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</o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--></head><body lang=EN-US link="#0563C1" vlink="#954F72"><div class=WordSection1><p class=MsoNormal>Hi You All<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>RE: If you have not read one of these NFB publications, then you are missing out! <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Future Reflections<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Volume 38, Number 3 Fall 2019<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>A Magazine for Parents and Teachers of Blind Children published by the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults in partnership with the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>National Organization of Parents of Blind Children<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Deborah Kent Stein, Editor<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ISSN 0883-3419<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Copyright 2019 American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>For more information about blindness and children, contact:<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>National Organization of Parents of Blind Children<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>200 E. Wells Street at Jernigan Place<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Baltimore, MD 21230<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>410-659-9314<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><a href="http://www.nfb.org/nopbc">www.nfb.org/nopbc</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Contact the editor at <a href="mailto:dkent5817@att.net">dkent5817@att.net</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>TABLE OF CONTENTS<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>FEATURE<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Happy Birthday, Dear Seedlings!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>TEACHING<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The Braille Monster: A New Take on Flashcards for Blind Kids<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by A PDRIB Contributor<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Victory Dance: Reversing the Roles of Teacher and Student for a Day<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Treva Olivero<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Dear Teachers, Please Presume Competence When You Work with My Child<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Crystal Kostick<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ORIENTATION AND MOBILITY<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The Preschool Child Can Be a Cane User<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>An Article Review by Merry-Noel Chamberlain<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Rocking Revisited<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Elaine McHugh<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>How Do You Get Around? There's No One Strategy to Get There<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Sheri Wells-Jensen<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>BRAILLE<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>For the Love of Reading<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Angela Shambarger<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The Encyclopedia and Me<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Robert Jaquiss<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>PASSAGES<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Singing into the Mainstream<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Katie Sears<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Paths and Transitions<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Mausam Mehta<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>DIVERSITY<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Optic Nerve Hypoplasia: Unraveling the Mysteries<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Christopher Sabine<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>FINANCE<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ABLE, A Tool for Life Planning<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Carol Akers<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>PROGRAMS<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>A Place of One's Own: The 2019 STEM EQ Program<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Natalie Shaheen<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille Enrichment for Literacy and Learning<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Carla McQuillan<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Regarding the Colorado Center for the Blind and My Experience<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Luc Gandarias<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>REVIEW<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My Father's Blood<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Amy Krout-Horn<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Reviewed by Donna W. Hill<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ODDS AND ENDS<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Why Join the NOPBC?<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Are you the parent of a blind or low-vision child? Don't know where to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>turn?<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Founded in 1983, the National Organization of Parents of Blind Children<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>(NOPBC) is a membership organization of parents, educators, and friends of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blind children reaching out to give each other vital support,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>encouragement, and information. We have thousands of members in all fifty<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>states plus Washington, DC, and Puerto Rico.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The NOPBC offers hope, encouragement, information, and resources for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>parents of blind or low-vision children. NOPBC provides emotional support<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and a network of other families dealing with the same challenges you are<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>facing. We also provide information, training, and resources to empower you<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to take an active role in guiding your child's development and education.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>We can provide information on your child's rights and on the laws and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>legislative issues that will enable you and your child to become strong and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>effective advocates.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Have you ever wondered what your blind or low-vision child will be capable<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of when he or she grows up? The answer to that question is that blindness<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>does not have to stop your child from doing anything he or she wants to do.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>We can connect you with other families and blind adults who can serve as<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>positive mentors and role models. They can teach you the attitudes and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>techniques that will enable your child to become independent and to succeed<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in life.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>What is different about the NOPBC?<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Our status as a division of the National Federation of the Blind (NFB), the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>largest and most influential<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>organization of blind people in the world, provides many benefits. Our<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>members are well informed about the societal, legislative, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>technological issues that affect blind people. We also enjoy the resources,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>support, and expertise of fifty thousand blind people who can serve as<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>mentors and role models for us and our children. Finally, as our children<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>grow up, they have the Federation to belong to.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>No other organization for parents of blind/low-vision children offers more<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>programs, activities, and training to families, children, and youth. One of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>our most exciting activities is our annual conference. Every year since it<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>was established, the NOPBC has conducted an annual conference for parents<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and teachers of blind children as part of the national convention of the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>NFB. The program has grown to include five exciting days of workshops,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>training sessions, activities for all family members, including sighted<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>siblings, and countless opportunities to meet blind adults and other<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>families and children from around the country.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>What is the mission of the NOPBC?<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The purpose of the NOPBC is to:<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . create a climate of opportunity for blind children in home and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> society.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . provide information and support to parents of blind children.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . facilitate the sharing of experience and concerns among parents of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> blind children.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . develop and expand resources available to parents and their children.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . help parents of blind children gain understanding and perspective<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> through partnership and contact with blind adults.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . function as an integral part of the National Federation of the Blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> in its ongoing effort to achieve equality and opportunity for all<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> blind persons.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Most states have an NOPBC affiliate chapter. You can find your state<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>chapter at <a href="http://www.nopbc.org">www.nopbc.org</a>. If your state does not have a chapter and you<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>would like to start one, please contact us. We may be able to offer<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>training and other assistance to start a state NOPBC chapter.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>What are the programs, activities, publications, and resources of the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>NOPBC?<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> National and State Parent Seminars and Conferences<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Future Reflections Magazine<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> NOPBC Website<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Books and Videos<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Blindkid and Other Listservs<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Early Childhood Conferences<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Pop-Up IEP Website<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Slate Pals Pen Pal Program<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> AAF Free Braille Books Program<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Share Braille Book Exchange<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Writing Contests<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Junior Science Academy<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Youth Slam High School Science Academy<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> National Center for Blind Youth in Science Website<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> NFB-NEWSLINEŽ Newspaper Service<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Where the Blind Work Website<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Free White Cane Program<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Blindness 411 Facebook Group for Teens<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> NFB-LINK Mentoring Program<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Scholarship Program<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Straight Talk about Blindness Video Series<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Parent Leadership Program (PLP)<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Contact Us:<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>National Organization of Parents of Blind Children<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><a href="mailto:President@nopbc.org">President@nopbc.org</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><a href="http://www.nopbc.org">www.nopbc.org</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>FEATURE<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption: Debra Bonde stands beside the early embossing machine constructed<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by her father, Ray Stewart.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Happy Birthday, Dear Seedlings!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: For blind children and their families, Seedlings Braille<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Books for Children is a beloved resource. For the past thirty-five years<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>this small nonprofit company in Livonia, Michigan, has provided books for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blind children and for blind parents to read aloud, whether their children<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>are blind or sighted. Seedlings books are sold at affordable prices, and in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>many cases they are provided free of charge. In honor of Seedlings' thirty-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>fifth anniversary, this seems a good time to look back at how the company<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>began and evolved over the past three-and-a-half decades.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"Everybody searches for a vocation they can be passionate about," reflects<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Seedlings founder Debra Bonde. When she was in her mid-twenties, Bonde was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>eager to find such a vocation, but she was hampered by her extreme shyness.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Social work and the other helping professions appealed to her in many ways,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>but they were also scary. "They would require me to be out there talking to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>people," she says. "That just wasn't going to work for me."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Then she saw an ad for a class on Braille transcription. She had a friend<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>who was a transcriber, and she thought the class might be interesting.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Twenty people signed up for the class, and Debra Bonde was among them.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Bonde quickly discovered that many people are not cut out to do Braille<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>transcription. "You have to be very detail oriented," she explains. "You<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>have to pay very close attention all the time." Of the twenty people who<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>took the class, Bonde was one of only two who finally were certified. She<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>earned her Braille certification in 1979 by transcribing The Best Christmas<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Inspiration<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>While she was taking the class, Bonde met a woman whose daughter was blind.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>She was aghast to find out that the little girl had only two Braille books<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of her own. When she did some research she learned how few Braille books<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>were available for children and how outrageously expensive they were.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"I came from a family of readers, and I was very moved to learn about this<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>shortage of Braille books," Bonde remembers. "I firmly believed that kids<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>should be surrounded by books from an early age." She decided to transcribe<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>more children's books into Braille and to make them affordable.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Once she made that commitment, Debra Bonde got to work. Her father donated<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>some needed supplies as well as the first binding machine. He was an<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>engineer, and he managed to obtain the blueprint for a machine that added<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>electronics to an old Perkins Brailler. He built the machine and connected<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>it to an Apple IIe computer. With the help of this machine and a program<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>called BrailleEdit, one of the earliest Braille translation programs, Debra<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Bonde transcribed and shipped her first titles in 1985.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Learning to use the Perkins-computer combo was no small achievement. Even<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>after Bonde had mastered the quirks of the machine, it kept breaking down.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>It was only partially automatic, and she had to crank the paper in sheet by<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sheet, printing the books one copy at a time.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>By this time the organization had acquired a name. Bonde and her crew chose<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Seedlings because Braille dots reminded Bonde of tiny seeds. Books from<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Seedlings could help blind children grow up to be literate adults.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In 1986 Bonde printed the first Seedlings catalog on an old stencil machine<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that belonged to her church. The catalog was only one page, and it listed<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>twelve titles. That year Seedlings distributed 221 Braille books to eager<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>young readers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Growth and Expansion<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Bonde knew that Seedlings had to reach a wider audience. She and her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>assistant, who was one of her close friends, obtained a directory of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>agencies serving the blind. They sent out as many fliers as they could<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>manage. A major boost came from a Detroit newspaper that ran a regular<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>column called Disabled in Detroit. The paper printed a story about<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Seedlings, and it was picked up by the wire services. Stories about<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Seedlings appeared in papers all over the country, and letters flooded in.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Most came from families hungry to obtain Braille books for their children.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Many arrived from people who offered their help.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>It was clear that Seedlings needed to produce a broader range of Braille<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>titles, but money was tight. One of Bonde's friends was active in a local<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Lions Club. She invited Bonde to speak to her chapter. Bonde still dreaded<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>public speaking, but she knew this was a valuable opportunity. For the sake<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of Seedlings, she addressed the Lions Club. The Lions made a generous<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>donation of a thousand dollars.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Seedlings had been operating out of Debra Bonde's basement, but they were<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>quickly outgrowing the space. In 1990 Seedlings rented a room in a former<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>high school in Livonia, Michigan. The space had once been the school's home<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>economics room. It was a big, open area of about 1,000 square feet, with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>plenty of room for shelving. Bonde and her assistants knew that families<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>were used to waiting months to receive Braille books, and they wanted that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to change. They determined to keep a good supply of books on hand. When<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>orders came in, they could be filled immediately.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In the early 1990s Seedlings had one part-time employee and several<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>volunteers. Everyone worked to keep overhead as low as possible without<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sacrificing quality. "Everybody was very resourceful," Bonde says. "When<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>anything went wrong, we'd kind of MacGyver things back together."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In 1997 the city decided to tear down the old high school, and Seedlings<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>was forced to move to new headquarters. This time the company rented a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>large commercial space in Livonia. Even with the luxury of 1,500 square<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>feet, they quickly ran out of room for books and equipment. Books were<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>piled everywhere.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In the years that followed, Seedlings expanded still further. Twice it<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>spread into neighboring spaces. The number of embossers grew, and so did<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the staff and the corps of volunteers. Recently Seedlings acquired the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braillo, the Cadillac of Braille printers. Manufactured in Norway and sold<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in the United States through American Thermoform, the Braillo is a very<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sturdy machine that produces interpoint Braille, or Braille transcribed on<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>both sides of the page.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Embracing UEB<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When Unified English Braille (UEB) was adopted as the Braille code for the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>English-speaking world in 2016, Seedlings focused on converting its<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>collection to UEB. The process of converting titles into UEB from the old<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>code is labor intensive, but the Seedlings staff felt it was crucial. "It<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>seemed so important to give young readers books in the code they are<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>learning at school," Bonde explains. They started with the books for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>younger readers, the children who are new Braille learners. For older<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>readers they have begun by choosing the most popular titles.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Today the Seedlings catalog includes more than thirteen hundred titles,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ranging from board books for toddlers to full-length novels for teens.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Several books for young children are bilingual editions in English and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Spanish.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Often people ask how Seedlings decides which books to produce in Braille.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Selecting new titles is definitely a group effort. The staff and volunteers<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>look at titles that are popular and books that have won awards. They also<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>review suggestions from readers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Although more and more titles are now available to blind readers<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>electronically through services such as Bookshare and BARD, Seedlings has<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>experienced no decrease in the demand for hardcopy books. In fact, the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>number of orders increases every year. "We especially see the need with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>early Braille readers," says Bonde. "As they work to master reading, they<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>need real books that they can hold in their hands."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Reaching the Blind Community<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In 2017 Seedlings reached the half-million mark; it had sold or given away<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>five hundred thousand books since the days of the Brailler-computer!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Altogether Seedlings has sent books to children and adults in seventy-five<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>countries!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>About half of the books that Seedlings distributes are donations to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>schools, programs, and individuals. Teachers of the visually impaired<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>(TVIs) are eligible to receive four free Seedlings titles annually. For the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>past seven years, Seedlings has donated books to the NFB BELL Academies.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>This year Seedlings generously gave gift certificates to each of the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>children who entered the Nationwide Braille Readers Are Leaders contest,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sponsored by the American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The Book Angel Program is a very special program that Seedlings has<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sponsored since 2002. Children from birth to age twenty-one who sign up for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the program can receive three free Braille titles per year. Since it was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>established, the Angel Book Program has given fifty thousand books to blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>readers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When asked about future plans for Seedlings, Debra Bonde explains, "We'd<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>like to increase the number of books we distribute by about 10 percent per<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>year. And we want to continue giving away half of those books completely<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>free of charge."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Seedlings has touched the lives of thousands of people, and many of them<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>share their appreciation in heartfelt letters. "When I was first learning<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille at age five, I received some Seedlings Braille books," wrote John,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a high school sophomore. "To this day I still have a few Seedlings books<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sitting on my shelf, my favorites being The Very Hungry Caterpillar and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Goodnight Moon. Thank you, Seedlings, for helping children enjoy the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>greatness of reading!" A lawyer from Ottawa, Canada, explained, "Were it<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>not for Seedlings, I would not have had books to read for pleasure as a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>child. Starting from around age five, my favorite Christmas gift was a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>stack of Seedlings books. I can remember the joy of perusing the Seedlings<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>catalog every year with my mom and picking the books I wanted. Reading<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>books myself permitted me to learn spelling, sentence structure, and the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>joy of literacy." Rosa, a blind grandmother, wrote, "I have been able to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>read to my son and granddaughter so many books from Seedlings as a blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>parent and grandparent. My son's favorite was Green Eggs and Ham. My<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>granddaughter's favorite is The Very Hungry Caterpillar. My granddaughter<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>loves when I read books to her, and when we're together, she hunts for her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>favorite books and brings them to her Mima (that's what she calls me) and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>snuggles next to me to listen to me read to her as she follows along<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>excitedly."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"We're very grateful for the support we receive from Braille readers,"<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Debra Bonde says. "I love getting their feedback. I love what we do!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Everybody needs more books!" When she started creating Braille books for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>children, Debra Bonde discovered her life's true vocation!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Happy thirty-fifth birthday to Seedlings!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>TEACHING<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The Braille Monster: A New Take on Flashcards for Blind Kids<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by A PDRIB Post Contributor<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Reprinted from <a href="http://www.pdrib.com">www.pdrib.com</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: The Professional Development and Rehabilitation Institute<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>on Blindness (PDRIB) at Louisiana Tech University offers exciting programs<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that train O&M instructors and teachers of blind students. A trove of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>excellent posts about teaching strategies can be found on the PDRIB<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>website. This article and the piece that follows are good examples.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>A project for the Teaching Strategies class that I'm taking this quarter as<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>part of the teacher of blind students master's program is to come up with a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>lesson plan to teach literacy skills. Not only do we develop the plan, but<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>we then teach a blind child in town using that lesson. I worked with an<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>outgoing preschool student who was ready to practice the Braille code in a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>fun way.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I knew the student went to Braille Club, a group that meets at the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Louisiana Center for the Blind and offers additional practice for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>interested Braille students of all ages. I asked her teacher what she was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>working on there. The teacher told me that she was learning Dot 5 words and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that she enjoyed using flashcards. I wanted to do something more<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>interesting than just flashcards and drilling words. I like to do crafts,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>so I came up with the "Braille Monster."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I typed up Braille flashcards of all the Dot 5 words and clipped the upper<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>right-hand corners so that my student could tell quickly whether she was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>holding the card upright. I wrote a short, one-page story for her to read<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in Braille with lots of Dot 5 words in it. I made up silly things in the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>story such as, "My name [Dot 5 n] is Passion, and I have a mother [Dot 5<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>m]," so that she could practice reading them.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Now, about the monster. I took a cereal box and covered it with felt. The<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>monster has a colorful boa for hair, big googly eyes, and a cut-out mouth-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to eat all the Dot 5 words, of course!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I mixed the Dot 5 flashcards with other flashcards containing Braille<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>words. Every time she found a Dot 5 word, my student got to feed it to the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille Monster, and she loved that! She did a great job finding the Dot 5<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>words and stayed attentive, which was awesome because she tends to get off<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>track during lessons.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I will be making more Braille Monsters for the Louisiana NFB BELL Academy<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>this summer. The BELL Academy in Louisiana hosts a Braille Carnival with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>lots of games to make learning Braille fun and engaging.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>You can get creative when you think of lessons for your students. The<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille Monster was easy to put together, and it could readily be adapted<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>for sighted children to use with print flashcards as well. You don't have<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to over-think things or put a lot of money into projects; you can use<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>materials that are already around the house to make your own monster<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>lessons!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Victory Dance: Reversing the Roles of Teacher and Student for a Day<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Treva Olivero<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Reprinted from <a href="http://www.pdrib.com">www.pdrib.com</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: Treva Olivero holds a Master's in Education from Louisiana<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Tech University with a certification in teaching blind students (TBS).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>A few months ago, I was teaching the Braille code to a kid, and every time<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>she got an answer right, she gave herself a round of applause. I've always<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>heard the expression "cheering yourself on," but this child really<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>practiced it! I don't remember the exact circumstances, but all of a sudden<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>she ran around the table twice and sat down. This was more than a round of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>applause! I think it was her victory dance!