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Tag Archives: education

The UBC Back to School Edition: Detour #2

07 Friday Apr 2023

Posted by blindbeader in Ultimate Blog Challenge, Part 3

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disability, education, personal

OK, I did not take one detour on my path to my certiciate. I took two!

In hindsight, which is always 20/20, my first detour was probably more of a catering for my need for validation than an actual practical need on my education journey.

This second one? I 100% believe I needed it.

Admn 100 – or, as I have affectionately dubbed it, “Business Math for Dummies.” – was both incredibly useful and incredibly frustrating for me. I re-discovered my hatred of fractions, and that I am surprisingly good at graphing equations non-visually. But there were some difficulties that I didn’t know about, and wouldn’t have known until partway through the course.

First off, my textbook was an etext. I’ve written before about the etext book. This one was easy enough to navigate, though I can’t say I was a big fan of the chapters and units in the textbook collapsing, and needing to expand them, rather than going and moving seamlessly and directly from one unit or section to another. Using a braille display was absolutely essential for me to quickly read any formulas, though this was not completely seamless either (it was almost impossible to tell if a numerical value was a fraction). But overall, the textbook experience was relatively simple.

The practice exercises in the textbook were doable, but I found myself going back and forth between the textbook and my computer’s calculator. The same for using the practice exercises online – with the added fun of the exercises being technically accessible (I could do them, but not without a bunch of frustration and scrolling up and down on my screen).

Enter the veritable needle in a haystack experience that was finding a talking financial calculator.

I did find one, which does much of what I needed to. However, there was only one distributor I could find in North America, which meant I paid a small fortune for shipping, plus the exchange rate. I am only now (as of about 24 hours ago) finding a couple of shortcomings with the calculator that, again, I would probably have known had their been more accessible options out there.

And the quizzes… did I mentioned I hate fractions?

Join me tomorrow when I tell the whole story behind the “it’s just a few things” inaccessible quiz experience.

The UBC Back to School Edition: A Brief Detour

06 Thursday Apr 2023

Posted by blindbeader in Ultimate Blog Challenge, Part 3

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disability, education, personal, reflection

When I first registered for school, I thought I would jump headlong into my degree. But the more I thought about it, the less confident I felt about this school thing. What IS expected of me? Can I manage my time well? is there something I’m missing here? And I figured I had better find out now with a course that didn’t count toward my certificate, rather than finding out later that I couldn’t study and work and train for races (and guide dogs, as it later turned out, though I didn’t know that at the time).

Enter Comm 100 – a course I affectionately dubbed “University for Dummies”.

The first thing I noticed about this course was that it contained a physical (printed) textbook. I chose to purchase the electronic copy of my textbook, just as a fact-finding mission. Other than that, I was good to go.

I learned a few things about myself during this course.

The textbook encouraged keeping a learning journal, which I kept up for about two months (one third of my course contract). But I found that was just one more thing to do, and I wasn’t getting a lot of value out of it. That might change one day, but maybe journalling isn’t for me.

I was consistent in my study habits… when I was studying. But I was not consistent with the course, in general. I found that I had great chunks of time (even as long as a month) where I would not even think about the course, or the textbook. I finished not long before my course contract end date, quite possibly because I knew I had the time and flexibility, and knew I would finish the course in the end. Not my finest confession, but I am being honest about being a student and prone to a certain amount of socially conditioned procrastination.

This course was easy to follow, with little tidbits about time management, note-taking, and critical thinking. It was not overly difficult, with the exception of the final paper which stressed me out immeasurably. There were lessons on finding sources, evaluating those sources, and general writing principles, but the paper felt like it was tagged on at the end – like a final exam without a final exam. Or maybe I just don’t like papers?

This little detour probably was not necessary, from an academic standpoint. However, I’m glad I took it – it showed me a few not-so-flattering truths about my study habits.

And because one detour wasn’t enough… I took another.

Come back tomorrow for that lovely journey.

The UBC Back to School Edition: Accessibility Services

05 Wednesday Apr 2023

Posted by blindbeader in Ultimate Blog Challenge, Part 3

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accessibility, blindness, disability, education, equality

As a student with a disability, it is almost inevitable that I would need to contact accessibility services sooner or later. You can understand my hesitance in doing so, given my prior experience with disability services.

First, I had to fill out a form, about my disability, how it impacts my learning, any accommodations I would need.

Then my doctor had to fill out a form to confirm that, in fact, my eyes don’t work.

So I had finally decided on my area of study, and I was ready to take my first course in October. I decided to take a detour before jumping headlong into my certificate program (more on that tomorrow) but my first course was paid for, and I was ready to hit the books on October 1.

Except… my textbook was in hardcopy print.

