[stylist] learning Braille for the wrong reasons?

[Robert Newman]

John, that was a very --- touching story. In the school for the blind where
I attended, we too learned more then one form of brailling.




Robert Leslie Newman 
Email- newmanrl at cox.net
THOUGHT PROVOKER Website- 
Http://www.thoughtprovoker.info

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of John Lee Clark
Sent: Tuesday, February 03, 2009 11:10 PM
To: 'NFBnet Writer's Division Mailing List'
Subject: Re: [stylist] learning Braille for the wrong reasons?

Hey:

When I went to my files, I realized that Ii had written something about this
a while ago.  I just played a little with it, and here goes:

You can't blame me for remembering my early lessons in Braille.  I loved
these sessions.  The teacher gave candy.  The exercises were fun, like
games.  But the thing that excited me the most about this class, conducted
in a small room away from the rest of the school, was having a pretty girl
as my sole classmate.

The girl, as I did, had Usher syndrome.  It was through our sharing these
sessions in Braille that we established a strangely furtive yet sturdy
ongoing relationship that lasted well into our high school years.  Although
we had our other puppy loves and silly romantic affiliations, we considered
each other our "Usher mate," our most important relationship, and it didn't
matter what other ties we made or broke.  We were our secret default love.  

Now, our teacher was a kindly if eccentric hearing sighted woman who was a
classic example of that type of female teacher of the Deaf, all too familiar
to the signing community, who would confess everything to her students.  It
was almost as if the students were supposed to be her shrinks, and the
classes she taught were actually therapy sessions.  Problems poured out of
the poor woman, problems about her husband, her in-laws, her ailments, her
car, her children, her taxes, her life.  This type of teacher never found
anything odd about a circle of Deaf children gaping at her, but instead she
drew great solace in this.

Sitting opposite us two--with Perkins Braillers, slates, styli, and paper
between us on the table-the teacher went into confession mode at least twice
every single session.  Whenever she launched into a litany of her woes, we
settled our chins on an arm on the table, and we gaped appropriately at her
from this position.  Our respective free hands under the table, out of the
teacher's view, would then begin to explore.

This was how I learned the lovely Braille, the textured poetry of secret
parts.  And whenever our teacher winded down after a long narrative, we
hastily withdrew our fondling hands and smiled sweetly at her.  But feeling
guilty and wanting to make private amends, we were very attentive and
serious about the lessons.  Thus, we made good progress in the fine points
of the lesser Braille of the raised-dots-on-paper kind.

One time we were almost caught.  While the teacher was spilling her beans
about the evils of taxes, my hand was reading some interesting Braille
underneath a piece of garment fringed with an elastic band.  But then the
teacher abruptly came to her senses, and I pulled my hand out too quickly,
snapping the elastic band.  I didn't hear the sound, but our teacher's head
jerked to one side and held it at a tilt.  My mind scrambling, I wriggled
and tugged my pants for dramatic effect before I asked if I could go to the
bathroom.  She smiled understanding and nodded her permission, and she
thought no more of what she'd heard.

My dual lessons continued that year without any hitch, and to this day I
find what I learned from both to be of great value.  I doubt that I would
have made such rapid progress in either education without the other.
 

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