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I was startled, but what she did next surprised me even more. This six-year-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>old sat down and continued as though she'd been in her seat the whole time.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>It hasn't happened ever again, but it sure brightened my day to see a kid<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>cheer herself on that way!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I had that experience while I was working as a paraprofessional for another<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>teacher of blind students in Louisiana. I think that we struck a balance<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that I don't see happening in many classrooms. We were always the adults in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>charge, of course, but we helped our students celebrate their achievements<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in fun ways.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>A few days after she ran around the table, the same student came in and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>asked me, "Can I be the teacher?"<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I knew she thought that she was teaching me, but of course the experience<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>was reinforcing the concepts we had been working on together. In other<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>words, she was learning the dot positions and Braille signs by teaching<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>them to me. Heck, she was even applauding me for doing a great job-unless,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of course, I (purposely) got the answer wrong!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"What's the sign for WH again?" I'd ask, and she'd answer, "Dots 1 5 6."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>A few times I would ask her, "Can you please write it down for me? I don't<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>understand what you're saying." Away she'd go on the Perkins Braille writer<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>with a renewed sense of excitement!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I hadn't planned on this teachable moment coming up, but we still did the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>instruction. We just reversed the roles for a full class period.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My tenure at the Institute on Blindness at Louisiana Tech taught me that we<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>teachers have to be flexible . . . to a point. When the student came in the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>next day and asked to be the teacher again, I knew that we couldn't do that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>every day. However, when you seize these moments you can help kids get<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>motivated to learn.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ORIENTATION AND MOBILITY<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Dear Teachers, Please Presume Competence When You Work with My Child<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Crystal Kostick<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Reprinted from Braille Monitor, Volume 62, Number 2, February 2019<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: This article first appeared on October 28, 2018, on the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>web community The Mighty. The Mighty is a digital health community created<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to empower and connect people facing health challenges and disabilities.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The little girl in this article is not blind, but like many blind children,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>she faces low expectations from her teachers. And just like Federation<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>parents, her mother doesn't plan to let those low expectations pass<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>unchallenged. She addresses the issue with humor, but she is serious about<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>making sure her daughter gets the education she deserves.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"Oh, she is just so sweet!"<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"What a precious little angel you have!"<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"Is she always this easy-going?"<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Umm . . . nope. Nuh-uh. No way.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>It's laughable, really. If you spend some time in our home and get to know<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>my lovely little girl, these statements are so far from our experience. And<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>yet, these are the type of comments I hear most often from teachers, aides,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>principals, etc.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Well guess what? They are all being played.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Now before I continue, because the internet likes to mom-shame and some<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>people take things way too seriously, I feel like I need to interject here<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the fact that I love my kid. She's probably the coolest one alive, and I am<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>basically obsessed with her sheer awesomeness.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>However, that being said, she is no angel (but is any child, really?). This<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>girl is so many things: smart, sassy, goofy, mischievous . . . but sweet,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>angelic, and precious are not the first things that come to mind. And I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>honestly love that about her.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My daughter sustained a severe brain injury during her birth, and as a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>result she has been diagnosed with hypoxic ischemic encephalopathy (HIE),<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>cerebral palsy, and epilepsy. She has significant delays and obviously<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>needs some extra support at school. But she is extremely bright, and her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>levels of manipulation and impishness are right on track for her age.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>She is only five years old, but she has already caught on to the idea that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>she is cute.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Like, really cute. She is cute, and she has a disability, and people feel<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sorry for her (insert eye-roll).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Please, make her work!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>She is not at school to be cute for you. She is not there to learn new and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>creative ways to get out of working. And she is definitely not there to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>watch other people doing everything for her.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>It's not okay. Yes, she is cute. Yes, she has a disability and will need<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>extra help in some areas. But as her mother I need to know that you are<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>seeing her potential and helping her to reach it. She is very capable of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>many things, and I need to know that you know that.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Sending your child off to kindergarten is hard for any mom. But for a mom<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>with a child who has disabilities, it is downright terrifying.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>This is my biggest fear: that she will be coddled and bombarded with help.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I want my daughter to have as close to a typical experience as possible,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and I want her to learn. School is not glorified daycare.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>She can do hard things. Repeat after me: she can do hard things! It may not<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>look hard to some, but all the while, she is learning about resilience,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>toughness, and persistence.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>So please, be tough on my kid. Don't let her get away with not trying. She<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>doesn't have to be able to do everything correctly, but make sure to give<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>her the push and the time to make the effort.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Presume the utmost intelligence and competence, and give her a sturdy<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>platform to stand on-just like you would with any other child. I want her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to be educated and be the best possible version of herself. I may not know<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>just what that looks like, but I sure know what it doesn't look like.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Sincerely,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>A "mean" mom who cares deeply and expects the same of the world.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption: Merry-Noel Chamberlain<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The Preschool Blind Child Can Be a Cane User: An Article Review<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Merry-Noel Chamberlain<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: Merry-Noel Chamberlain is a teacher of the visually<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>impaired (TVI) and orientation and mobility (O&M) instructor based in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Omaha, Nebraska. Recently she earned a doctorate in education from<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Concordia University. Her articles have appeared frequently in Future<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Reflections.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>While I was conducting research for my doctoral dissertation, I came across<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>an interesting article, "The preschool blind child can be a cane user,"<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>written by R. L. Pogrund and S. J. Rosen in 1989. It was featured in the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Journal of Visual Impairment & Blindness at a time when fierce debate raged<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>among O&M instructors over the best time to introduce the cane to young<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blind children. Because this article is packed with timeless practical<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>information, I compiled this review to pass its ideas along to today's<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>parents of blind preschoolers and young children.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>First of all, Pogrund and Rosen state, "A growing body of anecdotal<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>evidence from the O&M field demonstrates that early cane instruction can<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>produce extremely positive results for the preschool blind child" (p. 438).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I find this statement to be just as strong in 2019 as it was thirty years<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ago. Yet, even today, many blind preschoolers are routinely led around or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>carried by adults. In fact, this article is bursting with indispensable<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>quotes, and I cannot state the authors' ideas any better!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Essential Quotes Found in the Article<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "The goal of O&M is to facilitate an individual's independence to the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> greatest degree possible" (p. 435).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "Early O&M intervention is essential" [for preschoolers] (Ferrell,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> 1979) "and there is much for the young blind child to learn to achieve<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> independent, safe, efficient, and graceful movement" (p. 431).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "No thought or consideration had been given to the development or the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> needs of young blind children when the original O&M sequence was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> designed" during World War II and in the postwar years (p. 431).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "The mobility tool the blind child will most likely use his or her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> entire life is the cane" (p. 432).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "The cane is an extension of the arm as it probes the environment" (p.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> 434).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "If blind preschoolers travel only with sighted guides or by using<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> basic skills along rote routes of travel, they will have little<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> opportunity to explore the environment" (p. 434).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "With the use of a cane as a tool to facilitate safer movement,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> children will most likely be more interested in and more willing to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> explore their surroundings" (p. 434).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "The way young children learn about the world is through interacting<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> with it" (Hazen, 1982; Herman, Kolker, & Shaw, 1982) (p. 434).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . One "potential benefit of cane use for the severely visually-impaired<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> child is that it serves to show sighted peers and adults that the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> child has a vision problem; thus, the child avoids such labels as<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> clumsy or awkward. The label visual impairment is one the individual<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> will live with for the rest of his or her life. The cane offers an<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> easy explanation to others" (p. 435).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Prerequisites and the Use of Push Toys as Pre-Canes<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Many instructors believe that human guide skills are a prerequisite to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>learning the proper use of the cane. However, Pogrund and Rosen argue that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>this is not true. They state that high levels "of body, environmental, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>spatial concept awareness" are not prerequisites for learning to use the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>long white cane (p. 436). Furthermore, long-term use of a push toy hinders<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the transition to using the cane as a primary mobility tool. Push toys such<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>as miniature grocery carts and hula hoops sometimes have been used to teach<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the bumper or probe concept, and they are great during playtime. However,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>they cannot be with the child all the time. Pogrund and Rosen point out<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that these toys protect "the child from more of the environment than is<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>necessary" and that push toys "do not provide the child with the tactual<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and auditory feedback useful in identifying various textures and obstacles<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in the environment" (p. 432).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Safety Rules of the Cane<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Thirty years ago, Pogrund and Rosen stated that preschoolers need to keep<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the cane tip on the ground at all times and in front of the body when<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>walking forward. I would like to add, however, that keeping the cane tip on<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the ground at all times may be difficult for preschoolers. After all, they<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>are natural wanderers, and they will want to explore with whatever tools<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>they have on hand. Preschoolers often scribble with a crayon before they<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>learn to print letters. In the same way, blind preschoolers will play with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the cane to discover what it can do. They will over-swing the cane, lift it<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>up in the air, or even drag it behind them. This behavior is very natural<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>for children their age. We cannot expect three- and four-year-olds to hold<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the cane correctly and keep it on the ground at all times, but we can<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>encourage them to do so . . . again and again . . . just as Pogrund and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Rosen suggested thirty years ago.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Historical Debates<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Needless to say, there has been an ongoing debate between traditional and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>non-traditional O&M instructors for many years. This article reveals that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the debate was alive thirty years ago, and it still lingers today. Pogrund<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and Rosen leaned toward the new way of thought, as shown in the table<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>below.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|Old Way of Thought |New Way of Thought |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|Preschoolers need to learn |The term pre-cane is a misnomer, and many O&M|<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|pre-cane skills before being|instructors feel the term needs to be changed|<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|introduced to the cane. This|to 'basic skills' in which instruction can be|<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|includes: sighted guide, |used with or without the cane. The term |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|information gathering, |pre-cane implies that the child must master |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|protective and alignment |such skills prior to cane introduction. This |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|techniques, etc. |means a child may be over the age of eight |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |before receiving his first cane. |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|Preschoolers are not |"Much of the motor passivity seen in many |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|physically, cognitively, or |blind children is due to an inhibition of |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|socially ready before the |their normal tendencies to move rather than |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|age of eight to use a cane. |their lack of motivation to move" (p. 431). |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|Preschoolers do not have |"It does not take tremendous motor control to|<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|motor control or |hold a cane....The cane is still acting as a |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|coordination to use the cane|bumper and a probe out in front of the child |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|so they are not physically |while not requiring a significant amount of |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|ready to use a cane. |motor control or muscle development" (p. |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |432). |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|Preschoolers do not need to |Environments are dynamic. "No matter how well|<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|use canes in familiar |orientated a child is or how accurately a |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|environments such as home, |child uses basic skills in other |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|yard, classrooms, |environments, he or she will inevitably trip |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|playgrounds, schools, etc. |over something or bump into something |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |unexpectedly in the ever-changing world" (p. |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |432). |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|Preschoolers will hurt other|"A child is not prohibited from playing with |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|students with their canes |a variety of toys, which, if used improperly,|<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|because they are not mature |could be dangerous to others (e.g., metal |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|enough to handle dangerous |trucks, bats, stick toys)....Basic safety |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|items. |rules are essential, as are appropriate |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |consequences if the rules are not |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |followed...One cannot assume that a child |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |cannot learn such rules if they are correctly|<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |taught and appropriately reinforced" (p.432).|<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|Preschoolers will develop |"Do we refuse to give young children a crayon|<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|inappropriate cane habits |or pencil for scribbling just because they do|<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|which are difficult to |not hold it correctly and make appropriate |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>|change later. |letter strokes? Do we refuse to give young |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |children a spoon or fork just because they do|<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |not hold and use these eating utensils |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |correctly?...Waiting to have any interaction |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |with a writing tool, eating utensil...until a|<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |child has all the coordination, motor |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |control, and/or strength to perform a skill |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |perfectly is inappropriate and does not |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |coincide with normal child development and |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>| |normal patterns of learning" (p. 432-433) |<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Early Cane Travel Effects<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Have you ever wondered how a preschooler's posture is affected by not using<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a cane? Poor postural patterns such as rounded shoulders, a backward lean<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of the trunk, a forward head, and lordosis, as well as poor gait patterns<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>such as shuffling are difficult to correct when the child is older. Pogrund<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and Rosen discuss the long- and short-term effects of cane use on gait (p.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>433):<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Gait patterns are similar for both young sighted and blind children.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Typical gait for young children includes small steps, no reciprocal<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> arm swing, out-toed position of the feet and legs (Macgowan, 1983;<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Miller, 1967; Rosen, 1986).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . For a blind child, using a cane allows "gait patterns to mature the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> same way and at the same rate as they do in sighted children."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Without using a cane, the blind child may shuffle or stomp the floor<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> with their feet as a way to decrease impact when bumping into objects.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "Motor problems and irregular gait patterns are learned behaviors,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> developed out of a need to try to maintain orientation and balance<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> while moving."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Effect of Movement<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Pogrund and Rosen go on to describe the problems associated with restricted<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>movement in young blind children and the positive effects facilitated by<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the early use of the cane (p. 434):<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "After several unpleasant encounters with the environment, blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> preschoolers soon learn that it is safer to stay in one place unless<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> someone else moves with them, thereby offering a form of security."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Moving through the environment without a cane does not reinforce<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> confidence in one's ability to travel.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . When the natural need for vestibular stimulation is not met, one will<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> turn to self-stimulation such as rocking or side-to-side head<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> movements.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "All the research available on early movement suggests that the more<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> young blind children move, the better their muscle tone develops and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> their vestibular systems are stimulated" (Ayres, 1979; Palazesi,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> 1986).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . The decreased fear of movement through cane use will motivate the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> child to move more in the environment.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . If the preschooler is using the cane as protection when walking in the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> environment, the child may not feel the compelling need to develop as<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> many inappropriate mannerisms because she or he will, in general, be<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> more active.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Effect on Environmental Exploration and Concept Development<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>If the preschooler only travels with the use of a sighted guide there will<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>be little opportunity for environmental exploration (p. 434):<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . With the use of a cane as a tool to facilitate safer movement,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> children will most likely be more interested in and more willing to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> explore their surroundings.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "The way young children learn about the world is through interacting<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> with it" (Hazen, 1982; Herman, Kolker, and Shaw, 1982).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "The child must first feel safe before moving to higher cognitive<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> levels" (Maslow, 1954).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "The passivity and lack of curiosity often exhibited by blind children<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> may well stem from their fear of movement and the resulting lack of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> motivation to explore their environment" (Burlingham, 1965).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "A limited interaction with the world results in less knowledge of the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> environment. Such knowledge is a significant component in optimum<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> concept development" (Hill et al, 1984).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Effect on Attitude Toward Acceptance of the Cane by Family, Child, Peers,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and Professionals<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>For a number of reasons, it is generally easier to introduce the cane to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>children, their families, and their schools at a young age (p. 434):<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Preschools are generally open and positive to having a child use a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> cane. As soon as staff members realize that the cane works as a bumper<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> and probe to protect and warn the child, they recognize its benefits.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . In general, preschoolers are not concerned about their peers'<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> attitudes about the cane. Preschool classmates are usually more<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> accepting than peers at the middle- and high-school levels.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . After preschool, it is common to find resistance from the blind child<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> and family members when introduction of the cane is suggested. The<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> child and family have become accustomed to not using a cane, despite<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> the safety concerns and the lack of efficiency and grace that result.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Some parents, children, and members of society regard the cane as a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> negative symbol of blindness. "Blindness cannot be denied once a cane<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> is used" (Wier, 1988).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . When the preschooler uses a cane, parents observe the child's freedom<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> of movement and the safety the cane brings to their child. Thus, they<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> gain a more positive attitude toward the cane.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . The cane becomes an integral and natural part of the preschooler's<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> functioning within the preschool environment and the home.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Because safety is improved, administrators, regular education<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> teachers, and other professional staff may be more accepting of having<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> a blind child in their school.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Effect on Self-confidence and Autonomy<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Learned helplessness occurs when much of the preschooler's life is<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>controlled by others, leading to passivity and lack of purposeful movement<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>(p. 435):<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . "With the use of a cane, the young blind child has one area in which<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> he or she does not have to be so dependent on others and thus can feel<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> some degree of autonomy in and control of the world. It is through<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> this feeling of control that competence, which leads to better self-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> esteem and self-confidence, develops" (Stotland & Canon, 1972; Hill &<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Ponder, 1977; Hill et al, 1984).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . The more preschoolers are able to act effectively within the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> environment, the higher their level of self-esteem. The feeling of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> independence needs to develop during preschool to ensure that self-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> esteem will develop. The preschooler "who does not always have to go<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> with a sighted guide and who can extend her or his travel beyond rote<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> routes using basic skills is more autonomous and feels more self-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> confident." When the child moves about freely in the environment with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> the use of a cane, others will view him or her as being more competent<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> and less dependent and will begin treating her or him with more<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> respect.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Early cane use may be one very important factor in disrupting the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> cycle of learned helplessness.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Effect on Mobility of Low Vision Children<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Like children with little or no vision, children with some usable vision<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>can also benefit from early use of the cane (p. 435):<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . If the child moves with hesitancy and moves unsafely, inefficiently,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> or ungracefully, using a cane may allow the use of residual vision for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> such purposes as scanning the environment or locating visual<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> landmarks, rather than cautiously monitoring the ground immediately in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> front of his or her feet.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . The cane provides needed security to promote freedom of movement<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> within the environment.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>A Few Ideas for Introduction of the Cane<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>This article of thirty years ago is just as powerful today as it was back<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>then. It is my hope that we all revisit this article and move forward,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>rather than having parents and professionals look back thirty years from<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>today and conclude that nothing ever changed. We need to start early with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>our preschoolers in order to give them a fighting chance to become<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>independent travelers. Here are some final thoughts:<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Although preschoolers need the primary motor abilities to grasp the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> cane and to walk independently, the natural first step is to permit<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> the child to explore freely with the cane.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . The cane can be used as a bumper for protection, teaching cause and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> effect in the process. Shape the skill, and then provide time for the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> child to perfect it. "Shaping is a process of refining skills slowly<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> over time, with reinforcement, for closer and closer approximations to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> the desired skills" (p. 435).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . There is no need to work on everything at once. Present skills at a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> pace compatible to the preschooler's attention span and learning<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> ability.