The Feeling of Federationism

President’s Message

By Elizabeth Lalonde

– Blindness is a characteristic.
– It’s respectable to be blind.
– With proper training, opportunity and a positive attitude, blind people
can compete on terms of equality with the sighted.
– The real problem of blindness is not the lack of eyesight, but the lack of
positive information about blindness and the abilities of blind people.

These statements represent the philosophy of the Canadian Federation of the Blind, and explain the core beliefs of Federationists. They provide focus, direction and purpose to our movement, but they only describe part of who we are as Federationists.

The other essential quality of the Federation exists beyond statements and beyond words; it dwells in the realm of feeling – the feeling one experiences when attending a Federation gathering, the feeling of camaraderie, of belief in a common goal, of working together with other blind people who feel good about who they are and who they are becoming.

In this volume, you will read about this feeling – about Federationism. Members explain what the Federation means in their life. Whether it be attending a National Federation of the Blind convention, using a white cane for the first time without worrying about what others think, learning to feel comfortable saying the word “blind,” or getting the confidence to travel independently, members discuss honestly and openly, with sadness and with humour, their growth, their accomplishments and their belief in themselves and in the Federation.

This volume of “The Blind Canadian” includes many speeches from our first two conventions, articles written by Federationists, and a blindness resource section, “CFB Miniatures”. It represents the diversity, knowledge and strength of members and the continued growth of the organized blind movement in Canada.

I hope you will join us in our work to promote a positive perspective of blindness and the abilities of blind people, and help us to make life better for the blind of Canada.

Respectfully,
Elizabeth Lalonde, President
Canadian Federation of the Blind

Back to Top

Putting It Into Context. What is the Canadian Federation of the Blind? Why Are We Here? And What Do We Want for Blind Canadians?

Speech by Elizabeth Lalonde, president, CFB

CFB ‘Believe’ Convention 2005

I welcome all of you. Thank you for coming and sharing in this exciting day.

And it is an exciting day for blind people because we are here: not to listen to others speak about us, or on our behalf, not to hear expert opinion about blindness, but instead to join together as colleagues, mentors and friends to speak for ourselves, to talk about blindness from our own perspective, and to participate in planning our own futures.

I am president of the Canadian Federation of the Blind. Many of you know the Canadian Federation of the Blind is modeled after the National Federation of the Blind in the United States. Now I will explain in more detail what the Canadian Federation of the Blind and the National Federation of the Blind are, what we do, and what we stand for.

One of our goals in organizing this convention was to demystify the Federation and to help people understand our perspective on blindness.

Some of you may know about the Federation. If you are like most blind Canadians, you have heard rumours, innuendo and partial truths about the National Federation of the Blind. Well, we are here today to peal off the layers of mystery from the Federation and help people understand the reality.

Anything new and different often evokes a reaction of fear in people. And in Canada, the Canadian Federation of the Blind is new and different.

I will tell you about the first time I encountered the Federation and what first went through my mind.

Thanks to the hard work and fundraising efforts of Mary Ellen and Dr. Paul Gabias, I was one of the fortunate people who went to New Orleans back in 1997 to the National Federation of the Blind convention. A group of us went for free on this incredible adventure. But I don’t think any of us at the time knew what we were getting into and how fortunate we were to get this opportunity.

All I knew was that I was going to some blind person conference in the south, maybe about 200 people or so, and I couldn’t wait to see Bourbon Street and have a relaxing vacation.

Well, I was right about a few things. I was going to the South, and there were blind people there, and I did get to see Bourbon Street, briefly.

However, once I got there, I didn’t have time to relax, and the 200 blind people I had expected became in reality 15 times that number.

Boy, had I underestimated the size and scope of the National Federation of the Blind!

As I sat in a room the size of a large banquet hall and listened to the sound of 3000 people, mostly blind people talking all around me, and heard the tapping of white canes everywhere, and felt the energy of so many people gathered together in one place – all blind people taking charge of their lives and feeling good about themselves, I was in awe.

Actually, I was overwhelmed. I had never heard of the National Federation of the Blind before this convention. How could such a large and influential and positive organization exist on the same continent for over 50 years, without my knowledge?

I came home exhausted, confused and motivated – and immediately started researching the National Federation of the Blind.

I haven’t stopped since.

Throughout my life, an energy had lived in me — a positive view of my own blindness and my abilities, a feeling of pride, but I never found a clear way to express this feeling, until I found the National Federation of the Blind. Finally, I had discovered a group of people who were blind and who didn’t think blindness was a big deal, a group of people who used their canes unashamedly, and who made blindness seem ordinary and acceptable and best of all respectable. Finally, I had found my place.

Well, after that New Orleans convention, I joined the National Federation of the Blind, Advocates for Equality, which at that time was the Canadian version of the National Federation of the Blind.

Mary Ellen and Dr. Paul Gabias worked hard to create this organization and to bring Federationism to Canada. But despite all their efforts, the time had not yet come.

I worked in that organization for a couple of years, until it became evident that the National Federation of the Blind, Advocates for Equality was no longer following Federation approach and philosophy. So in 1999, a group of us separated to start our own organization, the Canadian Federation of the Blind.

Oriano Belusic got the Canadian Federation of the Blind on its feet and provided strong leadership through the start-up and development of our group. Without Oriano’s help, I don’t know what we would have done.

After a few years, Oriano wanted to take a break from his role as president and serve the group in other ways, and I was elected president in 2003. What a shock. I had no idea before that meeting that I would leave as president. It is one of the best things that ever happened to me. I love the job and grow with it more every day.

What is the Canadian Federation of the Blind and what do we stand for?

We are a grassroots, nonprofit organization of blind people committed to the empowerment and equality of blind Canadians.

As I said, we are modeled after the National Federation of the Blind in the United States. We borrow philosophy and structure from the National Federation of the Blind and fit this into a Canadian context. We believe in a few main philosophies and base our activities and programs around these beliefs.

You may ask, what is all this talk about philosophy? What does it mean?

Well, it’s simple. Unlike other organizations of and for the blind, members of the Canadian Federation of the Blind have more than just blindness in common. Our members also believe in some basic ideas about blindness and the abilities of blind people.

These include:

1. We are not an organization speaking on behalf of blind people. Rather, we are an organization of blind people speaking for ourselves. Unlike the CNIB, which speaks for us, we are a movement of the organized blind. We are blind people who make our own decisions, decide what is best for us, and plan our own futures. The key word is ‘of’. We are an organization ‘of’ the blind, not ‘for’ the blind.

2. We feel that with training and opportunity, blind people can compete on terms of equality with our sighted peers. We believe that blind people can do almost anything, if we have the will to – and if we have the proper training and the opportunity to do so. You will hear more later about training and the National Federation of the Blind approach to rehabilitation for the blind.

3. We believe blindness is not a handicap, but a characteristic. Many organizations and agencies for the blind are based on the medical model of blindness, which views blindness as a severe medical problem. Instead, we feel blindness does not have to be a severe problem and with some good training and a positive attitude, blind people can do almost anything. Of course, blindness can be difficult sometimes, and we all have days when we wish things could be easier, but in general, we believe that blindness is not the tragedy many people make it out to be.

4. The real problem of blindness is not the lack of eye sight, but the lack of positive information about blindness and the abilities of blind people. We feel the real difficulty is not the blindness itself, but the misconceptions and misunderstandings in the public about blindness and what we are capable of doing.

5. It is respectable to be blind. This is my favorite. It cuts to the root of everything. It means that feelings like: shame, embarrassment, inferiority — all these negative emotions we have all felt at one time or another about being blind, live no longer – not once you truly, deep down in your heart, soul and mind, believe that it is respectable to be blind.

Well, now that I’ve talked about what we believe, I will tell you a bit about what we do as an organization. The three main categories of activities we do in the Canadian Federation of the Blind include: public education, mentoring and advocacy.

With public education:

We feel it is important to educate the public about the abilities of blind people. This then makes it easier for us when we try to get a job, go to school and participate in community life. If employers, teachers and other members of the public know about our abilities, they are more likely to hire us and accept us as full participating members of society.

Some examples of our public education efforts are: our Canadian Federation of the Blind website, our brochure and our magazine, ‘The Blind Canadian’. ‘The Blind Canadian’ is filled with articles, essays and stories about the Federation and blind people living happy, active lives.

Other public education activities include our public appearances to talk and teach about blindness. One exciting project we are pursuing involves our ‘Braille is Beautiful’ blindness awareness program for children that introduces elementary school classes to Braille as a fun and interesting method of reading and writing. With help from a ‘Times Colonist’ grant and funds from the National Federation of the Blind national material centre, we are taking the ‘Braille is Beautiful’ curriculum to district 61 schools to talk about the importance of Braille as literacy, provide interactive activities for the children in Braille and talk about the abilities of blind people.

Another central activity we do in the Canadian Federation of the Blind is mentoring:

We meet together at informal gatherings, at regular meetings and at conventions to learn from one another, to gain confidence from being together and to further the cause of Federationism. Members work with each other to learn blindness skills, Braille, cane technique, technology and life skills.

We are all equal. Some of us may have more knowledge and experience in some areas and so we work with others who may have less knowledge and experience, and those people may help us in other areas. It is a reciprocal and rewarding network of relationships. In this way, people learn necessary skills and they learn them from blind people who are using these skills every day. In the Canadian Federation of the Blind, it is truly the blind leading the blind.

Our third main activity is advocacy:

Whenever necessary, we lobby government and go to the media and other organizations to protect the rights of blind people and to make sure blind people are treated respectfully and fairly. Whether we write a letter to the local TV station regarding a negative portrayal of blind people in the media, visit the local MLA office to discuss our concerns about cuts to audio book services, or campaign to get a blindness service provided by government instead of an unaccountable private agency, we do what is necessary.

This gives you an idea of what the Canadian Federation of the Blind is and what we stand for.

In closing, I will tell you about my second National Federation of the Blind national convention this past July in Louisville, Kentucky. This time I was prepared. My mom, my son Rhys and I spent the day travelling on three planes to get there, and it was worth it.

National Federation of the Blind conventions are like nothing else. They include: workshops and seminars on a range of blindness issues from technology, to occupations, to education. There are meetings for blind lawyers, blind medical workers, blind entrepreneurs and parents of blind children. There are dances, exhibits, a banquet and a camp for children. And, there is a general session with speakers who make you think, who make you cry, who make you laugh, who make you say to yourself – ‘it’s really ok to be blind’.

I returned from Kentucky brimming with ideas for the Canadian Federation of the Blind and for blind Canadians – so many ideas I could hardly contain myself. This weekend’s convention is a start. We have put together a day of speakers who will talk about the Federation and its philosophies, perspectives and approaches to training, rehabilitation and the education of blind children; it will give you a flavour for what we do, and why it is so important that we are here, and that there are other options and other ways of thinking about and dealing with blindness.

Since returning from Kentucky, I feel even stronger about the importance of bringing Federationism to Canada — the spirit of confidence, the spirit of group solidarity, the spirit of full participation in society and in life for blind people.

As blind Canadians, we must bring Federationism to this country because we owe it to blind citizens, and because we cannot afford to do otherwise.

Federationism in Canada no longer represents a dream, or a far-off goal. Federationism represents a challenge, a reality and it is here to stay.

Back to Top

The Federation: An Independent Movement

Speech by Mary Ellen Gabias

CFB ‘Moving Forward’ Convention 2007

(Note: the following speech discusses specific points of Federation philosophy and provides concrete examples).

What Makes the Federation Different From Other Blindness Organizations?

Words are powerful tools. People use words to hammer home a point or to saw through complexities. But if people don’t know what the words mean, if they don’t know whether to use a hammer or a saw, then words get in the way.

Many of the words we use when discussing blindness have lost their usefulness because they have become unclear. Most people in the blindness field talk about “independence” and “positive attitudes.” But one person’s independence might be another’s helplessness. A Toyota Corolla and a BMW are both cars, but they’re far from being the same.

The Canadian Federation of the Blind is an organization of the blind, controlled by the blind. We’re not a charity FOR the blind. We welcome sighted persons to join with us, but, as my children would say, “blindness rules” and blind people own the organization. Although we will co-operate with others on specific projects, the CFB is not part of any coalition. We speak for ourselves.

Taking Responsibility:
In 1996, a group of blind Canadians attended a seminar at the National Center for the Blind in Baltimore. Dr. Kenneth Jernigan, revered teacher and leader in the National Federation of the Blind and of blind people worldwide, walked into the room and opened the seminar by announcing, “I am not a victim.”

Like so many things Dr. Jernigan said, that statement was profound. Federationists insist on being responsible for themselves, refuse to blame others for their failure and insist on credit for their success. As much as others love us and wish us well, nobody should care about how our lives progress as much as we do. If we don’t take charge of ourselves, we’ll have to settle for somebody else taking care of us.

As blind people, we have many reasons to feel victimized. Training in the skills and attitudes of blindness in Canada is poor or nonexistent. The unemployment rate among blind Canadians is astronomically high. Many blind people in Canada are working to improve the situation. But, until things improve, until we can count on good training, we must live our lives with determination. Until blind people receive good travel training, we’ll walk with one another and do what we can to teach ourselves. Until blind people receive good Braille instruction, we’ll come together and learn Braille from one another. We’ll encourage and challenge one another to improve.

This attitude does not mean we are letting government off the hook. But we have the moral authority to call for change because we are continuing to call on the best that is within ourselves. Like Dr. Jernigan said, ‘we are not victims’.

A Strong Belief In the Abilities of Blind People:
Detractors say the Federation brainwashes blind people. In one sense, they’re right. When it comes to thinking about blindness, all of us have thoughts and attitudes which need to be cleaned out. In another sense, the pejorative sense, they’re wrong. Federation philosophy is not a mantra for people to repeat mindlessly; it’s an invitation to think deeply about what the problems of blindness are and what they are not. Federationists push the limits of what they believe is possible, and usually find that these limits crumble under the onslaught of creative thought.

Federationists often claim to believe more in themselves and in blind people than they actually do. This belief is not hypocrisy or false bravado; it is the recognition that great accomplishments come from aspiring to be more, and then acting the part until it becomes reality. If we waited until we believed in ourselves before acting, we’d be waiting a long time.

The Federation View on Concessions:
Federation philosophy provides the yardstick by which we measure proposed policy positions. Should blind people be able to take a guide or companion on an airplane for free? It would be a financial advantage to blind travellers, but the Federation rejected the notion because we believe we cannot simultaneously ask for equal and preferential treatment.

Issues of Accessibility:
Federationists believe blind people can function in the world as it is, with minimal adaptations. We don’t need knurled doorknobs, textured walkways, coloring on the edges of stairs. We can use our canes, our dogs, and most of all our wits to figure out what we need to know about the environment.

Should there be audible pedestrian signals at traffic lights? Some would say installing these audible signals gives blind people the same information sighted people get from the “walk” sign. Federationists say the “walk” sign is redundant for the sighted because traffic patterns tell us, whether we’re blind or sighted, when it is safe to walk. However, in situations where traffic patterns do not provide sufficient information, audible pedestrian signals should be installed. Each local community must decide this matter on a signal by signal basis.

Should blind people get telephone directory assistance free? Yes, we should because providing an operator to read us phone numbers gives us the same information the sighted receive. When a means of reading the telephone listings is readily available to blind people, we should have the philosophical consistency to ask for an end to this exemption.

The Federation approach to accessible information continues to evolve with technology. The Federation developed the Kurzweil National Federation of the Blind reader to give us more access to print and more control over how we access it. At the same time the NFB has gone to court to make sure blind people gain full and independent access to the Web. But access to information only solves part of the problem. Blind people need the opportunity and the skill to use the information we have. We also need techniques for managing when information is not in a readily accessible form, and the creativity and flexibility to solve our information-gathering problems on our own. Working with a live human reader provides just as much independence as using a talking or Braille computer. Sometimes readers are much more efficient and offer a better alternative technique.

