, placed first with 2,588 pages. Our

second

place winner was Ian Perrault from Shelbourne, Vermont. He read

1,377 pages. Jamie Weedman from Louisville, Kentucky, read 1,028

pages, achieving third place.

Blake Earl Roberts from Felton, Delaware, earned first place in

the

second- through fourth-grade category by reading 5,093 pages.

Monique Melton from Portsmouth, Virginia, was awarded

second-place

honors by reading 3,951 pages. Our third place winner, Emily

Schlenker from Wichita, Kansas, read 2,927 pages.

In the fifth- through eighth-grade category, our first place winner

was Karla Gilbride from Syosset, New York. She read 8,104 pages.

Zachary Battles from State College, Pennsylvania, earned second

place by reading 8,050 pages. Our third place winner was Wes

Derby

from Scottsdale, Arizona, who read 6,890 pages.

April Swaim from Arlington, Texas, earned first place in grades

nine through twelve by reading 8,709 pages. Chastity Morse from

Coon Rapid, Minnesota, earned second place by reading 5,485

pages.

Rebecca Ilniski from Cogan Station, Pennsylvania, was our third

place winner with 4,251 pages.

Our Most Improved winners were Christy Durham from Platka,

Florida;

Joyce Chesser, Louisville, Kentucky; Andrew Parsons, Louisville,

Kentucky; Christina Shorten from Gaithersburg, Maryland; and Ben

Bloomgren from Scottsdale, Arizona.

Most Improved winners received $5 and a letter of commendation

for

making the most improvement from their performance in the

year's contest. While category winners compete with others, Most

Improved Winners compete against themselves. Any participant who

has been in the contest more than once, and has not yet won in

any

category, is eligible to win in the Most Improved category.

Congratulations to all the category winners, and to all the kids

who entered the contest!

CHANGE THROUGH ROLE MODELING

AND NETWORKING

From the Editor: The final presentation of the morning session at

the 1991 seminar for parents and educators of blind children was

panel of parents, moderated by Carol Castellano, second vice

president of the NFB's Parents of Blind Children Division (POBC).

They discussed what the Federation had taught them and offered

some

excellent advice to parents based on their own experience. The

other members of the panel were Debby Day of Bellingham,

Washington, who chairs the POBC Network on Blindness and

Adoption;

Marty Greiser of Dillon, Montana, a member of the POBC Board of

Directors; and Linda Balek of Berryton, Kansas, who is a parent

leader in Kansas, and whose husband Tom is Secretary of the POBC.

Here is what they had to say:

Carol Castellano: This morning we will be talking about how we

are

changing what it means to be blind through role modeling and

networking. I'd like to share some experiences that my family has

had. We are from New Jersey. I have two children, Serena, who is

seven and is blind, and John, who is four. We had early exposure

the Federation, which I think was very lucky, especially after

hearing the scholarship winners discuss the disadvantages they

faced while growing up. When my daughter was nine months old and

the hospital for eye surgery at Duke University, the social

worker

gave me a lot of pamphlets of information about groups and

resources. He handed me Doris Willoughby's book, A Resource Guide

for Parents and Educators of Blind Children, and he told me that I

really needed to know about this organization--not to get too

close--"they are really outrageous, militant, and uncooperative,

but

they have some pretty good literature." So I read the book while

daughter was undergoing surgery, and it put us on the road to

success. I feel that the Federation hasn't let us down yet and

that

we are really on that road.

Here I have seen blind people--totally blind, partially blind,

whatever--in control, articulate, running things. They are very

good

role models for me. No one can tell me that my daughter, who

happens to be totally blind, can't do that too someday, if she

has

the other attributes that support that kind of leadership. This

came home to me very strongly recently in a parents support group

that I attended, run by our state agency for the blind, which

provides our services: teaching Braille, cane travel, etc. At

this

support group about thirty parents were in the room, mostly

parents

of young children--babies to maybe three or four years old. Some

spoke up, saying that their children were in regular nursery

schools as opposed to a pre-school handicapped setting. The

counselor from the Commission, our state agency, pointed out that

the children that were in regular schools had plenty of vision.

seemed to me that our agency believes that the most important

attribute a blind child can have for success is vision. I raised

hand, before I could stop myself, and said, "Gee, I'm really glad

nobody told me that when my child was young, because she is

totally

blind and in kindergarten now and is doing fine. I am glad that I

didn't hear that she needed vision to succeed." So I do have a

strong role model here, and with the people we heard speak this

morning, you can't get much better than that. I wish I could

speak

that well.

Another time that it came home to us was when we were applying

for

admission to a private school. We were talking to the admissions

director, and she told me that they had had a blind student once

that school. I know that can be good or bad. She said that she

therefore knew what it would mean to have a blind child in her

school. When this seventh grader enrolled, she did not know how

tell time. She had no table manners (this was a sort of fancy

private school that was concerned about manners), and of course

she

couldn't find her way around the building, and anyway she was

late

for all her classes because she had to lug that big Braille

writer

around. I was glad that many times I had seen people in this

organization taking notes with a slate and stylus. It really

brought it home; you need to know how to write using a slate. I

don't want my child to have to lug a cart or have a sighted

person

assisting her, getting her from class to class. I know that it

doesn't have to be so, and I was able to educate that admissions

director gently on the subject.

Another thing that I have learned here is that sometimes what's

necessary is a polite but firm "no thank you" to unneeded help.

Everybody wants to help my daughter. That's the first thing that

jumps into anybody's mind when they see her. She's a cute little

thing, walking around with her little cane, and everybody thinks,

"how can I help you?" Serena couldn't talk for a long time; now

she sure can. We were concerned for a while about how we would

get

her to take the responsibility of saying a polite but firm "no

thank you." Now she says things like "Why are you taking my

hand?

I can do it myself. I don't need your help." Maybe we went a

little

overboard in that lesson.

The last thing I want to mention is that I learned that blindness

in and of itself need never stop my daughter from doing an

activity

or accomplishing a task. She may not be able to do it for other

reasons, but not because of blindness. I learned that by finding

out--again in this organization with so many blind adults

around--that if even one person has done a task, blindness

doesn't

have to stop you. And if you have the necessary attributes, you

can

go ahead.

I would like to illustrate this by telling you about a family

vacation we took. We went to northern California, about four

hours

north of San Francisco, and we went on a hike through a forest to

a waterfall. We are from New Jersey and not the biggest hikers in

the world. I was on this hike with my mom, who was about seventy

the time; my sister-in-law, who is a California native and really

knows what she is doing in the woods; my son, who was

two-and-a-half; and my daughter, who was five-and-a-half. There

were some times when the trail narrowed to about two feet. There

was a mountain face on the one side and a drop-off on the other

side, and way down below was a river that you could hear but

hardly

see. There we all were, walking through. It was a wonderful

experience, and we had such a wonderful time being close to

nature

and accomplishing this kind of hike.

We made it to the falls, and we came down again and thought it

was

terrific. It never occurred to me even once to leave my daughter

out of that trip because she was blind--never. There were times

that

I held hands with somebody because I was scared, and we held

hands

with the children and my mom, but we all did it on an equal

footing. That's what I would like to say about our family's

experiences and the change in my heart and mind; I know that all

things are possible.

Our next panelist is Debbie Day.