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Preschoolers do not have to have expressive or receptive language to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> use a cane. "The use of techniques such as modeling, nonverbal<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> communication, physical prompting, and receptive touching are<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> effective in teaching children without these language abilities" (p.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> 435).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . As soon as possible, integrate the cane into all daily activities<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> (both at home and at school).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Help the preschooler to walk with the cane - even if you have to bend<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> over to do so. Attend a NFB Cane Walk.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Have fun and be positive; children quickly pick up and mirror your<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> attitude toward the cane.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>References<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Ayres, A. J. (1979). Sensory integration and the child. Los Angeles:<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Western Psychological Services.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Burlingham, D. (1965). "Some problems of ego development in blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>children." Psychoanalytic Study of the Child, 20, 194-208.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Ferrell, K. (1979) "Orientation and mobility for preschool children: What<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>we have and what we need." Journal of Visual Impairment & Blindness, 73(4),<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>147-150.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Hazen, N.L. (1982). "Spatial exploration and spatial knowledge: Individual<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and developmental differences in very young children." Child Development,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>53(3), 826-833.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Herman,J.F., Kolker, R.G., & Shaw, M.L. (1982). "Effects of motor activity<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>on childrens intentional and incidental memory for spatial locations."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Child Development, 53(1), 239-244.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Hill, E., Rosen, S., Correa, V., & Langley, M (1984). "Preschool<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>orientation and mobility, An expanded definition." Education of the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Visually Handicapped, 16(2), 58-72.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Macgowan, H. (1983). "The kinematic analysis of the walking gait of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>congenitally blind and sighted children: Ages 6-10 years." (Doctoral<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>dissertation, University of Minnesota 1983). Dissertation Abstracts<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>International, 44, 703A.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Miller, J. (1967). "Vision, a component of locomotion." Physiotherapy, 53,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>326-332.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Palazesi, M.A. (1986). "The need for motor development programs for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>visually Impaired preschoolers." Journal of Visual Impairment & Blindness,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>80(2), 573-576.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Pogrund, R.L., Rosen, S.J. (1989). "The Preschool Blind Child Can Be a Cane<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>User." Journal of Visual Impairment & Blindness, 431-39.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Rosen, S. (1986). "Assessment of selected spatial gait patterns of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>congenitally blind children." Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Vanderbilt<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>University, Nashville, TN.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Stotland, E. & Canon, L. (1972). Social psychology: A cognitive approach.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Philadelphia: W.B. Saunders Co.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Wier, S. (1988). "Cane travel and a question of when." Journal of Visual<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Impairment & Blindness, 82, 197.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption: Elaine McHugh<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Rocking Revisited<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Elaine McHugh<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: People sometimes ask me where I find the articles that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>appear in Future Reflections. Some come from presentations at NFB<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>conventions and seminars, and some are reprinted from other Federation<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>publications. Many articles are submitted by blind adults, professionals in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the blindness field, and parents of blind children. Others grow out of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>conversations I've had with people who have compelling stories to share.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>This article by Elaine McHugh came from a most unexpected source-my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>fiftieth college reunion!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When Elaine and I were classmates at Oberlin College, she was headed for a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>career in the field of modern dance. As often happens, however, her life<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>took some surprising turns. Her work in dance and choreography led her to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>teach adapted physical activity to children and adults with disabilities.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>She also became an orientation and mobility instructor. This article draws<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>upon her doctoral research, in which she investigated rocking behavior in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blind children.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I can't remember how I decided to conduct my doctoral research on rocking,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>but as it turned out, the topic perfectly suited my interests and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>expertise. Rocking is an area of concern for many parents and teachers, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I am pleased to have this opportunity to review my findings and to look at<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>more recent research.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>As a parent or teacher of blind children, you have probably heard many<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>negative comments about rocking. The following statements are typical.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Rocking is inappropriate behavior, and it has to be stopped.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Rocking prevents a blind person from fitting in, finding a job, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> making friends.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Rocking reflects poorly on all blind people.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Many blind people have not been educated about the drawbacks of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> rocking.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Rocking is a bad habit that persists in adults because it was never<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> addressed in childhood.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . If blind people understood how sighted people react to rocking, they<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> would stop.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>However, other perspectives may seem less harsh and judgmental.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Some sighted people also have stereotypies (repetitive mannerisms or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> behaviors), that include rocking, twirling the hair, or swinging a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> leg.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Rocking provides vestibular stimulation and is self-soothing.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Rocking is a normal part of development for everyone.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Rocking reflects a need to move when freedom of movement has been<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> limited or curtailed.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Previous Research<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Before I conducted my doctoral study, my review of the scholarly literature<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>made it clear that rocking is part of normal development. Some research-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>including the two studies that I conducted-gives us clues about possible<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>causes and control of this behavior.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Formal research has established the following points:<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>1. Rocking appears in typically developing sighted children during<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>transitions between motor milestones, such as the time just prior to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>creeping on all fours.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>2. Rocking is delayed in onset and/or persists beyond the expected period<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in some children with disabilities.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>3. The tendency to rock may be related to factors such as activity level or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>restriction of activity, cognitive delays, institutionalization, and/or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>environmental deprivation.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>4. Sometimes interventions to control rocking behavior are successful, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sometimes they are not.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The First Study<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My dissertation was based on a qualitative study. I studied four blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>children ranging in age from ten to thirteen who rocked persistently. All<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>were congenitally totally blind due to retinopathy of prematurity (ROP).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>All of them had average or above-average intelligence, and they were all<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>mainstreamed in school. I observed the children at school, at home, and in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>various other settings. I also interviewed their parents, teachers, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>therapists, as well as a few school staff members, peers, and siblings. I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>did motor tests to determine the children's fitness, motor skills, balance,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and coordination, and I looked at their school records and other reports.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I found that the participants had a number of factors in common, suggesting<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that the combination of prematurity and ROP may present some unique<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>developmental and neurological challenges. Due to their medical fragility<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in the first months of life, all of the children had experienced surgeries<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and long periods of immobility. Lengthy hospital stays deprived them of the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>cuddling and playful handling that is part of life for most infants.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Even after the children came home from the hospital, their movement<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>experiences were limited. Over the years they had few opportunities for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>free and vigorous movement, leading to poor fitness and other motor delays.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>These delays, in turn, most likely affected the number, range, and quality<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of the children's later movement experiences. Due to their low skill<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>levels, perceptual-motor delays, and poor fitness, the children had little<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>incentive to move about. In other words, they were caught in a vicious<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>cycle!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The children in the study rocked throughout their waking hours. They rocked<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>while they were waiting or listening. They rocked when they were<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>conversing, eating, reading silently and reading aloud, engaging in class<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>discussions, typing, using a calculator or abacus, putting on their shoes,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>telling a story, or reciting poetry. Their rocking occurred in classrooms,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>gyms, cafeterias, hallways, and cars. The children rocked at home, during<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>mobility lessons, on the playground, on field trips, at church, and in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>child care.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Parents, teachers, and others made concerted efforts to control the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>children's rocking, but the behavior proved extremely resistant. The<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>children experienced some of these attempts as very frustrating, and so did<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the parents and professionals.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>For the two older children in the study, rocking was less frequent and less<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>intense than it was for the younger children. This finding suggests that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>age or maturity may be factors in the reduction of rocking. It's not known<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>what it is about getting older that seems to make a difference, but social<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>awareness and self-management may increase with age. In addition,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>cumulative efforts by others to reduce the behavior eventually may have an<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>impact.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Interestingly, the study participant who showed the most control over her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>rocking also had the greatest opportunities for vigorous physical activity.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>She jumped on a trampoline in the backyard, swam in the family pool, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>rollerbladed with her three siblings in the family's large driveway. This<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>observation supports the idea that vigorous physical activity can help<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>reduce rocking.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Parents and teachers reported that all of the children seemed to crave<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>movement. A PE teacher said that one child "almost wanted to explode with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>energy." Another teacher said, "She just wants to be active; unless she's<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>moving, the game hasn't started."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>All of the children had had early intervention services that involved<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>physical activity. Nevertheless, at the time of the study their<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>opportunities for vigorous movement were very limited. Although the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>children all attended physical education classes at the time of the study,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>these classes did not provide vigorous movement on a daily basis.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The Physical Activity Guidelines for Americans, issued by the U.S.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Department of Health and Human Services, recommend that children and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>adolescents ages six to seventeen should have sixty minutes or more of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>moderate to vigorous physical activity on a daily basis. Throughout my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>years of professional experience training and observing physical educators,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I have found that this recommendation is rarely met, even in some high-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>quality PE school programs.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Although sighted children probably don't move enough during the course of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the school day, I suspect that they find more opportunities for movement<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>than their blind classmates do. When I reviewed a videotape of one blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>student in his classroom, I made a startling observation. Throughout the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>period captured by the video, the blind child's peers were up and down<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>frequently. They moved around the classroom to get materials, sharpen<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>pencils, or talk to the teacher. Meanwhile, the child I was observing<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>remained in his seat, rocking gently. This observation suggested that the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blind children did not experience even the low levels of incidental<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>movement that are common for sighted children in the classroom. They may<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>have grown accustomed to teachers or aides bringing them the materials they<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>needed and coming to them to answer questions about class assignments.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The Second Study<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In a second study, a colleague and I conducted research at a sports camp<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>for children with visual impairments. We gathered information on fifty-two<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>children through questionnaires, observations, and parent interviews.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Fifteen of the children were reported as rocking persistently, either<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>currently or in the past. This study allowed us to compare the children on<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a variety of factors. We looked at the developmental histories of those who<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>rocked and those who did not. We compared those who had ROP with those<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>whose visual impairments had other causes, and we compared children who had<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a range of degrees of vision loss.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Our research corroborated the findings of previous studies. It showed that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>rocking seems to occur in association with a pattern of developmental<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>factors, although the pattern can vary from child to child. As we found in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>my previous study, extended hospital stays and early medical complications<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>often resulted in severe restrictions of movement and parental handling.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"He was pinned down so much," one parent reported, "especially because of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>these eye surgeries." Many of the children were connected from birth to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>machines, tubes, and wires that prevented free movement for weeks or months<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>at a time.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The parents generally reported that rocking began early and proved<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>resistant to efforts to control it, although for a few children it declined<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>over time. Teachers were often the first to identify rocking as<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>inappropriate and to insist on controlling the behavior. Some evidence<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>suggested that involvement of the children or teens themselves was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>important in modifying rocking.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Eight of the fifteen children who rocked were congenitally totally blind,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and the other seven had congenital low vision. Nine of the fifteen had ROP.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The histories of the children whose impairments had other causes revealed<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>some of the same factors seen in the children with ROP. These factors<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>included congenital vision loss, extended time in the hospital after birth,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and multiple medical complications early in life. The children who did not<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>rock shared a number of factors, including normal birth weight, little or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>no time in the hospital after birth, the absence of surgeries during<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>infancy, and visual impairment that occurred after eleven months of age.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Interestingly, two pairs of siblings attended the camp. The differences in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>their histories helped to explain why one sibling from each pair rocked and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the other did not. Differences in birth weight, time spent in the hospital<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>after birth, and early medical problems seemed to be important factors.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Finally, we found a few children who did not fit the outcome we would have<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>predicted from their histories. These children showed that the presence or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>absence of rocking may be influenced by some factors that we didn't<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>discover.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Like the children in my first study, the children who rocked seemed to have<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>an insatiable need for movement. "It is very difficult to get him just to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>stand still next to you," one teacher told me. "He always has to be in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>motion." Another reported, "I can just see that he is going to burst while<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>he is sitting there . . . trying to contain himself."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Research done by others in recent years supports the findings above and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>adds some important information. Some investigators substantiated that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>extent of vision loss and sensory processing deficits play a role in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>determining the number and type of stereotypies a child demonstrates.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Several researchers conclude that stereotypic movements such as rocking<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>help the child maintain an optimal level of stimulation. They believe that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the challenge for parents and professionals is to identify the function for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a particular child in order to facilitate socially appropriate behaviors<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that achieve the same result.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Some writers in NFB publications have expressed strong beliefs that rocking<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>should be controlled in order to promote social acceptance. Others held<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ideas that coincide with my findings and those of other investigators. For<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>example, some point out that rocking communicates sensory needs that have<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to be met. One parent described redirecting her young child to engage in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>singing and movement activities whenever rocking appeared. Another writer<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>recommended teaching children who rock about behaviors that other children<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>do when they have to sit still. She also urged providing adequate physical<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>activity, with adaptations that allow the blind child to play successfully<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and appropriately with peers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Research shows that rocking relates to complex interactions between medical<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>history, visual status, and environmental factors. An increased need for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>specific sensory input seems to result in the persistence of movements such<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>as rocking that provide vestibular and kinesthetic stimulation. As a child<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>grows, available resources and interventions need to provide sufficient<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>movement opportunities. Such opportunities may preclude or reduce<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>persistent rocking.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Findings from the literature on behavioral change support the idea that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>individuals themselves must take charge of controlling unwanted behaviors<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to effect meaningful change. One adult who rocked when she was young<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>reported that she took control after a teacher whom she greatly admired<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>expressed disappointment with her for rocking during a public presentation.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>She also reported that she had several rocking-chairs in her house. She had<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>found a way to rock that was considered socially acceptable.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Decisions about how to address a child's rocking should be based on<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>research findings, and as much as possible should avoid punitive or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>judgmental responses. As children grow older, they should be involved<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>directly in any decision about how to address the behavior. Without the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>child's involvement, interventions are unlikely to succeed.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>As I reviewed the NFB literature, I discovered a quote from Joe Cutter that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>perfectly captures my underlying philosophy. He wrote, "For blind children,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>as for all children, the freedom to move, to be self-amused, and to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>experience the joy of movement is fundamental to being human."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>References<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Cutter, J. (2007). As quoted in "Teaching Orientation and Mobility to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Students with Visual Impairments and Additional Disabilities," by M. N.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Chamberlain and D. Mackenstadt. Future Reflections, 2008.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Fazzi, E., Lanners, J., Danova, S., Ferrarri-Ginevra, O., Gheza, C.,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Luparia, A., Balottin, U., and Lanzi, G. (1999). "Stereotyped Behaviors in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Blind Children." Brain Development, 21 (8), 522-528.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Gal, E. and Dyck, M. J. (2009). "Stereotyped Movements among Children Who<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Are Visually Impaired." Journal of Visual Impairment & Blindness, 103 (11),<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>82-95.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Gal, E., Dyck, M. J., and Passamore, A. (2010). "Relationships between<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Stereotyped Movements and Sensory Processing Disorders in Children with and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>without Developmental or Sensory Disorders." American Journal of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Occupational Therapy, 64 (3) 453-461.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Gosch, A., Brambring, M., Gennat, H., and Rohlmann, A. (1997).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"Longitudinal Study of Neuropsychological Outcome in Blind Extremely-low-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>birthweight Children." Developmental Medicine and Child Neurology, 39 (5),<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>297-304.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Hashash, S. (2011). "Student Viewpoints." Future Reflections, 30 (4)<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>McHugh, B. E. and Pyfer, J. (1999). "The Development of Rocking among<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Children Who Are Blind." Journal of Visual Impairment & Blindness, 93 (2),<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>82-95.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>McHugh, Barbara Elaine. Texas Woman's University, ProQuest Dissertations<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Publishing, 1995. 9615490.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>McHugh, E. and Lieberman, L. J. (2003). "The Impact of Developmental<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Factors on Stereotypic Rocking among Children with Visual Impairments."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Journal of Visual Impairment & Blindness, 97 (8), 453-474.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Miss Whozit. (2016). "Ask Miss Whozit." Braille Monitor, 59 (7).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Prost, D. (1997). "Parents: The True Teachers." Future Reflections, 16 (3).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Ross, D. B. and Koenig, A. J. (1991). "A Cognitive Approach to Reducing<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Stereotypic Head Rocking." Journal of Visual Impairment & Blindness, 85<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>(1), 17-19.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Stevens, J. (2011). "Vestibular Stimulation." Future Reflections, 30 (1).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Reprinted with permission from Wonderbaby Newsletter, April 2010,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>www.wonderbaby.org.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Willoughby, D. M. (1994). "Fitting In Socially." Future Reflections, 13<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>(3). Reprinted from A Handbook for Itinerant and Resource Teachers of Blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and Visually Impaired Students, by D. Willoughby and S. Duffy. Baltimore:<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>National Federation of the Blind, 1989.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption: Sheri Wells-Jensen makes her way through a heavy rainstorm.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>How Do You Get Around? There's No One Strategy to Get There<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Sheri Wells-Jensen<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Reprinted from Braille Monitor, Volume 62, Number 6, June 2019<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: "How will my child get around when there's no O&M<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>instructor anymore?" Parents sometimes ponder this question as their<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>children set off for unfamiliar places, from a concert in the park to a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>picnic in a friend's backyard, from a local shopping mall to the student<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>union on a college campus. In this article, Sheri Wells-Jensen brings her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>humor and life experience to the question, "How do you get around?" Sheri<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Wells-Jensen teaches and conducts research as an associate professor of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>linguistics at Bowling Green State University.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Like just about everybody who doesn't drive but needs to get places, I have<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a lot of interactions with cab drivers. I mean . . . a lot! Mostly these<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>interactions involve the basics: exchange of greetings, exchange of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>information, exchange of cash, and mission accomplished. But there are<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>always those extra exchanges that stick with a person.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"How do you get around?" one particular driver wanted to know, asking just<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>as I was opening the door to exit the cab.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>After sitting in companionable silence all the way across town, I was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>startled by the question. With the door open and one foot on the curb, I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>didn't have time to say much. Even by that minimal standard, though, my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>answer felt inadequate.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"I just . . . go around," I said vaguely, distracted. "Like anybody. I take<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>cabs, like this one . . . or I sometimes walk . . . you know."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>This piece of brilliant elocution accomplished, I finished extricating<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>myself from his cab, closed the door on his answer, and headed on my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>inarticulate way across the parking lot and up to my office.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I don't consider it my job to educate every abled person about blindness or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>any other disability, but when people aren't overtly rude, I try to be<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>reasonably congenial and moderately informative most of the time. The poor<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>fellow probably deserved a little more of my attention, but as I was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>juggling phone and keys and cane and computer bag in the elevator, I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>realized that his question was hard to respond to. He'd wanted a simple<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>answer: the one magic thing that disabled people do to solve the problem.