I bit the bullet and decided to purchase an electronic copy of my textbook. I’d heard terrible things about the etext books – that they weren’t accessible with a screen reader, and they were frustrating, and I would 1000% need to get my books in alternative formats – but I figured I could make a small investment to find out just how bad it was. Thankfully… I had no problems with the etext book. Sure, I got a paper book in the mail, which is acting as a big paperweight on my bookshelf… but I got my textbook on my terms and I had to wait for no one.

Did I mention it took nearly two months to get my letter of accommodation? It was three weeks after my class start date before I had any kind of acknowledgement from accessibility services. Thankfully, I had purchased my etext book, and was able to start my first course with little difficulty.

My second course was…. a bit more challenging. I went to take my first unit quiz, only to find that some portions of some of the questions were not read by my screen reader. After some back and forth, discussions with accessibility services, the faculty of business, and my course coordinator, I came to find out that the portions of any questions that contained fractions were pasted as images into the quiz. The only options available to me were to (1) withdraw from this course, (2) skip the questions with fractions and hope I got high enough grades to keep on going, or (3) get the information another way. Unfortunately, there was no way for course production to make the fractions compute into plain text that a screen reader could read. Accessibility services was not able to provide the quizzes in braille in a timely manner (which would effectively press a further pause on my studies, and is an inefficient use of resources to boot). Thankfully, a solution was found, and I’ve been able to complete these quizzes as time and energy permits.

I know accessibility services in many post-secondary schools is understaffed and overworked. but I can’t help feeling a certain sense of deja vu – that I am supposed to be extra responsible for making sure I can access course materials that aren’t made as accessible as they could be. Would someone in a million years have caught the issues with my quizzes if I had not just sarted taking them? Are students supposed to check with accessible services ahead of time to make sure that each little thing is readable with a screen reader, or that all course videos have captions, or that slide presentations don’t auto-scroll? Is that even possible? And at what point is it the school’s duty to make their materials as user-friendly to the widest student body possible? Athabasca University uses ProctorU, an online invigilator, but you cannot use ProctorU with a screen reader; this means I need to pay at least twice the price, and take time off work, to book an in-person exam. Am I missing something, or does that seem unfair?

I don’t have all the answers, but as my “detour” courses wrap up, and I start my certificate in earnest in May, I can’t help feeling a mix of complicated emotions. Do I request alternate format materials that I may not need, further burdening stretched-thin resources, or do I do the best I can with what I have, hope for the best, and try and advocate in the middle of the trenches? Do I push for equivalent exams in both cost and flexibility, or pick my battles and bite the bullet on this one?

I don’t have those answers… I just hope I don’t have to find them while cramming for my first final exam.

The UBC Back to School Edition: You’re studying… What?

04 Tuesday Apr 2023

Posted by blindbeader in Ultimate Blog Challenge, Part 3

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education, personal

As it has been pointed out to me that it looks like UBC (University of British Columbia) might have something to do with my educational journey, it might be worth clarifying that I am not currently, not have I ever, attended the University of British Columbia. The “UBC” in this case represents the Ultimate Blog Challenge, where bloggers write a post a day for the whole month. The fact that an educational institution is in my blog post titles beside the words “Back to School” is something that never occurred to me… and that I find quite amusing.

OK, so I decided that maybe I could do this back to school thing. I’m smart, I like to learn things… so maybe I just need something that I find both practical and interesting. What could be easier?

Nooooo problem!

Not so fast there! There are a lot of things I could study. So where do I start?

The idea of pursuing a four-year degree seemed just as daunting in 2022 as it did when I graduated from high school. But Athabasca University had certificate programs. I could do that! I could try this school thing, get a shiny piece of paper at the end of it, and not be committed to a full degree (however long that would take, given I could not commit in time or funds to a full course load). And if I did like it? I could have a degree!

I seriously considered the certificate in French Language profficiency. I honestly can’t recall the reasons I chose not to pursue it; I think I had too many flashbacks from high school and not being certain if I could read the braille course materials I was sometimes given (French has its own braille code, complete with contracted combinations of letters, and I never did learn it well). School should be interesting and informative, not unnecessarily stressful. So… Next!

I found the Certificate in Accounting. Maaaaybe…. but it seemed too corporate for me. Something to think about, perhaps?

OK, what about the Certificate in Human Resources and Labor Relations? It’s interesting… but what would I do with it?

And then, as if it fell from the sky, I found the Certificate in Finance. It ticked all of my boxes: practical, interesting, can ladder into a degree if I want it to. Even the courses that didn’t interest me… interested me! I had some flexibility in electives, but most of the courses I would choose as electives would be part of my required courses anyway. And I know for a fact that I’ve been passed over for career opportunities because I didn’t have any financial background. I found a winner!