Debbie Day: Good morning. I'm the parent of six children. Two of

sons, Tim and Tom, are both blind and joined our family by way of

adoption. Tim came first. He arrived in 1986 at the age of

three-and-a-half. But even before he arrived, we began searching

for any and all possible resources to help us to raise a blind

child. I am a pretty determined person, and I made contact with

every agency, organization, person, place, or thing that had

anything to do with the blind. When we delved into all of the

literature and spoke with numerous agencies and organizations for

the blind, there was one that stood out. That was the National

Federation of the Blind because it was the NFB that shared our

natural instinct to see blindness not as a debilitating handicap

but merely an inconvenience that makes it necessary to learn

other

ways of doing things that we would typically do by sight. It was

the NFB that shared our belief in this child's abilities and

potential and encouraged us to have strong expectations despite

some professionals who had feelings and comments to the contrary.

And it was NFB who challenged and still challenges our attitudes

toward blindness and, by doing so, helps create in us a stronger

and healthier climate in which our child can grow.

My son Tim is now labeled the miracle child by our state's family

consultant for the blind. I will begin by telling you a little

about Tim. The first three-and-a-half years of his life were ones

of much love but extreme deprivation. There were virtually no

expectations of him, and because he was either held or kept in a

crib at all times, he had little opportunity for even any

accidental learning. Tim arrived at age three-and-a-half

seriously

developmentally delayed, non-verbal, non-mobile, and functioning

a six- to twelve-month level in all areas. But under the

circumstances it wasn't at all surprising.

What did surprise and confuse me were my encounters with certain

professionals working to help the blind. Not only were their

remarks concerning Tim's potential discouraging, but so were

their

expectations of the blind population in general. If I had held

their low expectations, Tim would not be where he is today. Now,

four years later at age seven, he is a bright and outgoing boy

who

just finished his kindergarten year in a typical class in his

neighborhood school. He reads and writes Braille on a

second-grade

level, and he is a cane traveler.

Yes, Tim has made great gains, but no, he is not a miracle child.

He is a good example of the damage that can be inflicted on a

blind

child by not embracing a healthy attitude about blindness and by

allowing so-called professionals to map out your child's

potential

in life by their substandard expectations of the blind. If in

fact

any miracle did occur, the NFB was responsible because it was the

support, words of encouragement, and experience we received from

NFB members that made the difference.

Our older son Tom, after spending nine years in many orphanages

overseas and three years in-state, moving from home to home,

joined

our family in November of last year. At that time he was a

residential student at the Washington State School for the Blind

and continued there until mid-January, at which time he

transferred

to our local school district. Whereas I realize that some blind

individuals have had successful experiences at residential

schools,

it was not so in Tom's case. A big area of contention for us was

cane travel. Early on we learned that Tom was not using a cane on

campus, nor was he receiving orientation and mobility training.

Tom

was twelve-and-a-half years old. He had very limited vision. He

could not independently cross an intersection or travel the

shortest distance in unfamiliar territory. He could and did

memorize frequently traveled routes such as the school campus,

but

he couldn't successfully or confidently deal with any changes that

might occur on those routes. Knowing that, was it too much to

assume that cane travel and orientation and mobility training

would

be an important part of this child's education at a school for

the

blind? Well, that was my assumption, but it was not correct. And

even more upsetting to me than the actual loss of independence

that

this was inflicting on Tom were the unspoken messages that he was

receiving about his blindness due to their poor attitudes.

No matter whether your child is attending your neighborhood

school

or a residential school for the blind, if the program is

inadequate, I am here to tell you you can change it. You are and

must be your child's best advocate. NFB's support, encouragement,

and information are invaluable, but you must be willing to take

the fight for your child when it is necessary. Go to the

Individual

Education Plan workshop later this week. Know what the laws are.

Determine what your child's educational needs are. Decide what

you

are willing to compromise on and what you will stand firm on. Our

district now has a very strong program for the visually impaired,

but it wasn't always that way. We started out with virtually

nothing. After two years of constantly assertive and perhaps

sometimes aggressive behavior on my part, (if only to get me off

his back) our Special Education Director hired a specialist for

the

visually impaired (our very own Federationist Ruby Ryles); an

orientation and mobility instructor; a Braillist; and two Braille

teachers. It can be done.

I might note that, in the five short months that he has been in

our

local district after transferring from the School for the Blind,

Tom made great strides in mobility. He receives three hours of

orientation and mobility training per week, and he has progressed

academically two grade levels in nearly all subjects. Because of

the Federation my boys are growing up with strong and healthy

attitudes about their blindness, and they have excellent role

models.

But being involved in adoption issues as well, I am concerned for

those blind children waiting for adoption in the foster care

system

here and in orphanages overseas. I'm concerned about blind adults

who face discrimination in the adoption process, and I am

concerned

about case workers and adoption agencies, their misconceptions

and

their poor attitudes about blindness. Several months ago Barbara

Cheadle asked me to chair the POBC Network on Blindness and

Adoption, and these are the issues that we deal with. With

networks

like these, we can change and are changing what it means to be

blind, and I am very happy to be a part of the National

Federation

of the Blind. Thank you.

Carol Castellano: Thank you, Debbie. Our next speaker is Marty

Greiser.

Marty Greiser: I am from Montana and the father of twin

four-year-olds, a boy and a girl. My son Cody is blind, and today

I want to talk a little about our efforts to create an

educational

program in a rural school, where no such program has ever existed.

The old saying about the blind leading the blind has been around

quite a lot longer than most of us. It is certainly nothing new

the Federation, but in our community and our school, this phrase

just doesn't have a positive meaning. Our son will be the first

blind child ever to go through our school district, so they

really

don't know what to do. Our resource consultant from the state

school is ineffective at best; he's hardly ever there.

Our big problem was finding a teacher. Eventually the school did

come around to the understanding that my son had to learn Braille

and cane travel. They didn't know how they were going to provide

this because there wasn't anyone within one hundred and fifty

miles

who could teach Braille, let alone cane travel or Nemeth Code or

slate and stylus or positive attitudes toward blindness. We

didn't

know what to do. We were at an impasse. Our IEP called for

Braille

instruction. So we called the Federation, and I talked to Mrs.

Cheadle. She said she would see what she could do.

A few days after that we received a phone call from a woman in

South Dakota who had just graduated with a degree in elementary

education, and she was blind herself. She was looking for a job,

and I thought what a good deal. She had all the skills we were

looking for and some others besides all rolled into one person.

She

is a former scholarship winner, by the way, whose name is Kim

Hoffman; and she will be Cody's aide next year in kindergarten.

will be receiving his Braille instruction, slate and stylus, and

cane travel; and we are anticipating a very successful elementary

program. It looks like we are off to a good start. She will be at

our school next fall, and everything just seems to be falling

into

place.

The school was a little reluctant to hire her. There are no blind

people in our community, and they didn't know what to expect.

They

asked us questions about how she would do this or that. I really

couldn't answer because I am not an expert on blindness. Once

they

interviewed her, they were much relieved because she could

actually

talk and seemed very competent. [Laughter] We are very

optimistic,

and now the school is too. We hope that she can stay for a long

time, until our son learns how to read, knowing she will become

less and less involved with his education as he becomes more

independent. This provides an opportunity for her to get her foot

in the door as a public educator. So if anyone is in a similar

circumstance, I would encourage you to contact the NFB or the Job

Opportunities for the Blind program. Anyone in the Parents

Division

can help.