Optimizing Rather Than Maximizing Vision:
If a person cannot use vision to do everyday activities efficiently, and if their lack of vision alters the pattern of everyday life, then the person is blind. The best option for anyone who is blind is to learn how to live effectively as a blind person by using sleepshades during training. Then, when the sleepshades are removed, vision becomes an addition to the foundation of competence which has been built. In this way, blind people can make optimum use of remaining vision, which doesn’t happen when they are taught to make maximum use of it.

Using The Word “Blind”:

If it is respectable to be blind, it is respectable to use the word. Euphemisms intended to differentiate between blind people with some vision and blind people without residual vision draw unnecessary distinctions and reinforce the notion that blind is bad. If an explanation is required, the person could say “I’m blind and have some vision.”

When people say that it is respectable to be blind, no one jumps up shouting, ”Oh no it isn’t!” But some people and organizations would be more honest if they did. What else can it possibly mean when an organization deliberately creates differences based on the amount of remaining vision and then refuses even to use the word ‘blind’ in its name? We know where we really stand with people who reduce blindness to “the B word.”

Federation philosophy is not written in stone and handed down like the Ten Commandments. The philosophy represents a growing body of thought distilled from the collective experience and wisdom of us all. We aim high and know that we often fall short. People build character by striving to achieve. That’s true for us as individuals and for our movement.

Back to Top

Being An Informed Rehabilitation Customer – Making Wise Choices For Your Life

Speech by Mary Ellen Gabias

CFB ‘Believe” Convention 2005

(transcribed from speech presentation – from MP3 audio)

It has been wisely said that philosophy bakes no bread. It’s been said with equal wisdom, that without a philosophy, no bread is baked. There are two competing philosophies of blindness, which I will summarize for you.

The first philosophy, the one that we’ve heard before, is that “Blindness is a dying.

When in the full current of his life, blindness comes upon a man, it is a death of that sighted life.”

The other philosophy is that “Blind people are normal people. With training and opportunity, blindness can be reduced to the level of a physical nuisance. It is respectable to be blind.”

Father Thomas Carroll, a chaplain for blinded war veterans, coined the first philosophy, “that blindness is a dying.” In his book, “Blindness, What It Is, What it Does and How to Live With It,” Father Carroll described 20 lacks and losses of blindness. These lacks and losses included things like inability, lack of freedom of movement, lack of literacy and even lack of sexual attractiveness. As you can imagine, Father Carroll’s philosophy was far different from the philosophy we espouse in the Federation. And he didn’t say what happens when blindness comes upon a woman. Presumably, she is dead meat too, but her demise isn’t worth mentioning. What about children who are born blind? He doesn’t say, but the inferences are dismal.

Most people today would reject Father Carroll’s philosophy of blindness– at least that’s how it seems. If asked, most people would say it is respectable to be blind. But though these people may say the words, they don’t act as if they mean it.

So, when you are dealing with someone who wants to teach you about blindness, how do you know which philosophy they support?

If someone talks to you about the stages of adjusting to blindness and they mention things like denial, anger, bargaining, grief and acceptance – just remember the psychologist, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, and her book “On Death and Dying.” You are dealing with someone who espouses the ‘corpse concept’.

Several approaches to training blind people exist. The Federation believes four components are necessary for successful training. These components include:

1. Training in the skills of blindness – Braille, cane travel, home management, wood shop… – skills that will make it possible for you to live a full life.

2. Modelling and instilling an uplifting, positive, ‘I can do it’ attitude.

3. Instruction on how to handle and change society’s attitudes of blindness.

4. Helping students to develop personal skills and attitudes that will help them blend into the larger society. By blending in, I don’t mean trying to pass for sighted. I mean things like punctuality, accountability for your work, high personal expectations, willingness and desire to be of service to the broader community.

Many training programs deal with blindness almost in isolation; they teach people to ‘overcome’ a disability. In the Federation, we believe instead that it is a matter of changing your own attitudes about blindness, and more generally, changing the attitudes of others.

People must adopt this proactive, positive approach if they want to change society. If you believed in the possibility of flying before the time of the Wright Brothers, society thought you were a nut. Now, if you don’t believe in flying, society thinks you are a nut. You might be afraid of flying yourself, but you believe that flying is possible.

Many of us are helping to change thinking about blindness, in ways which are as profound as the change from the mindset that ‘the world is flat’ to the notion that ‘the world is round.’ Society wants to believe it, wants to accept it, but we’ve got a ways to go. Any training that doesn’t focus on the need for that societal rethinking is inferior and possibly destructive.

When Training Happens: What Goes on at a Training Centre?

People who truly believe blindness is respectable aren’t afraid to use the word ‘blind’ with pride. I am a blind person. I have no vision at all. If I had 20/200 vision I would not refer to myself as legally blind or visually impaired or partially sighted. I am a blind person. For explanations, I might say that I am a blind person with some remaining vision. If I was going to say I was partially anything, I would say I was partially blind, rather than partially sighted. The term ‘partial’ makes me wonder a partial what? I, for one, don’t want to be a partial person. I want the whole meal deal. I am total and I don’t mean that in terms of my blindness, my level of visual acuity, but I am a total person with all the strengths and weaknesses which that involves, and blindness is just one of those things.

It is sometimes necessary in the beginning when one is dealing with someone who is first losing vision, to talk to them gently about what that means and not to insist that they use the word blind. But, if someone is going to succeed, it is important to embrace the word ‘blind’ and not to hide from it or try to minimize it.

Then there’s the question of carrying a cane. If you are blind, that means that you don’t have sufficient vision to deal with the world in the way a sighted person does, or to do it efficiently. That means if you travel around without a cane, you’re putting yourself at a great disadvantage. Many people avoid the cane because they find it embarrassing and they don’t want people to know they are blind.

In the Federation, we believe a blind person should use a cane – a long cane, not a folding one – at all times during training.

The use of residual vision:

If the training program says, “Our job is to help you maximize your residual vision”, don’t walk – run in the other direction.

I believe in optimizing remaining vision, but that is not the same as maximizing it. The best way to optimize remaining vision is to learn to function without it, and then after you’ve got the skills of blindness down to reflex perfection, add vision; use it as a plus, as an extra, rather than relying on it completely. If your vision could be adequately relied upon, why would you be receiving training at a program for the blind?

I believe students should train under sleepshades (blindfolds). Sighted staff members who work in programs for the blind should also receive their training under sleepshades. Trainers need to know, at the gut level, not only that blind people can perform competently under sleepshades, but that they as trainers can perform competently under sleepshades.

Sighted staff who want to work professionally with blind people should spend three months under sleepshades learning to be blind. There’s nothing like personal experience to convince one of the rightness of a point of view.

Services for Blind Post-Secondary Students:

With respect to programs like disabled student services offices or access centres, these centres have a role. But blind students should think carefully about what services to accept from these centres.

For example, let’s take the use of readers in colleges. The student services office can interact with blind students in three ways. The first and most positive way is to help blind students learn how to manage readers, where to look for them, what to say to recruit them, how to train them, how to schedule hours of work, and how to control whatever reader budget the blind student might have. This method promotes long-term independence; it allows the student to gain skills that will help them for the rest of their lives, because when they’re living in the world, nobody else will handle that service for them.

With the second method, the disabled student services office maintains a list of names of readers, which they give to blind students. The blind student handles the recruiting, training and supervision of the readers. This method offers the student some assistance, but still promotes the development of skills over the long-term.

Unfortunately, some disabled student service programs follow the third approach; they find readers – hire them, train them, and control the interaction between reader and student. This approach limits the student’s chances of learning this skill, a skill the student will need for success in life. Blind students should learn the skills of handling readers for themselves, because otherwise they will leave college or university unprepared to cope with the demands of a world that doesn’t have an office set up to accommodate them.

With respect to interaction with professors, the disabled student services office should for the most part stay out of it. Let the blind person deal with professors independently. The disabled student services office should be there only in cases of emergencies, if the professor and student cannot resolve a conflict.

Disability awareness training can sometimes be effective, depending on how the training is done.

But when the professor has to deal first with a disabled student services office and does not have the flexibility to deal personally with the student, and the student doesn’t have the flexibility to deal personally with the professor, this stilted, impersonal process warps the education relationship and says to everybody concerned that the blind person cannot handle his or her own affairs.

Those are some of the choices that offices and centres for people with disabilities can make when providing services.

Blind Canadians don’t have enough choices. We don’t have a choice between programs.

The Canadian Federation of the Blind is committed to making a full fledge rehabilitation option available for blind people.

But, in the interim, we can do some things to get maximum benefit out of the limited opportunities and choices available to us.

If we receive any kind of training in blindness skills, we can insist that we learn under sleepshades.

We can work together to run a mentoring program to make sure we have contact with one another as blind people.

We can attend NFB conventions and pick the brains of people there who have had training and who are familiar with Federation concepts.

If you receive travel training, make sure you don’t simply memorize specific routes. Instead, make sure the trainer teaches you the structured discovery method of travel – the way which asks students “This is the situation. How do you find your way out of it?”

Ideally, during rehabilitation, trainers should get blind students to travel in groups and then send individuals to complete a lesson independently or in a small group, with the teacher observing from time to time. – That’s good rehabilitation.

It’s bad rehabilitation for the teacher to always be there; if the teacher is always present during training, then students know someone will come and rescue them if they get into real trouble

It is bad practice to teach someone the way to get from point A to point B, and then next week, the way to get from point B to point C. This route method forces the student to rely on the trainer. If the student wants to learn a new route, (like how to get from A to C, without going to B first), the trainer has to come back and teach this new route to the student. That’s not good practice.

You know you’ve received good training if you can be dropped off in the middle of a strange city and get where you need to go, with a minimal amount of trepidation and fear.

You’ve had bad training if when you move to a new place, you feel you need to ask the cane travel instructor to show you how to get around all over again.

If you outgrow the need for the training professionals, then you’ve received good training.

The relationship between the agency for the blind and its customers should not be like the relationship between a doctor and patient. In the doctor/patient relationship, the doctor is always the professional, and the patient is always the person who needs medical assistance.

The blind customer’s relationship with the blindness agency should be more like the relationship between the Faculty of Law and law students. In the Faculty of Law, the students do much of the writing for the professional journals. Very quickly the students become the colleagues of the professors and begin working collaboratively with them.

The purpose of rehabilitation is to foster long-term independence, not to have people be permanent clients of the experts, but to become colleagues in a mutual effort to change things and to make things better.

As you look at your options for training, it’s OK to say, “I want more.” It’s OK to say, “I’m not happy with what I’m getting and I will go up the ladder as far as I must to get the training I need.” It is OK, actually it is essential, to work with knowledgeable blind people like the people in the Canadian Federation of the Blind. It is OK to ask these blind mentors questions like: “What is a reasonable rehabilitation goal for me? What is a program that I can aspire to complete?”

Learning to be blind never ends; it’s an ongoing process. Although most days there’s no reason to think about it very much, it’s always nice to find ways to challenge yourself and to push the limits of what you believe is possible. That’s true for everyone. Why shouldn’t it be true for us as blind people? The society doesn’t necessarily encourage us to push our limits, so that is something that we, in a loving and supportive way, can do for one another. That is the service that we can offer.

I want to talk about another way to know whether you are getting good, positive training. Ask yourself how the program, which is training you, presents itself to the public? Does it portray blindness as a normal characteristic, or does it portray blind people as helpless?

For example, programs should not blindfold the sighted to show them what blindness feels like. It takes time to learn to be blind. Being a sighted person in the dark is very different from being a blind person. The blindfolding of the sighted for education and sensitivity purposes tends to reinforce fear, reinforce a feeling of helplessness, reinforce the notion that blindness must be really tough. When agencies use blindfolding in conjunction with fundraising, that’s downright evil. Those are strong words, but that’s how I feel about it. Raising money to help blind people by promoting a stereotypic way of thought is counterproductive. It reinforces negativity. It needs to stop.

As blind Canadians, we have choices, even when our official choices are limited. The basic choice is the attitude we adopt. If we adopt an attitude of possibility, of determination, of believing that we will find a way – then we’ve won the battle.

Without that belief it doesn’t matter how much training there is. If the training doesn’t instil that positive belief, the training will fail. No matter how many skills a blind person learns, if that person does not believe in the effectiveness of those skills and in the possibilities of life as a blind person, the person will not achieve. It is possible for a person to learn skills, then go home and never use them.

It is also possible for someone who never received formal training to find a way to do what they need to do.

I think about blind people – people who have not had formal training at an NFB orientation centre – people who sit home and do very little because they don’t have the belief in themselves. Then, there are other people who have never attended a formal training centre – people like Jacobus tenBroek, people like Kenneth Jernigan. Kenneth Jernigan wrote the book about training. He planned, developed and ran a training centre, but he never attended one himself.

We as blind Canadians have the opportunity to go beyond the training that exists now by deciding that, one way or another, we will figure out how. When it comes down to it, you are the customer of your own life, and so am I. The ultimate choice is the choice that we make to opt for the positive rather than the limited. I urge all of us to make the choice to stretch ourselves, because that’s the choice that makes the most difference in the end.

Back to Top

What Is Good Rehabilitation?

By: Mary Ellen Gabias

This article is intended to promote discussion of what model or models of rehabilitation we want here in Canada. My biases will be very plain. I believe the most effective method of rehabilitation is the one used by the training centres operated by the National Federation of the Blind in the United States. It is important to understand my bias, so you can evaluate my comments. However, I have attempted to describe the other models of rehabilitation accurately and fairly.

With good training and equal opportunity – blindness can be reduced to the level of a nuisance. That’s what we say in the Federation. But, what is good training? How can we, as consumers of rehabilitation services, make sure we get what we really need?

Good rehabilitation is more than a collection of courses; it is the development of a point of view. When a blind person stops asking, “Can I do that?” and begins to say, “I think I can figure that out,” he or she has leaped over the most important hurdle on the path to good rehabilitation. Going from fear to self-confidence and from self-doubt to self-assuredness is what the “journey” of rehabilitation is all about.

Three or four methods of blindness rehabilitation exist. These “service delivery models” as social service professionals like to call them, have different underlying assumptions, different recipients of service, and vastly different outcomes.

Home Teaching or Community Rehabilitation:

In theory, it would be nice if no one had to leave home to get training in the skills of blindness. A teacher could come to a client’s home, spend a few hours once or twice a week, or even once every two weeks, and teach all that was needed. If the real problem of blindness was the loss of eyesight, this approach might work well. An extremely motivated student could follow up on each lesson and practice independently. The teacher would be there as a guide, but the student would work in much the same way as a college student taking correspondence courses.

But, since loss of eyesight is not the real problem of blindness, home rehabilitation teaching doesn’t offer the complete solution. Those rare individuals who begin their training with a high level of self-confidence can gain a great deal from an itinerant teacher. But if confidence is lacking, or relatives undermine the program, a few hours with a teacher on an intermittent basis will not overcome attitudinal barriers. The best role for a home rehabilitation teacher is to prepare a student for more intensive training or to work with students whose rehabilitation goals are limited. Many seniors find that home rehabilitation teaching is sufficient to help them remain in their homes with support from family, friends, and community agencies.

Independent Living Centre Model:

In this approach consumers of services get a list of choices. They pick the services that appeal to them and design their own program with a combination of classes (e.g. Braille, cane travel) and ongoing support (e.g. reader services). Again, this seems like an ideal system. The blind person retains control and has absolute choice. The consumer remains in his or her own home for the training and can count on continued support from centre personnel. Because the centre is in the consumers’ community, the individual receives services quickly.

The difficulty with this “independent living” approach arises, again, because the real problem with blindness is not the physical loss of eyesight. A consumer of services may choose a program designed to increase the level of comfort with blindness. If expectations are low, achieving comfort may not be in the consumer’s long term best interest. A frightened student may deliberately avoid participating in classes or activities that cause fear, but by so doing may miss the opportunity to make the emotional breakthrough that could lead to true self-confidence.

If the independent living centre deals with a variety of disabilities, staff may not have expertise in blindness. They may recommend on-going support from centre personnel instead of encouraging the development of skills and attitudes which would make total independence from the centre possible.