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The one "right" way we all pour water, or match our clothes, or pick cat<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>hair off a jacket-the silver bullet that "makes it all possible." What<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>could I have told him that would have been true and would have fit into the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>approximately five seconds I'd been given?<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>As an experiment, I put the question to the next student who stopped by my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>office. "How do you get around?" I asked her, pretending this was a normal<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>question one human being might ask another.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I was secretly pleased when her answer was about as inarticulate as mine<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>had been. "What do you mean?" she wanted to know. "Like . . . on campus? I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>just . . . walk mostly, or I take the shuttle sometimes."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"But what if you don't really know where you're going?" I pressed. "What if<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>you had to go to . . ." I searched for a moderately obscure building I'd<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>had to find. "Eppler South?"<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>She hesitated. "That's by the Union, isn't it? I'd just like, go over there<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and look around until I found it, I guess."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Fair enough. Neither of us was being very clear. She "goes over there" and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"looks around." And she doesn't think about it.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Despite my inarticulate interaction that morning, I do think about it. And<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>while as a sighted person she has just one primary, half-conscious way of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>finding a building she needs, I have a basket full of interconnected<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>strategies ready to employ whenever I want to go somewhere-especially<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>somewhere new to me.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Let's take that example of Eppler South-a building that is, I agree,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>somewhere over by the Student Union. It is vaguely northwest from my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>office. I confess that I still don't know exactly where it is, but the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>English department faculty, for some reason, had decided to hold a mid-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>morning meeting over there just a few weeks back.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>If I were sighted, I suppose I, too, would wander in that direction and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>look around until I saw the sign. Then I would go in and check room numbers<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and find the meeting, and that'd be that. You could call that Plan A if you<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>like.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Plan A doesn't work in the same way for me. So that morning, knowing I had<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to find this new building, I started with Plan B. It went something like<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>this. About two hours ahead of time I text a pal of mine who is probably<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>going to the same meeting: "hey kimberly u going 2 the department mtg?"<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I don't ask her to go out of her way. If she's going, I'll meet up with her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>somewhere. There's time. She's going to use Plan A, and I could follow<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>along.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>She replies in under a minute: "mtg? nooooo! going 2 b late!"<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>We text back and forth for a bit, griping about faculty meetings, and I say<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>finally, "c u there".<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Plan C: I try another contact. "Hey [NAME-REDACTED] r u going 2 the mtg?"<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>[NAME-REDACTED] takes over ten minutes to answer, during which I become a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>little more alert to the passage of time.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My phone buzzes. "r u kidding? no way!" He adds a few pertinent emoji,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>including my favorite, the "smiling pile of poo."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I sympathize. But I do have to go.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>An hour and a half later, I take my usual cab to campus, which drops me off<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>near my own office. Things are getting tighter.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Plan D: I stop on the curb and text another pal: "hey chad? r u walking<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>over 2 the mtg?"<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Chad replies almost instantly: "already here! 26 minutes early! where r<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>u????"<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I choose a sarcastic emoji or two in response and proceed with plan E. I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>walk over to my building, reasoning that other colleagues will be coming<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>out of there, and I could follow somebody over.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>No luck. Either they've already left, or like Kimberly they are planning to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>be late . . . or maybe they're on the [NAME-REDACTED] plan-lucky dogs.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The time comes when I can't wait any longer or I won't have time for plan<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>F, which I start inventing fast!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>So . . . Plan F: I turn around and head northwest. It's worth mentioning at<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>this point that it's raining . . . that dreary, uncompromising, insistent<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>kind of Midwest rain that likes to last all day just to make you miserable.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I get what I figure is about halfway there and pull out my phone again.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I have several GPS apps, some of which work well on campus and some of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>which don't. My favorite is Over There by Dmitrijs Prohorenkovs, which grew<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>out of Smith-Kettlewell's virtual talking signs project. You hold the phone<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>flat like a remote control and point it around, and it identifies<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>landmarks. Trying to keep the rainwater off the screen as best I can, I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>scan for the building. But it isn't there. I mean, it literally isn't<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>there. It's as if the rain had washed it completely off the map. Fail.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Plan G. It's time to stop a passerby and get information the old-fashioned<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>way. But the rain has apparently washed all the people off the map, too,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and I hear nobody near me.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Plan H: Are we really on Plan H already? I have just under ten minutes now.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Returning to Over There, I find an entry on the map for "BGSU Something-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Something Gymnastics" (I can't hear well through the increasingly heavy<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>rain). I remember that the building I'm looking for was a gym once, or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>still is maybe? If anything near me had something to do with gymnastics,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Eppler South might be it. And it's kind of in the right direction.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I readjust course, choose a sidewalk that seems to trend that way, and step<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>up the pace, sploshing through some pretty impressive puddles I don't have<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>time to avoid. The wind is picking up, and I don't think I'm that close.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Plans I through L form in my mind. I could just keep going, which will<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>probably eventually work if I'm right about the gymnastics thing. I could<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>go inside whatever classroom building is nearest (I hear one looming off to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>my left) and find somebody to ask, or I could re-text one of my pals and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ask them to come out to meet me, or I could turn around-which is sounding<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>pretty nice right about now-and take my soggy self-back to my office. Maybe<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>[NAME-REDACTED] is there, and we could commiserate.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Plan M presents itself in the form of a colleague of mine walking up behind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>me with an umbrella and asking if I'm going to the meeting . . . and if I'd<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>like to go with him because I'm looking a little drowned. And off we go.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Now, if the meeting had been a particularly important one, I would have<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>arranged things more securely ahead of time. Working through my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>possibilities, I would have come up with three or four totally different<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>plans, each of which could have served as a backup for the others. I could<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>have learned the route ahead of time, or made arrangements to help set up<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the meeting and accompany someone there, found out if a cab could go<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>directly to Eppler South instead of to my usual drop-off place, or asked<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>around until I found someone else who was definitely going and met up ahead<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of time, maybe for coffee-making it a win/win situation, especially<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>considering the rain. I would not have been relying on chance or the casual<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>good will of strangers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>That's just the thing . . . my ability to "get around" is much more a set<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of contingencies than a single, easily articulated method. It grew out of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>years of cane practice and persistent trial-and-error. It grew from<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>countless times when I got lost, re-found my way, got lost again, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>realized that getting lost is neither permanent nor disgraceful. Most of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>all, it grew out of the realization that there is no one right way to do<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>anything-that all success is a patchwork of tactics we employ when they are<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>needed.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>We start out, reappraise, continue, evaluate, adjust, invent alternatives,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>actively strategize, and make endless micro-decisions as information flows<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in. We are improvisational artists, juggling options like plates spinning<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>high above our heads, deftly selecting this strategy or that as we proceed.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I wouldn't say that it's difficult, but it can be intricate. In any case,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>it's definitely too much to describe in five seconds with one foot on the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>curb and the other still inside a taxi, no matter how articulate you<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>believe yourself to be.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>BRAILLE<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>For the Love of Reading<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Angela Shambarger<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: Angela Shambarger holds a master's degree in education in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>student development, and she has worked at the University of New England in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Maine for over twenty years. Currently she serves as the university's Title<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>IX coordinator and teaches as an adjunct professor. She reports that she<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and her husband have two quirky sons and two goofy Newfoundlands.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>It's the end of the 2018-2019 school year, and I am finally sorting through<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>all those school papers that have been awaiting my attention since the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>spring of 2018. (Please don't judge my housekeeping skills!) In the pile of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>papers I find a letter I have set aside, written by my son Benjamin in his<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>bold, blocky handwriting on his special dark-lined paper. It is a letter he<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>wrote to himself as part of an assignment at the beginning of his sixth-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>grade year. The assignment was meant to help the teacher learn about each<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of her students. The students were encouraged to keep the letters and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>reread them at the end of middle school in order to reflect on how much<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>they have grown and changed.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In the letter Benjamin's twelve-year-old self writes to his future eighth-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>grade self, listing all the things he likes to do. At the top of the list<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>he writes in his struggling script that he loves to read.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>It's true. Benjamin does love to read. He loves to write, too; he has an<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>oddly dark imagination that enjoys weaving fantastical stories. In fact, he<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>entered a short story contest for middle schoolers and won a prize.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>What is important about this sheet of black and white is that it is a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>snapshot of my son and his life, before. Visually impaired from birth due<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to a rare retinal disorder, he had always struggled with the mechanics of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>learning. Was the font large enough? Was the contrast dark enough? Did he<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>have the correct paper and pens so that he could see what he was writing?<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>How large could we blow up this worksheet and still make it legible?<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>During his seventh-grade year Benjamin's eye condition progressed<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>dramatically. At the start of eighth grade we received a functional vision<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>assessment from his teacher of the visually impaired (TVI) that recommended<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Benjamin become a Braille learner.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>As I write, my eyes well up and my heart aches, recalling the emotions I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>experienced when I read those words. I got the report by email while I was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>at work, and I reread it several times before I felt prepared to read it to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>my husband over the phone. But after the initial shock came an unexpected<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sense of relief. The weight of our two-year struggle to force Benjamin to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>learn in a sighted environment was lifted at last. Suddenly and clearly, I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>understood that what had once seemed to be a sentence to lifelong<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>disability was actually an invitation to independence. Braille would make<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the written word accessible to my son. He would not have to rely on someone<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>else to read to him or transcribe for him. Braille would open a door to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>access.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>We were anxious about how to sell this plan to my son, with his teenage<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>self-consciousness about being different. We decided to introduce the idea<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of learning Braille as a way to make school and life better. Braille was a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>new skill that would mean he wouldn't need to struggle so hard to access<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the material.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"What do you think about this? Do you think you would like to try to learn<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille?" I asked him.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Much to our surprise, he cocked his head to the side and said, "Yeah, that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>might be good."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Once we made up our minds, we were fully committed. Benjamin began Braille<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>instruction after the holidays. We ordered books in Braille at different<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>reading levels for our home library. Benjamin's TVI sent home daily reports<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>about how fast he was learning. He even stopped playing violin out of worry<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that the callouses on his fingertips would make it harder for him to read.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>At the same time he became a Braille learner, Benjamin developed vestibular<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>neuritis, an inflammation of the vestibular nerve that causes vertigo,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>migraines, chronic fatigue, and inability to concentrate or tolerate<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>confusing environments. The illness has hampered his progress in Braille,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>but he has persevered.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>At times we feel as though we are in a race against the curriculum. Now<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that Ben is in high school, each semester and even each quarter brings new<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>content that requires a new set of skills. Learning these new skills feels<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a bit like learning a series of new languages. Geometry-math in perhaps its<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>most visual form-was stalled for months while we tracked down the tactile<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>graphics Ben needed. Then he had to learn how to interpret those tactile<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>graphics. We learned to build 3D models out of cardboard and to use 3D<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>printing to create shapes and planes and their intersections so he could<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>understand what each theorem was trying to show him.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>It took us a few months to determine which Braille math system Ben would<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>learn, UEB or Nemeth. Finally, in May, we determined that Nemeth was the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>way to go, since the PSATs and SATs use Nemeth math. Now Ben needs to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>master Nemeth before he takes his PSATs this year. Fortunately, he earns<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>foreign language credit for his Braille studies. For now we don't have to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>worry about teaching him the Braille symbols for accented vowels that he<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>would need in order to learn French.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Toward the end of his spring semester, Ben received and began learning to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>use a device called the BrailleNote Touch. We are continually amazed by<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>this marriage of technology and Braille. Here is a tablet device that will<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>allow Ben to read and write Braille electronically. It will convert almost<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>any electronic document or email into Braille. Now we are racing to master<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>this technology so Ben will be able to keep up with the rigors of his<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>classes and won't start the new school year already behind.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Ben is somewhat distrustful of technology, and he has trepidations about<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>learning to use new electronic tools. He is a bit of a perfectionist, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>he likes to do things perfectly right away. However, he has begun to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>embrace the learning process, recognizing it as a means to success and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>independence.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>If you talk to the team of teachers and rehab specialists working with my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>son, they will tell you that he has goals. Perhaps they will also say that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>he is a bit stubborn. Ask Ben about his goals, and he will quickly tell you<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that he is going to get his doctorate in history and move to England. He<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>hopes to work in medieval restoration or museum curation. Like other teens,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>he hates the idea of being different or needing help to do the things he<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>has to do. Yet, his desire to do well in school and be independent<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>outweighs this discomfort. For Ben and for our family, Braille has become<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the path to success.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>As I worked on this article, I asked my son for his thoughts on learning<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille. He tells me that he is not sure how Braille will help him in the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>future, but he believes it will help him and that it is a good tool for him<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to have. He says that right now learning Braille is like learning a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>completely new language. His advice to new Braille learners? "Stick with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>it, because it will be worth it in the end."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Ben has been learning Braille now for a year. This summer he has taken to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>doing his reading while his older brother is at the table working on his<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>models. Normally he is reserved about discussing his Braille learning. But<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>today, when his brother asks him what he is doing, Ben says that he is<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>practicing "scissor-reading." He explains that it is a method of moving his<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>hands on the page that will help him read faster. As he shows his brother<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>how it works, my older son says in awe that it is "really cool." With an<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>element of pride in his voice, Ben says, "Yeah, it is."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Today Ben finished reading his first Braille novel. I ask him what he<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>thought about it. In typical teen fashion he shrugs his shoulders, gives me<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a sly grin, and tells me that he "saw the end coming."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption: Robert Jaquiss<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The Encyclopedia and Me<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Robert Jaquiss<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: Schools provide formal education that plays a crucial role<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in the development of all children, both blind and sighted. However,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>education doesn't stop when the student leaves the classroom. Family and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>community can create an environment that provides opportunities and fosters<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>lifelong learning. In this article, Robert Jaquiss pays tribute to his<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>parents for making sure that he had a learning opportunity that many of his<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sighted peers took for granted. He tells the story of his parents' quest to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>acquire a Braille encyclopedia that he could use at home.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In 1963, when I was ten, it was common for parents to purchase<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>encyclopedias for their children. These expensive books would be carefully<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>shelved and available for use at any time of the day. Encyclopedias could<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>be purchased by mail order, but often they were marketed by door-to-door<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>salespeople. There were numerous encyclopedias to choose from, including<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the Encyclopedia Americana, Encyclopedia Britannica, Britannica Junior,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Compton's, Grolier, and World Book. Parents could purchase additional<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>reference books through the encyclopedia company such as a dictionary or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>world atlas. Annual yearbooks, also available for purchase, kept the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>encyclopedia up-to-date.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In 1960 the Field Enterprise Company and Field Foundation provided funds to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>make the necessary plates so the American Printing House for the Blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>(APH) could produce a Braille version of the World Book Encyclopedia. The<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>plan was that each state could acquire two copies, one for its school for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the blind and the other for the regional library. The copy at the regional<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>library could be lent out to borrowers one volume at a time.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>One fall, when my family attended the Oregon State Fair, Volume 1 of the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille encyclopedia was on display. I don't recall whether it was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>displayed at the World Book booth or the booth for the Oregon State School<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>for the Blind, but the book got a lot of attention. Visitors were impressed<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by the size of the large Braille volume. Volume 1 started with A (the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>history of the letter) and ended with Adverb. The encyclopedia volumes and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>dictionary volumes are the largest Braille volumes ever produced by APH.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The production of the Braille encyclopedia was a monumental undertaking.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The complete 1959 World Book consists of one hundred and forty-five volumes<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that take up forty-three-and-a-half feet of shelf space. There are 38,400<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille pages in the set. In 1962 my parents determined that I would have<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>my very own copy of the World Book Encyclopedia.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I knew that my parents wanted to get me an encyclopedia, but at the time I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>wasn't told of all they did to acquire one. They began by writing letters<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and making phone calls to find out how it might be possible. Hoping to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>impress the World Book company, my father signed up to sell encyclopedias.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>He spent one summer traveling about town, showing the encyclopedia to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>perspective customers. Since he couldn't sell a product he wasn't familiar<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>with, at home we had a variety of the company's products: the World Book;<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Child Craft, a two-volume dictionary; an atlas; and Cyclo Teacher, complete<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>with all the packets of sheets-but of course all these resources were only<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in print.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>One day in the summer of 1963, my father said, "Rob, let's go to the lumber<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>yard." The lumber yard was always an interesting place to visit. On the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>drive I asked what we were going to purchase. My father told me that he<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>thought I should have more bookshelves in my room. This seemed odd, since I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>already had close to forty feet of shelf space on one wall.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>At the lumber yard Dad bought ten-foot lengths of twelve-inch shelving.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>This was an expensive way to get shelves. Other times when shelving was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>needed, Dad bought plywood and ripped it into lengths of the desired width.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>This time he bought the sturdiest shelf brackets the lumber yard had to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>offer. Back at home Dad and I mounted the shelves. When we were done, I had<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>fifty more feet of shelf space.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>A day or two later, I received a Braille copy of a letter from APH. The<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>letter informed me that during the next eighteen months I would receive the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille version of the World Book Encyclopedia in installments. The week<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>before, my parents had received a letter from APH informing them that, if<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>they would send the princely sum of $661.25 within three days and if APH<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>did not get a prior claim, they could purchase an encyclopedia for me. I am<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>not sure how much my father was paid as a teacher, but he certainly didn't<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>have $661.25 on hand. He took out a loan from the credit union in order to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>raise the funds.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Eventually, our mailman arrived with a huge box in his push cart. The box<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>was nearly two feet long and a foot square. It held the first eleven<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>volumes of the encyclopedia. I hauled them upstairs and arranged them<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>carefully on my new shelves. Every few weeks, another big box arrived.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Eventually, my 1959 edition of the World Book Encyclopedia was complete. In<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>1964 and 1965, I received two yearbooks, each of which comprised six<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>volumes.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I spent many happy hours reading that Braille encyclopedia. It helped me<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>graduate with honors from Silverton Union High School in 1971. In 1972,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>while I was attending what was then known as Oregon College of Education<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>(OCE), an effort was made to acquire Braille reference books for the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>library. The library purchased the 72-volume set of the New World<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Dictionary of the American Language. This small dictionary occupied twenty-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>four feet of shelf space. Not needing an encyclopedia at home any longer, I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>lent it to the library. There it was available for use by the blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>students who attended OCE.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I graduated from college and went on to work at Tektronix. On occasion I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>thought of the encyclopedia that had meant so much to me and my parents. By<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>then it was long out of date, and I didn't have room for it anyway.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In the early 1990s a fire broke out at the Oregon State School for the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Blind, damaging the library. The encyclopedia was contaminated with soot.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When the students read it they got soot on their hands, and they left marks<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>on everything they touched. The teachers complained that the children were<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>reading "dirty books." I was pleased to offer my encyclopedia to replace<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the copy that had been damaged.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Visitors to the fourth-floor conference room at NFB headquarters in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Baltimore may browse through a copy of the 1959 World Book Encyclopedia and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the New World Dictionary of the American Language. Thanks to the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>persistence of my parents, I am one of the few blind people who ever had a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>copy of the Braille encyclopedia at home.