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<DIV><FONT size=2 face=Arial>Yes, yes!</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=2 face=Arial></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=2 face=Arial>after reading the Dr. Schroeder article, I
forwarded it to like five people too!</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=2 face=Arial> I was very happy to see it. Thanks,
Kevin!</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=2 face=Arial></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=2 face=Arial>Ian</FONT></DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=2 face=Arial></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=2 face=Arial></FONT> </DIV>
<BLOCKQUOTE
style="BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; PADDING-LEFT: 5px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: 5px; MARGIN-RIGHT: 0px">
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial">----- Original Message ----- </DIV>
<DIV
style="FONT: 10pt arial; BACKGROUND: #e4e4e4; font-color: black"><B>From:</B>
<A title=cindy.smith8109@aol.com href="mailto:cindy.smith8109@aol.com">Cindy
Smith</A> </DIV>
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial"><B>To:</B> <A title=nfbk@nfbnet.org
href="mailto:nfbk@nfbnet.org">NFB of Kentucky Internet Mailing List</A> </DIV>
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial"><B>Sent:</B> Thursday, December 12, 2013 7:52
PM</DIV>
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial"><B>Subject:</B> Re: [Nfbk] The Critical Factor
in the Education of Blind Children</DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>Kevin, after I posted my comment, our friend Latrese was prompted to also
read it, then she got all excited and called me about it and we talked for an
hour or more about it I'd like to read the whole book can you give me any
information on it or accessing more of his writings?<BR><BR>Sent from my
iPhone</DIV>
<DIV><BR>On Dec 12, 2013, at 3:24 PM, Kevin Pearl <<A
href="mailto:kvnprl@twc.com">kvnprl@twc.com</A>> wrote:<BR><BR></DIV>
<BLOCKQUOTE type="cite">
<DIV>
<DIV>Excellent. I'm glad to know this is helpful. It's no secret that I'm a
big fan of Dr Schroeder. We are lucky to count him among our Federation
family. </DIV>
<DIV><BR>On Dec 12, 2013, at 1:11 PM, Cindy Smith <<A
href="mailto:cindy.smith8109@aol.com">cindy.smith8109@aol.com</A>>
wrote:<BR><BR></DIV>
<DIV>
<DIV>Kevin, this is definitely one of the best treatises about blindness
that I have ever read! Thank you so much for putting this on the listserv it
is very inspiring<BR><BR>Sent from my iPhone</DIV>
<DIV><BR>On Dec 12, 2013, at 11:41 AM, Kevin Pearl <<A
href="mailto:kvnprl@twc.com">kvnprl@twc.com</A>> wrote:<BR><BR></DIV>
<BLOCKQUOTE type="cite">
<DIV><B style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">Expectations: The Critical
Factor in the Education of Blind Children.</B><SPAN
style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto"><IMG
alt="Chapter 6: Formal Education"
src="https://nfb.org/images/nfb/publications/fr/fr14/fr04se06.gif"
width=574 height=294></SPAN>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">by Fredric K.
Schroeder, Ph.D.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">The following address was delivered
at the eighth International Conference on Blind and Visually Impaired
Children in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.</SPAN></P>
<TABLE border=1 width="15%" align=right>
<TBODY>
<TR>
<TD><SPAN style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto"><IMG hspace=20
alt="Dr. Fredric Schroeder" vspace=20
src="https://nfb.org/images/nfb/publications/fr/fr14/fr04se27.jpg"
width=288 height=357></SPAN></TD></TR>
<TR>
<TD>
<DIV align=center><I style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">Dr.
Fredric Schroeder</I></DIV></TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">Perhaps no
issue has been more hotly debated than the question of which educational
placement or array of services represents the best alternative for blind
children. We tend to view this debate as a contemporary issue�full
inclusion versus residential placement. Yet this debate is not new in
character or substance. In 1865 at the laying of the cornerstone of the
New York State Institution for the Blind at Batavia, Samuel Gridley Howe
stated:</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto"><SPAN style="FONT-STYLE: normal">I
am constantly applied to by teachers to know how to proceed with a blind
child; and I always encourage them to keep it at home, and let it go to
the common school as long as possible. (1866,
in</SPAN> Blindness <SPAN style="FONT-STYLE: normal">1865, p.
