Shaping Our Environment
Shaping Our Environment
The Braille Monitor
June 2003
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Shaping Our Environment
by Marcus Schmidt
From the Editor: The
following speech was delivered at the 2001 convention of the NFB of Arizona.
Marcus Schmidt is first vice president of the Arizona affiliate. He is an engineer
and is completely bilingual in English and German. Here is his tribute to wonderful
parents and a reminder that the principles that the Federation espouses are
not, as some of our opponents would have it, the creation of the NFB only. Dedicated,
energetic parents with common sense can advocate effectively for their blind
children everywhere, and we can all change the world.
In the last year I have
been reflecting upon the people who have contributed to my success and the things
in my past that have shaped my views on life and blindness. Those of you who
have heard me speak before know that my parents were very supportive, encouraging,
and progressive. Though they weren't familiar with the National Federation of
the Blind during my childhood, they modeled NFB philosophy for me and did their
best to instill it in me. For instance, they expected the same things from me
as from my sighted brother and sister, and they never let me use my blindness
as an excuse to get out of anything.
As I grew up, I became increasingly aware of how fortunate
I really was, since I knew several parents of blind children who were quite
fearful, stifling, and backward. The attitudes in Germany were such that my
parents received criticism for allowing me to explore the world in my own way.
I was also very lucky to experience several positive changes in my environment,
which made my life more enjoyable and made it easier to achieve my full potential.
Only fairly recently have I recognized that many of these changes weren't just
a result of happenstance, but were rather attributable to my parents' efforts.
Though my mom and dad are--and always have been--very
different people, their differences complemented each other in their united
fight for my freedom and progress. With my mom's emphasis on technology and
training and my dad's emphasis on institutional change, the two made a very
effective team.
One of their earlier successes concerned mobility training,
which I was fortunate enough to begin receiving at the age of nine, after we
moved to America. Within a few months I was comfortably navigating the streets
around the Western Pennsylvania School for Blind Children, which I was attending
at the time. After four months of training, we returned to Germany, and I could
not continue receiving this instruction. Unfortunately, we found the attitudes
there to be at least twenty years behind those prevalent in the U.S., so we
faced a lot of fear and opposition from school administrators and even parents.
My parents pushed the local blind school hard for the
completion of my mobility training, but the school principal refused, probably
because I was so young. Since words couldn't persuade him, my parents simply
had me walk through the streets of town one day with the principal and several
blind students' parents watching, mouths gaping in amazement. After that the
principal allowed me to finish my training, enabling me to use public transportation
independently by the time I was ten. Having had this positive experience, the
school began offering mobility training to other younger children.
When I completed sixth grade, I had to switch to a boarding
school about 120 miles away from home, the only college preparatory school for
the blind in all of Germany at that time. Right away my parents had to fight
a major battle to allow me to come home more than once every six to eight weeks.
When they found that the principal wouldn't bend, they rallied the school's
parent-teacher association to the cause. It apparently had more power than American
PTA enjoy. With father as the PTA vice president, they forced the principal
to be more progressive by threatening him with early retirement.
When the six-week limitation was abolished, I generally
took the train home about every other weekend. Instead of my being looked down
on by my peers, as the principal had feared, some of my buddies joined me, and
we started a trend. To guarantee this freedom to other students long-term, my
parents became active in Germany's national blind parents association and had
it put the rule in writing.
With my parents' positive influence at the school for
the blind and my excellent mobility skills, instruction in mobility and independent
living skills for all students was increased, and the entire climate improved.
In fact, by the time I left the school just three and a half years later, virtually
all seniors were participating in off-campus independent living programs, from
which my blind friends were able to benefit later on.
Though things were going well at that school, my parents
decided that the best thing for my education would be to integrate me into a
regular school, which at that time was unheard of in Germany. My parents tried
to persuade schools close to home to admit me, but all of them turned me down.
I vividly remember hearing one of the principals say: "Why, he might fall
down the stairs and hurt himself; we can't accept that liability." My parents
wouldn't take "no" for an answer and took my case to the state's education
minister. When that failed, they searched far and wide until they found a school
in Vienna that would admit me. The entire family moved, even though this meant
that my dad had to take a sizable cut in pay. The school, called the American
International School, welcomed me enthusiastically, and I graduated from it
with honors in 1981. Having received the skills I needed and my parents' healthy
attitudes, I didn't have much difficulty adjusting to the new school or to college
thereafter.
One of the important skills I had acquired was reading
using the Optacon, a device that converts printed images into tactile images
on an array of vibrating pins. My parents knew it was important for me to acquire
this skill in order to continue my education independently, especially since
my areas of interest were engineering and mathematics. Since good instructors
for the Optacon were hard to come by in the mid `70's, my mother acquired the
necessary training to become an instructor herself and then taught me and continued
to drill me.
Being proficient with the Optacon, I was able not only
to read printed text without assistance but also to look at graphs and complex
diagrams and read computer screens. Now that speech output has become much more
affordable and reading machines have been developed and perfected, the Optacon
has lost its popularity. But remember, things haven't always been this way.
Back in the mid `70's computer speech was still fairly
primitive, and reading machines existed only in people's imaginations. But,
when my father heard that the German postal service had begun using computerized
scanners to sort mail, he knew that reading machines for the blind were just
around the corner. So he decided to research the matter himself and collected
all the information he could at the country's largest technology expo. He found
that, even though the technology was all there to create a reading machine,
nobody was doing it. So he put together a convincing proposal to the German
government to find a developer and fund the research for a reading machine.
They were very impressed with his proposal, and within a fairly short time the
German company AEG Telefunken took the ball and ran with it. After a mere eighteen
months they demonstrated a working prototype to my father; and to this day they
are one of the leaders in the business.
Paralleling these efforts, Ray Kurzweil and his staff
were developing a reading machine in the U.S. Though we were still living in
Europe at the time, my father made a personal visit to the States and presented
his research proposal to the Kurzweil group. When he learned of their struggles
with speech output, he suggested to the team that they concentrate their efforts
on optical character recognition (OCR) and defer speech output development for
a while. They followed his advice since the Germans had already developed the
software to translate computer text into Braille.
As soon as Kurzweil had conquered the OCR challenges,
they developed good speech output, thus creating an excellent reading machine
by the time I reached college. It helped me get through the vast amounts of
text material I had to read during my studies, and I have continued using reading
machines on the job. In fact, I recently purchased the Kurzweil 1000, deemed
by many to be the best OCR software on the market.
When I expressed my gratitude to my parents for the tenacity
of their fight to bring about these changes, they said that they had just done
what any parent would have. But, when I look around, I find that they are the
exception, not the rule. Not that parents don't want to fight for what is best
for their children, but they feel powerless to break down barriers, change rules,
and advance technology. I'm afraid that many parents have succumbed to the increasingly
popular philosophy that people are victims of our environment. They then pass
this philosophy on to their children. I expect that some of us have embraced
it as well. But, although this way of thinking provides a convenient way of
avoiding the blame for our past failures and current shortcomings, it also prevents
us from reaching our full potential. If we are honest with ourselves, most of
us would admit that we have indulged in this rationalization at one time or
another.
I have written this to
urge us all to shake off this destructive outlook and to take full advantage
of the great network of people we have in the NFB. One of the statements that
inspired me at this year's national convention was "Raindrops make a forest
grow and bring strong mountains down." Not everyone has connections with
the people in power or the wherewithal to push forward technological advancements.
But, when we draw from the experience and expertise of those around us and in
the organization, we can successfully change our environment.
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