Traditional Residential Rehabilitation Centre:

The traditional centre has the advantage of bringing students into a congregated setting for intensive work on blindness skills. In three or four months of intensive classes, the centre can accomplish as much as a home rehabilitation teacher or an independent living centre can accomplish in a year. Students receive instruction in a core curriculum. They leave the centre with some familiarity in a range of blindness skills.

Unfortunately, this traditional centre approach focuses only on building specific skills. Though staff may occasionally pay lip service to the importance of confidence, they remind students constantly that the professionals are the experts. Staff pay no attention to the concept of working with other blind people to solve common problems and to change public attitudes.

NFB Training Centres:

Centres which operate using NFB philosophy include three inter-related goals: development of the skills of blindness; creation of a positive attitude about blindness; and collective action to improve public attitudes and increase opportunities for all blind people. Without the combination of all three elements, rehabilitation cannot be truly successful.

Blind people are a part of general society and they frequently adopt society’s limited expectations of the blind. Because fear and self-doubt often cause students to limit their own options, NFB Centres require students to participate in the entire range of classes.

Instructors expect someone who has no interest in woodworking to take a shop class. Working safely inches away from a whirring power saw breaks down fear and instills confidence. It doesn’t matter whether the student ever pounds another nail after leaving the program. The hammers and saws are a means to a more confident end.

A student who hates to cook must still plan, prepare and serve a meal for 40 people. Accomplishing this task builds confidence and breaks down attitudinal barriers.

Students also learn water skiing, rock climbing, sewing, drama, the production of plays and public speaking about blindness.

Anything that stretches the student’s experience and broadens their notion of what is possible for blind people is a potential “class”.

A student who is learning Braille at the NFB centre must use those new Braille skills to write a grocery list; use their new travel skills to shop for the items on the list; and use their homemaking skills to prepare the food. Classes all relate to each other and become an integral part of the student’s life.

Students with some remaining vision wear sleepshades (blindfolds) throughout the program. The purpose is to build confidence and to make it unnecessary for the student to return for retraining if their vision changes. Students with some remaining vision often believe they are able to function because of that vision. Wearing blindfolds makes them realize they can be competent without any vision at all. Later, when the training is over, students can use whatever combination of visual and blindness techniques that work most effectively for them.

Some people say adults shouldn’t have to take courses that don’t interest them. The same could be said about law schools that require students, who are interested in becoming prosecutors, to take classes in tax, corporate, and torte law. To take this legal analogy further, these law students may watch melodramatic television shows; these shows will probably give them a faulty understanding of what the practice of law really entails.

The same is true of blind people who are exposed to faulty concepts concerning blindness. These students may choose a direction for their life without thoroughly understanding the possibilities open to them. They may later find that the class they didn’t want to take, helps them in unexpected ways.

Perhaps the biggest drawback of the NFB centre approach is that it takes from nine months to a year for a student to complete the program. Because it is a residential program, students must endure lengthy separations from their families. For some people who could benefit from the training, the separation makes attendance at an NFB centre impractical. Some NFB centres have modified programs to make it possible for seniors to attend weekly sessions. The centres have also devised summer programs for youth. Although these modified programs are not as comprehensive as the full centre course, they offer a valuable service for many individuals who are not prepared to invest nine months.

Most students who find a way to attend a residential program agree that the investment in time and effort is well worth it.

Back to Top

NFB-Style Rehabilitation For The Blind

Speech Presentation, by guest speaker, Carla McQuillan

CFB ‘Believe’ Convention 2005

(transcribed to word from speech presentation – from MP3 audio)

(Carla is a previous board member of the National Federation of the Blind and is past president of NFB of Oregon.)

Mary Ellen talked about the stereotypical phases a blind person goes through, like denial, and I remembered going through a period of denial, when I went blind at the age of 10.

It wasn’t denial about blindness. It was denial that those things I had come to understand blindness meant – didn’t apply to me. I was determined to do what I needed to do in my life, and if that meant being helpless, I wasn’t going to be blind. That was what my denial was about. It wasn’t about not wanting to be blind, it was about not wanting to be what I understood blindness was.

When I came to the National Federation of the Blind for the first time in 1988, I got a strong dose of reality – the truth about blindness. That was an exciting moment for me.

People in the National Federation of the Blind believe that some vision is not necessarily better than no vision. In most non-Federation training programs, the opposite is true. In many situations, people with partial vision, or dare I say ‘high partials’, are often given greater responsibility and are expected to be the caretakers of the less fortunate ‘totals.’

But of course, I wasn’t blind, that wasn’t what I was about.

I went to my first convention in 1988 in the state of Illinois. I received an NFB scholarship, which required me to attend the convention. I begrudgingly agreed to go and hang out with those blind people for the weekend, collect my cheque and then go on my merry way.

Astoundingly, at this convention, I met blind lawyers, a totally blind pharmacist, an individual who became a judge, professionals of the highest calibre. Folks stood at the podium speaking articulately and brilliantly, and I sat in the audience and thought, “What have I been thinking all of these years?”

Instead of saying to myself, “That’s not what blindness is about, let me show the world what it is”, I took the other route, which was, “I’m not going to be blind because I’m not what that means.”

That is what the National Federation of the Blind does; it tells people and shows people by everything we do that blindness is not about helplessness. Blindness is a characteristic, and we can do what everybody else does – as long as we receive proper skills and training.

In the state of Oregon where I live, there is an orientation and training centre in Portland. This centre says in its brochure that they are not as rigorous as some training programs.

They say this with pride. They say it in response to the National Federation of the Blind training centres.

If I take a moment and think and realize that I am a blind person who needs some skills of blindness, I should ask myself the following question. Do I want a leisurely program to improve the quality of my life, or do I want somebody to get out a whip and make sure I learn every possible skill and become proficient in all of them? It’s a question of the quality of my life at the end of the program. It comes down to the notion that blind people can’t cut it, so we’re going to make it easy on them. Those kinds of centres do a greater disservice to blind people than they help. If you go through one of these more lenient programs, you will leave with: mediocre skills; no self confidence, because they don’t teach any positive blindness philosophy; and disappointment because you will think you are as good as you can get as a blind person. Your expectations, your goals will diminish as a result of your lack of skills, and your lack of confidence in blindness and in yourself as a blind person.

A number of students who took the program at the orientation and training centre in Oregon say they have one or two classes a day. They live in the apartment. Sometimes they show up for class and the instructors are not there or are not ready to teach them. The cane travel instructor, who is sighted, recommends after providing instruction, that if the student wants to become a proficient traveler, they should get a guide dog.

The centre does not use sleepshades or blindfold training. Instructors discourage the totally blind students from independent travel without the instructor. This kind of teaching stems from the philosophy that blind people are not capable of the level of independence promoted and fostered by the National Federation of the Blind.

Regarding the ‘B’ word, as Mary Ellen put it, a lot of folks hesitate to use that word. Many years ago, Dr Jernigan wrote a speech “Language is Against Us.” In this speech, he said that language shapes our perceptions. It is true. If I am reluctant to use the ‘B’ word, that implies I am not comfortable with my blindness, and that I will make everyone around me uncomfortable with my blindness.

For example, yesterday at the front desk at the hotel, the clerk pointed to where I was supposed to write my phone number. I smiled and said I was blind and that I couldn’t see where he was pointing. I did not say visually impaired, legally blind, partially sighted – I did not discuss it because it wasn’t necessary. Yet, a lot of people who have limited vision tend to use the visually impaired, partially sighted phrasing. I like to use ‘blind’. It says it all. I have learned the skills of blindness and I am a better functioning individual as a result.

At NFB training centres, students and staff use the word ’blind,’ and avoid the other descriptors.

At school, I did not learn to read Braille. When I came to the National Federation of the Blind, I realized my lack of Braille skills were a disadvantage. So I decided to go to an NFB training centre to learn Braille.

At that time I was running a business – two schools – had two children and was the president of the National Federation of the Blind of Oregon and a National Board member. I didn’t know how I was going to take six to nine months off my life to go do this. At one point my husband looked at me and said, “So when are you going to stop whining about this Braille thing and do something about it?” I love my husband. He is one of the greatest supports in my life, and also a real good kick too, every now and then when I need it – which was at this point.

So I said, “Well sure, I’ll go to the Colorado Center for the Blind and learn Braille.” I decided to go and learn Braille and thought that meant I didn’t have to do anything else.

I have peripheral vision. If it’s daylight and it’s nice and bright, I can travel pretty well with my cane and not much in the way of skill. When I got to Colorado they told me, “You are going to wear sleepshades. You are going to wear sleepshades from 8 o’clock in the morning until 4:30 in the afternoon. You may not take them off unless your instructor gives you specific permission. That means through your lunch hour.” Let me tell you, this was not a leisurely program like Oregon. We began promptly at 8 o’clock in the morning with announcements. Our first class was two hours, either mobility, Braille, daily living skills or computer. We rotated between those four areas, which were two hour classes.

I put on sleepshades and felt totally disoriented, but said to myself, “If my blind friends can do it, then I too can wear sleepshades.”

I went on my first travel lesson. My instructor was Eric Woods. Eric Woods had not been blind for long. He went blind as a result of diabetes. He said he spent a couple of years feeling sorry for himself, and then picked himself up and became a self-taught traveler – a very, very accomplished traveler.

He said, “Well, McQuillan, let’s take you out and see what you know.” So I walked out and proudly tapped my cane down the sidewalk– and fell off the curb. He said, “Well, you were moving like a bat out of hell. I knew something was coming up.” I decided at that point there probably was some skill involved in this process and it wasn’t just a matter of tapping my cane and thinking that I was a National Board member and I’d just learned it from osmosis.

I went through extensive travel instruction. I remember standing at the famous T intersection, they call it in Colorado, listening for traffic, and Eric said, “Now, when you think it’s time to cross, you just go.” This was my first day out. I listened for traffic and put my cane into the street. He took his cane and whopped it up against my shins and he said, “Please don’t go.”

So, I was falling off curbs, not listening for traffic – maybe I did need some travel training.

I did eventually get a grip on travel. I got a little better at it. I got a little more confident, and you know what happens when you get confident – you get a little sloppy. One day Eric took me to the coffee shop, which I’d never been to before, and we went in and ordered coffee. It was Denver in February. I had my big down jacket and under it a white cotton sweater – my favourite white cotton sweater. I was cruising along at a good clip because I was walking the same path I walked every day from the light rail to go to the centre. Coffee in my left hand, cane in my right hand and my left arm extended with my elbow outside the arc of my cane. I hit a sign with my elbow. My coffee slammed against my chest. The top popped off in the air. A fountain of coffee sprayed all over my white sweater. Eric, who was walking about 10 paces behind me, must have heard my under-the-breath obscenities. He said, “How’s that coffee boss?” I said, “Well, probably a little better if it was ‘in’ the cup.”

When I got back to the centre, I washed my shirt, refilled my cup with coffee, and then walked to my locker. My colleague Angela was standing in the corridor. When she learned it was me, she whipped around and ran into me. My coffee once again spilled all over my shirt. I cleaned myself up again and decided coffee was a bad idea for that day.

That story was to show you that nobody starts out knowing this stuff, and that wearing sleepshades does not always result in disaster like mine.

The defining moment – I had been in training for about two and a half weeks and I went into Eric’s office. He says, “So, what do you know about Littleton, (the little city) in terms of which side of the street have the odd number addresses, which side have the even addresses?…” I knew the east/west streets were one-way and the north/south streets were another way.

Eric gave me an address and asked me to tell him where I would find that location. I told him. He then said, “There’s a hardware store there, don’t know what the address is, but it’s close. I want you to go and buy a latch, or something,” And, he handed me four bucks. He said, “I want the latch, I want the receipt and I want you to come back.”

I was on my own with my sleepshades on. The first street was one-way traffic on the east and the next street had one-way traffic on the west. I needed to cross the streets. Then the hardware store would be on the corner. Tap, tap, tap, I found the door. I walked in and said, “Is this a hardware store?” The man said, “Yes, it is. What can I do for you?”

That was the moment.

If training centres do not require students to wear sleepshades, they are taking away one of the most valuable moments of their life.

At that point, I had been a member of the National Federation of the Blind for 15 years, and I did not know, really, in my soul, how capable blind people could be, until after that moment when I got where I needed to be and I never picked off my sleepshades , or used any of my skills regarding vision. I got there entirely with the skills of blindness.

That is what every blind person deserves as a part of their being. It will change who you are; it will change how you feel about yourself; it will change your ultimate success in life.

I was not at the Colorado Center for the Blind long enough to go through the other elements of travel training. I learned Braille. I Brailled my notes for this presentation. Braille is not difficult to learn; it takes a bit of practice to get the speed going, but it’s easy to do, and if you’d like some tips I’m happy to give them to you.

The other travel element required for graduation at an NFB training centre is something called a ‘drop’, where they put you in a van and drive you around in circles until you are disoriented. Then they let you out. You may ask one question to get home. Nobody watches you. Nobody hangs around. You are on your own.

One of the students when I was there got picked up by the fire department. She was walking on the freeway. I wondered how she did that, without knowing she was on the freeway. But she made it. She didn’t ask any questions. She made it.

Another element of graduation is called a Monster Route. You can plan this yourself. The Monster Route takes all day and requires you to go to four different and unfamiliar areas of the city. You must buy something, or bring back something that proves you hit all of the spots. After you complete your Monster Route, you meet up with a number of your invited colleagues and fellow students for a dinner to celebrate.

To fulfill another graduation requirement, you must prepare a meal for 40 people. You can get help from other students. You do all the work under sleepshades.

This meal represents part of the big picture that says, “No matter what people think of blindness, that’s not me.” Your denial about being blind, let it go. That denial doesn’t have to be you. It’s only you if that’s what you want it to be and what you let it become.

We live in a society where someone can sue McDonald’s for selling them hot coffee that they spilled on themselves, and win. The individual who took that case to court had requested extra hot coffee, and had put the cup between her legs when she was driving. They won on appeal, but they did not win the original case.

When we live in a society where people are not expected to take responsibility or be accountable for themselves, it is easy for blind people to be helpless and to have other people look out for them. It is easier than standing up and saying, “I can do it myself.”

I challenge all of you to do for yourself, rather than expect others to do for you. This responsibility begins with getting the skills you need to be successful and competitive in this world. I encourage you to demand it of your rehabilitation professional. As a blind person, you have the right to become competitive and to reach your potential.

Back to Top

Check Out The Websites For The NFB Training Centres:

The website for the Colorado Center for the Blind, in Denver is www.cocenter.org.

Colorado Center for the Blind has its video on its web site. It features the
voice of Kevan Worley. http://www.cocenter.org/video/CCB%20Videos.htm

The website for Blind Inc., in Minneapolis is www.blindinc.org.

The website for the Louisiana Center for the Blind, in Ruston is www.lcb-ruston.com.

Back to Top

Reflections on the Long White Cane

by Kevan Worley

On one of the NFB listservs recently someone asked people to share their experience with and thoughts about the white cane. Kevan Worley (First Vice President of the NFB of Colorado and President of the National Association of Blind Merchants) was one of those who sat down to reflect on this useful tool and the way his attitudes toward it have grown and changed through the years. The evolution his thoughts and actions have
undergone seems healthy and may be useful to those who are still struggling to accept
this tool of independence. This is what Kevan said:

I am forty-four years old and employed as a managing partner of a military dining hall food service operation. I am a long-white-cane user. I am six feet one-and-a-half inches tall, and I use a cane that is about sixty-five inches tall. It comes to slightly above my nose.

My first experience with any kind of travel aid was when my father cut long tree limbs for me to wave in front of me. I was about seven or eight years old. Dad had me take a step with one foot and put the stick out in front of that foot, just the opposite of the way cane technique is taught today. The tree-limb cane was a neat idea, my dad’s attempt to fashion a helpful travel tool. I remember using it some, but mostly I rambled and bounced around the neighborhood, a normal, fearless seven- or eight-year-old. The tree limbs came up to the middle of my chest, and over time they did help me gain some speed of travel and increase my confidence around the neighborhood. Of course, when I returned to the State School for the Blind, I did not use these home-made methods for travel. Instead I shuffled along snapping my fingers and clicking my tongue to provide echoes. I would also trail sidewalks and clap my hands for echoes–not the most effective, quick, or socially acceptable travel techniques.