But I chose to take a little detour along the way. And I’m glad I did.

If All you Have is “Good Intentions”, Keep them

23 Saturday Nov 2019

Posted by blindbeader in blindness

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

ableism, consent, disability, education, grabbing, impact, intention, personal, violence

Listen to a recorded reading of this post!Download

I’m a visibly disabled person, navigating my life the best way I know how. I have hobbies, a job, a partner, a home… I buy groceries and commute and sometimes overspend and meet friends for coffee and despair about things that are going on in the world. Some things make me laugh, others make me cry, I avoid some activities and concepts at all costs because they terrify me.
In many ways, my life isn’t that different from anyone else’s.
But what’s frequently the only thing most people – particularly strangers – address about me?
I’m a visibly disabled person…
And I’m tired.
SO VERY TIRED.
It’s like this switch flips in the brains of many people that says “DIFFERENT!” and all propriety gets thrown out the window.
And if someone’s called on it – being politely and then firmly asked to stop asking personal questions, to stop grabbing and manipulating my body, reminding them that a particular action wouldn’t be welcomed if directed at them – I hear the words “But I just meant well” or “I just care” or “I didn’t know…”. As if this gives an automatic free pass.
Because DISABILITY!
And the armchair quarterbacking I’ve experienced on this issue – from people who weren’t there – “They talked to your companion because they aren’t comfortable with you” or “Disability brings out the compassion in people” or “people just want to connect with you on some level…”
NO!
I want to think that people have good intentions, but the reality is that violence against disabled people is far more prevalent than that experienced by non-disabled people. If I just go along, not making waves, thinking that people have good intentions, I am literally putting myself at greater risk (like the time three strangers tried to badger me into taking an elevator instead of the stairs, because they “would feel better” if I did so).
So that idea on its face needs to die, and right now.
But that’s not why I’m writing this.
I’m writing because intentions alone aren’t free passes. “Good intentions” aren’t enough anymore.
Because the impact of “good intentions” is cumulative. At the end of the day, underneath “good intentions” generally lies discomfort with disability, and a complex of superiority – that the non-disabled person is more informed about the world, more entitled to invasion of personal boundaries, and more knowledgeable about the disability experience than a disabled person.
NO!
Someone else’s “good intentions” means that they can walk away from an experience with a disabled person and go about their day. They can pat themselves on the back for doing a “good deed” (which, for the record, is SUPER condescending, and that thought also needs to die); they can walk away annoyed or hurt because their offer of help was declined because the disabled person didn’t need help at all… or they can walk away defensive after being called out because their “offer” of help or interaction crossed physical or emotional boundaries that are generally accepted as universal (except DISABILITY, so rules don’t apply).
But they can walk away and tell their partner about that ungrateful person they reached out to and were told they weren’t needed – or weren’t needed in the way they thought they should be. They can lump all disabled people together because of one interaction with that wheelchair user who asked them to stop pushing their wheelchair, or that blind person who told them they really didn’t want to discuss what made them go blind… That interaction took 30 seconds out of their day and they can move on.
But I can’t.
Because ONE person’s “good intentions” affect that one person for 30 seconds, or maybe a bit longer if they’re self-aware enough to understand their impact and actually make an effort to do better (this is rare, but this does happen).
But I can’t move on from the impact of one person’s “good intentions” because there’s another person’s “good intentions” right around the corner. I struggle to accept true compliments anymore because I receive so many that are based on low expectations of me. I have to forcefully deflect personal questions about my disability itself because politeness rarely works. I have to make a choice between drawing more attention to myself or shutting up and getting along when I’m physically grabbed and directed, when the person doing the grabbing was never given consent to do so.
One person’s good intentions impact them and me. Another person’s good intentions impact them and me. A third person’s good intentions impact them and me.

Impact is more important than intent. One can intend well and still have a harmful impact. And I’m impacted over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.
It’s never one person’s action alone, but the cumulative impact that has me – and others – so tired.
And every single person tells me they have “good intentions.”
Those aren’t enough. If that’s all you’ve got, skip them. Good intentions mean nothing when they come from a place of entitlement and superiority.
Do you really mean well, or is it that you want to feel better about yourself?
If you really mean well, take a split second and actually think about the impact of your comments or actions. Would you appreciate the comment or question if directed at you? Would you like to be physically grabbed, or would you prefer to have autonomy over your body? Would you like to spend the rest of your life talking about one personal topic, or would you prefer to talk about sports or the weather or local politics or…? I truly believe that a split second of reflection could have immeasurable positive impact on my experience and – by extension – yours.
And if you just want the warm fuzzies?
Move along… You don’t mean well at all.