185)</SPAN></SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">While Howe
suggests that public school education is preferable to residential
placement, his lifetime devotion to establishing schools for the blind
reflects his understanding that neither system is wholly adequate to meet
the educational needs of blind children. Perhaps the real difficulty in
the debate stems from the complexity of its issues. Residential schools
have certain natural advantages in designing and implementing programs for
blind children. With the students concentrated in one place, curricula can
be adapted and special media prepared, allowing for instruction comparable
to that available to sighted children. Residential schools offer Braille
libraries and are generally noted for their athletics programs.
Additionally, by being in an environment with other blind children, the
blind child has better prospects for social interaction than is often the
case in public schools.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">Alternatively,
inclusionists put forward the compelling argument that segregation from
society fosters separation and isolation. They believe that blind and
other disabled children are part of a diverse society and should not be
separated from it. They assert that our educational system can and must be
available to all and must adapt itself to varying needs rather than
excluding those with differences.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">There is a
tendency to view the individual placement as responsible for the blind
child�s positive or negative experience. Yet the quality of the individual
child�s experience is not fully explained by the placement model itself.
Children going through the very same program frequently have dramatically
different feelings about the education they received. Individual children
bring with them individual human characteristics. Some adjust readily to
change, while others have great difficulty. In other words, the particular
placement is only part of the equation.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">I believe that
the debate over residential versus integrated placement asks the wrong
question. There is no one structure or particular type of program
placement that is best for blind children. All models and all systems will
inevitably succeed with some children and fail with others. What is
needed, therefore, is not the refinement or fine tuning of this system or
that. Instead, all systems must be premised on a fundamental belief in the
ability of blind children to compete�each system must begin with this
belief and translate it into expectations.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">Without a clear
vision of what can be achieved by blind children, no reasonable planning
can take place. Without certain fundamental values, no overarching
philosophy can emerge. Since its founding the National Federation of the
Blind has embodied a clear philosophy of blindness rooted in the basic
belief that the blind can compete on terms of equality with the sighted.
Marc Maurer, President of the Federation, has stated:</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto"><SPAN style="FONT-STYLE: normal">In
1940 we organized to speak for ourselves through the National Federation
of the Blind We have replaced the ancient terms of negativism with a new
language of hope, and society has increasingly come to accept us for what
we are�normal people with normal aspirations and normal abilities. (1990,
in </SPAN>Walking Alone and Marching Together<SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal">, p. 718)</SPAN></SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">I administered
a public school program for five years. What distinguished our program was
our fundamental belief in blind children. When I speak of a fundamental
belief in blind children, I mean just that�a shared personal conviction
that our children are inherently normal and capable of assuming an active
role in society, a belief that they can grow up and marry and have jobs
and raise families and live a normal life, a belief that they will have
strengths and weaknesses and, if encouraged to build on those strengths,
can excel, establishing for themselves a place of real
equality.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">It is important
to distinguish what I call a fundamental belief in the ability of blind
children from the less-defined, generalized belief which exists throughout
our educational system. Certainly teachers as a whole seek to train and
encourage their students to learn and achieve. What separates a
fundamental belief in the ability of blind children from a generalized
belief is the matter of clear expectations.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">In the program
I administered we strove to put into practice our fundamental belief in
blind children. We believed that, given the right training, our students
could compete in all subject areas on terms of real equality. We were not
satisfied with the methods we used to teach the students unless they met
this criterion. For this reason we concentrated intensively on the basic
skills needed by blind children.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">We instructed
them in Braille reading and writing, cane travel, typing, handwriting, and
use of the abacus. These core skills represented the natural expression of
our philosophy of blindness. We believed that our children could compete
and therefore gave them the tools necessary to put that belief into
action. By giving them skills and holding high expectations for them, we
enabled our students to develop the self-confidence to participate fully,
both socially and academically.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">We held a
fundamental belief in the ability of our students and translated that
belief into action. We believed that our children could compete and gave
them the skills necessary to make this belief a reality. When they were
given the skills to meet our expectations, they developed confidence and
learned to achieve. By succeeding and believing in themselves, they began
the process of internalizing our belief in them. In time our expectations
of them became their expectations of themselves; our fundamental belief in
their inherent normalcy became their own.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">What blind
children lack is not access to services, but access to high expectations.