In seventh grade we were given training by a university-trained travel instructor. We were given rigid aluminum canes, which came up to our sternums, the lower chest. They had crooked handles with rubbery grips, which had a flat place on the side for the index finger to splay out along as we travelled. We spent a lot of time travelling the already familiar halls of our school. However, I will say that both of the men who taught travel spent time on understanding the environment, listening skills, changing surfaces under foot, keeping a wide cane arc, learning how to choke up the cane across the body in crowded conditions, and other helpful techniques. They spent a little time on sighted guide technique, but not a lot.

I recall that both instructors were very precise and appropriate in the way they expected us to travel sighted guide, something I never really understood at the time and still don’t. For example, I always felt that I was autonomous and should mostly be responsible for my own personal safety. I also felt that grabbing a guide above the elbow and expecting him or her to make fairly large gestures with the elbow and body to warn me of doors, steps, etc., was inconvenient. I felt it was almost a violation of the guide’s personal space. It also sent a signal to me that the sighted person was in control, not the blind person.

It seemed to me that, if I used proper cane technique together with other environmental clues–in short if I used my own wits, my own ability, and paid attention–I could stay with that sighted person by placing my fingertips on the back of the guide’s shoulder. That has always been my preferred sighted-companion or human-guide technique. I can in fact gain almost as much information about my travelling companion’s body movements just by placing my fingertips on the shoulder.

Recently I found myself travelling from a parking lot to a meeting in a large office building with a former long-time employee of the agency for the blind in Kansas. We talked as we walked through the crowds, and at some point she delighted in mocking my sighted-guide technique saying, “You know, this is kind of fun for me, you being a long-time leader in the National Association of Blind Merchants [a division of the National Federation of the Blind] and yet you don’t know proper sighted-guide technique.”

I was dumbfounded. I did not know her very well and would never have commented on her social graces or lack thereof. I would never have presumed to tell her how to open a door or mount a stairway or drive her car or pour her coffee or comb her hair, yet she was delighted to find some fault with my social/travel skills. I was indeed assisted through the crowds to the elevator and on to our meeting room by my contact with her shoulder. The contact also made it more convenient for us to talk, fingertip-to-shoulder taking the place of eye contact, if you will. Of course, I could have found the meeting room without her and at only somewhat less convenience to myself.

Back to junior high school. Most of our junior-high travel with the professional mobility instructors was spent travelling the halls we already knew or in residential areas. During the last month of our seventh-grade year and the last month of our eighth-grade year we did some travel crossing traffic-light-controlled intersections. Much of our travel at this particular school for the blind consisted of travelling the four or five blocks along State Street from our residential campus to a restaurant, where we would then have a Pepsi with the travel instructors. Most of the time they would drive us back to school.

I had no travel instruction whatsoever in high school. When I transferred from the insulated and idyllic campus at the school for the blind to the public school for my senior year, my father and my brother took me to the campus a couple of days prior to the school-year opening so that I could walk around and learn it a bit.

My freshman year of college I had a wonderful travel instructor, who, as I recall, had a master’s in peripatology. I think she was from North Texas State University. She was very supportive and provided a lot of useful information. She also asked me to consider using a slightly longer cane. This one came to a couple of inches below my Adam’s apple.

She was tolerant of my wandering methods but felt that I would do better if I memorized specific routes, e.g., from my dorm room to English 110 or from my dorm room to the library or from my dorm room to the student union. She didn’t quite understand that I might want to go from the student union to the girls’ dorm.

A few years later, 1984, I was invited to lunch with the President of the National Federation of the Blind of Missouri, Gary Wunder, and a blind attorney who was representing the NFB in a civil rights case. His name was Marc Maurer. Mr. Maurer showed me his telescoping fiberglass cane. Up to that time I had been using the rigid aluminum cane with the old-style handle referred to above. I was fascinated by the length of Mr. Maurer’s cane, but I did not know if I wanted a cane that might start telescoping as I was crossing a street. So I ordered a rigid, fiberglass cane a little longer than the one I had been using–this one up to my chin. I found that the greater length and lighter weight of my cane allowed me to travel with more quickness and grace. I remember telling someone that it was like switching to power steering.

During the 1980s I struggled to build a career in broadcasting and in business. After losing one position, I seemed to lose confidence, so I attended the Colorado Center for the Blind in order to boost my skills and regain my confidence. I believe I was exceptionally fortunate to have the courage and good sense to attend the Colorado Center for the Blind, where I was taught by Trina Boyd. Trina was an NFB-Centre-trained cane travel instructor. She also had a degree in education and seemed to have the ability to blend good teaching with tried and true travel techniques. I gained much from the NFB-Centre methods, expertly taught by Trina. She convinced me to use a longer cane (to my nose), and she and the Colorado Center encouraged me to try different kinds of canes and tips.

They did some teaching of routes in the very beginning, I think to increase confidence and teach basic techniques, but very quickly they expected us to use skills, confidence, and problem-solving ability to plan travel objectives and figure out how to get where we were going and get back.

During that training and since, I developed and continued to develop and possess a broad range of knowledge and set of problem-solving techniques so that I believe I can travel whenever and wherever I want to with little inconvenience to myself or others. Now I often take a cab to work. Sometimes my secretary drives me somewhere. Occasionally I grab a city bus and meet the boys downtown for a beer and a ball game. Once in a while I grab a bus and change to the light rail to travel down south for a meeting. Maybe I’ll call my fiancée for a lift home. In my position as a manager and as President of the National Association of Blind Merchants, I travel once or twice a month to other cities.

In the seventies and eighties, when I travelled–airports, bus stations, etc.–I became nervous and easily confused. But for the last decade I have actually enjoyed most of my travel experience. Since my training at the Colorado Center for the Blind increased the length of my cane, greatly enhanced my skills, and totally rebuilt my positive attitude, I love travelling around airports, problem-solving my way through the highways and byways of life.

Of course some people are intimidated or nervous about a rapidly moving two-hundred-pound man approaching them waving a long stick. It is certainly my responsibility to be careful and understanding of others and to use techniques in the appropriate setting. But I also must not allow myself to become daunted or docile, thwarted by the misunderstandings and misconceptions of others.

Recently I was looking for the baggage carousel at Kansas City International Airport. I momentarily became tangled in the guide ropes that channeled people to the Southwest Airlines ticket counter. After a moment or two I resolved my dilemma. I retreated the few steps back to the main pedestrian thoroughfare, but before I could get many steps along the path, two well-meaning Southwest ticket agents came up and grabbed me on either side. They began to propel me back toward the ropes from which I had just extricated myself. They said, “Southwest is this way. You want to come this way.”

I tried to explain to them that I was not going to Southwest, but they weren’t listening to me. In fact, I was trying to be kind. Therefore I allowed myself to be propelled all the way up to the Southwest ticket counter. That is where they left me. I then had to retreat through the ropes to be on my way, but other customers were coming toward the counter, and I found myself moving against the flow of traffic, whereupon a man snarled at me, “If you didn’t want a ticket, why did you come in here?”

At any rate, I ultimately found the carousel, and, exploring the area, I found ground transportation. I never mean to inconvenience others, but I need to be able to travel independently, to understand and enjoy my environment like others in our society. While I enjoy travelling totally independently, tip-tapping around with my cane, listening for escalators, smelling for burger stands, finding a line of people pulling luggage and trailing them to the next landmark or queue, I also enjoy travelling with others. I occasionally seek assistance from fellow travelers or airline personnel, and I greatly appreciate the assistance, suggestions, and directions that I get. I try to be as proactive in my travelling as I can.

For example, recently on a flight back to Denver’s International Airport, the man next to me on the plane struck up a conversation. Now I was exhausted from my trip, and mostly I just wanted to listen to a CD and nod off, but, I thought, he is a nice man. He wants to talk. You never know when you may need something from someone, so I visited with him for a while. When I got off my plane on the C concourse, I travelled alone to the shuttle train which takes people to the main terminal. However, at the A concourse the train broke down. Most people stood there for several minutes waiting for the train to go. I heard a voice coming up on my left that said, “Hey Kevan, did you know you could walk to the main terminal from here?” It was my friend from the airplane. I told him I had not known that.

I said, “Let’s go!” I put my fingers on his shoulder, and he and I struck out. Several people decided to follow us. He showed me the way to the main concourse, where he was intrigued by the alternative techniques to vision that I used to locate my luggage. On our way to ground transportation we exchanged business cards, and I gave him a Kernel Book to educate him further about blind people.

I know that people do react differently to a person who uses a cane. The reactions may be more negative or more definite than I realize. Since I am blind, I obviously don’t see some of the ways people react to me.

In a conversation a few years ago I once suggested that the ordinary sighted public would react more negatively to a person using a dog than to a person using a long white cane. This was in a conversation I was having with a group of my customers. They quickly debated my assertion. They said, most people like dogs. Most people are not threatened by a dog in a harness. They said that most people are at least slightly concerned when I walk down a hall waving a long stick in front of me.

Of course I attempt to use my cane responsibly, and rarely do I hit anyone with it. When I do, it is a very light tap on the shoe or lower leg. However, even my children have told me that people sometimes react visibly when I ramble down the street, arcing my cane from side to side. I have also had people tell me that, while occasionally people stare as if their eyes will pop, or they’ll jump out of the way like a crazy person, mostly there’s not much reaction. There’s no way to know how much of the reaction is to the wielding of the cane and how much is a reaction to the perceived abnormality of blindness.

I guess I’ve come to believe that, if you feel good about yourself as a person, if you are confident and self-assured, if you travel with some sense of your environment, including the fact that other people are nearby, and if you treat them with courtesy, that’s all you can do.

Back to Top

Out Of The Closet – With My White Cane

By Doris Belusic

This is a brief story about living with retinitis pigmentosa (RP), about the power of NFB conventions and NFB philosophy, about learning the value of the long white cane, and about acceptance and attitude.

OK. I admit it. I have been one of those ‘in the closet’ white cane users for years. My white telescopic cane tucked in my purse, peeking out at the top corner – only to come out when ‘really’ needed. At first it showed because my purse was too small. Then I figured it may be a way to let others know I have low vision. Most of the time I could get by without using it – or so I thought.

I am not unusual. People with vision loss often try to hide their limited vision. Too often people push aside independence and safety with a white cane because of embarrassment or shame. No one wants to ‘stand out’ – to be perceived as being incapable or to evoke pity. I don’t want people to treat me differently because I hold a white cane. Society still has many old, ingrained misconceptions which stigmatize and stereotype blind people and their abilities, and the white cane is seen as a symbol of inability.

Besides this societal hurdle, I feel an added personal struggle.

If I were fully blind, things may have been more straightforward. Taking up the white cane may have been easier. My struggle is that although I am legally blind, I also have some useful vision. I didn’t consider myself blind ‘enough’ to validate using a white cane. I often imagined others thought the same. I felt “imposterish”. “How can I use a white cane when I still have some vision?” “How would others understand that ambivalence?” Reading (legible) price tags in a store or recognizing someone, while using my white cane, just seemed wrong.

People cannot see that I am visually impaired. I have a deteriorating retinal disease called retinitis pigmentosa (RP). I have tunnel vision – at present, less than 20 degrees field of vision, instead of the usual 180-190. When reading, I see approximately one square inch at a time on a sheet of paper, or on my computer screen. It’s like looking at a picture puzzle and seeing only one piece. Scanning my eyes around, I may see all the pieces, but still only one at a time. I never see a full picture of anything.

I also have problems adjusting to differing levels of light. I become blinded with glare from bright light and am totally blind in dim light or at night. But – in good light, I have fair central vision, what there is of it, so if I look in exactly the right direction I will see what I am looking at. I can make eye contact close up, but cannot recognize faces across the street.

This vision, or lack of it, is confusing – even for me. I’ve straddled the sighted and blind world for years. I’ve often wondered whether I need a white cane. But, over the years, with my vision deteriorating and with many ‘accidents’ to my credit, I have learned the white cane’s value. Luckily, I never had an accident with my car, as I stopped driving 20 years ago.

Without my white cane, I’ve fallen over curbs and medians in the road. Once I walked into an idling car at an intersection as I crossed the street. At times I’ve appeared rude and felt embarrassed because I didn’t know someone waved to me, or that they reached out to shake my hand or pass me something, or even, that they were there at all. Although I’ve learned many tricks to cope with my continual vision deterioration, I’ve done my share of walking into people and things.

Yet, I see fair detail through my tunnel – if I notice or find the item to look at.

If I sit across from you at a dinner table, I will see only part of your face – maybe one eye. If I sit across the living room from you and look at your face, I will not see the rest of you – I will just see your head. Only by scanning with my eyes, will I see more.

When I walk on the sidewalk, I see 1/6 – 1/8 its width at a time, so without my cane I need to keep my eyes focused downward to avoid straying off the edge.

One summer I ran over my lawn mower cord, due to lack of peripheral vision, but with my tunnel vision, I re-connected the wires to repair the cord. My remaining vision is useful, but I cannot count on it.

In 1997, I experienced an awakening. I attended a U.S. National Federation of the Blind (NFB) convention in New Orleans with my husband and a contingency of blind Canadians, led by Dr Paul Gabias. There were over 3,000 blind attendees of all ages. There were lawyers, teachers – every imaginable occupation – full of life – with positive attitudes toward their blindness – ‘proud to use their canes.’ Their white canes symbolized independence and ability – not dependence and inability. I learned their philosophies, such as ‘it is respectable to be blind.’ I learned that attitudinal change needed to come from within me, not just from society. The traditional concept of blindness was changing. So was mine.

During the last couple of years, I have become more accepting and comfortable with my blindness and have learned the value of the long white cane. It is an important travel tool for the visually impaired and for the blind – and we ‘should’ feel proud and legitimate using it. With the white cane, I detect curbs, stairs, obstacles and pathways. In busy, crowded areas, in unfamiliar places, or in the dark, the white cane helps me to navigate. I don’t need to guess, or work so hard to scan with my eyes to see. I can relax while I walk and let the cane do most of the work.

Although I keep my cane in my purse in familiar places, I never go anywhere without it. My white cane is my constant companion – my security blanket. With it I feel independent, confident and safe. With it I explore the world.

Back to Top

Shades Of Meaning

Speech by Frederick Driver

‘Moving Forward’ Convention 2007

I’m honoured to be asked to share with you my perspective as a sighted Federationist, on travelling with the long white cane.

Let me begin by quoting Rebekah Jakeman’s first experience with the long white cane and a blind mentor. From her article in the Braille Monitor of last April: [I quote] “Freedom – is such an abstract word, but to me it can be symbolized in just three words: long white cane… It was light, easy to use, and quite long… When the cane is longer, it allows one to walk faster. The cane tip is a couple of paces ahead of you and gives you enough time to react to steps, bumps, or curbs. So as fireworks burst in the sky behind me, I was given a quick lesson in confidence and cane use… For me this was the biggest celebration of freedom because I no longer needed to trust someone else’s assessment that I could or couldn’t travel with a cane. I knew from my own experience that I can … To me that is what freedom is…” [end quote]

That is the spirit of the long white cane: freedom, confidence, independence, and pride. A spirit of celebration.

And obviously, when it comes to white canes: size does matter!

In case anyone is unfamiliar with sleepshades and their purpose, Arlene Hill, a blind cane-travel instructor, explains: [I quote from her article, “Teaching cane travel: a blind professional’s perspective”, American Rehabilitation, Autumn-Winter ’97], “Sleepshade training is a technique used by many instructors and university training programs. A black mask or covering is placed over the eyes of the student. Because the student’s vision is thus completely obstructed, he/she is able to thoroughly learn the alternative techniques for travelling safely and independently… Using sleepshades [is] the best way one can learn to trust alternative skills enough to use them and to become an independent cane traveller.” [end quote]

My first experience with the long white cane was facilitated by a fully blind, excellent cane traveller, mentor, and long-time Federationist. In ten minutes or so, he showed me how to hold the cane, how to use it, and we were off. We travelled several blocks, crossing a number of streets, and back again. Successfully. I still remember the positive and exhilarating feeling of crossing my first street. I then joined in several White Cane Walks, during which Federation members travel as a group, practicing cane travel, building confidence, and expanding our skills and abilities by learning from each other. Those with any vision wear sleepshades. After these experiences, I was sufficiently confident and competent to travel alone from my home to a Federation meeting downtown. I donned sleepshades before leaving my suite, walked a couple of streets to the bus stop, crossing a busy road, took the bus to town, crossed a major traffic artery, and travelled a couple of streets to the hotel, removing my shades only after entering the hotel.