To the Parents of Blind Children, Part 1: You have SO much Power

12 Friday Jan 2018

Posted by blindbeader in blindness

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Tags

advocacy, blindness, children, disability, education, expectations, parenthood, parenting

Parenthood is a joy and a challenge for most parents. You question yourself, second-guess decisions, worry about your children, and hope that they grow up to be happy, healthy, productive members of society. But what happens if your child is born blind, or becomes blind due to illness or accident, or whose vision decreases over time? Do those worries disappear or amplify? Do those hopes diminish?
I may not be a parent, but I’ve been the child of parents. You may not be blind or know blindness firsthand, but I have, and so have many others who have contributed ideas to this post and the ones that will follow in the coming weeks. You may only recently have received news that your child won’t see the way “typical” children do. You may have fought for a diagnosis or it may have been immediately apparent. Whatever the case, you, as a parent, have both the responsibility and the power to teach your blind child ways to adapt to a world that doesn’t keep them in mind.

 

You have the Power to Educate

 

Education is a hot-button topic for many parents. Do you send your child to a public or private school? Is homeschooling the best option? If your child is blind, will they receive an equal education at a school for the blind or at a mainstream school? Many parents of blind children emphasize academics; they realize that blindness does not in and of itself impair intellect, and greatly encourage academic pursuits. Most encourage braille literacy, with which I am in full agreement. As important as education is, it’s also important to listen to your child, to learn their gifts and talents and skills, and not push academia for its own sake. Maybe they want to work with their hands, to become a stay-at-home parent, to create or invent things. If you have sighted children that have the space and encouragement to try new things, to succeed and fail, then don’t deny this to your blind child. Education is important, but higher education is not the only way by which your blind or visually impaired child can succeed.

 

You have the Power to Empower

 

Education itself is not limited to the classroom. Children frequently want to explore their surroundings, to learn new skills, to ask questions and get answers. Often times, it’s parents that quell a child’s curiosity because something’s too “dangerous.” Of course this happens with sighted children, too, and of course some activities are dangerous or scary and should be approached cautiously. But experiencing new things is scary for everyone, sighted or blind, and sometimes we do those scary things anyway. You worry about your sighted child riding his bike for the first time, or taking their driving test. Of course you worry when children are young and impulsive and inquisitive. It’s only natural. But blindness doesn’t make a child more of a safety risk than sighted children. You can empower your blind child by harnessing his or her curiosity in productive ways, encouraging them to dream, and letting them make mistakes without swooping in at the first sign of trouble. You, parents, have the power to clip your child’s wings or let them fly.

 

You have the Power to Inspire

 

When you think of famous blind people, who comes to mind? Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles both made enormous contributions to the music world. Louis Braille invented the braille code, which allows blind people all over the world to read and write in a wide variety of languages.

But beyond them, blind people have always lived among us. Would you be surprised to know that the inventor of cruise control was blind?

Many of these stories have in common a determined parent (sometimes more than one) who encouraged their child to learn, to dream, to work hard, to persevere.

Blind people are currently holding down successful jobs, serving in political office, raising families, running businesses, volunteering in their communities, climbing mountains… the list is endless. There are blind people in your own community who are shattering stereotypes, working publicly or behind the scenes to make the world a more accessible and inclusive place. And you have the power to encourage your own blind child’s hopes for the future and the world in which they will grow up and live.

 

You have the Power to Foster Independence

 

Most blind or visually impaired children are provided with aides to daily living by state, provincial or federal sources. Whether this independence comes in the form of a white cane or a monocular, or later a guide dog, it’s your blind child’s ticket to independence and self-sufficiency.

Not only that, but skills like cooking and cleaning are essential to being the member of any household. Sighted children model what their parents do; blind children need that instruction as well, because most will want to live independently. Not all will be great gourmet cooks or the best housekeepers in the world, but it’s important that they know the skills. And if you can teach and model for a blind child’s sighted sibling, you should do no less for your blind child. Siblings notice inequality, and rightfully would be frustrated at lowered expectations for their sibling. If you’re unsure where to turn, there are blindness organizations with trained staff to help; if those services don’t work for you or your family, the Internet and social media have opened up a wide variety of tutorials and social networks and can get you in touch with blind people themselves who’ve learned to live life non-visually.

 

You Have the Power to Advocate

 

As your child grows up, they will likely encounter misunderstanding, inequality, and ableism. When your child is too young to understand these things or express their feelings articulately, it’s up to you to include them in school or church or extracurricular activities. As they grow older, they will begin to model advocacy from what you taught them, and if you teach them both in word and example that they are equally as gifted, valued, and important – with the responsibilities that accompany that knowledge – as their sighted siblings, classmates and friends, the more they will believe it themselves. They will then go on to advocate competently and articulately for their needs as they continue on their life’s journey.