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Today print encyclopedias are fast disappearing. I believe that World Book<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and Grolier are the only two publishers who still offer hard copy versions.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>All of the encyclopedias are now available online on a subscription basis,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and most are accessible to people who use screen readers. Blind students<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>now have access to the vast storehouses of information that are available<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to their sighted peers. But few children, blind or sighted, will experience<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the delights of poring for hours over the magical volumes of an<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>encyclopedia that they can hold in their hands, discovering treasures of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>knowledge to last a lifetime.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>PASSAGES<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption: Holly Connor<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Singing into the Mainstream<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Katie Sears<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: In 2018 and 2019 Holly Connor was the first-place winner<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in the Grades 6-8 category in the Nationwide Braille Readers Are Leaders<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Contest. I was intrigued when her mother explained that Holly is intensely<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>involved in community theater and reads novels on her BrailleNote during<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>her down time backstage. In this article, Katie Sears tells her daughter's<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>story. You can learn more about Holly and her rising career by visiting<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>www.hollyconnor.com.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>On November 22, 2004, Holly Lynn Connor was born in Seattle, Washington,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>with no complications. However, from day one she cried nonstop, and we<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>noticed that she never seemed to look at us. During many visits the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>pediatrician assured us not to worry; Holly's eyes were simply developing<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>at a slower rate than usual.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>By the time Holly was four months old she showed no improvement. At that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>point she was diagnosed with two rare conditions, septo-optic dysplasia<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>(SOD) and pan-hypopituitarism (hypopit). In hypopit a person has decreased<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>secretion of the hormones produced by the pituitary gland. These hormones<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>control growth and several other factors. The optic nerves of a person with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>SOD are small and poorly developed. Typically, a person has more than a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>million nerve fibers from each eye to the brain, but people with SOD have<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>far fewer connections. Holly is rare in that she is affected in both eyes.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>She could see little to nothing at birth. Few online resources or support<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>groups were available when Holly was diagnosed, and I felt that I was alone<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in the world with no answers. To date, the cause of SOD remains unknown.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>STEM-CELL TREATMENTS<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In addition to being blind, Holly displayed signs of autism from an early<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>age. She had obsessive-compulsive behaviors and spoke in single words<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>rather than full sentences. Until she was three years old she wouldn't walk<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>outside, eat solid food, go anywhere that had fluorescent lighting, or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sleep through the night. She refused to wear shoes or any clothing below<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the knees or beyond the elbows. And she cried pretty much constantly.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Needless to say, those first four years were a difficult time!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When she was four years old, we took Holly to China for seven weeks to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>receive stem-cell treatments. The effect was miraculous! The treatment was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>geared toward her vision, but we saw nearly a 50 percent improvement in her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>autism symptoms almost immediately. Roughly two years later improvements in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>her vision also became apparent. Before we went to China she could only see<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>objects that were an inch or two away. As her vision improved she could see<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>contrast and movement up to ten feet away.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Encouraged by the success of the treatment in China, we booked a round of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>stem-cell treatments in Panama when Holly was twelve. The trip was shorter<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>this time, lasting only seven days. Since that visit Holly has seen<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>additional reductions in her autistic symptoms, and her vision improved<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>still more. She now picks up contrast and movement up to thirty feet away.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>One of the most clear-cut examples of the change in Holly's autism symptoms<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>is the reduction in her anxiety level. Before we went to Panama her anxiety<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>was nearly debilitating at times. Another change is her increased<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>willingness to expand her diet. Like most kids with autism, Holly would<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>only eat about five foods prior to our Panama trip. Now she eats nearly<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>everything we put in front of her, though she always objects at least once<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to a new food. Pizza, burgers, and tacos top the list of her dinner<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>preferences, though we keep her on a diet that is free from gluten, soy,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sugar, and dairy products. In 2020, Holly will go through another round of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>stem-cell treatment, most likely in Panama again. We are hopeful that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>centers offering this treatment option will open in the U.S. in the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>reasonably near future.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>MUSIC<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Holly has extraordinary musical talent. When she was only a month old, we<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>played a Winnie-the-Pooh tape, and she immediately stopped crying. After<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that, our house was filled with music twenty-four hours a day. Music seemed<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to be the only thing that calmed her.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When Holly was six months old we placed her at the piano, and she started<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to play the keys with her hands and feet. At age one she was able to count<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to one hundred, sing the alphabet backward, and play simple notes on the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>piano. At this point we realized she has instant memory.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>By age two Holly could play any song she heard by ear on the piano. When<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>she was three we discovered that she has perfect pitch and vibrato. She<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>could tell you the key of any song she heard on the radio. Holly learned<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille at age three, and she has had a passion for reading ever since. She<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>is a big fan of The Land of Stories series, as well as the Harry Potter<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>books.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When she was four years old we started Holly on piano lessons with a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>teacher who was specifically trained to teach kids with autism. By age<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>seven she could recognize and play complex chords and memorize and play<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>songs after hearing them only once.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When she was eight Holly picked up the harmonica and the recorder. At<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>around this time she started to be more comfortable in public, so we<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>attended live theater and kids' performances together every weekend.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>At age nine Holly joined her first choir at her elementary school and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>started working with a vocal coach. She also attended her first vocal and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>piano classes at a facility that worked specifically with kids with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>disabilities, pairing them with typical kids. That year she gave her first<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>performance at a summer camp. The song was "Do-Re-Mi" from The Sound of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Music, and she sang the part of Maria. This experience planted the seed for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>enrolling Holly in musical theater.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When she was ten Holly gave her first piano recital and entered her first<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>vocal competition. She sang opera and musical theater pieces, and she came<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>home with first-place prizes for her age group.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>OPPORTUNITIES IN ST. LOUIS<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Shortly after that first competition we moved to St. Louis due to my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>husband's job. The move proved to be a huge turning-point in Holly's life.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Prior to the move we knew that St. Louis has a good school system,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>particularly in regard to accommodations for children with special needs.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>However, we did not expect the extensive opportunities Holly would have for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>getting involved in musical endeavors. These new opportunities set Holly on<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the path to maximizing her potential.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In the first year after our move, Holly started to play the cello with her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>school's fifth-grade orchestra program. She also joined her first formal<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>choir, one of the St. Louis Children's Choirs. Holly even sang in her first<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>musical, Space Pirates. As this was a new endeavor for everyone involved,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>she performed her scenes sitting in a chair.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The following year, at age eleven, Holly started taking voice and musical<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>theater classes. Through contacts we were making in St. Louis, we realized<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>it was time to engage Holly in the next level of musical theater. It was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>time for her to move a step beyond the productions where everyone in the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>class or camp gets to be in the show.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The first time Holly was exposed to a traditional audition process involved<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a show called Seussical. Between all the waiting and the process of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>learning choreography on the fly, we worried about how she would handle the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>whole experience. She handled it terrifically, and now she was going to be<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in her second show. This time she did limited choreography, and she even<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>had a speaking line. Seussical proved to be a great learning experience.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Between the late evening rehearsals, the professional environment, and the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>immersion in a show with children ranging in age from six to nineteen,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Holly experienced something we previously thought would be out of her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>reach.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>After that show, the schedule started to fill very quickly. The next year,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>when she was twelve, Holly was cast in eight consecutive shows with three<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>named roles, including Glinda in Wizard of Oz, Fairy Godmother in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Cinderella, and Mama Ogre in Shrek. Incidentally, she takes her BrailleNote<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Touch pretty much everywhere she goes, and she is known for reading during<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>down time backstage, of which there is plenty.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>At that time we also enrolled Holly in ballet lessons. We realized she<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>needed to work on her dancing, both for the ability to participate more<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>fully in every show and for the body awareness she could gain through dance<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>training. Holly does not enjoy the process of learning dance or the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>choreography for a new show. In fact, dance is probably one of the most<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>challenging things she has to do. But her will is strong, and she continues<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to work on it.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Age thirteen was an even busier year. Holly was cast in ten consecutive<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>shows with four named roles, including Queen Victoria in A Little Princess,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Mrs. Darling in Peter Pan, Bird Woman in Mary Poppins, and Cinderella's<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Mother in Into the Woods. She started taking tap lessons, joined the school<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>jazz band playing piano, joined another choir, and wrote her first original<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>song. Her song is called "A Different Story." It is about being blind and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>explains how her vision has changed, both literally and metaphorically,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>throughout her life. Her middle-school choir performed "A Different Story"<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>at a recent school concert. It was so beautiful to see something Holly<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>created come to life!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Through the contacts she has made in musical theatre, Holly was asked<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>recently to give a presentation to an elementary school as part of its<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>diversity and inclusion week. The thirty-minute presentation consisted of a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>PowerPoint highlighting much of Holly's story. It included a few short<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>videos from when she was younger and ended with several songs. Holly played<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>two songs on the harmonica, sang two songs which she accompanied on the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ukulele, and played two songs on the piano.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Today, at age fourteen, Holly is immersed in the arts seven days a week<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>when she is not in school. She is in three choirs and two jazz bands. She<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>takes acting and dance classes and private lessons for acting, ballet, tap,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and piano. She works out every morning on her spin bike, trains weekly with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a personal trainer to improve her muscle tone, is part of a tandem biking<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>club half the year, and is in two or three musical theater productions at<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>any given time. Right now she's excited to be playing Grandma in The Addams<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Family. She is also competing at the National Braille Challenge for the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>second time this year.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>SPREADING THE MESSAGE<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The last few years have been life-changing, not only for Holly, but for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>everyone around her. The musical theater community in St. Louis has been<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>extremely accepting and inclusive. The directors have all been<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>accommodating and understanding of Holly's blindness and her autistic<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>needs. Better still, the kids Holly is with in these shows are more<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>accepting than I ever could have imagined. They always seem to be looking<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>out for Holly, and we feel confident that she is always in a safe space.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Now that she is fully immersed in the arts community in St. Louis and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>working with such a large number of kids, Holly seems to have friends<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>everywhere she goes. In fact, for the first time ever, she has found a best<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>friend who has become a huge part of her life. They talk every day, eat<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>lunch together at school, and are in choirs and musicals together<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>regularly. Her friend, Abby, has an effect on Holly that is hard to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>quantify. Holly is learning what it means to be a typical teenager, how to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>interact with others on a social level, and how to have empathy (sometimes<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>very difficult for a person with autism).<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>On January 1, 2019, I launched a project on Instagram,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>(@365withhollyconnor). I post Holly answering a daily question from "Q&A a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Day for Kids" by Betsy Franco. The goal is to raise awareness about Holly's<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>life and how she navigates the world being both blind and autistic.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Recently a girl from the local high school approached me to say that her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>twin brother has autism and that Holly changed his life. Because Holly has<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>been involved in school and has a presence on social media, peers started<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to befriend her brother. Holly is showing other teens that it's okay to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>talk to someone who is blind and autistic, and even to be friends. It's<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>okay to be unique and different.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Holly has extraordinary talents. We try continuously to keep her engaged<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>with the world around her and involved in as many musical endeavors as time<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>will allow. We want to position her for the best chance of future success<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in life. Through the many ways she interacts with the world, Holly<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>continues to change how people see her and, hopefully, how they see,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>interact with, and accept people with all abilities.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption: At the center of a group of girls, Mausam Mehta visits Baltimore's<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Inner Harbor.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Paths and Transitions<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Mausam Mehta<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: This article is based on a presentation given by Mausam<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Mehta at the 2019 Midwest Student Seminar, "Owning Your Future," which was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sponsored by the National Association of Blind Students (NABS). Mausam is a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>NABS board member, and she is active with the Virginia Association of Blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Students.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I'm a first-year student at the University of Virginia, and I'm going to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>tell you every single thing you need to know about college, so sit back-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>this will take a few hours. No, just kidding! Actually I want to talk to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>you about paths and transitions, how change and uncertainty ultimately<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>bring clarity.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My passion for math has led me to a school brimming with spirit and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>launched me on a trajectory toward business school. As I speed to the end<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of my freshman year, I feel that I'm where I belong. But I scaled a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>mountain of doubt and uncertainty to get to this moment.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I have traditional Indian parents. When my friends were collecting Pokemon<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>cards and watching Star Wars, I was doing multiplication tables. At the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>dinner table my dad would give my sister and me complicated math problems<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to solve to hone our mental math skills. He had the philosophy, "If you<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>don't know the right answer, don't say anything." I'd like to think I've<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>integrating that idea into all aspects of my life, but that would mean I'm<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>always right-and even I can't pretend that's true!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Discussion around college became a focal point of my life early on. In<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>second grade, as I labored over long division problems that took up entire<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille pages, I heard my parents shout their congratulations over a long-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>distance phone line to my cousin in India, who had just made it into the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>top med school. When I was in sixth grade I wrote my first research paper,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a whopping two pages-in Braille, not print-on Helen Keller. I dedicated a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>page and a half of this novel to her success at Radcliffe College, despite<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the low expectations she faced. Her triumph helped fuel my efforts in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>school.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Fast forward to high school, sophomore year. I was rocking baggy jeans and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a ponytail, and I preferred to spend my time rolling around on the goalball<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>court at the nearby school for the deaf and blind. My favorite subject was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Latin, not even a core subject, and I could rattle off Shakespeare's<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"Sonnet 23" faster than I could remember any of the elements on the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>periodic table. It was evident to me that something was changing.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In my school district we had the opportunity to apply to two-year programs<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that would take us out of our traditional schools for half a day to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>specialize in a particular area. During our junior and senior years we<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>could spend our time concentrating in STEM fields or in the visual arts at<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the Governor's School, or we could obtain a certification in a trade at the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>technical center. The application processes for these programs were quite<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>competitive. Many of us spent the latter half of our sophomore year<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>obsessing over our grades and résumés, who we might get recommendation<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>letters from, and which programs to apply to. My peers spoke confidently<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>about the medical internships they would procure as their senior capstones<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>at the "Gov School," or about all of the money they would make right out of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>high school with their welding certifications. (No joke! As welders they<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>could make a lot of money!)<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I had no such certainties. To be completely honest, I envied their<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>confidence in the future. As I walked through the technical center on a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>class tour, I smelled grease from the auto body shop and heard the steady<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>banging of hammers from the architecture block. I learned later that the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>students were building a house-a real house! -for a family who had lost<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>their home in a terrible fire. What if I were part of all this, I thought<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>as we continued on our way. Could I make a tangible difference in someone's<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>life?<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I kept those thoughts to myself. Later, when my parents asked me about the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>tour, I gave noncommittal answers and retreated to my schoolwork. I was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>really disconcerted by the direction of my thoughts. My interest in the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>technical programs did not line up with the fixed course I had planned.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My parents had raised me to work hard in school, to get good grades so I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>could go to a good college and find a well-paying job. That was what I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>wanted, right?<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>After lots of deliberation, I decided to apply to the Governor's School<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>with a concentration in STEM. Although this was the choice everyone<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>anticipated, my rationale for choosing this track had changed<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>significantly. I had the privilege of being accepted into the program, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I resolved to make the most of this opportunity.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My time at the Governor's School was inarguably one of the most challenging<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>academic pursuits of my life. I shed quite a few tears over partial<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>derivatives, and I will always regard force diagrams with a healthy dose of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>dislike. Sometimes, as I hammered out the final sentences of a lab report<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>at 3:00 a.m., those nagging thoughts would come back to me. How are partial<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>derivatives going to help me make a tangible difference? I knew the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>knowledge I was gaining here was important, but was any of it actually<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>practical?<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In time I began to understand that my in-depth knowledge of STEM would open<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>doors to many real-life applications. Maybe one day I could use my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>knowledge of calculus and physics to build an even better house for a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>family. Sometimes we doubt our choices to the extent that we don't really<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>give them a chance to show us their merit.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I don't especially enjoy reminiscing about the college application process,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>so let's move on to something a little more exciting. Second semester of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>senior year, though stressful, is a time when unknowns become known. Two<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>months after I submitted applications to eleven schools, I pored over my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>options and made endless lists of pros and cons. In the end I narrowed my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>choices down to two schools: one that my heart had been set on for years,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and the other one that I never would have dreamed of attending. After<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>touring both schools and spending hours comparing their academic programs,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I settled on the second one. Sometimes we surprise ourselves!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The University of Virginia has sixteen thousand undergrads, it sprawls over<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>more than two thousand acres, and it prides itself on its twisty, aesthetic<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>paths that often lead nowhere. When I arrived on the campus in late August,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I had no idea how many months I would spend wandering around lost. At first<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I was more worried about how the food in the dining hall would taste and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>whether I was going to get along with my roommate.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I can't begin to describe the roller coaster of emotions I experienced<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>during the first week. I had several moments of truth that formed the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>foundation of my college experience. One of them came in the form of my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>first economics class.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>On the first day of class I walked into the lecture hall at 8:54 a.m.; this<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>was before I discovered the joys of sliding into class thirty seconds<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>before it starts! I found a seat somewhere in the middle of the massive,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>echoing auditorium that held more students than my entire high school. As I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>listened to the clamor of people just starting to make friends, I felt<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>isolated in a sea of strangers. I had expected this, I suppose, but<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>nonetheless it was overwhelming.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>A few weeks later, in early September, I sat at my desk in my empty dorm<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>room, fighting a pervasive feeling of despair. College was supposed to be a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>fresh start, with new friends and new experiences. Instead, I felt I was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>already missing out on many opportunities. I was so lost in my thoughts<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that at first I didn't realize my phone was ringing. I answered without<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>checking the caller ID and was surprised to find that it was our very own<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Syed Rizvi, a member of the NABS board. He asked me about my experiences so<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>far, and after hearing my dejected answer, he launched into a monologue in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>typical Syed fashion. Our conversation would change my outlook on college<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>into something far more positive.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"Mausam, you need to go out and make some friends," Syed told me, "and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>here's how you should do it." Needless to say, that was the beginning. I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>started spamming my hallmates into dinner with me. I interviewed for UVAs<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>oldest organization, the esteemed Jefferson Society, and somehow I got in.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I raised my hand an obnoxious amount in discussion classes, made friends<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>with the dining hall workers, and fell down a few sets of stairs. I laughed<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a little and cried a lot during my first finals week, and I left for winter<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>break feeling at least a little bit fulfilled.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I have to tell you it hasn't been easy. I came out of my first semester<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>feeling that I had not met my academic standards. There were moments when I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>worried that maybe I wasn't cut out for this college thing after all, that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>all my doubts were becoming a reality. I felt that I wasn't working hard<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>enough, but I didn't know if I could work any harder.