These scholarship winners are also a real resource, just

wonderful

people. Kim is an excellent role model for our son since, as I

said, there are no other blind people in the community, and he is

very much alone. We think that everything Kim has to offer,

besides

her academic skills, is absolutely essential. I will be sure to

let

the Parents Division know how this experiment turns out. I can't

help but think it will be successful.

Carol Castellano: Thanks, Marty. We will be looking forward to

hearing the next chapter. Our final panelist is Linda Balek.

Linda Balek: I have an eleven-year-old son; he is the red-headed

one. You'll see him; he'll just come right at you.

The first thing I want you to do as parents when you come to the

NFB convention--some of you are here for the first time--is to

take

notes on speakers. Jot down my name; jot down anybody's name;

circle it. Then six months from now, a year, two years, three

years

from now, when you're having a problem, it will come back to your

mind that you heard a person talking about something like it.

Call

Barbara Cheadle and say, "I need to talk to this or that person!"

That's what I have done. We are talking about networking. Barbara

knows that I have been on the phone; I walk up to people at these

conventions and I say, "What is your phone number? Someday I

think

I am going to have to talk to you." I have talked to them two or

three years later, and they don't know who the hell I am,

[Laughter] but they answer my question. Sometimes we need

somebody

to say, "Yeah, you're right." We get a lot of people we talk to

a daily basis in our school system who say we're wrong, and we

need

somebody who knows what needs to be done in the education field,

not a professional who went to school but has no kids. No offense

to anybody that's a teacher, but the majority of my son's

teachers

have been single women, and they don't even know how to deal on a

personal level with a child, let alone on our level. So that's

why

networking is so important. Belong to your local NFB chapter;

that's another important resource. We call ours a family; we

party

together; we fight together; we do everything together like one

big

family. It's great to get on the phone with them and say, "I know

that this sounds stupid, but how do you put your shorts on?" That

may be a little elementary--that may not be exactly what I

ask--but

ask anything. Get on a family level, so you can talk to blind

people and say what is important. Should your child learn how to

print if he is totally blind? Should he do this or should he do

that? Is this appropriate? Be with the people who can tell you a

lot, and you will learn from them.

Jeff is eleven years old. Last year he spoke to the House and the

Senate in Kansas. We got a Braille bill passed, and now every

child

in Kansas has the right to learn Braille. [Applause] That is

something not every state has, and that is something that is very

important to work for.

I want to tell you just one quick little story because we are

running out of time. I talked to a little girl today. I think she

is ten or eleven years old. She asked me, "What kind of cane does

Jeff have?"

"Well, he has an NFB cane." She wanted to know all about his

cane,

and I said to her, "Well, your cane is a little short."

She said, "The school says that I have to use it."

"Do any of those people who are telling you to use this cane use

one themselves?" I asked.

Her answer was no. The point is, nobody can tell you how long

your

cane should be except a blind person. Nobody can tell you when

you

need to learn how to use a slate and stylus except a blind

person.

You can get all of these professionals that say you don't need to

learn Braille, but how are you going to read? You need to talk to

blind people to get this information, and the NFB can help you.

Any

time you need to talk to somebody, just call Barbara. You may

have

questions like "My son wants to learn to play drums, or my son

wants to learn this," and she'll point you to someone who can

help.

The NFB isn't here to spoon-feed you. We are not here to say,

"Well, now I'm going to take you over to this spot, and this will

all work out, and this person will do your job for you." That is

not what we are here for. But we are here to network, and that's

what we do. Jeff takes Karate, Jeff is a drummer, and I mean he

plays a whole set of drums, and they are loud. (We didn't bring

them and you are lucky.) But networking is really what the NFB is

about. We as parents needed that more than anything. To think

that

you are the only parent in the world--I think every parent has

felt

that way.... All of us have even overlooked our kids' being

blind.

I felt like I was the only parent of a blind child in the world.

knew other blind people, but I never knew other parents of a

blind

child. I think that was harder, and that is where the NFB can

help.

We are going to have some meetings this evening; they are in your

agenda. You can bring your kids. Come up and sit around and talk

and get some information that way. There will be seminars this

afternoon that can help you. Tom, my husband, is chairman of the

POBC Technology Committee; we get phone calls from a lot of other

people too. It is a great way to learn and to have another

resource

besides the professionals; we all need that. Thank you.

Carol Castellano: Thanks, Linda. I'd like to conclude this

segment

by saying that we will create the future. And if we get out from

under the negative assumptions and the low expectations and if we

bring up our kids to be normal, productive citizens, then instead

of wearing our children's disabilities like credentials, we can

make changes from a position of strength. Thank you.

SENSORY SAFARI

Editor's Note: How does a gazelle's horn differ from, say, that

mountain goat? Of course we can find ways to satisfactorily

explain

these differences to a blind child, but wouldn't it be nice if

the

child could actually get his or her hands on the real horns, and

discover the differences for themselves? Children and

adults--both

sighted and blind--had that kind of opportunity at a special

display

of stuffed animals at the 1991 National Federation of the Blind

National Convention in New Orleans. The volunteers from the

Louisiana chapter of the Safari Club International (which had put

the display together and sponsored the project) were helpful and

informative, and not in the least patronizing. They gave

information about the animal and its environment, pointed out

interesting features, or just stepped aside and let the

individuals

explore on their own, if that was what was wanted. It was this

respect, as well as the quality and selection of stuffed animals,

which made this display such a big hit at the convention. Here is

an article about the Sensory Safari which appeared in the local

paper during the convention.

SAFARI PROJECT LETS BLIND

SENSE ALL BUT DANGER

by Seth Schiesel

Nancy Moulle has never seen a lion, an elephant or a bear. She

also

has never seen a rabbit, a cat or a dog. Nancy, 8, of Monroe, is

blind.

Born four months premature and only 8 1/2 inches long, Nancy's

optical nerves don't work. She can't tell the difference between

the darkest night and a sun-drenched New Orleans afternoon,

except

by the heat she feels on her skin.

A "sensory safari," developed by the Louisiana chapter of the

Safari Club International, a group of conservation-minded

hunters,

let Nancy go exploring.

The program, which ran Sunday and is open today from 8 a.m. to 6

p.m., lets the visually impaired explore and feel stuffed and

mounted animals collected by local Safari Club members.

Organizers are hoping hundreds more visually impaired children

and

adults, in town for the National Federation of the Blind's annual

convention at the Hyatt Regency, will participate.

The exhibits include an alligator; a lion's head; an elephant's

foot, tooth, and tusk; the skulls of a leopard, hippopotamus, and

Cape buffalo; the skin of a 12-foot python; a fox; a mountain

goat;

a gazelle; an American turkey; a black bear; and a moose head.

Louisiana chapter president John Jackson said the dozen local

members turned out not only to educate others about the wildlife

the group pledges to conserve, but out of a sense of community,

and

he hopes to make the sensory safari an annual event.

"They can't look at pictures or watch a documentary and this way

they get to see how the animals actually look," said Detroit

chapter President Bob Easterbrook, who created the program. "And

doesn't matter who we do it for. We can do it at schools, because

kids are so curious."