 

You have all of this power! The power to shape your blind child’s life just as you would have if he or she were sighted. My next post will address what is sometimes accepted as a cheap substitute for this power.

 

I would love to hear your stories about how you were raised as a blind child. Or, if you are the parent of a blind child or children, what do you wish you had been told at the beginning of this journey? Do you wish your relationship with your parents/child(ren) (as applicable) were different? Parents, are you using the power you’ve been given as a parent, or are you trading it in for a consolation prize? As a blind child, did your parents empower you, or did you need to fend for and empower yourself?

Your stories are important – as parents, as children. Lack of sight does not mean lack of potential, lack of dignity, or lack of worth.

Schoolbooks and Slingshots: Education, Legislation, and the Mess In Between

26 Friday Aug 2016

Posted by blindbeader in blindness

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

access, advocacy, ambassadorship, autonomy, dignity, education, employment, legislation, respect

What does discrimination look like? Is it being told, flat out, that you can’t do this task or have this job or enter that building or raise a family? Is it using insulting words, raised voices, thrown objects? Or is it subtler? Is it the pervasive idea that our presence in and of itself – with minds or bodies that don’t function “correctly” – is unwanted?
More important than that, how can we combat it? Is education the best way to eliminate misconceptions? Or is confrontation more productive? Over the years I have believed that one or the other is appropriate, but I’ve done a lot of thinking recently… why is it assumed that the two are mutually exclusive?

Not long ago I found a couple of friends posting on Facebook a status that went something like this: “Maybe I’m the only blind person you know, and maybe you’re afraid to ask me questions. THIS is a safe place to ask any questions you have – big or small – about my life as a blind person.” It’s an interesting thought – something that I would consider doing on social media, for people who have already built up some form of a relationship with me. But I question the appropriateness of educating the general public… just because they are curious and don’t know how I live my life. It’s one thing for a prospective employer or university professor to ask questions about how the job gets done – but my life is my own, and I shouldn’t have to educate the passenger beside me on the bus how I cook, clean, live my life, just because they’re curious and are dying to know. If someone has the time and inclination to share this information, that’s absolutely acceptable. But not everyone wishes to do so, and should not feel judged by the disability community at large or by the general public for politely declining to answer what can be considered nosy, invasive questions when directed at a non-disabled person.
But what if someone says or does or asks something truly offensive? Is education appropriate? The answer is… yes and no. It does definitely depend on the situation – what was said, how it was said, and how willing the other party is to understand that what they said, did or asked was inappropriate or invasive. I recently had a really rough day, where someone I asked for directions talked over me as though I couldn’t talk for myself, an interviewer told me that my resume was just what she was looking for but she “just didn’t know if I could do the job”, and then a woman on the bus told me that I “looked so young and attractive” that she “never would’ve guessed I had any challenges.” With person number 1, I was admittedly abrupt and short, thanking him sincerely for his help but that I could take it from here and speak for myself (His response: “Really? You can?”) The job interviewer was much trickier, because I felt like I had to not only convince her that I COULD do that job, but also be polite in the face of that dreaded C word (“can’t“). When I was later advised the position had been given to another candidate, I requested more information about my interview itself and was able to explain why her comments and questions were unreasonable and inappropriate, and how it’s always best to presume competence; she thanked me for my feedback and promised to implement changes to her interview practices. The lady on the bus… I was so taken aback by her comment – that attractiveness, youth and disability couldn’t co-exist – that I thanked her for her compliment but told her that it was offensive, because disability is not just for the old and the unattractive. She thanked me for telling her and said she would choose her words more wisely in the future.
But not everyone is as willing to hear our answers, having their own ideas about our capabilities and the realities of our lives. More than once someone has made a statement of how sad my life must be, but when I try and explain, I effectively get told that I’m wrong – that I miss out on so many beautiful things. It’s frustrating on an emotional level, but when it comes to employment it becomes economically frustrating as well. So what do we do when others’ perceptions and ideas and design affects our ability to work, to study, to access facilities? We sometimes fight through legislation. Maybe it won’t change someone’s mind until they realize how serious it is that we’re denied job opportunities, academic pursuits, and the ability to move freely through cities, streets and businesses. I’ve never seen the picture of the “Capitol Crawl” – a public visual demand for passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act – but it’s an important image to keep in mind: access to some is not access for all, and until all citizens have access to the same products, services and facilities, a society is not truly free and equal. And even though not everything is a fight, it is important to band together as a stronger disability community – to support each other and the non-disabled who stand with us as we try and make a difference.
Sometimes it’s best to catch flies with honey rather than vinegar. But if you can’t catch them with honey because they just don’t care, vinegar is absolutely a valid option. It’s important to choose our battles wisely, to conduct ourselves with a strong will tempered by grace, wisdom and logic. Emotion, if channeled appropriately, can be powerful, but it can’t be the only way we respond to circumstance. And logic without personal experience is dry and boring and, frankly, no one wants to hear that either. Sometimes change is best accomplished through well-timed, well-tempered words; other times it means pushing back against ideas and thoughts and practices through personal or government advocacy. No one way is right or wrong for everyone, but it is important that whatever we do, however we combat discrimination and prejudice, that it improves life for everyone, not just one segment of our community.