Society holds only minimal expectations for blind people. Consequently the
blind child is rewarded for virtually any level of performance. Even the
most forward-looking people rarely hold more than tenuous and uncertain
expectations for the blind. It is not surprising, therefore, that blind
children lack a clear image of their own potential. To develop a real
sense of their own ability, blind children must be in an environment with
clearly defined expectations.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">When I began
administering a public school program, I found a lack of clear
expectations for blind children. The staff certainly had good intentions
for their students and were doing their best to train and motivate them.
Yet they had a generalized rather than fundamental belief in their
students. None of the children used canes, and therefore they were at a
real disadvantage in getting around the school. They had been taught to
trail walls and use their feet to find steps. Blind children were allowed
to start out five minutes early for recess so that they could get to the
playground before the other children. By and large, partially sighted
children were responsible for leading the totally blind ones. At lunch
time they went early to the cafeteria and sat together while the cafeteria
workers brought them their trays. They were integrated primarily into
non-academic subjects, except for those students who had enough vision to
use print. This program was not, and is not, uncommon. Personnel in these
programs did not have bad motives, were not poorly trained, and were not
lazy. In fact, they had the very best of intentions. In other words, they
had a generalized rather than fundamental belief in their
students.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">In
restructuring our program, we began by integrating a new philosophy about
blindness. Our fundamental belief in blind people expressed itself through
high expectations.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">We believed
that, if blind children were to compete, we must first demonstrate
(through our actions) our belief in their ability. We stopped the practice
of having partially-sighted children lead the totally blind. Rather we
taught children to use white canes and encouraged them to walk quickly and
confidently. Wall-trailing went by the wayside. We stopped releasing our
children early for recess, believing that, if we treated them as though
they were vulnerable, they would learn to act as though they were
vulnerable and would begin to believe it.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">School
personnel had some initial difficulty adjusting to these changes. I
remember the principal�s telling me that we needed to build a sidewalk
leading from the main building to the swings. She said that our students
liked to swing during recess; but, since we no longer let them go early,
the swings were all taken by the time they arrived. She thought a sidewalk
would help them find the swings more quickly. When I asked how the
children were currently getting to the swings, she told me that they had
been taught to trail the fence around the perimeter of the playground. At
the point closest to the swings, a rag had been tied into the chain-link
fence. When they found the rag, the children were to stand with their
backs to the fence and walk straight out to find the swings. No wonder our
children were always the last to arrive at the swings.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">I told her that
what the children needed was not a sidewalk across the playground, but
more practice orienting themselves in large open spaces. When leaving the
building, the children should head out across the playground in the
general direction of the swings. Over time they would learn to recognize
certain natural landmarks such as other playground equipment and slopes in
the ground. With practice they would get better at judging the distance
and direction to travel. Additionally, since swings are a high-interest
activity stimulating much competition, our students would have to be quick
if they were to nab a swing.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">The principal
was apprehensive at the prospect of a half dozen blind children running at
top speed with their canes in a crowd of three hundred youngsters. What
she had not considered was that, when the recess bell rang, there were
three hundred children running at top speed, but they were all running in
the same direction�from the building onto the playground. Expecting that
the blind children in our program could compete on terms of real equality
and giving them the tools to make it possible, we found that they met and
surpassed our expectations. When the blind children in our program first
learned to use canes, we did not teach them to run. They taught themselves
to run because they felt a compelling need to get to the swings first.
When they were released early from class, they walked slowly and
carefully�those with some sight helping those with none. They had no need
to run and no belief that they could. When they learned to use canes and
went to recess with everyone else, they found a need to run and hence
learned to do so.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">But this was
only the beginning. Sometimes they weren�t fast enough. Sometimes the
swings were all taken when they got there. Consequently, they looked for
other things to do. They found and used other pieces of playground
equipment. They met other children and made new friends. They began to
believe that they were normal children; acted accordingly; and, as a
result, were viewed by others as normal.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">We also stopped
the practice of letting the children go early to lunch. We taught them how
to get in line with the other children and use their canes (gently) to
keep track of the person in front of them. We taught them how to carry a
tray while using a cane and how to find an empty seat. Finally, we taught
them to bus their own trays on their way out of the lunchroom. By being
part of the crowd, they naturally ended by sitting with a variety of
students, which contributed to expanded circles of friends.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">In academic
areas we applied the same fundamental belief in the basic equality of our
students. When I was in graduate school, the concept of social integration
was very popular. The basic concept was that placing blind children in an
age-appropriate setting, we were assured, would facilitate social
integration. Yet this concept was incompatible with our overall
philosophy. If we believed that blind children were normal and that, given
proper training, they could compete on terms of equality, then social
integration would send a contradictory message. If blind children are in
classrooms and unable to perform the same work as the other students, how
can they learn to believe that they are equal?</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">We determined,
therefore, to concentrate first on the skills of blindness and mainstream
children only in those areas in which their skills allowed them to
function competitively. This meant that our children received intensive
training in Braille reading and writing, as well as training in typing,
handwriting, use of the abacus, and of course cane travel. As children
were able to read at grade level, they were integrated into language arts
and social studies.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">As they became
skilled in the use of the abacus, they were integrated into math.