"I thought some of (the animals) were a little too real, but I

liked it because I don't get to see animals like that too often,"

said Travis Roth, 11, from Dorchester, Nebraska.

The safari's appeal stretched across age boundaries. Mark Harris,

a young adult from St. Louis, Missouri, said, "I enjoyed it

because

I didn't realize before what all of these animals actually look

like. I've been to museums but nothing like this."

Nancy's sighted brother Nolan agreed, saying, "Here the sign says

`please touch' instead of `please don't touch.'"

WHAT COLOR IS THE SUN

Edited by Kenneth Jernigan

A Review by Lorraine Rovig

Dear Parents of Blind Children,

Are you looking for a good way to tell nosey, rattled, or tearful

folks that blindness doesn't have to be a sentence of doom and

gloom over your little one? Do you wish that some of the

successful

blind adults you have met, or read about in Future Reflections,

could sit down and talk about blindness and their lives to

relatives or neighbors who persist in either making a big fuss

over, or totally ignoring, your blind youngster?

Then this little inexpensive paperback--What Color Is The Sun--

just what you need!

Published by the National Federation of the Blind, this little

120-

page paperback has 14 short stories, all but one told by a blind

child or adult. (One is a thoughtful reporter's story on

mobility,

rock repelling, and the Colorado Center for the Blind.) All

stories

are of actual events. The shortest is 4 pages, the longest is 20.

Most would be good for reading aloud at bedtime or to a classroom

of children or adults. Ten black and white photographs illustrate

the point that these authors are normal, active Americans who

happen to be blind. The cover is an attractive color photograph

a red and orange sunset.

This print gem costs $3.00 each (includes postage), or only $1.00

each plus a $5.00 shipping charge if bought in quantities of 50

for

a total of $55.00.

Reading What Color Is The Sun, I was reminded of a library school

lecture on "bibliotherapy"--the belief that mind and spirit can

change for the better if one reads the right story for what ails

one. Let me prescribe the following:

Problem A: Your daughter's teacher needs to update Victorian

attitudes, demand more from your child, and stop settling for

less

than your daughter is capable of doing.

Rx: The whole book, but especially, "Back to Notre Dame" by NFB

President Marc Maurer; "A Blind Teacher on the Job" by Judy

Krecek;

and "Growing Up Blind in Tennessee during the Depression" by

Kenneth Jernigan. Your daughter would enjoy them, too.

Problem B: Your neighbor has a gushy sappy attitude about your

son's blindness and won't let her son play with your son because

"might get hurt."

Rx: The whole book, but especially, "Mean as My Mom" by Dan

Ryles,

a junior high school student; "Blind Faith" by Mike Pearson; and

"Growing Up Blind" by Jan Bailey.

Problem C: Your brother Frank and his wife treat your blind son

though every least thing he does is amazing or alternately as

though he will never be a success in anything.

Rx: The whole book but especially "Homemaking after I Became

Blind"

by Ramona Walhof; "One Small Step at a Time" by Heidi Sherman;

and

"What Color Is the Sun" by Lauren Eckery.

I can think of so many places this little book could do some

good.

How about on the table in the teacher's lounge (by the coffee),

the

eye doctor's office, the high school counselor's waiting room,

local libraries--public, university, elementary, junior high,

high

school--and so forth?

The book makes a wonderful gift, too. You could give it to your

babysitter, to your daughter's Brownie Scout leader, to the

Sunday

School teacher, your minister, the Red Cross swimming instructor,

teachers, relatives, and friends. Just about anyone who comes

into

contact with your blind son or daughter would appreciate, and

benefit from, this little paperback.

What Color Is the Sun is a fun, small educator you can carry in

your pocket. It is a polite and painless way of answering most of

those questions--those that are asked, and those that should be

asked--about blindness that come your way.

To order your copy(ies), send check or money order made payable

National Federation of the Blind with your request to: Materials

Center, National Federation of the Blind, 1800 Johnson Street,

Baltimore, Maryland 21230. You may also use your MasterCard,

Visa,

or Discover card. Call (410) 659-9314 for information or to place

your credit card order. Again, the cost is $3.00 per copy, or

$50.00 plus $5.00 shipping charge (total: $55.00) for 50 copies.

REFLECTING THE FLAME

by Marc Maurer

1991 National Convention Banquet Speech

National Federation of the Blind

"Human history," said H. G. Wells, "is in essence a history of

ideas."

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., declared that "men may come to

believe

that the best test of truth is the power of the thought to get

itself accepted in the competition of the market."

In 1644 John Milton wrote, "Let Truth and Falsehood grapple; who

ever knew Truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter?"

At the beginning of the sixteenth century Erasmus stated, "Time

reveals all things."

Such eminent scholars have believed that a new idea--one which

expresses perceived reality more exactly than its

predecessor--is,

in and of itself, imbued with sufficient power to banish error.

According to these philosophers, the innovative thought (once

formulated) will inevitably, in the course of time, replace the

old. However, the record of events in our own century fails to

substantiate this hypothesis. We have seen the most generous and

benevolent of creeds and the most despicable and tyrannical of

practices exist in the same country at the same time without any

indication that either was unalterably fated to triumph. The

assertion of individual freedom and the toleration of slavery

have

occurred side by side in modern civilization--and racism (of both

kinds, incidentally) is still with us.

If the objective in seeking the truth is to achieve fairness and

decency--and I believe it is--time and a new idea are not enough.

Within the framework of time there must be at least three

components that come together. First, an idea must be conceived

which contains an element of understanding that has not

previously

been reached. Second, a proponent of that idea must arise--a

leader

with the capacity to articulate the nuances in a way that will

compel recognition. And finally, there must be a group of

individuals prepared to defend what has been propounded. Such

concert of effort is essential not only to protect the new

thought

but to give it body and substance, to explore its full meaning

and

implications.

In a fireplace one log by itself, regardless of how big, will

almost certainly fail to burn. There must be at least two. The

flame from one is reflected by the other. The brightness and heat

come from the space between the logs, the reflection of the

flame.

As it is with flame, so it is with ideas. A new idea has only a

limited time to take fire, to catch the imagination of the public

and burn. And if the flame is to be reflected--the kindling point

sustained--more than a single person is required. There must be

two,

five, ten--at least a handful--to build the heat and speed the

process. Regardless of its merit, if an idea (once ignited) fails

to reflect the flame of group interaction, its time will soon

pass,

and it will disappear into insignificance and be forgotten. Of

course, an idea can be revived (many times, in fact, if the need

sufficiently urgent), but the process must always begin anew. And

if the idea is to live and prosper--if it is to make a meaningful

difference in the lives of people--all of the elements must be

present: the idea, a leader, and at least a handful to reflect

the

flame.

And what of the blind--what of us? Time and time again throughout

our history one or another of the elements has been present: the

idea of a better life for the blind; a leader, like Zisca, the

blind fifteenth-century general and statesman from Bohemia; or a

group of blind people, like the medieval guilds, prepared to take

collective action. But in each instance, there was something

lacking. However, in 1940, all of the elements came together--a

new

idea; a vibrant, inspiring leader; and a dedicated group of blind

persons prepared to help each other in shaping the future. In

that

year Dr. Jacobus tenBroek and a handful of others from seven

states

gathered in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, to inaugurate our

movement,

which has changed forever the expectations and aspirations of the

blind.