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>As I stand here now, halfway into my second semester, I'm not entirely free<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of those uncertainties. Sometimes when I'm sitting in my 9:00 a.m. class,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>running on three hours of sleep, I still question my decisions. But I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>remind myself that this experience is far bigger than I could ever imagine.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My dad is a small master of philosophies. He has always told me that when<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>you're faced with a tricky problem, start with what you know. I know that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I'm grateful to be part of a vibrant community of students and faculty that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>share an endless passion for education. College is about exploring, not<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>limiting. I have so much to learn, but finally I feel I'm getting to where<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I need to be. Each of us takes a different route with unique challenges and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>victories. We may not always know whether we're heading in the right<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>direction, and we will not always have the right answers. We certainly do<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>not have it all figured out. In fact, I'm even thinking about switching my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>major-but that's a different conversation.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The college experience is one of a kind. Take the time to learn as much as<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>you can, but don't forget to meet your daily quota of fun along the way.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>It's an exciting time, so carpe diem! Seize the day!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>DIVERSITY<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption: Christopher Sabine reads Braille at his desk.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Optic Nerve Hypoplasia: Unraveling the Mysteries<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Christopher Sabine<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: In the National Federation of the Blind, we seldom focus<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>on specific conditions that lead to blindness. What truly matters is the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>fact that a person's vision is low enough to require nonvisual methods for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>carrying out tasks that typically are performed with the help of sight. In<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>some instances, however, a particular diagnosis may involve a constellation<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of disabilities in addition to blindness. Such disabilities can pose some<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>unique challenges. In this article Christopher Sabine looks at one of the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>most prevalent causes of blindness in children in the U.S., optic nerve<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>hypoplasia, or ONH. Chris has been a member of the NFB of Ohio since 2014,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and he serves as secretary of the Cincinnati Chapter.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>As a blind adult and a member of the National Federation of the Blind, I am<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>amazed by the diversity within our organization. We represent a wide<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>variety of cultures, and we come from all walks of life. We have a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>tremendous capacity to absorb new ideas and perspectives.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The Federation promotes such skills of blindness as Braille, assistive<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>technology, and independent travel with the long white cane. In the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Federation we also encourage a set of daily living skills and social skills<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>necessary for blind children to become successful, productive adults. We<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>recognize that a confident, positive attitude, willingness to take risks,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and the ability to adapt to change are all essential for a blind child to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>grow into a successful, competent blind adult.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Blind children are as unique, wonderful, and complicated as any other<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>children. However, I believe that some blind children experience<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>developmental challenges that are not related to their blindness per se,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>but are a part of the underlying condition of which blindness is a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>characteristic. Some children who receive (or do not receive) blindness<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>instruction in the educational system also have autism, behavioral<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>disorders, chronic health conditions, or developmental disabilities. These<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>additional challenges can have a huge impact on the ability of these<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>children to learn the skills of blindness and thrive in the general<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>educational environment. I believe it is vital that we do all that is<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>possible to enable these children to learn the values and skills they need<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in order to live the lives they want. As an example, I would like to share<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a bit about my own life.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I was born with optic nerve hypoplasia (ONH), which is the underdevelopment<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of one or both optic nerves during pregnancy. Once considered a rare<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>disorder, ONH is now one of the leading causes of childhood blindness in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the United States and some other Western countries. Optic nerve hypoplasia<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>is typically bilateral, affecting both eyes, and this is true in my case.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The condition can also occur in one eye, known as unilateral ONH.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The underlying process that leads to the birth of a child with ONH also can<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>affect adjacent structures of the midline brain. Therefore, children with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ONH may experience a range of medical complications, developmental delays,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and behavioral characteristics. According to a leading article published by<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the Keck School of Medicine at the University of Southern California,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>between 60 and 80 percent of children with ONH have deficiencies in their<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ability to produce one or more vital hormones. These include growth hormone<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and thyroid hormone, which are both essential for growth and metabolism,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and cortisol, which enables the body to respond properly to physical or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>emotional stress or illness. Children and adults who are unable to produce<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>these and other hormones must be seen regularly by an endocrinologist, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>most require daily hormone replacement.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>According to the same article, 71 percent of children with ONH exhibit<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>developmental delays. Global developmental delays, sensory processing<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>disorders, sleep disturbances, attention difficulties, and seizure<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>disorders are common in children with ONH. However, these conditions are<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>seen much less frequently in adults with this diagnosis.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Sensory processing disorder (SPD) is a catch-all term used by occupational<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>therapists and other health-care professionals to describe difficulties<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>processing input through the senses. In my case, sensory processing issues<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>made learning Braille an arduous task. Furthermore, I did not master such<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>fine-motor skills as tying shoes and buttoning shirts until I was in my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>teens. Food aversions are common in people with SPD, often related to the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>inability to tolerate certain food textures. SPD may also involve delays in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the development of oral-motor movements such as the ability to swallow<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>solid foods. For further information about sensory processing disorders, I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>recommend Carol Stock Kranowitz's comprehensive and easily accessible book,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The Out-of-Sync Child.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Recent studies as well as anecdotal reports from families and professionals<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>also point to an increased incidence of autism spectrum disorders and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>autism-like behaviors in children with ONH. However, the assertion that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blind children with ONH are prone to autism is problematic. No clinical<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>screening tool is available for diagnosing autism spectrum disorders in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blind children. Nearly all screening instruments used to test for autism<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>spectrum disorders were developed based on a population of typically<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sighted children. Furthermore, a high percentage of children on the autism<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>spectrum are considered to be primarily visual learners, based on<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>diagnostic and testing criteria established by sighted, typically developed<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>clinicians and evaluators. Our understanding of how blind children process<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>information using brain structures typically associated with visual<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>processing is in its infancy.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When a blind child rocks, engages in constant, rhythmic hand-flapping, or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>repeats words or phrases in a sing-song voice, we cannot say with clinical<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>certainty that the child's behavior indicates autism. The symptoms may be<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>related to factors that are specific to the experiences of a blind child.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>For this reason, some clinicians are reluctant to diagnose autism spectrum<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>disorder in a child who is blind. Nevertheless, studies suggest that 46<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>percent of children with ONH display significant autistic behaviors or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>could qualify for a clinical diagnosis of an autism spectrum disorder,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>independent of visual acuity. This finding suggests a neurological basis<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>for the presence of a clinically significant autism spectrum disorder in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>many children with ONH.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Children with ONH often need intensive services from disciplines such as<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>occupational and speech therapy as well as the more typical instruction in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille, cane travel, and assistive technology, to alleviate developmental<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>delays or behaviors associated with the autism spectrum. These services are<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>insufficient or nonexistent in most school systems.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When I was born my family had no knowledge of the autism spectrum or of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sensory processing difficulties. When I was about six months old, I began<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>looking directly into the sun, and my parents suspected that I was blind.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My mother took me to a local ophthalmologist, who diagnosed me with ONH.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>While I understood what my mother was saying at ten months, I did not speak<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>until I was three years old. My mother remembers that my speech delay was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>due to my difficulty coordinating the muscles of my mouth to produce<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>intelligible sounds. Such speech delays are not uncommon in children with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ONH. When I finally did speak, I spoke in complete sentences.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>For as far back as I can remember, I was obsessed with certain sounds and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>with topics related to sound and music. My primary interest was the sound<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of telephone switches from different exchanges. (This was back in the days<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of rotary dial and touch-tone land lines.) I learned every area code in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>North America, and I could tell where a person was calling from by the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sounds of the local and long-distance switching equipment. I spent hour<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>upon hour dialing numbers and listening to the sounds of calls as they<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>traversed the network. I know of a few blind people who gained some<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>notoriety for this area of expertise, but obsessing on telephone exchanges<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>was not a way for me to make many friends. This didn't matter much to me,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>though, as I had no real interest in interacting with kids my own age.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I also loved beeping electronic games, and I spent hours playing with my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>electronic toys. One of my favorites was the Speak and Spell, a handheld<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>educational toy designed to help children learn spelling. A synthetic male<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>voice would speak a word, and you would spell it on a keyboard. Add-on<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>modules contained more challenging vocabulary and other games. In short, I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>craved anything that gave me immediate auditory feedback-especially if it<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>was musical or electronic. Indeed, my favorite word throughout much of my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>childhood was "beep."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I had perfect musical pitch and learned to play the piano when I was four.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>However, I lost my musical skill after I started attending first grade at<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>my local elementary school. I also had an exceptional autobiographical<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>memory, and I could compute difficult math problems in my head.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille and fine motor skills were another matter entirely. I attended a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>preschool and kindergarten program for blind students at a public<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>elementary school, and I had one of the best TVIs (teachers of the visually<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>impaired) in our state. Nevertheless, my first attempt to learn Braille was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a nightmare. The letters on the Braille page felt rough and abrasive, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>remembering how dots were supposed to form letters was laborious.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Processing the Braille code was a tedious, frustrating ordeal, and I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>physically resisted my teachers' efforts to run my hands over the Braille<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>page. This reaction is sometimes referred to as tactile defensiveness. It<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>is common in children with ONH due to delayed information and sensory<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>processing. I remember one incident where I became so frustrated trying to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>read the word horse that I had a crying meltdown and refused to cooperate<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>with my teacher.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Like many children with ONH, I also dealt with behavioral challenges and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>difficulties with self-regulation, some of which I still face to this day.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My behaviors included rocking, hand-flapping, picking at scabs, and crying<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>when I was frustrated, anxious, or overstimulated. Although I have outgrown<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>many of these behaviors, impulse control and behavior management still take<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>conscious effort.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My family and I decided to abandon Braille about midway through my first-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>grade year in favor of a closed-circuit television and recorded books.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Through high school I attended regular education classes in my local school<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>district, where I was the only blind student. I was the school's human<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>calculator, but reading print for any length of time was frustrating and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>physically exhausting for me. While I had a few friends in grade school, I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>had trouble relating to peers-particularly if the play was not on my own<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>terms.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I received occupational and speech therapy as well as orientation and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>mobility instruction until I was in eighth grade. I also attended a summer<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>youth program for three years at the Clovernook Center for the Blind and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Visually Impaired. There I learned most of the daily living, communication,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and travel skills I use to this day-including dressing, tying my shoes, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>using a long white cane. I learned to use our local bus system, and I was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>introduced to screen readers and other assistive technology.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>During my freshman year of high school, after I had finished my third year<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in the summer youth program, something curious happened. I noticed that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>many fine motor skills, such as plugging in appliances, were suddenly much<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>easier for me to perform than they had been in the past. It was as if I had<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>downloaded external software into my brain that enabled me to perform these<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>tasks. I finally learned Braille in much the same way. I sought out Braille<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>instruction the summer after my freshman year of high school from a local<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>agency for the blind as part of a state program for blind youth<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>transitioning to employment. I found that I could read the first ten<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>letters of the Braille alphabet with ease after only one day, and I learned<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the rest of the alphabet within a month. Memories from my attempts to learn<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille in kindergarten and first grade came flooding back, as if my brain<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>finally had become able to process my earlier experiences. With the support<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of a blind colleague who is now a teacher of the visually impaired and a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>leader in our state NFB affiliate, I began reading literary Braille and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>finished my first Braille novel, J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>While I still deal with aspects of ONH every day, I live as active a life<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>as I can. I graduated cum laude from college and earned a master's in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>social work. I worked for three-and-a-half years as a service coordinator,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>helping youth with chronic health conditions and disabilities transition<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>out of high school and develop plans for their futures. I now operate a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>consulting firm specializing in educational support and community referrals<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to families of children with ONH. In my business I apply the knowledge and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>skills I learned from my professional training and my personal experience<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>as a blind adult with ONH.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Most children with ONH have the potential to lead successful and fulfilling<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>lives, despite a fairly complex set of challenges. I am shocked and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>saddened at how many children with ONH are placed in segregated classrooms<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>for children with more significant developmental disabilities. These<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>placements are wholly inappropriate for the majority of children with ONH,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>who have the capacity to achieve far beyond the expectations of many of the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>professionals who work with them.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I believe that children with ONH and other etiologies of blindness can<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>benefit from many of the educational supports geared toward children on the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>autism spectrum. These supports emphasize social skills, reading and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>reacting appropriately to nonverbal cues, and managing or eliminating<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>socially unacceptable behaviors. For me, learning to conduct myself in a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>socially acceptable manner has taken an ongoing, conscious, and concerted<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>effort.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>How can the National Federation of the Blind promote equality, security,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and opportunity for children and adults with ONH, or indeed, for all blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>people who have disabilities in addition to blindness? We have amassed a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>comprehensive body of knowledge of best practice in teaching and mentoring<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blind children and adults. We have found ways to encourage tactile fluency<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and Braille literacy, and we have developed and advocated for equal access<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to information. We have championed the use of structured discovery for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>travel in a wide variety of unfamiliar and complex environments. All of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>this knowledge has been developed and disseminated by the blind speaking<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>for ourselves. However, though the Federation has a division for people who<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>are deaf-blind, knowledge about how to raise, educate, and foster the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>development of blind children with other disabilities is still very<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>limited.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I believe we need to educate ourselves about the most effective strategies<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to help people with a variety of medical, behavior, and learning<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>characteristics. We must find ways to help them develop the skills and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>attitudes they need to achieve their dreams. We have made monumental<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>strides to develop and advocate for the supports necessary for blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>people, but don't let us forget the blind child who operates on the autism<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>spectrum or the child who needs extra support to learn Braille. Let us help<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the blind child who has trouble interacting with blind or sighted peers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Blind people with other disabilities can teach us a great deal about<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>alternative means of living our everyday lives, and about blindness itself.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I believe it is important that we collaborate with professional and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>consumer organizations that serve other disability groups. From children<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and adults with disabilities such as autism and complex medical conditions<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>we can learn a great deal about how people with diverse experiences develop<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>their capabilities.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Finally-and most importantly-I believe that we need to promote high<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>expectations for all children and adults who are blind, including those who<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>have other disabilities or alternative learning characteristics. One of the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>great guiding philosophies of the National Federation of the Blind is that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blindness is not the characteristic that holds a person back. We live this<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>philosophy every day of our lives as Federationists, and we instill it into<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>all the work we do. We view blind people as inherently capable of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>benefiting from education, engaging in fulfilling careers, raising<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>families, and enjoying all that life has to offer. Similarly, the emerging<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>neurodiversity movement is predicated on the right of those with autism<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>spectrum disorders and other neurological differences to speak for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>themselves, achieve equality, and live meaningful and productive lives.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>REFERENCES<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Fink, C. and Borchert, M. (2011) "Optic Nerve Hypoplasia and Autism: Common<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Features of Spectrum Diseases." Journal of Blindness & Visual Impairment.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>105 (6), 334-338.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Kranowitz, C.S. (2005) The Out-of-Sync Child. New York: TarcherPerigee.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Ryabets-Lienhard, A., Stewart, C., Borchert, M. et al. (2016) "The Optic<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Nerve Hypoplasia Spectrum: Review of the Literature and Clinical<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Guidelines." Advances in Pediatrics, 63, 127-146.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>FINANCE<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ABLE, A Tool for Life Planning<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Carol Akers<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: Many parents agonize over financial planning for their<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>children with disabilities. How can they ensure that their child will<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>receive adequate care and will be able to enjoy a comfortable and rewarding<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>quality of life? In this article Carol Akers introduces an exciting new<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>option, the ABLE account.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>It's too good to be true! There must be a catch! That's what I told myself<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>after each of the three presentations I attended explaining the ABLE Act of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>2014. After three presentations by three different organizations, I was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sure I would figure out what the catch was and why ABLE wouldn't fit into<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>my son's life. I read everything on the website, and I even called the 1-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>800 number with some of my questions. I didn't actually expect to get<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>answers from real people, but I did.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Millions of people with disabilities depend on public programs that provide<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>health care, housing, and other forms of assistance. In order to be<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>eligible for these programs, however, a disabled person may not have more<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>than two thousand dollars in cash savings or retirement funds. In other<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>words, to remain eligible for crucial benefits, a person must remain poor.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ABLE stands for Achieving a Better Life Experience. The ABLE Act recognizes<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the ongoing costs of living with a disability, including accessible housing<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and transportation, personal assistance, and assistive technology. ABLE<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>accounts are tax-advantaged savings accounts for people with disabilities<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and their families. Contributions to the account can be made by any person,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>such as a friend or family member.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In January 2018 I finally took the leap of faith and opened an ABLE account<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>for my son, Dustin. In Ohio, where we live, the program is known as STABLE<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>(State Treasurer's Achieving Better Living Experiences). I opened the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>account more out of curiosity than need, since it only required a fifty-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>dollar deposit to set it up. The process was much simpler and quicker than<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I expected, and the website was very user friendly and intuitive. I had not<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>yet decided how the account would benefit my adult child with disabilities.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>However, as his parent and guardian, I realized that I was spending money<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>from my bank account for things that perhaps could come out of his ABLE<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>account instead.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When you live in the disability world, life has a way of throwing<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>unexpected surprises at you. Just a few months after I opened the ABLE<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>account, Dustin's father, my ex-husband, died suddenly and unexpectedly.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The account was the perfect place to have State Farm deposit the small life<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>insurance policy that was left to my son. In this way the money did not<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>become a resource that would push Dustin over the financial limit for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>services he needs. The account helped us avoid a Medicaid headache!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Naturally I had to spend some time educating the insurance office about<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>what the account was and assuring them that it was legitimate. They finally<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>understood when they received verification from the program. That deposit<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>into Dustin's account gave us the ability to open a Special Needs Trust,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>which is also considered a QDE, or Qualified Disability Expense. Since I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>opened the account, I have used the reloadable debit card option to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>transfer funds from the account as needed in order to purchase things for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Dustin. The account helped us purchase new bedroom furniture, a new<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>transport wheelchair, new shoes, batteries for Dustin's favorite musical<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>items, haircuts, and his lunch with staff. All of these purchases are<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>considered QDEs because they make a difference in the quality of Dustin's<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>life. Finally, we can move beyond the Bank of Mom!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>How does the account help increase Dustin's health, independence, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>quality of life? Dustin is very social. He loves to meet new people,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>travel, shop, and experience new things. He enjoys going to fairs,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>festivals, and concerts. He likes to visit friends and family, to go<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>swimming, and to eat out. The ABLE account provides many opportunities for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Dustin to do the things that enrich his life.