[nabs-l] Importance of Using Braille
Chelsea Cook
astrochem119 at gmail.com
Thu Jan 7 01:10:30 UTC 2010
I agree with Briley and Jedi on this matter. I am not employed,
but feel as though Braille has been the one secret, or key, to my
success as a student. I'm going to post below my signature a
speech I delivered at the 2009 NFB of Virginia State Convention
(sorry if I posted it before; can't remember.) Please comment; I
welcome feedback. I like the comment about the shoe fits and
doing what you love no matter what. Enjoy the speech. As a
final note: did anyone read the description of the tactile art in
the January Braille Monitor? That also captures the essence of
what I am about to say and has significant meaning for me.
Thanks,
Chelsea
"I ask you to look both ways. For the road to a knowledge of the
stars leads through the atom; and important knowledge of the atom
has been reached through the stars."
Sir Arthur Eddington, British astrophysicist (1882-1944), Stars
and Atoms (1928), Lecture 1
Literacy and Opportunity:
Learning Braille, Using Braille
by Chelsea Cook
Believe it or not, there was a time when I didn't want to learn
Braille. I vaguely remember my mother sitting me down in front
of small alphabet flash cards and forcing my fingers down upon
those wretched dots which felt so strange. I was probably not
even four, and did not yet know the power this code brought: to
me or to the rest of the blind.
Then I found it. I don't know how and I don't know when, but
somewhere along the way, Braille clicked. It was the catalyst
that set off all my other academic adventures. Because of my
early start and my parents' persistence, I developed a love of
reading that holds true to this day. I have pulled that trick
many times over the years of staying up late into the night with
a book under the covers, as many Braille readers out there can
relate. On a few such occasions, those books were textbooks:
Noreen Greice's Touch the Stars, for example, or a few sacred
volumes of our eighth-grade science book. The school had
switched the grade levels' books when I was in seventh, but I
didn't care. I was reading physics and chemistry a year ahead of
the standard biology curriculum to satisfy what I now know was
the beginning of an unquenchable thirst for knowledge that only
understanding of the physical sciences could provide. Even now,
when I do college-level physics, I can visualize the mathematical
relationships between quantities only by remembering their Nemeth
symbols. Last year, going through a period of no physics at all,
my vision teacher Brailled out a twenty-one page formula sheet.
The equations under my fingertips radiated a tangible energy; it
was as though I were connecting with the very scientists who had
developed them. They held the secrets of the universe. All I
had to do was learn and follow.
I read extensively out of school as well. By third grade, I
had read all the Braille books in my elementary school's library.
Bookshare and Web Braille were far-distant dreams then, and even
now it still awes me how there are so many books being produced.
The Harry Potter series has always been one of my favorites; I
have bookcases filled with all seven. The words of authors took
me places. Traveling through space and time with Robert Hineline
and Madeline L'Engle, I discovered the wonder of science fiction
and decided to write my own. I compose novels and poetry so that
one day, readers will read my work and I can spread the message
of hope and literacy. There is a special pleasure in reading
poetry in Braille, a suspense as to what the next line will
invoke. As far as learning the "music" of the words, audio does
not measure up.
I cannot imagine what it is like when other blind people tell
me they don't know or have never learned Braille. Braille has
given me every opportunity in life: It allowed me to hold office
in the NFB at the national level; it allowed me to return home
from Colorado with my plane tickets properly labeled and
identified; it brought amazement to my classmates when they found
out I don't have to abbreviate my notes. Earlier this year, Dr.
Schroeder asked me if I was going into space with the Louis
Braille coins. I told him I wished I could, and someday intend
to follow them to the final frontier. As I was listening to the
shuttle launch, I smiled at all the familiar radio calls as
everything was reported to be nominal. When they made it into
orbit, I thought I was there with them, circling the globe at
17500 miles per hour, looking around at the stars and the small
blue planet we call home, realizing my dream of being an
astronaut. The symbolism of knowledge gained by blind people and
by astronomers studying the depths of the universe with the
Hubble Space Telescope was not lost on me; it was amplified.
Those coins being launched were my two worlds coming together,
and they were just waiting for me to join them.
We must keep teaching Braille. Those six dots unlock doors.
Those six dots help solve the mysteries of the universe. Those
six dots give freedom. Braille makes dreams reality. While
important, it is not rocket fuel, but Braille that will carry me
to the stars. Braille gives us words; words give us knowledge;
knowledge gives us power.
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