When the National Federation of the Blind was founded, the

prospects for the blind of this country were utterly desolate.

There was little education, almost no hope of a job, and

virtually

no chance for meaningful participation in other activities of

life.

Books for the blind were few and very difficult to get.

Communication among blind people (at least on a nationwide basis)

was almost nonexistent. The guarantee (or, for that matter, the

recognition) of meaningful civil rights for the blind was a

matter

for the distant future--if anybody thought about it at all.

Sometimes there were dreams of a home, a family, and the duties

and

privileges of citizenship; but these dreams rarely came to

fruition. From such unpromising beginnings almost no one (no one,

that is, except the founders of the Federation) believed that a

dynamic national movement could arise. But look about you! We

are

here in our thousands--we who embraced the new idea, hoped and

fought for a brighter tomorrow, and stayed to become the most

powerful force in the affairs of the blind in the nation--the

National Federation of the Blind.

Tonight (over fifty years after our founding) as we gather from

every corner of the country, our record of accomplishment spans

the

years for all to read. Indeed, not all of our problems have been

solved--but many have. And those that remain appear more glaring

and

unrelieved because of the distance we have come from the beliefs

and general climate of the 1940s. To confirm this fact, compare

the

conditions of our first decade with our situation today. How do

the

general public, the agencies for the blind, and the media view

us--and, for that matter, how do we view ourselves? How have we

fared in half a century?

Attitudes today are so much better and more realistic than they

were during the first years of the Federation that we tend to

react

with outrage and resentment when we find instances of what would

have been commonplace in our first decade--especially when the

outmoded ideas come from supposedly enlightened quarters.

Consider, for instance, one treatment of the blind by the medical

profession--generally regarded as among the most scientific of

the

disciplines. Although these statements were made only four years

ago, they are reminiscent of the attitudes which predominated

when

the Federation came into being. In an article entitled "Identifying

and Treating the Client with Sensory Loss" (which appeared in the

Summer, 1987, issue of Physical & Occupational Therapy in

Geriatrics) the argument is made that decreased visual function

causes decreased cognitive function. In other words, if you can't

get information from your eyes, your capacity to think

diminishes.

Perhaps it is obvious that if there is no stimulation whatever

from

any sensory organ, there will be no raw material to use in the

thinking process. If this were all that was meant, no one could

quarrel with it. However, the article demonstrates unmistakably

that the claim being made is much broader. As you ponder this

so-called scientific treatise, keep in mind that the grammatical

construction and usage are those of the author--not mine. And

also

keep in mind that the author is talking about you and me. Here

are

quotations from the article:

Impaired vision can result in a person behaving as though they

were

demented. Low vision decreases an individual's social interaction

due to the inability to perceive non-verbal cues such as smiles,

frowns, gestures, and even recognition of faces. Snyder, Pyrek,

and

Smith found a direct inverse relationship between vision

impairment

and mental acuity.

I remind you that this is not a passage from an ancient, hoary

work

of mysticism. It is less than five years old. And I must say that

this supposedly objective author packs a lot of prejudice (and a

good deal of ignorance) into a very few words. In this one brief

excerpt, she says that the blind may exhibit the behavior of the

demented, that we are unable to interact socially, and that the

less we can see the more we can't think. And in case there is any

doubt about the attitude of the writer toward the blind, consider

this recommendation from that portion of the text containing

so-called "strategies to help." Remember that the person about

whom

this advice is being given is blind--not emotionally traumatized,

not mentally unhinged, not psychologically deranged--just blind.

It is important [the author says] to avoid moving personal

belongings and furniture without the consent of the visually

impaired client, especially in the client's home.

A brief quotation, not dramatic--but examine the nuances. Do the

medical professionals you know come to your residence to

rearrange

the furniture? Is it assumed that one of their responsibilities

to decide what pattern should be established in your

home--presumably, of course, just for your own good? Or is this

simply another variation of the ancient myth not only that we who

are blind memorize the location and arrangement of all items in

our

homes but also that movement of anything will visit

disorientation

and danger upon the unfortunate automatons who live there?

Such fables and stereotypes (even when surrounded with the

trappings of science) are still only fables and stereotypes.

Their

placement in the literature of the medical profession does not

change their pseudoscientific nature. They are as ridiculous and

devastating to the future of the blind as any of the misbegotten,

benighted theories of the Middle Ages--or the 1940s--or, for that

matter, last week or yesterday. They are not a description of

reality but a reiteration of ignorance. Blindness does not mean

that we have lost our sanity, our ability to think, or our

interpersonal skills. Let those who doubt our capacity come to

this

convention. We will interact socially with the best of them; we

will continue to think for ourselves; and we will make the plans

and take the actions to determine the shape of our own tomorrow.

have the ideas; we have the leadership; and we have the people.

Nothing can prevent us from going the rest of the way to freedom,

for we will not let it happen. We have reached the kindling

point,

and we absolutely intend to reflect the flame.

As members of the National Federation of the Blind know, an

increasing number of our experiences with the scientific

community

are not negative but positive. In fact, many of us work as

members

of the scientific establishment. There are blind physicists,

blind

chemists, blind electrical engineers, and blind computer

scientists. Then, too, there are the mathematicians.

The cover story of the May 13, 1989, edition of Science News

describes the work of Bernard Morin at Louis Pasteur University

Strasbourg, France. One specialty of mathematics is topology, the

study of the relationship of shapes. A classic problem in

topology

is how to reverse the surface of a sphere (turn it inside out)

without permitting it to crease. The solution to this (and other

abstruse conundrums) has helped resolve problems in disciplines

outside mathematics--such as molecular biology, particle physics,

and cosmology. Although it has been theoretically possible to

perform this sphere reversal (known as an eversion), nobody has

been able, until recently, to describe the concept in

three-dimensional terms. However, the problem has now been

solved.

And how do you suppose the solution was reached? Here are

excerpts

from the Science News article:

Morin [the article tells us] starts with a cuboctahedron, which

looks like a cube with its corners lopped off, [and] transforms

the

cuboctahedron into a curiously shaped figure, which he calls the

"central model," with only twelve faces. A sequence of six

elementary moves carries the central model through the tricky

stages of the eversion. A final flurry of moves produces an

octahedron again, now turned inside out.

Quoting the scientist George K. Francis the article continues:

Bernard Morin is not distracted, like the rest of us, by pencil

and

paper and the business of drawing and looking at pictures. He is

blind. With superb spatial imagination, he assembles complicated

homotopies [transformations] of surfaces directly in space. He

keeps track of temporal changes in the double curves and the

surface patches spanning them. His instructions to the artist

consist of a vivid description of the model in his mind.

This report in Science News illustrates the fundamental proposition

that understanding is not a matter of visual acuity--but even in

doing this, it shows the power of the outmoded stereotype. Morin,

we are told, is not distracted like the rest of us by pencil and

paper and the business of drawing and looking at pictures. He is

blind--and so, presumably, in a rarefied inner world of his own,

not

troubled by the humdrum images of everyday life. Nonsense! If he

is intelligent, he is intelligent. Blindness has nothing to do

with

it.