Consequently, they were able to perform competitively and thereby
internalize a vision of themselves as inherently normal.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">Let me
reiterate that the key was not the educational placement; the critical
element was our belief in their essential normalcy and the tangible
demonstration of our belief through our actions. By believing in blind
children and having high expectations for them, we enabled them
consistently to reach and surpass our expectations.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">One day one of
our students came to his teacher to complain that his friends had begun
playing tag during recess. When playing tag, one child is �it,� and his or
her objective is to tag or touch another child, thereby making the other
child �it.� Since none of the children wishes to be �it,� the game moves
at a fast pace. The problem for a blind child is that it is difficult to
know who �it� is at any given moment and, more important, where �it� is.
This blind child complained that, since he didn�t know where �it� was, he
didn�t know which way to run and thus spent much of the game being
�it.�</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">We had spent
considerable time and energy convincing our children that they were normal
and could compete on terms of equality. We had taught them through our
words and deeds that, given the right training, they could function
competitively with their sighted peers. We now had a seven-year-old
putting our philosophy to the test. In the game of tag he didn�t feel very
equal, yet he had an expectation that he was capable of full
participation, so he came to us in the absolute certainty that a technique
must exist which would allow him to compete. After considerable
soul-searching, we determined to talk to the youngster and explain to him
that the world had been constructed largely by the sighted with sight in
mind, and after all there are some things that the blind cannot do (such
as driving) because the activity itself is premised on the ability of the
driver to see. We hoped we could explain to him that tag was like
driving�constructed by the sighted for the sighted and that it did not
mean that he was inferior. We hoped that we could explain, in a way that a
seven-year-old would understand, that the blind were not less capable
merely because there were some activities in which sight was an
overwhelming advantage.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">In the meantime
this young fellow had grown tired of waiting for us to come up with a
solution. He believed he was as capable as anyone else and believed that
full participation was a product of having or thinking up the right
technique. He realized he could not see, but, rather than feeling bad
about it, he had learned to meet the situation head-on. Soon thereafter,
before we had a chance to talk with him, he came to school with a small
glass jar. At recess he put a few pebbles in it and replaced the lid. He
told his friends that, when they were playing tag, whoever was �it� had to
shake the jar; and, if he or she did not, the tag did not count. He still
did not know who �it� was, but at least he knew where �it� was.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">All of us with
our master�s degrees and years of experience were prepared to sell a
seven-year-old blind child short�not out of malice, poor training, or even
lack of imagination. Presumably as a group we had at least average powers
of creativity. What limited us was a subtle, almost unrecognizable,
internalization of society�s diminished view of blindness. Even though we
actively worked to promote a positive philosophy of blindness, we were
subject to the negative conditioning of society. No matter how hard we
fought it, we were still ready to accept partial participation while
intellectually wishing to believe in full participation.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">This student
solved his own problem primarily because he believed in himself. The
critical factor was his own expectation and fundamental belief in himself
as a blind person. He believed that he was equal and acted accordingly. He
would not settle for a lesser role but thought and questioned and tried
until he had an answer. Our challenge is to develop a clear vision in
ourselves of what we believe about blindness. We must replace our
generalized belief in blind children with a fundamental belief. This
represents an overarching philosophy guiding our programs but, more
important, guiding our expectations. If we have a clear vision of what
blind children can achieve, they will invariably reach and surpass our
highest expectations for them.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">Inevitably our
programs and services develop from our beliefs, explicitly and implicitly
reflecting our expectations. The real problem with today�s programs for
blind children is their lack of an effective philosophy. Education of the
blind has become trapped by its own thinking, which has resulted in a
system in which children are encouraged to progress from where they are,
without a vision of where we want them to be. We have become complacent,
using progress as our measure of success. We have taken this lack of clear
vision and embraced it as a virtue. We have become the champions of
individualized programs without clearly defined expectations. Yet doing
better today than yesterday is simply not good enough. By using progress
