FUTURE REFLECTIONS Vol. 11, No. 1 Barbara Cheadle, Editor Winter, 1992 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 Copyright 1992 by the National Federation of the Blind, Inc. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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 of 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). An 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 at 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 of 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 of $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 to 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 is 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 a $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 to 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 I 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 at 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 I 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 to 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. It 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 at 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 in 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 is 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 I 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 at Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles, where he is working on 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 of 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 be 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 a 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 print 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 at 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 I 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 by 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 a 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 in 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 be 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 to 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 it 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 we 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? It 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 of 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 on 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 as 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 of the Blind convention in 1988, which was my first convention and my 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 on 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 me 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; I 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 to 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 up 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 it legible. That was one of the hard times, and my mother couldn't do 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 of discrimination that a blind person can face, you never know when. In the course of his work towards his Ph.D., Michael has served as 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 of 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 I 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, so 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 I was little." Blindness at that stage of my life, say around nine to twelve, started becoming an excuse, not for me, but for them. If I 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 be 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 like 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 to 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 do 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 next 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 a different attitude about it. Change the old notion of blindness as 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 a 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 to 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 of 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 1, "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 a 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 of 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 on 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 of 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 in 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 be 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 as 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 to 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 in a community living type of situation." 100% of these students, Dr. Bartley pointed out, had a place to go 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." He 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 as 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 of 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 in 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 in 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 of 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 at 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 of 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 of 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, a 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 previous 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 a 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 to 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 in 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 my 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. It seemed to me that our agency believes that the most important attribute a blind child can have for success is vision. I raised my 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 at 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 to 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 at 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 my 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 on 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 up 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 to 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. He 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 on 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. I 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 of 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 it 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-- is 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 of 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 he "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 as 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 to 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 is 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 is 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 as 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. We 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 in 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 us 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. It 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 a 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 in 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 by 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) of 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 to 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, we 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 of 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 to 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 to 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 be 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 to "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 in the skills of blindness--but in matters such as those described, we 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 an 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 of 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 1. 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. He asked her about the forms. She said they had received no forms. He 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. I 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 in 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 to 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 by 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 to 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 I 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 to 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 of 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 more 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 of 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, we will go to meet the future!