Book Review: For the Benefit of Those who See

29 Monday Feb 2016

Posted by blindbeader in Book reviews, Nonfiction

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

ambassadorship, blindness, Books, dignity, education, independence, respect

One of my blog’s most consistently viewed posts is this one, regarding the portrayal of blind characters in books. Because of this, I’ve decided to do a monthly book review, alternating between fiction and nonfiction, beginning with this book that created quite a stir in the blind community when it was first released.

 

For the Benefit of Those who See

By: Rosemary Mahoney

I chose to review this book because of this article that made the rounds of social media nearly two years after its publication. I found it well-rounded and compassionate, at great odds with reviews of this book. After mentioning this disparity  to a friend, I realized that I needed to read the book, to form my own opinion. Nearly a month after putting the book down, I still find myself incredibly conflicted by it. How can I be so awed by some beautiful friendships and inspired by the resilience of many of the blind students, yet put off by some of the awkward and inappropriate behavior and the fixation on everyone’s eyes?

 

Some Unnecessary Detours

 

The introduction to this book begins with a rather graphic description of an eye surgery. This is not for the squeamish. Perhaps the author uses this to reminisce about her own temporary blindness, how scared she felt. Then she uses this as a springboard to how she got involved with Braille without Borders. The first couple of chapters tend to jump around unnecessarily; I honestly found myself not caring about Rosemary herself, as her own experience of blindness was temporary and she was able to go back to her sighted life, with a seemingly perpetual fear of blindness itself. Later in the book, she describes the perception of the blind in wider western society, beginning in the eighteenth century and ending midway through the twentieth. The placement of this information was between the two sections of the book (the school in Tibet and that in India), which was quite logical, but the author didn’t cite any historical data from eastern countries, nor did she truly address the strides that have been made in western society in the past sixty years. It appeared that she viewed her ideas through the lens of a contemporary western chronicler, while not really addressing many of the true social realities that have historically been lived in the east. In these ways, the book takes off on tangents that may be informative as their own volume, but were cobbled together as a west-meets-east education model that doesn’t truly convey either particularly well.

 

I Did Find Inspiration Here

 

Unlike many other reviews by blind people, I did find myself truly awed by some of the students and their friendships portrayed in this book. I chuckled at the seriousness of the 12-year-old braille teacher, was touched by the young girl who persistently physically refused to allow a classmate to disengage by constantly praying for a cure, laughed out loud at the friendship of two loud and rather bawdy students at the school in India. Two young girls took Rosemary through a crowded Tibetan square, and showed her how they used their other senses to determine where they were; they were neither self-pitying nor constantly happy, yet they simply gave Rosemary the information they had. I was awed by many of the blind students’ resilience, not because they got up and got out of bed in the morning and did what they had to do with little or no vision, but they did so in a society that truly didn’t know what to do with them, and with little or no governmental or family assistance, sometimes fleeing truly abusive family environments.

 

But… But…

 

Some of the behaviors described in this book were truly cringe-worthy. I would hate to see any other group of people walk around with tea streaming down the backs of their shirts, waving long sticks around, crying out how glad they were to be (insert disability/race/gender here). It baffles my mind that in one breath, the heart-warming friendships and terrific adaptability of the students are wonderfully depicted, then in the next some of these same students are acting with the social grace of a toddler. It surprises me that a confident blind woman who runs the school would not address these behaviors; if she had, perhaps the author could have described the strides the students were making as she did with their computer learning. But as it stands, my western mind just can’t compute the disparity, especially in countries and cultures where cleanliness and propriety are quite important.

 

Educational Advantage

 

Two schools are described in this book. They provide food, shelter, and education for blind students, both children and adults. My opinion on blind schools has been documented here, and yet I applaud the author’s ability to detail the complex nuances and ironies at play for blind students in Tibet and India. In cultures where families run farms, and sighted children work on the farm, their blind child/sibling has an opportunity for an education. It’s one of the few times in which blindness has its own unique advantage.