My experiences travelling with the long white cane have been overwhelmingly positive. I already knew, intellectually, that cane travel was effective, because I knew that many blind people travel confidently and competently this way. But when I actually tried it for myself, I was amazed by the clarity of perception that the long white cane affords, and by the amount and the reliability of the information it gives you about your environment as you move through it. I had imagined that it would be difficult to distinguish between, say, grass and sidewalk, or to follow a curb or a building. It is not. It’s immediately clear and straightforward. As Arlene Hill said: “It was immediately obvious to me that [the long white] cane was not just a symbol of blindness but was, in fact, a tool that could be used to achieve true freedom.” [end quote]

Often, newly-blind beginners seem to feel that learning cane travel is difficult, daunting, and requires extensive training by sighted experts. Yet I had almost no experience or training; and I certainly did not have, need or want training from any sighted so-called expert. And I have proven to myself beyond any doubt that cane travel is effective and not difficult. It’s just getting around–a basic human function. The key is having good mentors, practice, and just getting out there. I put it to you that the reason I did not find it difficult is that I have been in the Federation a long time and already knew the truth about blindness. The false notion that cane travel is difficult comes from misconceptions about blindness, and from an unreasoning reliance on residual vision. It’s the same mistaken psychology that’s at work in most public simulations. It has nothing to do with any real difficulty of the task. And knowing the truth about blindness dispels that mistaken notion. To quote from a recent workshop at my place of employment: “Knowledge is not just about content and information: it provides an orientation to the world. What you know frames how you behave and how you think about yourself and others.” [end quote]

I am sighted. But because I have long been a Federationist, my first experience with the long white cane was the antithesis of the typical simulation. In his article “On Simulating Blindness” David Kappan explains what is wrong with simulations: [I quote] “Many educators [have] construct[ed] activities designed to simulate blindness… [I]individuals will emerge from experiences where they have worn a visual occluder with the impression that they have… experienced what it is like to be blind. Serious misconceptions may be created as [a] result… Simulation participants have had no instruction in the skills of blindness, such as cane travel, and thus their lasting impression is that being blind is hard and there is not much that can be done.” [end quote]

So, when a neophyte takes up a cane, if he has no previous exposure to the Federation philosophy of blindness, he has a very negative experience, and his misconceptions and stereotypes of helplessness are reinforced. But, if he knows and embraces the Federation perspective, knows the truth about blindness, he has a very positive experience and immediately understands the validity of cane travel as a liberating and effective means of getting around. I have a dream. (Sorry, those words aren’t original.) A dream, that someday, a majority of the sighted will know and embrace the truth about blindness: that blindness is just a characteristic, not a handicap or a tragedy; that vision is not necessary to function fully, competently, and independently in the world; that with training and opportunity, the blind can compete on terms of equality with the sighted. Given that truth—that more realistic and accurate notion of blindness–the natural response to a simulation is one of excitement, potential, effectiveness, and achievement. “Hey, I can do this! This really works!” But, unfortunately we are still a long way from achieving that majority shift in thinking about blindness–especially in Canada, where, as Dr. tenBroek said: “an agency colossus bestrides the world of the blind from coast to coast.” Until that attitudinal shift occurs, simulations with the uninitiated only contribute to misconceptions and stereotypes, and must be avoided.

Now to the question of who best to teach cane travel. There are some sighted so-called experts who insist that the blind are not fit to teach the blind. For example, William Wiener’s article “The Need for Vision in Teaching Orientation and Mobility” (Journal of Visual Impairment and Blindness, January ’92), which argues that “some vision is needed for instructors monitoring visually impaired individuals learning cane travel.” (By the way, according to his c.v., in the 1970s, Wiener chaired or was a member of committees of the American Association of Workers for the Blind, and the National Accreditation Council–both of which organizations were enemies of the organized blind movement.)

I will concede that Mr. Wiener is aptly named. But his premise is mistaken! Learning cane travel does not require help or instruction from the sighted. The best people to teach anything are those who do it, and do it well. Would you want to fly with a pilot who was trained by someone who never flew an airplane himself? No! Would you want to learn French from a teacher who didn’t speak French? No! So why would anyone think that a sighted person, who doesn’t travel with a cane, makes a good cane travel instructor? That’s nonsense. Good blind cane travellers are the best people to learn from.

The argument of some sighted professionals is based on the misconception that blind cane travelers need to be protected. The very misconception Arlene Hill eloquently debunks, in her article: [quote] “Sighted O&M specialists generally are abstract and theoretical or have a protective attitude toward blind students, whereas blind instructors teach by using concrete, practical, and realistic approaches and examples. Sighted specialists seem to believe that blind people need to be protected and are not able to do much really independent travelling. Blind instructors are independent cane travelers, and there is no doubt in their minds that blind students can be taught by other blind persons to be just as good, or better than, the instructor… The notion that blind instructors are at a disadvantage compared to sighted ones when teaching orientation and mobility (O&M) to blind people is one of the greatest misunderstandings in the field of blindness.” [end quote]

I’m beginning to understand why I prefer blind cane travel instructors, to sighted “O & M” instructors. O & M must stand for over-protective and misinformed. It is obvious that the authors of such “need-for-vision” perspectives are simply trying to protect their own vested interest as sighted instructors and experts, and trying to prevent the blind from teaching the blind, even though the latter yields demonstrably superior results.

In his 1919 volume of “Four Minute Essays”, Dr. Frank Crane had something to say about the damage of over-protectiveness–in his example, as it relates to children learning to walk: [quote] “Mr. T. Jefferson and others briefly listed the inalienable human rights as three: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. There is a fourth: the right to make one’s own mistakes… Our growth, character, enjoyment of life come from our mistakes. A child that is not permitted to fall will never learn to walk; for walking is a succession of falls. In our eagerness to make our children successful we rob them of the very foundation of success… We are so anxious to have them happy that we take from them the key to happiness… I want the right to burn my own fingers, bump my own head… and do the whole range of…things. Only when I am at perfect liberty to… smash, and ruin my life, only then am I capable of triumph, power, and goodness. It is important to be trained in morality; it is still more important to be trained in liberty.” [end quote]

Liberty. The freedom to discover for oneself: “I can do it!” And where the white cane is concerned: anyone can do it, with a mentor and some practice. With the Federation behind us, and armed with knowledge–knowledge of the truth about blindness—the seeming hurdles turn to chimera, and evaporate.

To return to my title, “Shades of Meaning”. Sleepshades have meant this for me: they have allowed me to experience for myself, and internalize, what I already knew intellectually–that the long white cane is a safe and effective way of getting around; that it’s a tool for liberation and empowerment; and that we can use it with confidence, and with pride.

Back to Top

The Handicap of Vision

Learning the Skills of Blindness

Speech by Elizabeth Lalonde, president CFB

CFB ‘Believe’ convention 2005

I am excited about this convention; it gives us a chance as blind people and as parents of blind children to think and talk about blindness openly, honestly and in ways we may not have imagined.

Sometimes we accept a practice or approach because it is common, because it is the way things are done. But today we are thinking beyond what is accepted and considering alternatives. I want to tell you about myself and my experience as a child growing up with limited vision, and about some of the road blocks I encountered, and how to prevent these from happening to yourself or your children.

When I was two, my parents noticed me looking sideways at things.

My mom took me to an ophthalmologist. The doctor said I had a condition called Retinitis Pigmentosa. He explained the severity of my visual impairment in detailed medical language. But the only thing my mom remembers from that visit was when the doctor said that ‘I would never go blind.’

That comment – that I would never go blind – set the stage for how teachers and other professionals treated me in my growing-up years.

I cannot imagine the fear my mother felt as she took me by the hand and walked out of the doctor’s office that day.

My mother showed her strength that day and through all the days, months and years to follow. It is because of my mother and her courage and determination and her belief in me, that I am successful.

Around my fourth birthday, my mother and father separated. My mother, grandparents and I moved to Victoria from Calgary. I didn’t know much about my new home, and when I turned to the big water on the ferry boat and yelled out “the river”, everyone laughed.

I didn’t have any friends in this new place, so on my birthday, my mother and grandparents invited the neighbours’ children over for cake.

When we first got to Victoria, my mother went to the local CNIB office to ask for assistance. She met a blind woman who was positive and cheerful and who read Braille as fast as anyone could read print.

The woman read Braille, but she didn’t suggest I learn Braille. She used a white cane, but she didn’t give me a white cane.

A few months later, a teacher from the school district dropped by the house. My mom remembers she was nice. I vaguely remember sitting with her at the dining room table

I remember the flash cards: narrow strips of cardboard with large black letters, which the teacher said I would learn to read.

My vision then was similar to my vision now, like a doughnut with a bite out of the top. I could see things along the outer edge of the doughnut and nothing in the middle. These things consisted of shapes and outlines and no detail.

I’m not sure what the nice teacher was thinking as I brought the card up close to my left eye to see the letters. That was the beginning of a close relationship I had with paper for the next few years. And when I say close, I mean it literally. There was me, my left eye pressed against the pages, my back slumped and nothing else in my field of vision but a giant black letter. I remember the smell of the ink and the paper, but not the words.

That home visit was similar to my mom’s earlier visit at CNIB, friendly, companionable, but with no mention of Braille or of blindness.

The teachers didn’t treat me like a blind child. They treated me like a sighted child with poor vision. They didn’t teach me Braille. They taught me print, the medium of the sighted. They meant no harm. I’m sure they felt it was the right thing to do. They were working under the philosophy common to many specialists in the blindness field that if people have some useable vision, they should make the most of it, use it to its full potential.

So it went. I started school as a visually impaired student, and gained a collection of low vision aids and gadgets:

– A funny wooden board that raised and lowered to varying heights with a strap to hold in a book. This board was supposed to help my posture, so I wouldn’t have to bend over the books. I remember its strong wood smell, and the annoying strap that never stayed in place and blocked the line of print I was trying to read.

– Binoculars, (for reading the board and seeing distant objects). These didn’t work because I could only see out of my left eye.

– Then came the monocular – a brilliant invention, a lighter, smaller version of the binoculars. No need to carry that extra monocle around if you weren’t going to use it.

These devices didn’t help me because instead of using them to read the board, I put them in my desk and stood at the chalk board beside the teacher as she wrote math problems. To this day I dread the mention of arithmetic.

– Oh, and the magnify glasses – the low vision clinic and the teachers for the blind gave me a progression of these little wonders – ones with little lights, ones that you held above the page, ones that you slid across the page. I remember the tickle of my eyelashes brushing against the glass – and the funny look of the letters, like little bugs crawling along the paper.

– And the king of them all – the clown and glory of low vision aids:

the visualTech. This contraption resembles a television with a tray underneath. You place the book on the tray and the print appears magnified many times on the screen.

Manufacturers have updated these devices over the years. But the general idea remains the same. You will achieve literacy if you make the print as large as you possibly can.

I will never forget sitting in front of the class with my visualTech. The teacher put two desks side by side to accommodate all my equipment. I didn’t get to sit with the other kids in the long, tidy rows of desks. Instead I stuck out, like a growth on a potato, my back to the class, the screen of the visualTech advertising its black, text-book letters for everyone to see.

The teacher included me in reading-aloud time. I guess that was part of integration. My stomach dropped and my heart sped up every time my turn approached. My heart was the only thing that went quickly because the combination of my nervousness, my embarrassment and my poor vision resulted in a slow read.

These aids are all badges of the visually impaired. But unlike badges, I did not use these gadgets proudly. Instead they weighed me down, marked me as inferior.

After all that, it’s amazing I love to read. Even with these difficulties, I sat for hours as a little girl and read with the visualTech or a magnify glass. My favourite book was “Ramona Quimby Age Eight.”

I also loved listening to stories. I sat on my grandfather’s knee while he made up tales of “KillerDiller,” the wolf who liked to chase little children, and snuggled in bed while my mom read from a book of fairytales.

Learning to print and to write was just as hard as learning to read. The teacher for the blind gave me special paper with wide black lines. I learned to write the letters with a black felt pen, and though the other children’s printing progressed from squiggly, crooked characters to more mature, straight letters, mine remains to this day the printing of a grade one child. There’s nothing wrong with that, if I use it to write the odd note to a sighted person, or to prepare a grocery list for someone else to read. But there was something wrong when print became my only nonverbal tool for expressing myself.

My grade five teacher got so frustrated with my mound of unorganized papers stuck in my binder that he sent it home with me one day and asked my mom to help me organize it. I needed my mom to help me because I could not read any of it. It’s no wonder my science notes got mixed up with my spelling words, and my creative writing got stuck in with my math work.

That was the year I learned to type. Twice a week after school with the teacher for the blind, I plunked on an electric typewriter. I memorized home row and gained speed quickly. Learning to type made a big difference for me. I finally had a way to write legibly and a way to communicate on paper clearly and easily. But typing didn’t solve all my problems.

I still remember my story in creative writing class: “Adventures in the Cabbage Patch”. I loved my characters. Sandra, the heroine was beautiful and brave. She saved the day and kept the cabbage patch safe from the angry lords. I remember the sense of accomplishment when I took the stack of typed pages to mom for her to read. I remember the devastation when she said the pages were blank. I forgot to change the ribbon.

Then there was my white cane, conspicuous in its absence. I cannot blame anybody for my refusal to use it. Goodness knows they tried. I’m sure my orientation and mobility teacher is shivering with frustration as I reminisce. Occasionally, I used my cane to cross a busy street. I would take it cautiously out of my bag, afraid someone would see me, like a criminal involved in a covert operation. I would use it to cross the street and then quickly fold it and stuff it back in my bag.

It would have helped to know other people who used white canes and who used them proudly and with confidence – young people like me and adults with successful lives. But the only blind person I knew was a man who talked about how he loved going downtown without his cane, and how he hated using his cane, and how he felt better about himself when he didn’t use his cane.

Since I was born blind, the blindness professionals should have given me a cane in my preschool years. I should have grown with my cane. Just like my arms and legs grew, my cane, like another body part, should have grown too. Instead, the cane felt like a foreign object that fit awkwardly in my body space.

I trudged along this way through my elementary school years, nervous, shy, afraid of being different.

I remember the day I finally broke. It was in grade seven during a science test. I was sitting in my usual spot in front of the class trying to read the questions with my visualTech. There was a time limit, and I wasn’t going to finish. I had studied the night before with the help of my mom who read me the text book. I started to cry. The teacher noticed my tears and came over. He sent me out of the classroom and asked another student, Adam, – the brain of the class, who had already finished his test – to read me the questions and write my answers. I sat in the hallway on the floor beside Adam, and felt stupider than ever before. Adam was smart. What if I got some of the answers wrong?

Suddenly, I couldn’t remember anything. My mind went blank. I cried again. The teacher for the blind came and read me the exam. I got an ‘A’ on the test.

That day marked the turning point. My life as a sighted child with low vision was ending. I started my transition to a blind person, and this had nothing to do with my level of vision. Instead it had to do with a change in the way I saw myself.

I got a talking calculator, a talking watch and a talking clock – and my first text book on tape. The teacher for the blind read all my exams out loud and wrote my answers.

I got what we would now call a primitive ancestor of the talking computer, a “Small Talk.” I remember when the teacher gave me this amazing piece of equipment. I remember its synthesized voice – distorted, monotone, beautiful.

This device was portable, with one main area for typing documents. It had no hard drive or memory. The only way to save my work was on a mini cassette. I remember crying when the “Small Talk” lost my homework.