Most of us do not know and could not imagine why the topological

problem of the French mathematician is important. But we can

readily understand that the blind are as capable as others of

addressing and solving complex questions. The factor limiting our

progress is, as it has always been, the failure of society to

believe in our ability. It is not the absence of the visual image

that stifles growth, but the failure of imagination. Not all of

are scientists, but some of us are. Not all of us aspire to study

mathematical relationships, but all of us insist that those with

the talent and desire to participate in this exacting discipline

should be able to do it. With such commitment we will expand our

horizons and create greater opportunity. With such dedication we

have built the National Federation of the Blind. With such

determination we reflect the flame.

A recently published collection of character sketches by Amy

Hempel

entitled At the Gates of the Animal Kingdom contains a

one-sentence

description of an encounter with a blind man. Apparently without

giving it a thought, the author reinforces the belief that the

blind are incompetent, that we are very often lost, that we do

not

have the ability to perceive our surroundings, that it is

customary

and decent to give preference to the blind, that very often the

primary interest of our lives is food, and that we are pathetic.

is all accomplished in a single sentence, done with fewer than

twenty-five words. Here they are: "Today, when a blind man walked

into the bank, we handed him along to the front of the line,

where

he ordered a B.L.T."

Dramatic? No, of course not. In the story the incident is

unemphasized, routine, taken for granted. A blind man walks into

bank, is automatically moved to the head of the line, and then is

so disoriented that he orders a sandwich instead of money. If we

aren't careful, the significance is so astonishing as to be lost

the shuffle of the everyday. The author finds this occurrence so

commonplace that it is unemphasized, routine, taken for granted.

That is precisely the point. More often than not our road to hell

has been paved with things which have been unemphasized, routine,

and taken for granted. But no more! We have the idea; we have

the

leaders; and we have the drive to work together, to support each

other, and to advance our movement. We have reached the kindling

point, and we intend to reflect the flame.

In the spring of 1990 Newsweek magazine reported in an article

entitled "Making the Most of Sight" that, "After AIDS and cancer,

the medical crisis Americans fear most is blindness. Not being able

to see the stark outline of a winter tree," the article tells us,

"or the final scene of 'Casablanca'--the loss is almost

unimaginable." When I read this item from Newsweek, I was struck

the contrast contained in those first few lines. AIDS and cancer

kill. Blindness does not. So what is the almost unimaginable

loss?

Is it really so bad to be without the visual impression of a tree

in winter? Is it truly of vital importance to observe visually

the

final scene in a movie? Does blindness mean that we cannot enjoy

art or appreciate the experience of nature? Many (far too many)

the sighted would say yes, but we who live with blindness every

day

emphatically say, no! After all, we are the ones with the data

know. Speaking from personal experience, I can tell you that

there

is (at least for this blind person) much joy to be gained from a

brisk walk in a winter wood. Is the joy as much for me as for my

sighted neighbors? One is tempted to ask, "Who cares?" The

experience is exhilarating, fulfilling. That is sufficient. When

our lives are diminished, it is not our blindness that does it

but

the misconceptions and oddball notions we face. It is not the

failure to see the stark outline of a winter tree that gives us

trouble but some of the stark attitudes we have to deal with.

Let me be clearly understood. I am not saying that sight is not

useful. Nor am I arguing that it is wrong to try to improve one's

ability to see--quite the contrary. However, I am saying that

sight

is not a requirement for a good life--not the beginning and the

end

of existence. We who are blind are not automatically prevented

from

having joy, satisfaction, and fulfillment; and those who believe

otherwise are simply misinformed.

An advertisement published in the Guy-Gannett newspapers in Maine

about a year ago says: "Illiteracy is a little bit like

blindness.

Both are handicaps. And both mean you can't see everything. A

person who can't read can't really see the morning paper or a

child's report card, a street sign or a prescription.

Fortunately,

illiteracy is a handicap one can overcome." Implied in this

advertisement is the notion that both blindness and illiteracy

make

a person unable to function but that although both of them are

bad,

at least illiteracy can be changed. For the blind, apparently,

there is not much hope.

What a distortion! To be blind is not to be ignorant, and we are

not prepared to permit such a portrayal of ourselves.

Federationists in Maine took the newspaper to task. Rank-and-file

members communicated their indignation to the newspaper's

management--and the combination worked. Within a few days a

retraction appeared. The blind are capable, and we intend that

the

public shall recognize this fact. Newspapers, some of the most

powerful shapers of public opinion, often reflect the

misconceptions that are a part of the public image of blindness.

But when it comes to blindness, they are not the authorities.

They

must learn from us. In half a century we have gained more

knowledge

and experience about blindness than anybody else, and we know how

to apply the lessons we have learned. Regardless of the source,

simply will not accept ignorance about blindness without protest.

We have a right to expect a public image that will not stifle our

hopes or limit our opportunities, and we have formed the most

powerful organization that the blind have ever known to get the

job

done. You know the name of that organization as well as I do--the

National Federation of the Blind.

There are a number of university programs which attempt to

instruct

teachers of the blind. Some of the most obnoxious presentations

about blindness may be gathered from the literature being

disseminated in these academic settings. Consider a description

the blind contained in course materials currently being

distributed

at San Francisco State University. An article by Mary Morrison

entitled "The Other 128 Hours a Week: Teaching Personal

Management

to Blind Young Adults" asserts that many blind adults do not know

how to make a peanut butter sandwich, have not learned to pour

cereal into a bowl, have not been taught to purchase items from

the

grocery store, are unable to handle money, cannot boil water on

the

stove, are unfamiliar with the location of the refrigerators in

their own homes, and are so weak that they cannot lift a pitcher

pour water. Unless you study some of this material for yourself,

you will have difficulty believing that the prejudice can be as

pervasive and deep-seated as it really is. Perhaps the segment of

this article which begins with the caption "can openers" will

illustrate the point. Notice the folksy manner of speech used to

help persuade the student that the statements being made are

accurate. Here is what the author says:

Now, I believe, we are up to the can openers. Each can opener

seems

to have a special trick to operating it. And, nearly without

exception, the blind young person is not even allowed to try to

use

it. In any event we turn to the manual can opener that mother

finds

in the back of some drawer, and then we run into the "strength"

problem. Opening a can requires strength.

I can immediately think [the author continues] of five young

people

on our caseload who are not considered to be handicapped other

than

by their blindness, who cannot lift a full two-quart pitcher to

pour from it. I first learned this when I naively asked a

21-year-old college student to pour a cup of coffee from a fresh

pot on his stove. Not only did the heat terrify him, he actually

could not lift the coffee pot off the stove! Why? He and the

others never lift anything! They do not exercise. They do

nothing

but go to school (which exempts them from physical education), go

to church, and watch television. Their arms are limp. So we have

go back to the beginning with pitcher, partly full, with cool

water, and learn how to pour.

That is what the author says, and one is tempted to pass off such

drivel with the remark that no serious-minded human being could

taken in by the idiocy. Of course, there are occasional blind

people who cannot find the stove or tie their shoes. However, to

generalize from these isolated cases that the blind are incapable

of a wide array of the simplest daily chores is, to put it

mildly,

utter nonsense. But those who would dismiss these course materials

have not reckoned with the pedestrian nature of certain

professional educators who teach the teachers of the blind. Along

with the article I have quoted are included separate evaluation

sheets constructed so that the person teaching the blind client

can

record the progress of the student. One of the categories to be

registered in these evaluations is--if you can believe

it--pouring.

