The Summer of Independence

The Summer of Independence

Future Reflections Spring 1999, Vol. 18 No. 1
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The Summer of Independence

by Carol Castellano
Editor’s Note: Many
readers will recognize Carol as the co-author of The
Bridge to Braille: Reading and School Success for the Young Blind Child.
Carol is also the President of the New Jersey Parents of Blind Children, and
the First Vice President of the National Organization of Parents of Blind Children.
The following article was written sometime following the summer of 1998. Here
is what Carol has to say about her daughter’s “Summer of Independence:”

My
daughter Serena had just graduated from elementary school. We spent many mornings
that summer practicing the route from our home to the Junior High School, where
Serena would be entering seventh grade. The route seemed complicated. There
was an auto repair shop along the way where cars and pickup trucks often jutted
out onto the sidewalk. There was the blended curb at Main Street. There were
high hedges that blocked traffic sounds and a driver’s view. There was
the busy driveway of the school to be negotiated. Serena and I both felt a bit
daunted by the task.
In July we put
our practice sessions on hold for awhile. Serena was about to leave for the
Buddy Program at the National Federation of the Blind’s Louisiana
Center for the Blind. Run entirely by blind persons, the four-week program promised
learning activities, friendships, and fun to blind/visually impaired fourth
to eighth graders. My husband, son, and I put Serena on a plane bound for Ruston,
Louisiana. The airline assured us that they would take good care of our girl
on the flight and make sure she made her connecting plane. Even with their assurances,
I felt heavy-hearted until we heard later in the day that Serena had arrived
safely at her destination.
Four weeks
is a long time for a family to be without one of their children! I couldn’t
wait to make that first phone call during week one, to see how Serena was doing.
A cheerful female voice greeted me. The young woman identified herself as Serena’s
counselor, and said that Serena was doing fine. Serena’s voice was a little
shaky, but she said she was having fun and working hard. She told me she was
living in an apartment with two roommates and a counselor. She mentioned picnics
and movies and swimming at a lake. Their days sounded busy, with classes in
the morning and activities in the afternoons and evenings.
During the
call of the next week, I asked Serena if she’d tried any new foods during
her stay in Louisiana. I was thinking of the gumbo and jambalaya and crawdaddies
that might be served in that part of the country.
“Yes,”
Serena answered. “I’ve had new foods. We had Hamburger Helper. It
was great! And we made Garbage Dip. I’m going to make that for you when
I get home.”
It turned out
that a major part of the program is for the students in each apartment to plan,
shop for, and prepare their own meals. Thus, the appeal of Hamburger Helper!
In the phone
call of the third week, we heard about horseback riding and potluck dinners,
art class and dancing. Serena was beginning to miss us quite a lot, but there
was only one more week to go. The counselors assured us that she was doing fine.
The day of
her return finally arrived. We really missed our girl, and I found myself practically
in tears as we paced the airport corridor waiting for the plane to land. A few
moments after we spotted her smiling face, I encircled my daughter in a relieved
hug. I automatically reached for her hand and felt a slight drawing away before
the small hand settled comfortably in mine.
“Serena!,”
I exclaimed. “You haven’t held hands with anyone for a month, have
you!”
“I guess
not,” she responded after a moment of thought.
“And I
bet you haven’t been guided by anybody, either,” I added.
“Not really,”
she replied.
The enormous
significance struck me.
“Our job,”
I whispered to my husband, “is going to be to stay out of her way!”
In the first
few days after Serena’s homecoming, I was amazed at how many times I had
to check my hand, as I reached out of habit to grab her hand, move her, turn
her, guide her. Each time I was struck both by the utter importance of disciplining
myself not to touch her and also by how terribly automatic it was to do so!
And this was in a family that was well aware of the importance of independent
movement. I realized that too often we still had taken the easy way out (in
the short term) and pulled Serena along.
As the days
went on, Serena told us about the activities at the Center. She learned how
to sweep, vacuum, do laundry, and clean the bathroom. Welcome home, kid! Serena
explained that in addition to doing the work of keeping the apartment clean,