as the measure of success, we mislead ourselves into believing that our
educational systems are working effectively. The real problem of a
generalized belief in blind people is that it lacks definition. The
progress measure of success rewards forward movement irrespective of
whether it is constructive.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">Today�s Braille
literacy problem did not emerge from a negative view of blindness, but
rather from a lack of any specific view at all. If a child has some sight
and is struggling to read print and if he or she begins to read better by
using a CCTV or stronger magnifier, the goal of progress is achieved. The
child is reading better, which is of course what we want. This satisfies
our generalized belief in blind children. The progress standard is not so
much wrong as incomplete. A child�s making progress is good, but only if
it is progress toward a worthy goal, premised on a fundamental belief in
the ability of blind people to compete. I believe that blind children are
fundamentally normal, so I expect that they can become literate. Since I
believe that they are normal, my expectation for their literacy is that
they will read and write like their sighted peers. For this reason I am
not satisfied by a child�s progressing from reading ten words per minute
to twenty or thirty words per minute if this is the best that he or she
will achieve, given a particular medium.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">Progress is not
enough. It must be coupled with expectation. If a child is trained to read
Braille knowing that it is reasonable to expect that child will learn to
read at a rate comparable to that of his or her sighted peers, then
progress takes on a new and positive dimension. Progress in response to
substantive expectation is progress worth applauding. Progress from a
position of inferiority to a position of less inferiority, without the
prospect of full participation, is not only insufficient but damaging
because it erroneously teaches the child that, due to blindness, he or she
is less capable. Dr. Kenneth Jernigan, President Emeritus of the National
Federation of the Blind, expressed it best:</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto"><SPAN style="FONT-STYLE: normal">We
have learned that it is not our blindness which has put us down and kept
us out, but what we and others have thought about our blindness. (1990,
reprinted in </SPAN>Walking Alone and Marching Together<SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal">, p. 428)</SPAN></SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">As educators,
teacher trainers, and parents we must actively work toward developing a
strong and positive conception of blindness within ourselves. This can
only be accomplished by spending time with blind adults who can help us
reshape and redefine our expectations. Ruby Ryles, a nationally recognized
teacher of blind children in the United States, pointed out:</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto"><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal">The average VI teacher [teacher of blind
children] has had little or no contact with competent blind adults and
therefore does not imagine, cannot imagine, the tragic results of the
omission of basic skill training. (June, 1989, in the </SPAN>Braille
Monitor<SPAN style="FONT-STYLE: normal">, p. 308)</SPAN></SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">We must strive
to replace our generalized beliefs with fundamental beliefs in the
capacity of blind people. With these fundamental beliefs our philosophy of
blindness will guide us intuitively to do what is right. Through our
philosophy we will naturally hold high expectations for our students and
replace undirected progress with that which is goal-driven. We will
automatically know whether a decision or strategy is the right one by the
degree to which it accomplishes the objective of full participation for
the child.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="FONT-STYLE: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">But, most
important, a personal fundamental belief in the ability of blind people
will result in the passing on of this belief to our children. If we
believe in them and demonstrate that belief in all that we do, they too
will learn to believe in themselves, internalizing our expectations. The
skills we teach are not a complete package, but a starting point. If our
children learn to believe in themselves, they will draw from these skills,
applying them in new ways and in new situations. They will build on this
foundation and integrate themselves into society. No master�s-level
educator will have to teach them the correct method for playing tag. By
believing in themselves and assuming that they can function competitively,
they will automatically look for the techniques to put their beliefs into
action. The critical factor is expectations�expectations stemming from an
overarching philosophy rooted in a fundamental belief in the capacity of
blind people to live full and productive lives.</SPAN></P>
<P style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class=MsoBodyText2><SPAN
style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto">Dr. Schroeder is a research
professor at San Diego State University and a former Commisioner of the
Rehabilitation Services Administration.</SPAN></P></DIV></BLOCKQUOTE>
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