The evaluation sheet for Level I contains the category

"Pouring--Cold liquids." In Level III the student has progressed

"Pours hot liquids." In Level IV the entry is "Pours (advanced)."

What, one wonders, is included in the arcane science of "advanced

pouring"?

The insufferable arrogance inherent in these writings is

epitomized

in the explanation of the title, "The Other 128 Hours a Week:

Teaching Personal Management to Blind Young Adults." The

underlying

premise of this outline of teaching techniques for instructors of

the blind is that almost all of the schooling for blind

recipients

of rehabilitation has been directed toward the skills needed for

sedentary employment and that it is the job of the rehabilitation

counselors to teach them how to manage their leisure and personal

activities. In each week there are seven 24-hour days. Forty

hours

are used for work. So what do the blind do with the other 128

hours

a week? The bombastic conclusion is that without the

ministrations

of the so-called "professionals" of rehabilitation, we might be

faced with the prospect of sitting around doing nothing. As the

author says, we just mostly go to school, go to church, and watch

television. Don't you believe it! Those who have been to this

convention could tell her otherwise.

I have been reading documents from the "professional literature"

about blindness for more than twenty years, and I cannot remember

ever running across one which contained so little discernment.

Where do such people get these ideas? Think about it. Do you

have

the strength to operate a can opener? Can you make a sandwich or

pour a cup of coffee? They are writing about you and me. They

tell

us--and anybody else who will listen--that they have come to

help.

But we don't want such assistance--and we don't need it. Of

course,

like anybody else, we need education; and we also need training

the skills of blindness--but in matters such as those described,

can and we will do for ourselves. The description of the blind by

this author as little more than basket cases is among the

principal

obstacles preventing us from becoming successful, competent

people.

But we are changing the image. We have reached the kindling

point,

and we intend to reflect the flame.

One Friday evening a few months ago, I reached into my mail

basket

and found a letter from a man from New Jersey. If his story were

unique, it would be poignant enough--but it is not unique. It is

everyday occurrence in the lives of tens of thousands of the

blind

of this country, underlining with grim insistence the need (yes,

the necessity) for the National Federation of the Blind. The

details, reported in an article published in an Atlantic City

newspaper, show once more why we have organized and what we must

do. Here, as told by the reporter, is the saga of Bill, whose real

name, for obvious reasons, I have not used:

What happens to a man who suddenly loses the tools he used to

measure his worth in the world?

What happens to a man when he turns to those whose very job it is

to help him, and he is ignored?

This is what happened to one man.

On a Saturday morning in the summer of 1988, he woke up blind.

At once, he denied what was obvious.

He washed and dressed and picked up the morning paper--a habit as

fixed as pulling on his pants. He couldn't read it. He put it

down,

said nothing, and left the house.

He drove to the office, slowly, deliberately, guessing at the

traffic lights he could not see.

When he arrived at the office, he was alone. He sat down at his

computer terminal, and there confronted the cold fact that he

could

not see the copy he was supposed to type.

Bill started to come undone.

He had no idea what would happen next. He had worked as a

typesetter and computer operator all of his adult life. What

could

he do now?

Bill saw the publisher of the paper. When he explained to her

what

had happened, she offered him a handshake and two words: "Good

luck."

The next day, Bill registered for state disability payments. He

would receive less than half of his old salary.

He doesn't sit still well. Retirement was never part of his

life's

plan. Work was all. He needed to regain his workday world. He

needed a start.

It was October when he called and spoke with a receptionist [at

the

New Jersey Commission for the Blind]. She said a representative

the commission would get in touch. Soon afterward a caseworker

called to make an appointment.

He arrived full of assurances.

Bill told him what had happened. He spoke of his work as a

computer

operator and supplied the caseworker with his medical history. He

also spoke of the long and lonely days he had been living

through.

"I told him I was going nuts. He asked me what I liked to do, and

I said, `read--but I can't even do that.' I told him, `I need to

find a job.'

"He said, `You have been paying into the system all of your life,

now it is time to reap the benefits.'"

The caseworker was sympathetic. He said he would provide a

cassette

player for Bill and arrange for him to receive books on tape from

the library.

Bill was led to believe that the commission would help him return

to work. He was told he would need a medical examination. He was

told the commission would pay the doctor's bill and instructed to

wait until the appropriate forms were assembled. The caseworker

said he would call when everything was in place to make the

appointment.

The commission appeared to be a godsend. Here, Bill thought, was

more than a promise to help; here was the way back into the

world.

During the weeks that followed that first meeting with the

caseworker, Bill grew anxious. He made several calls to the

commission's offices. None was returned.

November turned into December. Bill had been out of work for more

than three months, a fact made all the more harsh when he

realized

that his [medical insurance] coverage had been cut off on

September

It was early in December when the caseworker called again with

the

go-ahead to schedule a medical exam. Bill was told to call back

with the date arranged so the forms for payment could be

forwarded

to the doctor. He did, and on December 7, Bill saw his doctor.

Bill left the doctor and stepped up to the receptionist's desk.

asked her about the forms. She said they had received no forms.

paid for his visit. A few days later, the caseworker called to

arrange another meeting.

"He was here for maybe ten minutes. I told him I went to the

doctor, but they didn't have any forms from the commission so I

had

to pay for the visit. I showed him the receipt and he said okay.

expected him to say that I would be reimbursed, but he didn't. He

said the commission's doctor would review the results of my exam.

I told him I never received the cassette player. He said he would

check on that when he got back to the office and call me."

A few weeks later, Christmas arrived looking like just another

day.

No word from the caseworker.

In January, 1989, the state disability payments stopped and Bill

became eligible for Social Security. His income dropped again.

He made more phone calls to his caseworker. None was returned.

The cold bound him to the house, and it was easy to ride out the

day on the endless stream of daytime TV. One day turned into the

next, each the same, as empty as the slate-gray winter sky.

January

eventually became February.

By March, 1989, Bill had been unemployed for more than six

months.

More than three months had passed since he had heard from his

caseworker.

Phone calls to his caseworker at the commission's office in April

were never returned.

[This is a tiny part of what the extensive newspaper article

tells

us about Bill's story. It goes on to say that a friendly

newspaper

reporter called the Department of Human Services on Bill's behalf

to complain.]

The next day [the paper continues] Bill got a call from his

caseworker.

When [the commission staff member] arrived at the house, there

was

no mention of his nearly five-month absence, not a word about all

of the phone calls that were never returned. Instead, he

announced

that the commission had reviewed the medical exam performed in

December, [remember that we are now in April] and was now

prepared

to address the problem.

In August, Bill was given a series of oral and written

examinations

by a psychologist at the commission's office. He was told the

tests

were part of the process that would return him to the workplace.

In September, he received the results of the exams. He was weak

mechanical skills, but sharp in computer-oriented skills. The

psychologist noted that he was suffering a lack of self-worth. He

was depressed.

In October, his caseworker brought him a typewriter. He should

refresh his typing skills, he was told. The caseworker said he

had

also arranged for an instructor to come out to the house to help.

Bill thought it was an odd gesture. Had he been waiting a year

for

a typewriter?

"I was desperate. I'm sure I sounded like I was begging. I said

him, `Listen, in the beginning I told you I wanted to work to get

out of the house, to have something to do. But now,' I said,

`there

isn't any money left. It's a necessity. I need work. Any kind of

work.'"