 

Fixation on Eyes

 

I grew very uncomfortable with the author’s seemingly endless descriptions of people’s eyes. Many blind people wish we could make eye contact, but are uncertain how best to do this appropriately. Some of us are self-conscious about how our eyes appear to others, and based on the never-ending descriptions in this book, we have every right to be. Very few, if any people, were described as having nice eyes, and it appears that those who did have “normal” eyes had their blindness questioned by the author because of their confidence and social normality (see above). If eyes are the window to the soul, I’d hate to think of how soulless we are.

 

Conclusion

 

There are some nuggets of beauty in this book. Unfortunately, they are dispersed throughout outdated, unnecessary, and demeaning information. Even now, more than a month after concluding this book, I can’t seem to get it out of my head. As someone who lives in the “world of the blind”, I object to the characterization of us – of me – based on what my eyes do or don’t do, and the truly horrid manners exemplified in these pages. And yet, I draw inspiration, perhaps as the author intended, from the depictions of deep friendships, of learning despite the naysaying of family and society, of falling down and getting back up. I am glad I chose not to throw the baby out with the bathwater, but that bathwater is truly quite murky.

 

2.5/5 stars.

 

If you have any book recommendations, or wish me to review books more or less frequently than monthly, please comment below!

No more School, No more Books…?

06 Saturday Feb 2016

Posted by blindbeader in blindness

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

accommodation, education, employment, perceptions

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to take part in a podcast regarding the education of blind children. At almost the same time, I found this radio documentary about whether the advent of technology is taking away the need or relevance for braille. Since it’s quite clear where I stand on the braille issue, I wanted to tackle the education questions, since (for some reason I’ll never understand) it is not infrequently assumed that all blind students attend special schools.

 

I’ve outlined briefly my educational background here; as is obvious, I was mainstreamed through my entire school history. All of my blind friends (few though they were) were mainstreamed, as Canada at the time only had one or two schools for the blind, and they were both in eastern Canada. It wasn’t until I was eleven or twelve before I spent a large amount of time with anyone who attended a school for the blind (in the US); even today, many of my friends were mainstreamed, and even those who attended a school for the blind for brief or extended periods have described many practices that would be decried by any civil rights organization (belittling treatment, lowered educational standards, etc.) While I realize this is not the case for all students at all schools for the blind (I’ve heard anecdotally how empowering such schools can be in Europe, as opposed to many in the USA and Canada), I’ve heard enough about it to cause me some concern. Instances like lowered expectations for totally blind students, allowing those with more vision to learn more skills than their totally blind classmates, not allowing those who took some mainstream classes to associate in any way with those “public school kids”… these all make me die a little inside. Even listening to some of the recorded portions of the documentary above, I cringed at the way some of the teachers talked to their students, as though they were much younger than teenagers.

 

But I cannot disagree that some students can find separate schools incredibly helpful. many smaller communities may not have the resources and facilities to assist blind students in the way that best suits them. Sometimes sighted peers will bully a blind classmate, and being in a place where they are not viewed or treated as “different” can make the difference between graduation and dropping out. If there are additional disabilities involved, a school for the blind can sometimes have the resources that a public school may not. Life skills that a public school may deem “too dangerous” or unsuitable for a blind student (cooking, workshop, etc.), and parents are unable or unwilling to teach these skills themselves, a separate school can sometimes provide such training and prepare the student to cook, clean, and perform other life tasks as a blind adult. even among some who attended schools for the blind under some of those circumstances, I’ve heard far too many comments along the lines of “They may have educated me in braille and technology and some life skills, but they nearly broke my spirit.”Many life-long students of such schools are never broken of bad habits that are socially unacceptable among sighted peers; mainstreamed kids learn (sometimes in harsh and cold ways) that such behaviors aren’t OK. I don’t think segregation is the best way to educate blind students, as it can perpetuate a certain “otherness”, but many of the resources of such institutions can be incredibly helpful for mainstreamed students who are struggling in school. I don’t have all the answers to these questions, but maybe it’s important to start a dialogue.

 

One thing that does concern me about schools for the blind might not be related to the education itself. Any job applicant is required to prove to an employer that they graduated from high school; including “_____ School for the Blind” on a resume will automatically “out” an applicant as blind right out of the gate. This doesn’t allow an applicant to allow their resume to stand on its own, with skills, talents, work and volunteer experience; Such schooling, just based on the name, will automatically show an HR manager, company CEO, or whoever looks at that resume, that the applicant is blind. Despite legislation prohibiting discrimination, like it or not, discrimination against people with disabilities still exists, particularly when it comes to employment. Why give hiring managers preconceived notions – right or wrong – about us as applicants?