Well, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a huge improvement over my messy grade five binder

The following year I entered junior high school and started a new phase in my life as a student. Because of my average performance in elementary school, my parents and teachers enrolled me in regular classes instead of in enriched courses.

Surprise – with my new method of learning, my grades rose from ‘C’s’ and ‘C pluses’ to ‘A’s’ and ‘A pluses’. Nobody could believe it. I couldn’t believe it.

A few months into the school year, my teachers and parents met to discuss my progress. They put me in some enriched courses, including social studies and English. Notably, I stayed in regular math and science.

High school was better than elementary school. But despite all the wonderful talking gadgets, and the improvement in my grades and confidence, something was missing.

I still went around without my white cane. Oh, yes, I tucked it away safe and warm in my school bag. If white canes came with warrantees, I would have gotten a full refund. My cane looked as new as the day I got it. No scratches or dents marred its surface, and the tip glistened with lack of use.

I got away with not using it; so I thought. I had enough vision to see shapes and objects, and usually avoided them as long as I turned my head to the side, and focused all my attention on travelling. This intense effort prevented me from relaxing and enjoying the walk.

Yes, I could get around without my cane, but what a price I paid for this false freedom.

My mom always got stressed when she and I went shopping. I prowled through the stores, touched everything, pushed my face into merchandise, and missed the eye contact of the store clerk and the smiles of the other shoppers.

I accepted all of it: the misunderstandings, the missed opportunities for conversation, a simple hello. It was better to appear stupid or clumsy then to be blind.

What kept me from accepting my blindness? Was it because no-one ever said I was blind? Was it because well-meaning people focused so much on my residual vision that they forgot to focus on my lack of it? Was it because totally blind people came from an alien world, not my world? Was it because I hardly ever met any blind people? Maybe it was a little of all of these.

On occasion I met other blind people, on my rare visits to CNIB, or when I went to a special recreational event. But usually, I only met sighted people, sighted children. My teachers were sighted. My friends were sighted. I related to sighted people and wanted to be like them. Sighted people didn’t use white canes so why should I?

The reasons I couldn’t identify myself as a blind person were complex. But eventually I found my way through these foggy and murky layers to the truth of my blindness.

One summer I went to camp for blind teens on Bowen Island in British Columbia. It was the first place I’d ever been where blindness was normal. I met my first boy friend at camp. I met my first love at camp. I met some of my oldest friends at camp. I was popular at camp. I was blind and I was popular.

Another great blindness memory was meeting my girl friend. She was just beginning to lose her sight from Retinitis Pigmentosa, the same eye condition I had. The teachers for the blind brought us together to meet. She lived in Vancouver. We met at the White Spot, two thirteen year-old girls with something important in common. We sat at our own table and got acquainted and ate hamburgers and laid the foundation for a friendship that remains strong today.

I also remember my orientation and mobility teacher organizing a group of blind teenagers from across BC for a day in the big city. He sent us out and told us to find a restaurant. For the first time, I enjoyed travelling. For those brief hours, we were together. We were the same. We were one.

Gradually, I became more comfortable with myself and with my blindness. My cane poked out of my bag, and I began carrying it folded in half. At least it was out in the open. I didn’t use my white cane full out and all the time until I entered college at the age of 18. Even then I wasn’t completely transformed.

As a young adult, I used my cane at a bar for the first time, and last month, at a party, I held my cane tall and upright Federation-style while I sat in a chair. It was nice to relax. The other guests knew I was blind and I didn’t have to pretend.

The National Federation of the Blind promotes long, rigid, unfoldable canes. These canes are lightweight, easy-to-use and efficient. You can walk faster, and find things more quickly than with a shorter cane.

Some say the rigid canes are inconvenient because you can’t fold them. Yes, it is true, the National Federation of the Blind believes in making it very inconvenient for a blind person to hide their cane. Bravo for the National Federation of the Blind.

Here I am, 32 years old, born blind, and only now truly understanding the benefits of my heritage

I will talk about the heritage of blindness, and some of its entitlements. I’ve talked about the long white cane and the freedom and empowerment it gives. Now I will talk about Braille.

I am sorry to say the biggest role Braille has played in my life has been in its absence. I was born with less than ten per cent vision, to say it another way, I was born more than 90 per cent blind. At best, I can see one large print letter at a time, with considerable strain and discomfort. I can’t read my own writing.

Yet, as a child in school, I did not learn one of the most basic tools of blindness: Braille. They did not teach me how to read it.

In grade 10, the teacher for the blind introduced Braille to me for the first time. I thank her for her wisdom. She taught it to me for credit during the school day.

During that year, I learned how to read and write Braille. I wrote love letters in Braille to my boyfriend.

But I didn’t do any of my school work in Braille. After my boyfriend and I broke up, and after I finished the Braille credit course, I didn’t use it as much, and I started to loose speed and to forget the contractions.

When I entered university, Braille became a distant memory, an impossible dream.

I was an ‘A’ student, on the honour role in high school, and at the top of my class in post secondary. I loved books and read avidly. But I was, in the true sense of the word, illiterate.

I am proud of myself and my accomplishments. I managed well with the tools I was given. I only wish Braille had been one of those tools.

Instead of being exempt from geography class, I could have learned about the world through tactile maps. Instead of straining to see large numbers, I might have excelled at math with knowledge of Nemeth Code. Instead of painstakingly memorizing speeches and developing a fear of public speaking, I could have used Braille notes.

I can talk forever about lost opportunities, but this serves no purpose, other than for people to learn from my experience. There are no more excuses. Now that I am privileged to be the leader of the Federation in Canada, I must learn Braille and learn it fully.

Braille came back into my life two years ago when I became pregnant with my son, Rhys. I needed motivation. Rhys became that motivation.

I wanted to read to him, not just by listening to a tape or CD, or by making up stories (though I love doing this), but by really reading him a book. So, I spent every day practicing and re-learning the Grade Two contractions. I wanted to read a print Braille book called “Hurry Up Franklin.”

I reached this goal. I admit I read at a speed slower than the turtle in the story, but I read it – and I practice and gain speed everyday.

I hope the meaning of the title of my speech, “The Handicap of Vision,” is now clear. In the Federation, one of our philosophies is that blindness is not a handicap, but a characteristic, and that with training and opportunity, blind people can compete on terms of equality with our sighted peers.

It is true that with the proper skills, such as Braille and the long white cane, and with opportunity, and with self-confidence and successful blind role models, – and yes, with practice, blindness is not a big deal.

But without these things, blindness can be difficult.

When you rely on poor vision and do not learn blindness skills, you are creating a handicap for yourself.

I appeal to you to think about what I am saying, to think about the handicap of vision.

All blind people, no matter how old we are, no matter how much useable vision we have, should get the opportunity and the encouragement to learn blindness skills, to learn the skills of our heritage.

I am not against using vision. I use my vision all the time. I see bright and contrasting colours. I love playing with colour to create my wardrobe and to decorate my house. My sight sometimes helps me get around. However, this sight serves as an additional tool, a supplement to my blindness skills. The blindness skills are the foundation.

In the blindness community we are divided according to degree of vision – by numbers and terminologies – 20 over 200, tunnel and peripheral, legal blindness, and the peculiar sport classification: ‘B1,’ ‘B2’ and ‘B3’. If you don’t know, ‘B1’s’ are totally blind, ‘B2’s’ are people like me with a bit of vision, and ‘B3’s’ meet the legal definition of blindness, but have a comparatively higher degree of sight. No wonder people are confused. No wonder people find it hard to identify themselves as blind.

Blind people try to reach a level on the ladder of sightedness, and we climb over each other in the race for the top. I say forget this ladder, and forget the climb. Join me and all Federationists on the ground, the finest, most sensible and most rewarding place to be.

Back to Top

Speech by Fredrick Driver

CFB ‘Believe’ Convention 2005

When I was asked to say a few words, from my perspective, as a sighted Federationist, I was honoured to be asked. But I was reluctant to accept. Because I couldn’t think of anything to say. The reason I couldn’t think of anything to say, is because I don’t believe that my perspective as a sighted person is any different from the perspective of a blind person.

So many long-standing attitudes and structures are based on the misconception that the blind and the sighted are somehow fundamentally different. Well, the news is: we’re not.

There are two basic approaches to the question. One is the traditional agency or charity model, whereby the majority sighted establishment views the blind as less than equal to them, and as wards or recipients of their benevolence. The other approach is that of the organized blind movement: the National Federation of the Blind, and the Canadian Federation of the Blind. That is, an approach based on equality between the blind and the sighted; based on the blind speaking for themselves, and not being spoken for by do-gooders who presume to know better and pronounce on their behalf. Based on the empowerment of the blind as citizens and equals, competent and fit to take charge of their own destiny and affairs.

In comparing various countries in terms of their progressiveness, or regressiveness, in this regard, Dr. Jacobus tenBroek, a renowned constitutional scholar, professor, founder of the National Federation of the Blind, and a former Canadian, said [I quote]: “In Canada the story is perhaps the saddest and sorriest of all. In that northern clime an agency colossus bestrides the world of the blind from coast to coast, making free use of company-union tactics wherever any independent sentiment dares to express itself among the disorganized blind. Only a handful of undaunted spirits remain to hold the banner aloft in the deserted battlefield.” [end quote]

The charity mind-set has long had a stranglehold on blindness in the Canadian consciousness. I recall an occasion when a blind friend of mine and I were walking down a Victoria street, and a drunk beggar asked my friend for money. When the beggar realized that my friend was blind, he said, “Oh! I give to the CNIB”. The man was so drunk he couldn’t have remembered his own name. Yet he was unable to tolerate the idea that he, a sighted homeless person, would ask a successful and respectable blind person for money. He felt an instant need to try and reverse the relationship. That is the extent of the stranglehold that the agency colossus and its charity model have on the public consciousness.

Dr. tenBroek succinctly states the central flaw of the charity model

[quote]: “..There are … large and powerful agencies … which remain hostile to our movement … The worst of these … seeks to impose upon the blind not less but more authority and custody than ever before. Under the guise of professionalism, it would perpetuate colonialism. Its philosophy is a throwback to the age of the silent client, before the revolution in welfare and civil rights which converted the client into an active and vocal partner in the programming and dispensing of services. In its lofty disregard of the organized blind as the voice of those to be served … [it] betrays its bureaucratic bias – that is, its distorted image of the blind client not as a PERSON to be SERVED but as a defective mechanism to be SERVICED.” [end quote]

Now; given a certain degree of progress that has been made in parallel struggles for economic and social equality and opportunity – like the civil rights movement, feminism, and diversity generally – one might have expected this backward attitude toward the blind to have died a natural death, and been replaced by one based on equality, respect, and self-determination. But this has not happened in Canada. The cause of its delay can be stated in one word. Fundraising. A massive charity establishment owes its very existence, its fundraising, to the public’s continued misconception that the blind are charity cases. These money-makers on the backs of the blind, are, in the words of Dr. tenBroek: “the obsolete custodians … who seek to defend their vested interest by subsidizing the ghost of the helpless blind man …”

The charity or agency establishment has done much to improve its image. But not its substance. They use some of the right words. But there is a fundamental lack of democratic accountability in the charity model. Blind leaders are often appointed, as image-savers, as tokens, but there is no mechanism whatsoever for democratic input and control by the blind collectively. Indeed, I recall, when a blind colleague of mine and I suggested in a meeting that an agency for the blind should be ultimately accountable to the blind, this was received as a heresy against the established order, in which financial donors and sighted people hold the reins.

To illustrate my meaning, let me cite a Resolution of the National Federation of the Blind of Ohio [quote]: “A sighted person was appointed as the temporary chair of the Bureau of Services for the Visually Impaired Advisory Committee because the chair was unable to contact the blind person SHE WANTED to appoint … The obvious solution would have been to appoint one of the other blind members to serve temporarily … We condemn and deplore the appointment of a sighted … committee member as Chair when competent blind members participate actively on the committee and would be willing to serve … Members of the NFB believe passionately that blind people have been subjected for so long to imposed leadership and control by the sighted that making such an appointment is particularly egregious … The National Federation of the Blind of Ohio has always maintained that only those ELECTED to represent the blind can speak for the blind …” [end quote]

I would like to share with you now, two statements by sighted people, that demonstrate the shift in thinking which must occur. They are examples of people making progress toward a better understanding. The sound of minds opening.

[I quote from: Walking Alone and Marching Together: A History of the Organized Blind Movement.]

“Among the most striking and heartening examples of this new spirit of cooperation and understanding – as opposed to condescension and pity – is .. a prominent Lion and administrative assistant to [a] Congressman … In the past … the Lions, who have always felt a particular closeness to their blind neighbors, have done things FOR them rather than WITH them. [The Lion says:] I believe we are on the threshold of a new era … I know that there are some of us in Lionism … who feel that the blind are infringing on our right by conducting their own white cane drives, because the Lions for the past 25 years have honored White Cane Day. But the white cane is a symbol of blindness, and what more understanding and true spirit of Lionism could there be than to return the symbol of blindness to the blind and thank God they are able to carry their own banner … I believe … that it is time we better understand our relationship with the blind, and to do that we must better understand the blind. We should understand that you not only seek but are entitled to both social and economic equality; that you are normal people and as such you have the right of self-expression as individuals and through your organizations; that both federal and state agencies should consult with your representatives in formulating programs that concern your welfare, or further your opportunities … To this end I believe we can work together as a team, and lend a hand when it is needed. I believe that it is far better that we learn the purposes and objectives of your organization and help you accomplish them rather than try to steer you on a different course. In short, I believe we should work WITH you rather than FOR you ..” [end quote]

That was the sound of a sighted old man’s mind opening. Now let’s hear the sound of a sighted young woman’s mind opening.

[I quote from a document called “Enlightening the Sighted”, by Rebecca R. Long … [a] political science major at Gannon State University in Erie, Pennsylvania …]

“I was more than uncomfortable. It was my second day working as an intern for Leadership Erie, a leadership program for adults of the Greater Erie community in Pennsylvania, and here I was at lunch sitting next to the only disabled person in the group. Her name was Judy Jobes, and she was blind. “Disabled”: that is how I thought of her at that lunch a little over a year ago. Now Judy is one of my closest friends and my greatest mentor in my career. She is anything but disabled. My understanding of blindness has grown because of Judy but even more because of the National Federation of the Blind. My experience with the Federation began in January of this year. I came home from class one day to find a message from Judy asking if I’d like to attend a conference in Washington, D.C., during which we would talk to Members of Congress about issues of concern to the National Federation of the Blind. I was hesitant but decided not only to attend the conference but to drive the six of us to D.C., since I would be the only one in the group with full sight. My friends and parents were baffled by this decision, dwelling on the burden they felt I was inflicting on myself. However, the opportunity to watch the political process in action shimmered before me, and I ignored the skepticism of my family and peers. Being a political science major, I couldn’t pass up the chance to observe interest-group politics. Before the trip I envisioned learning primarily about advocacy; I wasn’t thinking how much I could learn about blindness. Judy told me that the experience would change my life, but I didn’t understand what she was talking about at the time. As I loaded luggage handed to me by my Federation companions, I began to get concerned. How was I going to guide all five of them at the same time? How much sight did each of them have, and how was it going to help? What if I did or said something that offended them? How much help was too much? How much were they depending on me? All of these questions pass through the mind of a sighted person when put in a situation dealing with a group of blind people for the first time. Finally I decided I couldn’t worry about it, and if I did make a mistake there would be about 500 blind people at the conference who could let me know. Saturday there was a student seminar, and throughout the whole morning I was disturbed. These blind students were upset with the injustices of the educational system. It was clear that they felt cheated of their right to be considered equal to sighted students. I sat in the audience and thought to myself, “These students may be intelligent, but you cannot ignore the fact that they are blind and that blindness has to be considered disabling”. I couldn’t comprehend what it was these students wanted. By the time we sat down to lunch in the hotel restaurant, I was completely annoyed with myself for not being able to empathize with these students and the problems they were clearly having. But during that meal I slowly began to understand. After being handed a Braille menu, I realized that the waiters had assumed that I must be blind. After all, their reasoning clearly went, why would a sighted person be interested in attending a conference for the blind? Deep in conversation at the time, I didn’t acknowledge the waiter when he brought my entree. Presumably in an effort to be helpful, he pushed the plate I was eating from away and pulled the new one across to rest in front of me. This simple act was so terribly patronizing that I suddenly started to realize what these students wanted – to be treated with decency and respect for themselves and their abilities. For the next five days I was shoved into chairs, grabbed by the arm, stared at, pointed to, and referred to (usually in a hushed voice) as disabled. Those who realized I could see cast sympathetic glances at me as if I’d been trapped into community service or something worse. Even the assistants in Congressional offices, many of whom had dealt with the Federation members before, didn’t realize how offensive it was when they looked to me as a leader simply because I could see. In those six short days I began to see blindness as less a tragedy and more a simple albeit bothersome hindrance. I began to realize that Judy had asked me to attend, not because the Pennsylvania group needed sighted supervision, but because she knew that the experience would be invaluable to me. The philosophy of the Federation was evident once I allowed myself to see it:

“Given proper training and opportunity, blind people can compete on terms of real equality with their sighted peers.” The Federation’s ability to organize is amazing; even the legislative offices in D.C. noticed and commented on it. With this kind of organization and efficiency brought to bear on the problem, obtaining proper training for all blind persons is a potential reality. The Federation does more than provide training, advice, and support for its blind members; it enlightens sighted people simply by the example set by those members. The achievement of the Federation’s goal of ensuring that proper skills and attitudes are taught to blind people will help to dispel the misconceptions about blindness that are held by the general public. The organization has already done this for me.” [end quote]

That is the sound of a sighted young woman’s mind opening.