the students also attended classes in daily living skills. She also asked if
we could buy the ingredients for that Garbage Dip. Mmmmm.
This child
who had just lived on her own for a month—no mom to get out the cereal,
no dad to grab the milk—now automatically moved to do her share of household
tasks. We loved her new self-reliance. It was the most natural thing to Serena
to continue taking care of herself. It was we who were so conscious of the difference.
We had to learn how to keep the process of independence going and not get in
its way.
Serena told
us more and more about the program. We learned that there were daily, individualized
classes in Braille and computer, with the teachers starting at whatever point
was right for each student. There were also daily cane lessons during the ten-block
walk from the apartments to the classroom building.
There was also
plenty of fun. In addition to the horseback riding and swimming, the students
went bowling and roller skating. They learned how to play goalball. They visited
a waterpark and an amusement park. They attended art classes and dancing classes.
They baked brownies and bread. They went out to dinner and the movies. There
was also time for hanging around talking and sharing thoughts about being blind.
Every day,
Serena continued to demonstrate the results of her month of independent living.
In addition to her self-reliance and initiative around the house, she seemed
socially more capable, too, joining in confidently to conversations and speaking
in a stronger voice. She figured more things out for herself and was more aggressive
in her problem solving.
It was in her
movement, however, that we saw the most dramatic results. She was much more
assertive in her movement now. She traveled with a new self-assurance that seemed
to have as its underlying assumption, “Of course I can do this. Why on
earth would anyone ever question it?” Even the way she carried herself
had changed. Her head was high, her shoulders resolute. She looked as if she
had finally claimed the treasure that was rightfully hers!
I began to
feel as if some kind of magic had taken place. I suppose it was the “magic”
of a child responding to well-thought-out activities taught in a total-immersion
setting by competent blind role models and mentors in an atmosphere of support,
encouragement, hard work, and fun!
The Center’s
program culminated in an impressive travel experience. The students and counselors
went as a group by bus to a local shopping mall. There, the students were paired
off and given assignments to complete. Partners were allowed to help each other
if necessary. Counselors followed unobtrusively and only intervened if a student
really needed help.
Each pair of
students had to find the food court and ascertain what types of food were available.
Then they had to order lunch at the restaurant of their choice, find a table,
and eat. After lunch, Serena’s task was to locate the movie theater and
find out what movies were showing. Her partner had to find the hardware store
and then locate a certain section within it.
“You did
all that?” I asked Serena in disbelief. “You went to a mall and found
a restaurant and bought yourself lunch and located the movie theater?”
I was amazed! Serena had never been given this kind of challenge before. She
rose to it beautifully! No wonder she seemed so confident and self-assured.
One day not
long after her return, Serena said to me, “By the way, Mom, the route to
the Junior High? Gonna be a piece of cake.”
With gratitude to program directors
Pam Dubel and Joanne Wilson for the thought and energy they put into this wonderful
program and with loving thanks to my husband Bill Cucco for giving me the courage
to let Serena attend.
From the Editor: The Louisiana Center for the Blind is one of three
NFB Centers which operate summer programs for blind children and youth. Here
is how you may contact them for more information:
Blindness: Learning in New Dimensions (BLIND,
Inc.)
Joyce Scanlan, Director
100 East 22nd Street, South
Minneapolis, Minnesota 55404-2514
(800) 597-9558 and (612) 872-0100
fax: (612) 872-9358
e-mail: <[email protected]>
website: <www.blindinc.org>
Children’s Program Director: Joyce Scanlan
Colorado
Center for the Blind
Julie Deeden, Director
1830 South Acoma Street
Denver, Colorado 80223-3606
(800) 401-4632 and (303) 778-1130
fax: (303) 778-1598
e-mail <[email protected]>
website <www.ccb-denver.org>
Children’s Program Director: Dan Wenzel
Louisiana
Center for the Blind
Joanne Wilson, Director
101 South Trenton
Ruston, Louisiana 71270-4431
(800) 234-4166 and (318) 251-2891
fax: (318) 251-0109
e-mail: <[email protected]>
website: <www.lcb-ruston.com>
Children’s Program Director: Pam Dubel
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