 

I realize that I’m framing many of my thoughts from a western point of view, where blind people wish to be held up as equals to their sighted families, fellow commuters, and (many of whom) wish to maintain employment with mainstream organizations. But what about countries where societal views of blindness are not as supposedly enlightened as our western ones? What if blind students simply wish to… survive? Should we throw the baby out with the bathwater and assume that organizations such as this or that in developing countries shouldn’t exist, because, by gosh, we have rights? Are baby steps in the right direction still… well, in the right direction? Are abuse, deprivation, and family suspicion better than having a safe place for the blind, even though many such residential facilities offend my western sensibilities? Again, I don’t have the answers, but I have many many questions. Last week, I read a book about one of the organizations I referenced earlier (I do plan on reviewing it in full once I mentally process it further); I was touched by the empowerment many of the blind students at these schools felt, maybe for the first time, and yet dismayed by some of the childish and socially awkward behavior that was described. Does the presence of one negate the need to address the other? Or is what matters most the fact that these students are educated, whatever the cost?

 

Whether east or west, mainstream or separate,I  think what matters is that we are educated to be as productive as we can be. I don’t wish to only indicate what separate schools for the blind are doing wrong while praising mainstream schools, because even if I was very fortunate, I realize there are holes in that system as well. Ultimately, it comes down to us, and the power we choose to give to those around us, and I think that’s what concerns me most: as a blind child, you hear so many mixed messages, and you don’t have the mental maturity and life experience to discern truth from a lie. One teacher says that you’ll NEVER succeed at something because you can’t see, while another treats you like you’re a toddler; one shows you how to dissect that biology project, while another refuses to acknowledge your awkward behavior and help you improve it. At the end of the day, the best teachers are the ones that empower without condescension, push without bullying, and confront the hard stuff of life without pity. Those teachers are found in all schools, but are sadly all too rare… perhaps I’m lamenting education as a whole.

Speaking in Tongues: On Language, Learning and Literacy

04 Monday Jan 2016

Posted by blindbeader in blindness

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

braille, education, employment, language, literacy, perceptions

I don’t know who comes up with these, but many organizations dedicated to blindness celebrate January as National Braille month. Louis Braille was born on January 4 in 1809 and invented the alphabet that became the basis for the current system of dot combinations that enable blind people all over the world to read. He died tragically young, but his legacy has lived on for all of these years. In addition to Latin languages (English, French, etc.) there are braille systems for Japanese, Chinese, and Korean, as well as many other languages that enable blind children and adults to not only read and write for themselves, but contribute to society at large.

 

I learned how to read braille at the same time my schoolmates were learning to read print – perhaps even earlier. My vision was such that I could read very large print and see pictures in books or on TV, but using it for long periods gave me massive headaches. So at the age of four or five, I started learning braille, which allowed me to continue my schooling uninterrupted when I realized that one of my many eye operations robbed me of most of the sight I had left. I initially learned to write using a Perkins brailler, and then was forced to learn using a slate and stylus – something I hated at the time, but am eternally grateful for now.

 

As a child, I thought every other blind student learned to read and write braille in this way, but I have learned that many are not being taught braille at all, due to the prevalence of screen reading software. Many of those that are taught to read may not be taught to write braille, since typing on a computer is so commonplace. While audio feedback and learning has its place, I believe there is no substitute for learning proper spelling, grammar, and sentence structure, and for those with little or no usable vision, I believe braille is the only way to achieve this. In no way am I saying that everyone needs to be perfect at it (I’m sure Meagan and others can find six mistakes in my first few paragraphs), but even sighted learners using a tablet or a smart phone have a visual concept of spacial relation, grammatical correctness, and even spelling (with or without the aide of a spellchecker). I believe the lack of braille teaching (with hard copy paper or with an electronic braille display) will ultimately put blind children (and later adults) at a disadvantage, because it is extremely hard to learn basic language concepts without being able to “see” them. I should know; I have learned three languages in addition to English, and could never have succeeded as well as I did, particularly with French, had I not been able to “see” proper spelling of words (those silent “e”s would have killed me).

 

Braille has made me the person I am today. I am literate, articulate, and play a mean game of Scrabble. While I do listen to audio books and use a screen reader to access a computer, I am eternally grateful that at eight years old I was all but glued to a chair and forced to learn that slate and stylus; who wants to carry around the braille equivalent of a Smith Corona? From a practical standpoint, having a secondary way of processing information (a braille display) proved incredibly helpful on an occasion where my computer’s sound card was fried and I had no access to my screen reader at all for several days! Buildings with elevators that don’t have braille signage can send me to the wrong floor; now imagine that in every single elevator because no one took the time to teach you how to read numbers? Not everyone will agree with me, but I firmly believe that those little dot combinations are one of the few things that can help level the playing field. Look up “Braille Literacy” and many organizations will correlate braille literacy with academic achievement and employment. So maybe it’s not just me…

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