Before the month was out, Bill met the typing instructor, a young

woman, who is blind, who showed him how a blind person becomes

acclimated to a keyboard. But Bill knows the keyboard. Bill

thought

the session pointless.

In November, his caseworker called him to the commission's

office.

[By this time Bill had been blind and out of work for well over a

year.]

And that day, for the first time, there was talk of a job.

"The caseworker said, `I'm going to Atlantic City tomorrow to see

about getting you an appointment at Bally's Grand.' I said,

`great.' I was ecstatic. This was just before Thanksgiving. After

the holiday, he called to say we had a tentative meeting on

Friday.

He would call back with a definite time."

The week faded into the next. The caseworker never called. Bill

felt conned.

[This is the story of Bill as reported in the press. Do you know

Bill? Do you recognize him? How many of us here in this room

find

ourselves painfully reflected in the details?

The article goes on to describe a series of telephone calls made

the reporter to state officials. Then it continues.]

It was now December, 1989. The client service representative, who

is blind, and his driver arrived at midday. He sat down with his

laptop computer in a chair near the Christmas tree in the living

room. His driver sat in the kitchen. Bill spoke.

Why were his phone calls never returned? Why didn't his

caseworker

ever call to say what happened to the interview? Why didn't he

get

the cassette player? Why were his hospital bills still not paid?

What was he supposed to say to the collection agencies that were

now hounding him? Why, after a fifteen-month relationship with

the

commission, was he no better off than the first day he found

himself out of work?

"I never asked you people for a handout," Bill said. "I asked for

help. I need help. I'm fifty-eight years old and I'm not going to

just sit around this house waiting to die."

The client service representative called Bill on December 20. It

was a short one-sided conversation. "The deal with Bally's fell

through," he said. "Your caseworker will be in touch with you

soon."

Three weeks later, Bill received a letter from his caseworker

dated

January 16, 1990. It read in part: "This is to inform you that

the

paperwork is now being generated so the [medical] bills you

incurred can be paid. I will be contacting you shortly to discuss

your status with the commission and other related items."

In February, Bill received notice that a registered letter had

arrived for him at the post office. It was from his caseworker.

The

first sentence of the letter, dated February 6, read: "On

Wednesday, February 14, 1990, I will contact you via telephone

between 9:00 a.m. and 12:00 noon."

Bill was dumbfounded.

"Who sends a registered letter to a blind man. I had to get a

neighbor to drive me down to the post office to get it. It cost

two

dollars to send it. For what? To tell me he would call me?"

On February 14, the caseworker called at 1:45 p.m. to say he

would

come out to see Bill on Wednesday the 21st. He would have forms

fill out.

On February 21, the caseworker called to say his secretary had

not

finished typing the forms. He said he would be out to see Bill

the

first thing the next day.

On February 22, the caseworker did not show. He did not call.

Dumbfounded was no longer an adequate word to describe Bill's

state

of mind.

On February 27, when the caseworker did call, a new date was set

for the appointment.

"In all of this time, they couldn't get me even an interview?"

[Bill questioned,] "Not one interview? Is there nothing? Is

this

it? Look at me. I clean the house. I make lunch at noon. I start

dinner at five. This can't be it.

"And yet, here I sit. I'm no better off today than I was the day

first called the commission."

That was eighteen months ago.

I got Bill's letter last year just after the occurrence of the

events I've been relating to you. I tried to call him, but I

couldn't find a number listed in his name. I telephoned the

reporter and eventually tracked down the information. I spoke

with

Bill and invited him to join the Federation. We talked about the

work that blind people are doing all over America. I asked Bill

believe that there is more for those who are blind than the

papershuffling and dreariness of some of the agencies for the

blind. There is the spirit of the National Federation of the

Blind--a spirit that springs from a joint effort to achieve fully

productive lives, the commitment of mutual support, and the

enthusiasm of the discovery that blindness need not mean

helplessness or hopelessness. All of this is a part of the

organized blind movement, our movement, the National Federation

the Blind.

How long does it take to extinguish the spark of initiative--to

kill

the spirit and crush the dream? For Bill it takes more than

eighteen months. He has joined our movement, and he is once again

employed as a computer operator. I suppose I need not tell you

that

he found the job without the help of the New Jersey Commission for

the Blind.

Yet, there are those who tell us that we are harsh and

unreasonable

in criticizing some of the governmental and private agencies

established to help the blind. Let them call us what they will

and

say what they please. We have the idea of freedom; we have the

leaders; and we know how to work together and support each other.

We have reached the kindling point--and we intend to reflect the

flame.

There was a time when it was accepted that the blind would be on

the fringe of society--a burden to be carried--unproductive,

unwanted, shunned. There were occasional individuals who fought

this common perception, but they were generally defeated by the

force of so-called "common sense." But then there came together

the

essential elements for change. It cannot happen in a moment, but

the process is thoroughly under way. Much that is written and

thought about blindness is as fraught with misunderstanding as

one

could possibly imagine. The experts in gerontology tell us that

visual acuity and intellectual capacity are linked. Newspaper

editors declare that blindness, like illiteracy, indicates

ignorance and incapacity. The weekly news magazines suggest that

being blind is almost as bad as suffering from AIDS or cancer.

The

educators in the universities who are supposed to bring

enlightenment to instructors of the blind disseminate the view

that

we have difficulty opening a can or pouring water. The agencies

established to provide service to the blind direct us to wait

patiently and reap the benefits of a welfare check.

Nevertheless, conditions for the blind in the 1990s are

dramatically and enormously different from those that prevailed

fifty years ago. Despite the litany of problems I have recited,

our

prospects are better than they have ever been. Our present is

fulfilling. Our future is more promising. Blind mathematicians

astonish their colleagues with their innovative solutions to the

most difficult problems. Despite the laziness and befuddlement of

certain segments of the agency establishment, the tide is turning

the other way. Increasingly the agencies are working with us, and

the momentum is building. New fields are being entered, new

employment and independence achieved. And of course, a growing

number of agencies are managed by Federationists and operated

with

Federation philosophy--with dramatic results. Although the

literature often contains references which belittle the capacity

the blind, there are also (and ever more frequently) the positive

images--and we are not without our own capacity to write.

A powerful new spirit now moves in the blind of the nation--and

also

in growing numbers of the public. The vital elements for an

alteration in the pattern of our experience have come together in

an energetic and forceful mixture. We in this room tonight are

the

force which will propel our movement through the last decade of

the

twentieth century and into the one beyond. We are the

components--the leaders from throughout the country, the

rank-and-file members, the new inspiration. We will make the

difference, for we must. Our record of achievement during more

than

half a century will be remembered with pride, but it is only the

prelude. Each generation must do for itself and build on the

past.

We have learned that lesson well. We have learned it from each

other and from our own experiences. In our yearning for freedom,

others can go with us, but we must lead the way. We have not only

reached but gone beyond the kindling point. We are the blind who

reflect the flame. No organization on earth that deals with

blindness has the strength, the determination, or the spirit of

the

National Federation of the Blind. My brothers and my sisters,

come!

Remember those who have shown the way, and those who will come

after. We will believe in each other--and with joy in our hearts,

will go to meet the future!

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Future Reflectios, Winter '92

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