The Canadian Federation of the Blind – the organized blind movement – is working for the empowerment of blind Canadians. For equality, respect, opportunity, and self-determination. It will bring the sighted and the blind alike to a more realistic and positive understanding of blindness. An understanding that blindness is just a human characteristic – not a tragedy. That blind people are normal people, who with training and opportunity, can compete on terms of equality with the sighted. The sighted must come to understand that the blind are not their helpless wards or dependents, and come to embrace them as equals and fellow citizens, competent to take charge of their own destiny and participate fully in the economic and social life of this country. In the United States, where the organized blind broke the agency stranglehold decades ago, remarkable progress has been made toward these goals. It is time to break the charity stranglehold in Canada, and to insist upon first-class, not second-class citizenship for the blind. It is a privilege and a joy to participate in this work.

Back to Top

Moving Forward: The Direction of the Canadian Federation of the Blind

Speech by Elizabeth Lalonde, president, CFB

CFB ‘Moving Forward’ Convention 2007

I am happy to welcome you today to the second convention of the Canadian Federation of the Blind. Thank you for coming and sharing this time with all of us.

I particularly want to welcome Dr. Marc Maurer, president of the National Federation of the Blind and Mrs. Patricia Maurer, herself a long-time leader in the Federation, who have travelled all the way from Baltimore to be with us. We are honoured to have you both here.

Last summer I went on a trip with my toddler son, Rhys, and my husband, Jeff. It wasn’t just any trip; it was a four month journey in a travel trailer across the United States and Canada. Fun, exciting, adventurous – it was all those things. Gruelling, challenging, a test of our patience – it was all those things too.

The trip represented a moving forward figuratively and literally for my family and for myself.

On the trip we visited many famous sites, like the Grand Canyon, Disney World and Prince Edward Island’s Anne of Green Gables. We also visited three landmark places and events integral to our parallel organization in the United States, the National Federation of the Blind.

These included: the National Convention in Dallas Texas, where close to 3000 people met to learn, to share ideas and to gather together as blind people.

The second place we visited was the National Federation of the Blind training centre in Ruston, Louisiana, where we met blind people becoming self-sufficient by learning the skills of blindness: Braille, cane travel, life skills and confidence.

The third landmark we toured was the National Federation of the Blind centre in Baltimore, where Dr. Maurer and Mrs. Maurer work and where the hub of Federation activity takes place.

These visits reminded me of the enormity of work done by the organized blind movement in the United States over the last 70 years, and inspired me to do more to accomplish our work in Canada.

Now, I will introduce you all to who we are in the Canadian Federation of the Blind, what our members will be discussing today and what we aim to accomplish in our organization.

What is a Federation convention? — a series of meetings, a vacation, a chance to do business? Yes, but it’s much more than that.

Convention: it’s a time to come together as blind people, to laugh, to share ideas, to talk about frustrations, to find solutions. The fellowship, the togetherness, the energy we give each other, help us to rejuvenate ourselves, so we can go back into the world and live our lives with purpose. Federation conventions give us strength on an individual level, but they also give us strength on an organizational level.

Here is a quote from the National Federation of the Blind publication, The Braille Monitor, that highlights the importance of convention:

‘Convention: A Pilgrim’s Journey’, by Brook Sexton

“Someday I hope all blind people in our nation may make the pilgrim’s journey to National Convention. New members will join our ranks as they learn the importance of attending conventions, of drawing from our pooled strength, and of beginning where others end their efforts. Their participation will lessen the weight of the challenge so that our struggle for success, freedom, and happiness will keep moving forward…”

Later you will here from two of our new members about their first experience with the National Federation of the Blind convention last summer in Dallas, Texas.

Empowerment, growth, positive spirit permeate our conventions, and form the foundation of our organization. An organization of the blind can exist for so many reasons: socializing, advocacy, education. Members of the Canadian Federation of the Blind do these things, and we do more.

We are a movement people join to feel good about themselves, to meet other blind people who are accomplishing things, to open their mind to a new and more positive idea of blindness and the abilities of blind people.

Henry Ford once said, “If everyone is moving forward together, then success takes care of itself.” Moving forward together – that comprises the essence of the Canadian Federation of the Blind.

Through role modeling and mentoring, we help other blind people increase blindness skills for independence, like Braille, travel with the long white cane, computers and most important, self confidence.

Our members possess a range of skills. We all teach and we all learn from each other. We are the blind leading the blind. What better role model than someone who doesn’t just know something, but actually lives what they know. We are not so-called ‘experts’ or ‘professionals’ in the blindness field. We are regular blind people doing regular things and sharing our knowledge and life experience.

Later this morning, you will hear some of our members talk about our white cane walks, where a group of us get together to go out with our white canes. It’s not rocket science, or a lesson taught by sighted experts, it’s blind people moving forward together to increase our travel skills and learn from one another’s experience.

Now, I will touch on another important aspect of our organization — advocacy.

In the Federation, we believe in the necessity of employment, and the ability for blind people to make a living and support themselves. Employment gives people dignity, freedom and a sense of purpose. We must move forward in Canada to drastically improve employment of blind people. The unemployment rate of blind Canadians exceeds 80 per cent, an appalling figure. This unemployment rate doesn’t have to be so high. With a few changes, such as an effective rehabilitation system for the blind, blind Canadians could get to work.

This afternoon you will hear more about the employment situation for blind Canadians, and our ideas for change. You will also hear from blind people who are working in successful careers.

The final area I will talk about involves the importance of public education.

In the Federation, we believe in the power of education to teach people about the capabilities of blind people. Ignorance poses one of the biggest barriers to the success of the blind. If the public understands what we as blind people can do, and if they see us doing it, they are more likely to hire a blind person or accept us fully into society.

Last year, members of the Canadian Federation of the Blind visited schools in Victoria and talked to grade four students about Braille and a positive perspective of blindness. These “Braille is Beautiful” presentations made a positive impact on the students and the teachers. Here are two quotes from children in the classes:

“It was cool to learn about how blind people do things just like us,” said a student at George Jay Elementary School.

“Now I know never to think of blind people in a different way than I do other people,” said another student from Gordon Head Elementary School.

These words from children demonstrate profoundly the importance of education.

I will close with quotes from two leaders in the National Federation of the Blind. The first is by long-time Federation leader and second vice-president of the National Federation of the Blind, Peggy Elliott, from her talk at the 2003 NFB Convention in Louisville, Kentucky:

“…standing in line. Lots of people ask me, “How do you stand in line if you can’t see?” So, how do you achieve the skill of moving forward when you can’t see the person in front of you?

I walked into the post office yesterday in my little hometown and there was a great big long line. It was like Christmas. I don’t know why there were so many people in the post office. The way the post office is situated, the entrance takes you right into the middle of any line that forms. So, I unknowingly walked into the middle and somebody says, “No, no, that’s okay,” and essentially gave me permission to line cut.

I said, “No, it’s not okay. I’ll go to the end of the line.” How many times do we as blind people end up being pushed to the head of the line because we’re not paying attention or are willing to take advantage of being blind? Everybody thinks we can’t wait in line, but we can…”

In the Canadian Federation of the Blind, we don’t want to line-cut. We want to move forward in a dignified, determined and respectful way to achieve first-class citizenship with the sighted.

The second quote is from Dr. Kenneth Jernigan, the renowned former president of the National Federation of the Blind, who has since passed on.

This excerpt is taken from his famous speech, ‘Blindness: Of Visions and Vultures’, presented at the National Federation of the Blind convention in Los Angeles in 1976:

“We are organized and moving forward. We will be free – and the sighted will accept us as partners and equals. We know who we are, and we will never go back…”

In memory of Dr. Jernigan’s words, members of the Canadian Federation of the Blind will not waver. We are determined, passionate and motivated, and we believe in the strength, ability and potential of blind Canadians. We will continue to move forward in the spirit of hope, in the spirit of commitment, and always in the spirit of the Federation.

Thank you.

Back to Top

Our Experiences with the Federation and the National Federation of the Blind Convention in Dallas, Texas, July 2006

#1 – A speech by Shane Baker

CFB ‘Moving Forward’ Convention 2007

I am 29 years old. I have been blind for four years. Yesterday was the anniversary of my accident. I sustained a serious trauma to my head and damaged my optic nerves.

When I woke from the coma, I was blind. My life as I knew it was over. I remember saying to my mom, “I don’t want to live if I can’t see.”

It was a hard time for me, and I received little support over the next few years

Then, one day, I was given a CFB brochure.

And, now here I am.

You all have helped me. At first, I went to a few CFB meetings, and what I found was a group of people who had passion, fire, and who believed strongly in what they were talking about.

It was that level of people coming together — I wanted to be with these people, to hear these intelligent, these strong people. I said, “Hey, this is for me.”

The CFB gave me some money to help me go to the NFB convention in Dallas last summer – to help me pay for meals and things. My mother went with me.

It was one in the morning when we first stepped in the door of the hotel; it was something special. I heard chimes ringing from a clock, and people laughing. People welcomed me, knowing it was my first convention. The confidence that emanated from these people was something to be proud of.

Over the next few days, I would be lying if I said it wasn’t overwhelming. It brought back emotions of loss and grief. But with the help of my mother and people from the CFB, I was able to face my fears.

Now I know this cane I am holding is something to be proud of. I’m not worried about being blind anymore. I am proud to be here.

Every time I went to a session at the convention, there was that passion – the passion I had lost when I lost my sight.

A friend I met there told me that, if I learned the skills of blindness, blindness would become a nuisance, not a nightmare. Now, take a moment to think about that — because that is what blindness was to me – a nightmare.

During that week, I was able to say to myself, “You know, you can dream.” I have so much potential, and now I won’t let myself be limited by my lack of sight.

#2 – A speech by Nancy Gill
CFB ‘Moving Forward’ Convention 2007

I have been legally blind for 17 years. I knew I needed help. I knew I needed support.

I was afraid to leave home. I wanted to meet other people who were blind. I was afraid to use my cane. I was afraid to show people I was blind.

But a call to CFB and talking to the people helped me to be strong.

I raised money to help me go to the convention in Dallas. I was so happy. I learned a lot. I went to a seminar for parents who are blind, and I spoke at this meeting.

A few months after the convention, I went mountain climbing in Peru. I had to keep climbing. I couldn’t look back. I had to keep going up. Now I know a blind person can do it, a blind person can climb a mountain.

Back to Top

A Thank You Letter From An NFB Convention Attendee

From a letter written by a member of the Canadian Federation of the Blind about her experience attending a national convention. She wrote this letter to her union, who gave her funding to attend the event.

February 16, 2007

“Dear members,

I am writing this letter to thank you for the funding you gave me last summer, which allowed my son and I to attend the National Federation of the Blind convention in Dallas Texas.

At the convention I met many blind people who are living happy and productive lives and was able to learn about the skills and techniques they use. Most of all, I was able to feel OK about being blind and feel good about myself.

It was an excellent chance for me to work on my independence in an uplifting environment. As well as meeting other positive blind people, I attended workshops, talks and activities about blindness and learned a lot from these sessions. I was also able to share my own experiences about my blindness.

The convention was a great experience, and I hope to be able to attend another one in the future…”

Back to Top

Benefits Of Attending National Federation Of The Blind Conventions

Excerpts from a president’s message by Dr. Paul Gabias

“National Federation of the Blind events provide invaluable educational experiences for blind Canadians including: programs dealing with employment in various fields, seminars on adaptive technology, research and development of technical aids for the blind, workshops for participants, parents of blind children, blind parents of sighted children, guide dog users, people with diabetes, blind children, and the deaf-blind…”

“Teachers, co-ordinators and mentors present a positive attitude towards blindness. This positive outlook refreshes the mind, uplifts the spirit, and recharges people…”

“Consider the group of blind professionals represented at these Conventions: meetings of blind lawyers, blind educators, blind computer scientists, blind journalists, blind musicians, blind human service workers, blind secretaries, blind merchants, blind scientists, blind government employees, and blind entrepreneurs.”

“Attendees say these events improve their outlook on blindness and provide them with practical skills and techniques for their daily lives. They benefit from networking with other blind people in various careers, and use what they learn to improve the lives of other blind people in their local communities.”

Back to Top

The Gift

by Mariyam Cementwala
(reprinted from the Braille Monitor, May 2005)

Mariyam Cementwala is a student at the Boalt Hall School of Law at the University of California at Berkeley. She is still benefiting from the decision she describes making in the following story. It first appeared in the Winter 2000 issue of the Student Slate, the publication of the National Association of Blind Students. This is what she says about her experience:

The first time I heard about adult training centres was at the 1997 convention of the National Federation of the Blind. At that time I met Joanne Wilson, director of the Louisiana Center for the Blind. I had thought that perhaps someday I would go, but right then I did not think I needed to be at a centre. I was on my way to the University of California at Berkeley. I believed that I had enough skills in living and travelling independently to survive on my own without first going to a centre. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind and left it in cold storage. I was a long way from believing that I needed training in the alternative techniques of blindness.

Four months after convention I was sitting at Giovanni’s Italian Restaurant in downtown Berkeley with a friend who is a graduate of an NFB training centre. It was here that the initial realization came that I needed to go to a training centre. Sure, I was using a cane, but it was a short, heavy aluminum folding cane. I was not as comfortable with my blindness as I could have and should have been–as I am now.

The restaurant was dimly lit, and at that time I thought I needed light to do everything. The struggle came when it was time to order and I dismissed the idea of letting the waitress read the menu for us. Even though it took me minutes to decode each menu item, I wanted to read it myself. My hungry dinner companion finally asked the waitress to read us the menu. Then he remarked, “You need to go to an NFB training centre, and quickly!” I may have been living alone, but in many ways I wasn’t living independently. That’s when the first bells rang in my head. Perhaps I shouldn’t put off going to a centre until I reached some landmark time such as after finishing my undergraduate degree and before law school.

Then, later in that same school year, I was sitting at a board meeting of the California Association of Blind Students. Because the lighting was really dim, I could not read my fifteen-point bold capitalized notes, which my duties as the secretary required me to use. At that point I decided I would learn Braille, and quickly. However, I wasn’t even sure how to begin. In college I used readers, took my own notes when I could, and went to the occasional study group. In short, I skated by well enough. But from associating more and more with people in the NFB, I was realizing that life is not about getting by but about living well and to the fullest.