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Here are a few fast facts about STABLE.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . It is not just for Medicaid recipients!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . The Ohio Treasurer's Office has given more than one thousand<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> presentations over the past three years to educate families and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> individuals about this program and spread the word. Ohio was the first<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> state to introduce the ABLE program, and enrollment is open to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> eligible persons from any state.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . As of January 2018, more than forty ABLE programs nationwide welcome<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> eligible individuals to open ABLE accounts. Most of these programs<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> enroll individuals regardless of their state of residence.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . If a person developed a disability before the age of twenty-six, even<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> if it was not diagnosed until later, he or she may be eligible for an<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> ABLE account. One account can be opened per person.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Anyone can contribute funds into an ABLE account up to the maximum of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> fifteen thousand dollars in a given year. (This level may increase as<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> the amounts change for the 529 College Savings Plan.)<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . If a person with a disability is working, he/she may contribute an<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> additional $12,140 per year for a total of $27,140 per year, up to a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> lifetime maximum of $468,000.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Persons in Ohio (such as parents, other relatives, or friends of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> account holders) qualify for up to $4,000 in state tax credits for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> their contributions. This amount varies from state to state, as does<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> the amount required to open the account and any maintenance fees.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Excess funds can be placed in the ABLE account if the person with a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> disability needs to keep resources under two thousand dollars in order<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> to protect government benefits.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . The account allows a person to save or invest money in multiple ways.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Qualified Disability Expenses are interpreted very broadly. They may<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> include rent, home expenses, transportation, leisure activities, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> technology, as well as medical expenses, co-pays, and even funeral<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> expenses.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Money from the ABLE account cannot be spent on alcohol, tobacco,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> gambling, pornography, or gifts to others. It can only be used for the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> account holder's needs.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . The debit card may be loaded with up to fifteen thousand dollars, the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> maximum yearly account limit. The money is still considered to be in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> the account, and therefore it is not a resource for the purposes of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> Medicaid and other services.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . The debit card is a great way to help teach financial literacy to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> youth while maintaining the ability to monitor spending.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . At the time of the account holder's death, after all burial expenses<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> and liabilities are paid, Medicaid may ask for repayment if there is<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> anything left in the account. Some states are working on legislative<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> measures to have this rule changed.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The key to having an ABLE account is to use the money. Spend it and enjoy<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>life!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I see the ABLE program as an important tool to help change the mindset of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>persons with disabilities and their families. It can create new options for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>independence while it improves daily life. I share these points whenever I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>meet families with special needs, whether families of disabled children or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>adults. This program truly offers a wonderful change for the disability<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>world.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>PROGRAMS<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption 1: Mara Oneichu sits at a drafting board, using a print/Braille<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ruler.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption 2: Jesse Fung conducts an experiment to determine the amount of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>stress on building materials.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption 3: Natalie Shaheen leads a group of STEM EQ students as they<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>explore the Jerusalem Mill Living History Museum in Kingston, Maryland.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>A Place of One's Own: The 2019 STEM EQ Program in Baltimore<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Natalie Shaheen<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: The NFB has long recognized that blind students face<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>serious challenges in gaining access to opportunities in mathematics and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the sciences, due to the emphasis on visual learning when these subjects<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>are taught in mainstream classrooms. For more than a decade the NFB has<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>hosted summer opportunities in the STEM fields (science, technology,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>engineering, and mathematics), showing blind students that they are capable<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of pursuing STEM studies and careers. In this article, project director<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Natalie Shaheen describes the most recent NFB STEM program, the 2019 STEM<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>EQ.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In June 2019 I was thrilled to join thirty blind high school students who<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>gathered at NFB headquarters in Baltimore for a week of learning and fun in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>STEM EQ. STEM, of course, stands for science, technology, engineering, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>mathematics, and EQ refers to "engineering quotient." Made possible through<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a generous grant from the National Science Foundation (NSF), STEM EQ gives<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blind students hands-on experience in the STEM fields. The NSF grant<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>provides for STEM EQ programs in 2018, 2019, and 2020, and for two programs<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to be held in 2021. Each program focuses on structural engineering.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Structural engineering is sometimes described as the practical side of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>architecture. Architects are largely concerned with aesthetic effect when<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>they design a building. They think about how people will use the space, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>they try to design places that will meet human needs. Using architectural<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blueprints, structural engineers figure out how the building actually can<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>be constructed. What sort of interior beams and braces will be needed to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>keep the structure intact? How can the floors be made strong enough to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>withstand the weight they must carry? Can the building survive if an<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>earthquake strikes?<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"What would you build if you could create a place of your own?" This was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the framing question we asked the students for the 2018 and 2019 STEM EQ<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>programs. The students let their imaginations rove freely, and each of them<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>came up with an idea. Whether it was a recording studio, a carpentry<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>workshop, or a country getaway, each building had to meet a given set of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>criteria and constraints. Criteria are things that a design must do, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>constraints are things it cannot do. For example, one criterion was that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the place must be an enclosed space. It could not be a gazebo with open<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sides or an amphitheater open to the sky. A constraint was that the place<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>couldn't exceed 130 square feet. If you build a structure of less than 150<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>square feet, usually you don't need to get a permit.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Few of the students had ever been exposed to drawing. They had almost no<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>experience examining or creating pictures or diagrams of any kind. Once<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>they decided on the building they wanted, they began to experiment with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>designs. Instead of drawing their designs they worked with a variety of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>arts and crafts supplies. They built "scratch models" with toothpicks, pipe<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>cleaners, construction paper, aluminum foil and other materials.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>At the next stage, the students were introduced to some of the disciplines<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>they needed as structural engineers. They tried some basic drawing with the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Sensational Blackboard. They learned what engineers mean when they refer to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>an orthographic projection or an isometric perspective.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>One kind of technical drawing the students learned to read and create is<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>called a multi-view drawing. A multi-view drawing allows someone else to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>understand the place you want to build. Usually a building can be shown by<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>drawing three views: a top view, a front view, and a right side view. The<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>students had to create multi-view drawings for their structures. Students<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and instructors worked out tactile conventions to represent the specific<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>line types used by architects and engineers. In determining these tactile<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>conventions, they tried to stick as closely as possible to the conventions<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that are used in visual drawings. This system is a work in progress! We're<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>still trying to figure out the best way to represent the nuances of visual<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>drawings in a tactile format.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>One of the constraints the students had to keep in mind was that their<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>buildings had to be able to support the weight of heavy snow. In fact, each<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>building had to be strong enough to hold the amount of snow that might fall<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>during a winter in Alaska! To calculate the strength of their buildings,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the students learned about force propagation, the ways that forces move<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>through a structure. If five feet of snow is piled on the roof, how is all<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that weight distributed throughout the building? As they worked out these<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>calculations, the students discovered the practical value of studying math,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>especially trigonometry.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>All of the students did the mathematical calculations for their own<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>structures. For some, who had never had proper access to the material in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>their math classes, these calculations presented real challenges. Many of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the structures were fairly basic in form-rectangles, squares, or pentagons.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Others were highly unusual. One student designed a structure with nineteen<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sides!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>With the guidance of David Neitfeld, the woodworking instructor at the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Colorado Center for the Blind (CCB), the students next created scale models<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of their structures. According to the scale, one inch represented one foot,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>so a building that would be 130 feet wide when completed would be 13 inches<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>wide as a model. To build their models, the students used balsa wood and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>worked with some basic hand tools.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>By Friday, the final day of the program, each of the students had a set of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>"deliverables" to display. These deliverables were as follows:<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Graphical artifacts (drawings)<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Algorithmic artifacts (mathematical calculations)<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Scale models<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText> . Narrative artifacts (self-reflection on the experience)<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The students displayed their work at a grand expo on Friday. NFB staff<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>members, parents, and members of the community visited one display after<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>another. Everyone asked questions and marveled at the ingenuity the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>students had shown.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In the 2019 STEM EQ program we were very fortunate to have outstanding<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>instructors. Wade Goodridge from Utah State University has worked with NFB<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>science programs for the past six years. He began his career teaching<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>industrial arts at the high school level, and he later moved on to become a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>hydraulic engineer. Although he is sighted and had no experience with blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>people before he came to the NFB, from the beginning he was comfortable<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>with the young people in our STEM programs. He brought two of his graduate<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>students to the 2019 STEM EQ.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Peter Anderson was another STEM EQ instructor. He develops programs at the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Science Museum in St. Paul, Minnesota. Ann Cunningham, a tactile artist who<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>teaches art at the CCB, shared her expertise in raised-line drawing.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Another instructor was Melissa Lomax, who formerly coordinated programs for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blind youth through BISM (Blind Industries and Services of Maryland). Chris<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Meyer and Daniel Belding, both from Indiana, served as blind mentors.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Although they couldn't join us in person, several blind professionals spoke<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>with the students via Skype. Blind engineer Nathanael Wales and blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>architect Chris Downey shared their experiences and strategies for the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>workforce. Alexander Richmond, a blind student majoring in civil<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>engineering at the University of Alabama, and Mark Colasurdo, a blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>doctoral candidate in biomedical engineering, explained how they handle<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>classwork and projects. Many of the STEM EQ students felt that these<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>conversations were the high point of the week.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Our thirty STEM EQ students were a richly diverse group. They came from<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>nineteen states and one U.S. territory, Guam. They ranged in age from<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>fourteen to nineteen. Sixteen identified as female and fourteen as male.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Eighteen described themselves as Caucasian and twelve as coming from other<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>racial backgrounds.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>At every NFB STEM program it is exciting to watch the students grow and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>change, even in so short a time. One of our students was very strong in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>math and had no trouble with any of the calculations. However, he had never<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>worked with tools. He had been told that carpentry was out of the question<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>for him because of his low vision. At the end of STEM EQ, he announced that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>he would start to do woodworking when he got home. Now he knew that his<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blindness did not prevent him from using tools.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The student from Guam had been sheltered in many ways. Few opportunities<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>had been available to her growing up. Yet her family allowed her to make<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the twenty-four-hour journey from home, changing planes three times to get<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to Baltimore. Making that journey was an achievement in itself!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The students worked hard to design their buildings and create their models<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>for the expo. But there is always time for fun at NFB events, and STEM EQ<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>was no exception. One evening the students went to a state park and played<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>beep baseball. On other evenings they went shopping, played board games, or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>just hung around getting to know each other. By the time they scattered to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>their homes across the country and over the Pacific, they had made new<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>friends and become members of our NFB family.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption 1: A boy reads the page in his Perkins Braillewriter at the Idaho<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>BELL Academy.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption 2: John, Van, and Will Baylor enjoy a weaving craft at South<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Carolina BELL.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption 3: Students from the Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, BELL Academy meet<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Governor Tom Wolf at the Pennsylvania Capitol.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille Enrichment for Literacy and Learning<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Carla McQuillan<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: Carla McQuillan serves as president of the National<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Federation of the Blind of Oregon, and she is the executive director of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Main Street Montessori. Since 2017 she has coordinated the NFB BELL<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Academies.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The first BELL program was organized in Maryland in the summer of 2008<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>under the leadership of Melissa Riccobono and with the inspiration of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>teacher Jackie Mushington-Anderson. The program grew out of the recognition<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that blind children generally did not receive adequate Braille instruction<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>during the school year. Furthermore, they lacked exposure to blind role<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>models who read Braille fluently, traveled with confidence using the long<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>white cane, and used other skills of blindness on a daily basis. BELL is an<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>acronym for Braille Enrichment for Literacy and Learning. The BELL program<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>was created to provide fun and educational Braille-based activities for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blind and low-vision children as well as contact with blind role models who<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>serve as volunteers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Over the following years, BELL programs (now officially called BELL<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Academies) sprouted up in one state after another. Twenty-six states hosted<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>one or more BELLs in 2019, for a grand total of thirty-four BELL Academies<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>nationwide.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In the past the national BELL coordinator provided guidance and information<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to affiliates that planned to start BELL Academies for the first time. Over<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the years Natalie Shaheen and Carlton Walker each held the BELL coordinator<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>position. During the winter affiliates starting new programs sent two<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>teachers or volunteers to NFB headquarters for a weekend of intensive<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>planning and training. Established programs sent one person instead of two.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When I coordinated our BELL Academy in Oregon, I returned home from<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Baltimore with lots of exciting ideas to share. I organized a weekend of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>training for our BELL teachers and volunteers. The weekend was highly<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>successful. It helped us recruit volunteers and spread the word about BELL<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>among parents of blind children. It even brought in some very welcome<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>donations!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Instead of sending BELL leaders to Baltimore for training, I saw the value<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of training novice BELL teams in their home states. In the winter of 2018 I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>conducted training sessions for novice programs across the country. Then I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>visited the programs during the summer to make suggestions and lend<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>support. All of this training involved an enormous amount of time on the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>road. It was too much for one person to take on year after year.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In January 2019 a group of experienced coordinators of state BELL programs<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>conducted a training weekend in Baltimore. All of the coordinators were<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>experienced teachers: Michelle Chacon, Carlton Walker, Cayte Mendez, Craig<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Cooper, Krystal Guillory, and me. In the winter and spring the six of us<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>led training weekends for affiliates that were starting new programs. Each<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of us led at least one training, and some people conducted more than one.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The training process was much more manageable when we spread out the work<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>load.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Resources vary widely from one NFB affiliate to another, and inevitably<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>each BELL Academy takes on its own character. However, it is important for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>all of the programs to meet the high standards established by the NFB. When<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>trainers visit a BELL Academy, they complete an extensive evaluation form.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Affiliates also filled out detailed self-assessments. These evaluations<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>help affiliates recognize the strengths of their programs and identify<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>areas where they can improve.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The biggest problem for many affiliates that want to run a BELL Academy is<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>finding a qualified teacher. One year we had to cancel our program in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Oregon at the last minute because three weeks before the start date our<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>teacher found out she had to take a summer course. We would like to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>establish an internship program for BELL teachers. The interns would train<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in Baltimore before they assist the teacher in an established program.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Developing and sustaining our BELL Academies takes money. Nearly all of our<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>BELL teachers are paid, and sometimes affiliates have to rent space where<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>classes can be held. Then there are all the incidental expenses-lunches,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Braille paper, museum admissions, arts and crafts supplies, and transit<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>fares. Yet most of the work of our BELL Academies is carried out by<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>dedicated NFB volunteers. Many of these volunteers recall how their parents<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>fought to obtain Braille instruction for them when they were growing up.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>They want to make sure today's blind children get the opportunities they<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>didn't have themselves.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>For the past several years Wells Fargo has been a primary donor to our BELL<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Academies. Not only has the company given us generous donations; it has<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>contributed educational opportunities for our children as well. The 2018<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>BELL theme was Hands-on Banking. Several BELL Academies conducted field<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>trips to Wells Fargo banks. Bankers made up debit cards so the students<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>could try out the ATM machines. Children even were allowed to explore the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>vaults where money is stored. At some banks students and bankers held<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>contests to see who could sort coins the fastest under learning shades. Not<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>too surprisingly, the children won every time!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Any time we waver in our commitment to BELL, we have only to remember some<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of the children whose lives have been transformed through our programs.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I'll never forget an eleven-year-old girl who enrolled in our Oregon BELL<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in 2017. She had been blind for only two years. She was being homeschooled,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and her family had very little knowledge of the resources that were<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>available. Her mother taught herself uncontracted Braille, but she was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>unaware that there is a contracted form of the Braille code. She<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>transcribed as many books as she could manage, each word spelled out letter<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by letter.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>As soon as this child entered our BELL Academy, we put out a message on the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>NFB listservs, seeking a one-on-one instructor to teach her UEB (Unified<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>English Braille). The more she learned, the more excited she became. When<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>she got her hands on a Perkins Brailler, she began to write stories. At the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>end of our two-week BELL Academy she gave a presentation. "I had never been<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>around another blind person in my life," she said, "and now I've met seven<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of them!" Her parents said they had never seen her so happy since she lost<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>her sight.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Sometimes we see dramatic changes in a single day. The father of an eight-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>year-old boy in West Virginia worried because his son wanted to hold his<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>hand everywhere they went. He knew that his son needed to become more<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>independent, but he didn't know how to make it happen. On the first day of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the BELL Academy, the child met a group of blind children and adults who<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>used long white canes to get where they wanted to go. When his father came<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to pick him up, the boy grabbed his cane and headed for the car on his own.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>At the end of each summer we receive many heartfelt letters from the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>parents of our BELL participants. "My son just finished his fifth year of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>BELL, and as always, it was a wonderful experience," wrote a mother from<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Illinois. "Not only do the students receive excellent Braille practice and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>activities, they participate in wonderful field trips. For those two<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>precious weeks in my son's life he's surrounded by friends who also have<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>white canes and read Braille, and that is a rare gift."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Another parent wrote about the ways BELL Academy transformed her son's<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>life. "Three years ago my son was the visually-impaired kid who stood<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>against the building at recess. He had a one-on-one aide all day long. He<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sat alone with his adult aide in the classroom, had special seating in the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>lunchroom with the aide standing behind him, and used the staff bathroom.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>For PE he practiced passing a pencil from one hand to the other. If you<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>have kids and want them to become independent and successful in life, you<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>know that wrapping them up in a bubble is not such a good idea. NFB and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>BELL Academy have taught us that Thomas is not just visually impaired; he<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>is so much more. We have to help teach others what Thomas needs (after we<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>learn it ourselves from NFB and all the knowledgeable people affiliated<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>there), and then Thomas has to learn to advocate loudly for himself every<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>day. He has come a long way from that kid standing alone at recess three<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>years ago. He is now a member of the gifted society MENSA, and he is<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>looking to skip fifth grade and enter the gifted program in our middle<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>school. He is on the swim team, and he has friends and family all around<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>him. Since coming to BELL Academy through the support of its wonderful<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>contributors, and with the guidance and love of the National Federation of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the Blind my son will really learn to live the life he wants and deserves."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Children crave independence. When they walk into a BELL classroom, they're<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>encouraged to try new experiences and to explore freely. They begin to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>unlock the joys of reading. They meet blind adults who are living the lives<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>they want. The results are magical!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Caption: Luc Gandarias competes in the Sunfair Invitational in Yakima,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Washington.