[stylist] Writers' Division member - article in "Braille Monitor-" Bitten by the Space Bug - by Chelsea Cook

[Robert Leslie Newman]

                           Bitten by the Space Bug

                               by Chelsea Cook

 

>From the Editor: Chelsea Cook is a blind college student living in

Virginia. She read testimony in Braille which was presented to Secretary of

Education Arne Duncan and a number of his colleagues. She has long been

fascinated by space travel and in this delightful article explains how she

came to be bitten by the space bug and what she is doing to make space

travel for her and other blind people possible.

      Before getting to her article, let's get to know some of the real and

fictional characters she mentions. Noreen Grice is an author who has worked

to make many objects viewable using only telescope images made touchable

for blind people. Jimmy Neutron is a cartoon character featured on the

Nickelodeon Television Network. He is a boy genius, but his intellect

doesn't make him popular. With this background, enjoy what Chelsea has to

say:

 

      Jimmy was about to go on another adventure. Without his parents'

permission. In a homemade rocket. To a galaxy no human had ever visited.

And I was coming with him.

      To my ten-year-old mind, there was nothing more thrilling than

watching Jimmy Neutron. Even without audio description I could still follow

enough to be infatuated with the idea that a fictional boy genius the same

age as I was could accomplish all these amazing feats. He didn't always fit

in, so I could relate to him. His sheer boldness and confidence inspired

and showed me that with hard work I could do just as well in math and

science. But, most important, he showed me I could go to the stars.

      Certainly most kids have the fantasy when they are young of becoming

an astronaut. That dream never died for me. At the same time that Jimmy was

rocketing around town and galaxy, I picked up Noreen Grice's Touch the

Stars II, and read about Kent Cullers, the first blind radio astronomer. As

the Braille graphics whisked me off to the constellations, planets,

galaxies, and star clusters, it dawned on me that a career in some sort of

astronomical field was no longer just a childhood dream. It could become

reality--and had for other blind people. I thought, "If he could do that,

so could I." Now I had to work to join those ranks.

      Once I was bitten by the space bug, it wouldn't let go. I attended

NASA workshops for youth, dragging my parents to Saturday morning lectures

about Mars, impact craters, and the basic characteristics of flight. I took

advanced math in fifth grade, catapulting me into algebra for seventh and

eighth. I couldn't get enough of the sciences surrounding astronomy. When

the Braille eighth-grade science physics and chemistry book was ordered

instead of the seventh-grade biology one, I let no one know that I sneaked

three volumes out every weekend, devouring under the covers the inner

workings of laser technology and neutron stars. I found a way to get my

hands on every book that Noreen Grice produced. When I entered high school,

I used to joke that my idea of spending a perfect Friday night was to stay

up late watching Discovery Channel documentaries about black holes and dark

matter or to surf the NASA website when my parents had gone to bed and the

pages loaded quickly. Most of my science education was self-driven. I had

to fight to take Advanced Placement calculus and physics my senior year.

      People thought I was an amazing blind person for wanting to go into a

scientific field. How great it was that I wanted to learn these hard,

abstract concepts that sighted peers would have no idea about. But it was

much more than that: a drive and a thirst for knowledge propelled me. I am

convinced that early Braille reading was the catalyst for all my other

adventures. Jimmy Neutron and Noreen Grice came along at just the right

time to spark my love of math and science.

      For the longest time I thought I would combine astronomy and

chemistry...until I took physics in tenth grade. My teacher expected

nothing less from me than any other student, though he would give me a fair

advantage. Every demonstration we did, I got my hands dirty: pushing

bowling balls up for pendulums, having graphs drawn into my hand, playing

with slinkies to simulate wave properties, being rolled around in a swivel

chair to appreciate negative acceleration. I loved physics so much and felt

its absence in junior year so greatly that I had to listen to calculus-

based lectures on the Internet. I could generally follow what the

professors were saying and would get in a few problems at the lunch table.

Even though I hadn't had formal training in calculus, physics, which was

connected to astronomy, was all I cared about.

      Then came my Sweet Sixteen. Most girls want a party, or boys, or (for

the sighted folks), a car. I really didn't know what I wanted, but what I

got was beyond anything I could have expected. The NFB national convention

was in Dallas that year, and my mom had dismissed the idea of going to

Houston early on, so I was not expecting a recording from her on my

birthday: "We have a problem. The tickets aren't for Dallas. You're going

to Houston!" For two days I toured the Johnson Space Center campus, but

another surprise was coming my way. I had a private tour, and one place we

visited was Mission Control.

      This was not a glassed-in view, nor one from a movie or photograph.

This was the actual room used from 1965 to 1995 to control all of America's

space missions. Astronauts of all eras, flight controllers of all

competencies, and flight directors of all ranks had stood and sat where I

currently occupied the universe for the better part of twenty minutes. "Awe-

inspiring" was too weak a word to describe the flood of overpowering

emotion that took hold while I stood in that large, all-encompassing

chamber. I sank down in front of one of the work stations, the cushion

accepting that a new occupant had come along. Still not believing my

circumstances, I looked out over the darkened consoles to the giant black

screen at the front of the room, imagining controllers filling every one of

these seats. I thought of myself in Gene Kranz's position and wondered if I

had a right to fill his enormous shoes. I had heard his voice many times

over the years (Apollo 13 is my favorite mission), but I couldn't fathom

the fact that I was actually sitting in his chair.

      Now I am in college, pursuing my dreams for real. Freshman year

totaled four astronomy courses and a space survey course. I am currently in

an astrophysics sequence. I have Braille math and physics books, readers

well versed in their fields, and professors who understand that I can learn

the material; sometimes all it takes is a different way of presenting. But

the connections and influences made when I was ten are still present. I

have all five of Noreen Grice's books sitting on my shelf at Virginia Tech,

and I have many megabytes on my computer devoted to the boy genius with the

ice-cream hairdo (think dipped cone on top of large head). I still listen

to his soundtrack when solving especially difficult calculus or physics

problems; something about that carefree time when I first realized anything

is possible helps the answer come. And I always dream of that day when I

will no longer be bound by Earth's gravity; I will be in a place where the

scope of the universe is as limitless as my imagination.

                                 ----------

 

 

Robert Leslie Newman

Personal Website-

Adjustment To Blindness And Visual impairment

http//www.thoughtprovoker.info

NFB Writers' Division, president

http://www.nfb-writers-division.net 

Chair of the NFB Communications Committee