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Regarding the Colorado Center for the Blind and My Experience<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Luc Gandarias<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Reprinted from Braille Monitor, Volume 62, Number 6, June 2019<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: Luc Gandarias is a sixteen-year-old high school student<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>from Washington State. He attended NFB STEM EQ in June, and he hopes to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>become an astrophysicist. This article is based on a presentation he gave<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>at the 2019 convention of the NFB of Washington.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I am here to speak to you today about my summer at the Colorado Center for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the Blind (CCB). Before I talk about the main points, it is important that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I give some background. I first learned of the CCB while I was at the NFB<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>national convention three years ago. My mother and I were returning to our<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>hotel room after a lengthy general session to change and prepare for the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>banquet when she noticed the CCB table. Immediately she strode over to it<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>with me in tow and began cheerfully firing questions at the CCB rep. I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>listened curiously until I heard that the summer program lasted eight weeks<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and took place all the way out in Colorado. At that point I tuned out the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>conversation.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Once her voracious appetite for answers was satisfied, my mother turned to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>me. "Excellent!" she said. "Guess where you're going after freshman year."<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I was twelve at the time, just entering seventh grade. I was vehemently<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>opposed to any program that impinged upon my summer pastimes of hanging out<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>with my friends and playing Minecraft. Clearly I wasn't seeing the wisdom<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in going to such a program, though it would provide training in the skills<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I needed to realize my goals in the professional workplace.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>As time wore on, I grew considerably warmer toward the idea of going to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>CCB. I talked with many of my closest Federation family members, who all<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>thought that the Colorado Center was a perfect fit for me. They said the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>experience would give me a taste of what college life might be like.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Another factor that gave me the desire to attend the program was learning<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>about the additional activities it offered, such as outdoor rock climbing,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>whitewater rafting, and a 5K run. These activities would all be done under<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sleepshades, and I was understandably underwhelmed by the idea. I didn't<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>realize that once you're under sleepshades for eight hours a day anyway, it<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>isn't a problem to put them on for recreational activities as well.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Eventually the time came for me to attend the program. My mother and I made<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the journey down to Littleton so I could get situated in my apartment. It<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>was then that I met my counselor, a college student from Georgia named<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Justin Heard. He also served as president of the Georgia Association of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Blind Students. I also met a fellow student named Brett Camen. I soon grew<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>quite close to both of these people.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>After a three-day period of rest while everyone got to know one another,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the program came on hard and fast. The home management segment of the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>program held no real difficulties for me, since I have always been expected<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to cook and help out with the chores at home like any other kid. However,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>even during the first week, I saw enormous growth in other students at the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>program. Their counselors instructed them on how to complete basic cooking<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>or cleaning tasks and then turned them loose to try it themselves. Several<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>students came to CCB scared to open an oven. By the end of the program they<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>were making entire meals unsupervised. That is the power of Structured<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Discovery!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Though the physical tasks of cooking and cleaning weren't difficult for me,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>living with three other people was. It was exceedingly hard to keep my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>possessions separate from those of the others. Several times I went on a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>mad rampage around the apartment, looking for one of my dress shirts that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>had inexplicably dematerialized from the hanger. To make matters even more<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>convoluted, my counselor and I both wore the same size clothing, and we had<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>pairs of khakis that were identical. This experience greatly improved my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>organizational skills, which desperately needed help anyway.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The class that challenged me the most and incited the most growth in my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>skills was travel. I was a competent cane user before coming to the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>program, and I had experience using sleepshades. However, my skills under<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sleepshades were mediocre at best. This changed very quickly. CCB mandated<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that all students were to have their sleepshades on from morning<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>announcements until the bell at the end of the day. Initially this was<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>quite difficult for me, and I was caught several times peeking, but I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>adapted reasonably quickly. After the second week I didn't mind not being<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>able to use my sight, but I minded very much the sticky, itchy,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>uncomfortable nature of the sleepshades. After all, the temperature in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Littleton was in the high 90s. However, I slowly grew accustomed to this,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>too.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The first few days of travel class were slow going. They mainly consisted<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of basic cane techniques, but we quickly progressed to lessons navigating<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>intersections in the neighborhood surrounding the center. When I asked when<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>we would work on traveling to specific locations, I was informed that they<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>would start those lessons the following week.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Another week was too long for me to wait. I planned with one of my friends<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to go to the Microsoft store in Park Meadows on Thursday of the second week<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of the program. The store was fifty miles from the apartments, all the way<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>on the other side of Denver, and the trip involved three train transfers<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and two buses. Actually, Michael and I had no real reason to go to this<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>store. We didn't need to purchase anything, nor did we have the money. The<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>trip was meant to challenge our problem-solving skills and to prove our<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>abilities to the counselors so we could take other expeditions in the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>future. The travel instructors were quite willing to let me go on<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>independent routes or to go with another student. They even permitted me to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>go to Wells Fargo to resolve an issue with my bank account during center<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>hours-alone, of course.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Perhaps the most beloved part of each week at CCB was the Sunday shopping<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>spree and cleaning extravaganza. Students would loudly complain to one<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>another about how long shopping took and how much they didn't want to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>clean. I never found cleaning particularly grueling; in fact, it usually<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>took me about a half hour to clean the apartment. However, I am in full<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>agreement with the other students regarding the laborious task of shopping<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>for the week. It was mind-numbing, and it took hours. The shopper's<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>assistants were slow and rarely found the correct items. It took nearly two<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>hours to locate everything on a twenty-five-item list and get checked out.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>At home I know the layout of all the local stores, and I can easily find<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>almost anything. A shopping trip like the one I just described would take<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>my family and me about twenty minutes total. In spite of this, I feel that<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>it was beneficial for me to do this shopping on a regular basis. I may have<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a more efficient method for shopping in my area, but the experience at the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>center showed me what shopping will be like when I am in college or living<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>on my own. In addition, creating a weekly budget to provide meals<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>accommodating the various eating styles in my apartment was a challenge and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a skill I needed to develop. I learned a lot about budget and compromise.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Also, I learned how expensive my favorite summer meal of Greek pasta salad<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>is to make when I'm not shopping at Trader Joe's.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The most highly anticipated and fun part of the program was the NFB<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>national convention. All eighty-nine students from the three NFB training<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>programs were flown to Florida to experience the magic of a national<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>convention. Our trip was excellent. Naturally we were required to wear our<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sleepshades from eight in the morning until five in the evening, unless we<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>were sitting in a meeting. This amounted to very little actual time wearing<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the shades, since meetings comprised most of the day. However, navigating<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>around the hotel under shades was torture! The place was cavernous and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>echoing in one area, which was difficult to navigate, but not too bad. The<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>lower hall was a different story altogether. It was carpeted and lined with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>tables that made shorelining impossible. The only way to navigate this<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>hallway was to make an educated guess where the walls were and walk as<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>straight as possible toward the escorts at the end of the hall. I got all<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>kinds of mobility practice in a vast and unknown area. It was good<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>experience for my fellow CCB students and for me.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>General sessions were long, but they were never boring. I had had the good<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>fortune to attend convention three times before this summer, so I knew what<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to expect. This was not the case for many of my peers, and they were<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>overwhelmed by the sheer number of blind people in one place. Something I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>noticed among all students during the convention was the desire for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>involvement in this great organization. Even the students who were most<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>depressed by their condition before coming to the convention were fired up<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by the NFB philosophy by the end. Interacting with people who share ideas,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>adventures, and prospects for the future was a new experience for many of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In this speech I can't contain all that I learned at CCB, but I would like<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to mention one thing before I close: I will never be a dishwasher! All<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>along my plan has been to go to college and study to become a physicist,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and now I am doubly convinced that this will be my path. At the end of the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>program, students were assigned to an internship at various local<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>establishments. My job was to be a dishwasher at a local restaurant. On the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>first day, the supervisor told my friend and me that he hoped this<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>internship made sure that we never worked in the restaurant industry! That<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>set the tone for the rest of the week. On the upside, we got free food and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>beverages the entire time we worked there.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I also enjoyed the commute in the morning. It was rather long, since we<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>worked in Golden. After the first two days we were deemed to have enough<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>travel skills to find our own way, and we made the commute without<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>supervision.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Eight weeks at CCB seemed daunting at the beginning of the summer, and I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>thought I would lose all my vacation. In the end, I am so happy I went to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>CCB and came to know the amazing friends that I met there. I have people I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>can call all across the country now. I have lifelong friends, and I got a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>glimpse of what skills I need beyond my regular school day. Thankfully, my<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>NFB family and my first TVI, Denise Mackenstadt, set me on a good path. I<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>only hope that attendance at CCB will be an option for more students from<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Washington State. This is not just a live-in program but a real-life<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>program!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>REVIEW<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My Father's Blood<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Amy Krout-Horn<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Reviewed by Donna W. Hill<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My Father's Blood<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>By Amy Krout-Horn<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>All Things That Matter Press, 2011, 177 pages<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>ISBN: 9780984639298<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/My-Fathers-Blood-Amy-Krout-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Horn/dp/0984639292/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1320090381&sr=1-1<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Available in accessible formats at www.bookshare.org<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>>From the Editor: Donna W. Hill is the author of the young-adult novel The<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Heart of Applebutter Hill.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>If you aren't familiar with author Amy Krout-Horn, you don't know what<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>you've been missing! I gave My Father's Blood five stars on Amazon because<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>it wasn't possible to give it ten. Krout-Horn writes with feeling about her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Native American heritage-Lakota-and about the Type 1 diabetes that runs in<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>her family and led to her blindness at age twenty-two.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I have read many excellent novels and memoirs, but something sets Krout-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Horn's autobiographical novel apart. She has a riveting story to tell, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>she parses it out in ways that captivate the reader. But what truly makes<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>this book stand out is the author's use of language. Her language is<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>stunning without being flowery, raw without being hopeless. It is a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>beautiful platform that lifts the story with love.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>My Father's Blood is the story of a family, a community, and a nation, seen<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>through the perspective of a child and later a young woman. Most of the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>story is set in rural Iowa, where the author grew up with both sets of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>grandparents nearby. We also get a look at other areas of the Midwest,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>including Minnesota and South Dakota, and we visit a wonderful bit of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Florida as well.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Even as a child in her mother's arms, Krout-Horn is keenly observant. She<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>has a pure spirituality and is at one with the natural world. The Aurora<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Borealis, the lone tree on the lake, and the Lakota language itself hold<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>multiple meanings. They stay with the reader for their beauty; they are<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>signposts inviting us to go deeper.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Part of the power of this book is the way it portrays the Native American<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>experience as one family, seemingly white and average, deals with the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>impact of assimilation over the generations. Krout-Horn's dreams and her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>waking glimpses of the Lakota world draw her toward a part of her heritage<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>that others would have her deny.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes at age six, Krout-Horn follows her father<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>down another road of being different, in addition to her Lakota heritage.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>As a child she deals with the physical complications and the social and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>emotional impacts of the disease. Classmates shun her on the playground,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>afraid that diabetes is contagious. In one poignant scene she hides under<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>her hospital bed in an attempt to avoid having her blood drawn.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The protagonist of My Father's Blood is a bright, inquisitive girl who<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>displays the full range of emotions and reactions. Krout-Horn is not<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>reluctant to express bitterness, resentment, or guilt through her young<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>heroine. Her issues aren't once and done. They resolve and resurface as she<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>matures. To survive, she must pick herself up again and again.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When diabetic retinopathy leaves Krout-Horn totally blind, she experiences<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>a period of intense depression. She drops out of college and retreats to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>her room. Eventually, with the love, support, and gentle humor of her<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>extended family, she emerges determined to rebuild her life. Her journey<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>leads her to BLIND, Inc. (Blindness: Living in New Dimensions), the NFB's<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>training center in Minneapolis. Krout-Horn describes her initial terror of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>crossing streets independently and the camaraderie among the students and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>staff members at the center. With the unflagging support of the BLIND,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Inc., community, she grows in confidence and gains critical new skills.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>After a year of training Krout-Horn returns to college and becomes immersed<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in studying the Lakota language.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I've read My Father's Blood several times, and each time I notice something<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>I missed before. This truly is a magnificent book!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>You can learn more about Amy Krout-Horn's life and work at<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>https://nativeearthwords.wordpress.com/amy/<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Odds and Ends<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>EDUCATIONAL RESOURCES<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Resources for Teachers of the Visually Impaired<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>http://www.nbp.org<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Contact: 800-548-7323<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>orders@nbp.org<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>As you jump into the new school year, National Braille Press has compiled a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>list of books, products, programs, and other resources especially for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>teachers of the visually impaired and the students and families they serve.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The items listed in the TVI Toolbox section include Just Enough to Know<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Better by Eileen Curran, a revised primer on Braille that incorporates UEB;<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Nemeth reference sheets; UEB reference sheets for math; Braille alphabet<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>cards; and a list of Braille transcribers.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>TACTILE GRAPHICS<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Creative Adaptations for Learning (CAL)<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>www.cal-s.org<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>38 Beverly Rd., Great Neck, NY 11021<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Contact: Shirley Keller, 516-466-9143<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Creative Adaptations for Learning (CAL) creates and produces Braille<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>flashcards, greeting cards, and embossed pictures that bring drawings to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>life. CAL creates tactile graphics for children who are blind or visually<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>impaired, or those with autism, cognitive delays, and learning<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>disabilities. Books from CAL include Let's Learn Shapes with Shapely CAL<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and Humpty Dumpty and Other Touching Rhymes.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>NEW BOOKS<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Pedro and the Octopus<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Deborah Kent<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Illustrated by Ann Cunningham<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Available from NFB Independence Market<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Contact: Ellen Ringlein, 410-659-9314<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>When his big sister, Lena, warns him that octopuses have lots of sticky<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>arms for catching kids, Pedro isn't too sure that a family trip to the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>beach will be fun. Pretty soon, though, he gets caught up in the excitement<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>of walking in the sand with his long white cane, finding shells and stones<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to put into his pail, and playing in the waves. With its print and Braille<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>text and Ann Cunningham's captivating illustrations that appeal to both<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>vision and touch, this unique picture book can be enjoyed by blind and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sighted readers alike. This TwinVisionŽ book was published by the American<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>During a blind child's lifetime, he will be exposed to tactual<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>representations of art, graphs, charts, stars, and many other elements. The<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>earlier a child has access to tactile drawings and pictures, the better he<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>will understand these concepts and effectively interpret these<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>representations later on in life.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>In addition to Pedro and the Octopus, the Action Fund has produced a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>teaching guide for parents and teachers to help children examine and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>interpret the differing aspects contained within the pages. This will<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>create greater exploration and discussion around the tactile elements and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>creative details of this beautiful book. For more information including the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>teaching guide, visit the Pedro and the Octopus page at<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>https://actionfund.org/pedroandtheoctopus.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Families wishing to apply to receive a free copy of this innovative book<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>can write to the American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults, 1800<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Johnson Street, Baltimore, Maryland, 21230, or email<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>actionfund@actionfund.org.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Getting Visual Assistance with an iPhone<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>by Judith Dixon<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Available in Braille and digital formats from National Braille Press<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>www.nbp.org<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Technology writer Judy Dixon takes the reader on a tour of the ten most<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>user-friendly apps for getting visual assistance with an iPhone. She<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>discusses apps that employ artificial intelligence for identifying colors<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>and currency or reading barcodes and handwritten documents. She also covers<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>getting sighted assistance through apps such as Aira and Be My Eyes. In<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>addition, she briefly discusses the nature of help itself and how there are<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>as many opinions on using sighted assistance as there are individuals.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>INFORMATION APPS<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Aira<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>https://aira.io<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>800-835-1934<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Aira Tech Corp is a technology company dedicated to making lives simpler,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>easier, and more fun. Aira uses the latest technologies to connect people<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>who are blind or have low vision with highly trained professionals who<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>provide visual information on demand. When some extra information can help<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>you save time and be more efficient, open the Aira app and make a call.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>You'll connect with an Aira agent who can see your surroundings through<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>your phone's camera. All agents must pass robust background checks, sign<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>strict privacy clauses, and undergo rigorous training. In August 2019 Aira<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>announced that the first five minutes of any call will now be free of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>charge.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Be My Eyes<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>https://www.bemyeyes.com<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Be My Eyes is a free app that connects blind and low-vision people with<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>sighted volunteers for visual assistance through a live video call. Be My<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Eyes is available in 150 countries, and volunteers can provide assistance<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in 180 languages.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>TapTapSee<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>https://taptapseeapp.com<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>TapTapSee is a mobile camera application designed for blind and visually-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>impaired users. TapTapSee uses your device's camera and Voiceover functions<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>to take a picture of anything and identify it for you out loud. The app can<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>identify any two- or three-dimensional object.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>TRAVEL<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Blind Travelers' Network<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>https://blindtravelersnetwork.org<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Perhaps you're a blind college student who plans to study abroad, and you'd<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>like to learn more about resources and nonvisual accessibility in your host<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>country. Maybe you're the sighted parent of a blind child, and you want to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>plan vacation activities that everyone in your family can enjoy. The Blind<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Travelers' Network (BTN) is here to help you. The blog section contains<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>blogs by several blind and low-vision travelers who have a wealth of<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>knowledge, experience, and advice to share. In the review section, you can<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>read and post reviews of resorts, cruise ships, museums, theme parks, and<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>other places, all written from a nonvisual or low-vision perspective. In<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the discussion board section you can ask questions of other blind and low-<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>vision travelers. Your journey starts here!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>STORIES<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Contact: Patti Chang, pchang@nfb.org<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>Many families participate in the Free Braille Books Program funded by the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults (AAF). The AAF is<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>reaching out to parents, asking you please to share your stories of how<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>your family has used or benefited from free Braille books. The AAF shares<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>these stories with donors who make this program possible. The strongest<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>stories are those that share a little bit about your child and discuss the<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>impact of the program. The AAF will not use identifying information unless<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>you say it is okay. First names may be used to make the story personal for<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>the donors. Don't worry about literary quality; send the story you want to<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>tell, and the AAF team will polish it up for you. Thank you for your help!<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>SURVEY<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>K-12 and Higher Education Survey<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>https://nfb.org/edtechsurvey<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>The NFB is gathering information regarding the accessibility of educational<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>technology used in our nation's schools, kindergarten through graduate<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>level. If you are a student, parent, teacher, or administrator who uses<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>screen access software or other accommodations to participate nonvisually<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>in educational programs or services, or if you are the parent, teacher, or<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>administrator of someone who does, please complete this survey once a<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText>semester.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoPlainText><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p></div></body></html>