By this time I was becoming much more open to the idea of going to a centre sooner than I had planned. The fact that my two best friends were at a centre and raving about the experience certainly helped. Yet I still thought that I would have to wait because I simply could not take a break from college. I finally became convinced to make the time for training after hearing from many training-centre graduates who regretted that they had not gone sooner because their undergraduate years would have been so much easier.

That summer I decided to visit the Louisiana Center for a week. By my third day at the centre I knew that I was going to come that year and do so by the end of the summer if I could manage it. The rest of my life could wait. We often impose artificial limitations upon ourselves like thinking we can go to a centre only after getting a degree or completing this or that project.

There is never a convenient time to go to a training centre, because something is always going on in the rest of our lives–school, family, a job, or something else. Sometimes we just have to push those other priorities aside for the real priority: becoming independent. So, after making the arrangements with my vocational rehabilitation counselor, I entered the adult program at the Louisiana Center for the Blind at the end of the summer.

Where do I begin in describing the centre experience? I could write a book. It would include the bowling nights, the baby shower, the cramped vanloads of anxious, excited, tired, and just plain loud blind people heading off to Mardi Gras or rock climbing or whatever other adventure was in store for the group.

The centre taught me survival in a big way. It taught me what it means to compete on terms of equality, to hold my ground, to keep my control, and to look directly at an employer and say with confidence, “I can do this job.” The centre taught me skills such as cane travel and Braille. I also learned punctuality, openness, diplomacy, discipline, confidence, and giving. It taught me that I have a lot more to learn and that this learning is never-ending. The centre challenged me and taught me that I must challenge myself. It is difficult to sum it up in words except to say that the months in Ruston were some of the most difficult and wonderful times I have ever experienced. The centre taught me how to learn–how to go full circle.

The centre experience was very rich, almost as rich as the chocolate raspberry cheesecake I had at Giovanni’s last Friday night. It was an autumn evening almost two years before when I had walked into Giovanni’s Italian Restaurant in great trepidation with my friend; I hadn’t dared to return since that night. Now, on a fall Friday just as before, I walked in again–this time without the trepidation and with a new friend. Using my long white cane, I followed the waitress to a dim table towards the back. This time I asked her to read us what was on the dessert menu for the night. My friend was comfortable with my blindness because I was comfortable with it.

The National Federation of the Blind, through its positive philosophy and excellent training centres, gave me a new, better quality of life. Each day at an NFB training centre is like the slow process of unwrapping a great gift. The only constant is that there are lots of surprises. Each day following centre graduation is better because you get to enjoy the gift you were given and get to share it with others.

Back to Top

Convention, Freedom and the Fourth of July

by Rebekah Jakeman
(reprinted from the Braille Monitor, April 2006)

Explaining the transformation one has undergone when experiencing the Federation’s message for the first time challenges and frustrates many of us. We recognize the importance of communicating what has happened to us to those we love and who love and respect us. But how does one find the words to express the dawning of hope and the expansion of expectations when until now blindness has destroyed both hope and expectation?

Though Rebekah has been legally blind for many years, she mostly depended on her vision until five years ago. Then she suddenly lost her remaining sight and plunged into insecurity and self-doubt. This much Rebekah’s family has known, but she wanted to communicate to them what happened to her when she met the National Federation of the Blind. This is the letter she wrote to her family when she returned home from the 2005 NFB convention. Perhaps it will help others to find the words to tell their own stories to their loved ones. This is what she wrote:

Dear Family,
Happy belated Fourth of July. I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday. I thought I would take just a few moments to tell you what the Fourth of July has come to mean to me. Freedom is such an abstract word, but to me it can be symbolized in just three words: long white cane. Let me explain.

Two years ago found me extremely frustrated and depressed. I had spent six months slowly figuring out that the blindness training and skills I had received were not going to do me any good. My Braille speed was slow; I was very embarrassed to read aloud in front of people. I rarely used my cane, so I didn’t really know how to use it. After completing my training – now remember this means I had graduated and was supposed to be independent – I had to have my instructor come down from Salt Lake City to show me how to get to the dumpsters from my front door – about fifty yards away. He also had to show me how to get to the Y Mount [married student housing] office so that I could pay our rent. Whenever possible, I would just fold up my cane and hide it. I would gladly take someone’s arm rather than using my cane because somehow that made me feel as if I was less blind.

Looking back, it is easy to see that I was not completely comfortable with myself as a blind person. During this time I applied for several jobs. I wanted to get a job so I could support Dave through school. Every other wife seemed to do it; why couldn’t I? But one job after another fell through. To say the least, it was humiliating. Here I was supposed to be independent and a help to Dave, but I wasn’t. Once, after an interview, the employer came out of her office, and instead of turning to me and saying, “I’ll get back to you,” she turned to Dave and said, “I’ll get back to her, and we’ll see what we have open for her to do.” I felt about two years old. The employer wasn’t sure how to respond to a blind applicant, and I was unsure how to educate her about blind people. But I knew one thing for sure; I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life embarrassed about who I was.

Things turned around one day when I received a phone call from Norm Gardner. He told me that he was the president of the local chapter of the National Federation of the Blind. He and the chapter were inviting me to attend their national convention in Louisville, Kentucky – all expenses paid. My first thought was: free trip! I had no idea what I would do for a week with a bunch of blind people, but I love travelling, so I was game.

The convention was the week of July 4. Dave and I were welcomed with open arms by the Utah affiliate. I wasn’t confident using my cane, but I felt obligated to use it since I was at a blind convention. Dave noticed that the majority of the crowd were using long white canes. He attempted to show me their technique, so I could use it with my fold-up cane. I assured him that there were different kinds of canes and that it didn’t really matter what kind I used.

One night hit me particularly hard as I attended a play put on by the Louisiana Center for the Blind (LCB). I was fascinated with the script: blind actors – what a novel idea that was to me. The play was about a girl who lost her vision and how her family rallied around her while some of her friends abandoned her. I remember thinking how lucky the LCB students were to act in a play. It brought back memories of my acting days. But those days were gone and with them the hope of ever acting on stage again.

Through the week, though, things began to unravel. I had been told by my professional cane-travel instructor that I probably should not wear flip-flops when using my cane, yet at convention I saw lots of people wearing flip-flops. I had been told all my life that Braille was slow and hard to learn and that it wasn’t necessary to know until I was totally blind, yet all week I saw professional people delivering powerful speeches that they read in Braille. I met blind lawyers, teachers, parents – all confident, competent, and able. Slowly the you’re-not-good-enough labels I had been stamping myself with were slipping away. I could be a good Braille reader. I could be a competent mother.

But what about the travel? My rehab counselor had told me that, with all the travel training I had had, I should be a good traveler. So if I wasn’t, I never would be. He actually said it more kindly than that, but the message tore me up inside. How am I supposed to be a mother if I can’t even cross the street? Weeks earlier he and I had stood at the corner of 9th East, where the old Kent’s Market used to be. I stood traumatized. I waited light cycle after light cycle, realizing that determining when to step off the curb and into the road could be a life or death decision. Finally my instructor had to tell me when to cross, and he crossed right behind me. From that experience it was easy for me to conclude that I really couldn’t travel with a cane. He was right; I would never be able to travel. The only choice I had was to use a sighted guide. That’s fine if someone is already going to the same destination, but what if no one is?

Back to convention week, two years ago. On the last night a bunch of us went to the river bank behind the hotel to watch the fireworks display over the Ohio River. There I asked Ron Gardner, Norm’s brother, about the long white canes I saw people using. Was it possible for a blind person with two hearing aids to travel? I told him of my dreams to live abroad. Was it possible for a blind person to travel abroad? He assured me that it was and pointed out his two hearing aids. He had travelled to Africa, Australia, South America, etc. I was amazed. I started to cry. Maybe I wouldn’t have to be stuck at home for the rest of my life. He referred me to Nick Schmittroth, who came up to us right then. He was a long white cane travel instructor who had just been hired in Utah, and right then and there Nick handed me my first long white cane; he actually gave me his, with the comment that he had an extra back in his hotel room. It was light, easy to use, and quite long. He explained that, when the cane is longer, it allows one to walk faster. The cane tip is a couple of paces ahead of you and gives you enough time to react to steps, bumps, or curbs. So as fireworks burst in the sky behind me, I was given a quick lesson in confidence and cane use.

Now, just two years later, I have returned to Louisville, Kentucky, for my third national NFB convention. Because of all the craziness around here, I went to convention without Dave and the kids. I flew with three other blind friends. You can only imagine some of the reactions we got. The first day was a little unsettling since major reconstruction had been done on the hotel, and I had to relearn where everything was. But it didn’t take long to figure out where things were by using my cane and getting good directions. By the second day I was going out around the hotel getting to where I needed to go. In the NFB we define independence as going where you want to go, when you want to go, with the least inconvenience to you or others. This ideal is not always possible for either blind or sighted people. Sometimes a blind person has to use a sighted guide and at other times a cane. The point is, though, that the blind person gets to choose. If one doesn’t have the skills, he or she is forced to use sighted guides all the time, and often that is inconvenient for others. Example: before I had cane training I would take Dave’s arm to travel everywhere. But if I had to use the restroom, Dave obviously couldn’t come in with me. So we would have to wait until a woman walked past on her way to the rest room and ask her to assist me. Obviously this was not a very efficient method. Now I am pleased to announce that with my cane skills I can go into a restroom when I want or need to without waiting for others.

At this convention I felt completely independent. I would leave my room, cane in hand, and head to the meeting-room floors. I would ask where a particular room was and be off. I even went outside, travelling around downtown Louisville alone or with friends. It was the first time as a blind person that I was able to go where I wanted, when I wanted – I finally felt free. Then, on July the Fourth, I stood on the stage and acted in the LCB play. Ironically, I played the part of a cane-travel instructor who did not believe long white canes were necessary or effective. One of my lines was, “I spent four to five weeks teaching my students sighted-guide techniques.” At the end of the play my character had a change of heart and used a long white cane because, “I should be able to do what I expect my students to do.” The entire audience burst into applause when they discovered my character had decided to use a long white cane. In that moment I felt that some of the applause was for me too. I had finally learned the glorious blessings of travelling with a cane. My Heavenly Father had blessed me to come further than I ever thought possible.

After the play I stood on the bank of the Ohio River with some friends to watch the fireworks. Among these was Ron Gardner, who had told me just two years earlier that it was possible for a blind person to travel. For me this was the biggest celebration of freedom because I no longer needed to trust someone else’s assessment that I could or couldn’t travel with a cane. I knew from my own experience that I can travel. To me that is what freedom is: finding happiness and success in believing in yourself. God has given me the gift of a long white cane and the NFB. The Fourth of July will always be a very special holiday for me. It was the day I was given my life back and the day I was given my mental freedom to believe the impossible.
Love you all,
Rebekah

Back to Top

A Blueprint For Autonomy And Social Independence – A Pragmatic Approach

Speech by Graeme McCreath

CFB ‘Moving Forward’ Convention 2007

I present to you today an outline of the only realistic way for blind people to obtain true autonomy in Canada. Once blind people gain autonomy, they will achieve social independence and the personal freedom to make choices. Blind people will be able to embrace or reject various beliefs, control their own lives and break free from prejudicial stereotypes.

Individuals and society must abolish traditional methods of treating the blind. First, they must dismantle the private institutional charity model and liberate the blind community. After all, Canada is a nation of individuals, not a nation of social clones controlled by Big Brother.

Governments and agencies for the blind persist in using concessions, which demean us and hinder progress. One example is the BC government’s DISABLED HOME OWNERS GRANT. For years blind people received this concession, but recently the BC government altered the criteria and prevented most blind people from qualifying. This discrimination, intentional or not, illustrates the need for improved autonomy.

Government spends too much energy authorizing, categorizing, qualifying and disqualifying.

A famous British MP, David Blunkett, who happens to be blind, stated, “Patronizing paternalism, whether from the state or a charity, does not free people by giving them dignity.”

In 1918, the Canadian government granted the charity charter to the CNIB, which branded the blind as permanent charity wards, and the CNIB was born.

Prejudging blind people molds public attitudes, which causes discrimination. By acknowledging the inferior status of the blind, government placed the blind apart, and made us unequal to our peers. The establishment expects blind Canadians to give their unconditional allegiance to this authoritarian institution. If a blind citizen attempts to challenge this edict, the establishment perceives them as disgruntled and ungrateful. Consequently, most blind Canadians endure this tyranny to avoid a life of isolation and ridicule. Imposing an ideology, which portrays blindness negatively and segregates a group from the mainstream, permits prejudice and stifles social progress. Having others who speak on our behalf implies our incapacity and dependency.

How could the government think that a charity was the appropriate vehicle for the blind? A charity that depends on public sympathy lacks the political will to alter the status of its wards; its philosophy imparts the idea that blindness is an undesirable and unhealthy state.

But a more positive approach would render it superfluous, and result in its own demise. The status quo prevails.

The agency makes many decisions about blind people that profoundly affect our lives without our knowledge or consent. Consequently, the agency exploits us to maintain its obsolete values.

the present charity model has failed. The majority of blind people are unemployed, live in chronic poverty, suffer in silence, and are excluded from sharing in the prosperity of their own country. Blind people must change this state of affairs.

In 40 years, when in unfamiliar company, nobody has ever asked me what I do for a living. The image that blind people do not contribute persists, and reflects contemporary attitudes.

In 1926, a blind social activist, Phillip E. Layton, who started the original Canadian Federation of the Blind, said “One role of the Federation is to protect blind people themselves from exploitation at the hands of individual organizations.” I believe he might well turn in his grave if he revisited the land of the colossus.

In 1982, our federal government passed the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Under section 15, it states, “Discrimination is defined as a distinction, intentional or not, which is based on grounds related to the personal characteristics of the individual or group concerned and that has the effect of imposing disadvantages or burdens not imposed on others or withholding advantages or benefits to others.”

The Charter of Rights was also designed to protect vulnerable minorities from the majority. I also suggest it should protect the vulnerable majority from the powerful minority.

Our own government discriminates against blind people by sanctioning and supporting the CNIB. The government violates its own Charter of Rights and Freedoms, as the CNIB could well be unconstitutional.

What can we do? – I call on everyone to lobby MPs, MLAs, and all influential officials to make government revoke the charity laws affecting blind people. It is time to move on and discard the charity yoke and relinquish the burden of benevolence.

Social independence and autonomy also mean that blind people must aim for parity with their fellow citizens, but only the blind have the ability to designate the CNIB to the history books.

We cannot ask the Institute to self-destruct. So we must tell the government we will drive the bulldozer.

Back to Top

Don’t Mock the Blind – CNIB’s Public Service Announcement Does a Disservice to Blind People

Letter Written by Dr Paul Gabias , March 20, 2007

This letter, with CFB endorsement, was sent to the Toronto Star; Globe and Mail; Royal Bank; United Way; Honourable Monte Solberg, Minister of Human Resources and Social Development; to the federal party leaders; and presented at the CFB ‘Moving Forward’ Convention 2007.

Dear Potential CNIB Donor:

I am writing to ask you to cease supporting CNIB with your donations and to consider my grave concerns about CNIB, particularly its current harmful ad campaign.

CNIB does not promote a proper understanding of blindness in society. The organization has never added any value to my life as a blind person living in Canada. I will explain further below, but first I will introduce myself.

I am a blind tenured university professor of psychology at the University of British Columbia Okanagan and a wellness consultant with Nikken. I do not speak for these organizations. I mention these facts to indicate I am a person with stature and influence. I have been a university professor for 20 years and a wellness consultant for seven years. I received my undergraduate education in Canada at Concordia University and my graduate education in the United States at New York University. I earned my Ph.D. in experimental psychology from that institution in 1988. Since then I have worked at five universities, three in the United States and two in Canada.

I have been totally blind all my life. I founded the National Federation of The Blind: Advocates for Equality in 1992 and was the president of that organization of the blind until 1998. I then founded the Canadian Federation of the Blind, and today continue to act as a member of its board.

As a permanent tribute to me and the academic and applied work I have done to promote a positive understanding of blindness abroad and in Canada, members of the Canadian Federation of the Blind placed my candidacy for an honorary doctorate with The University of Victoria. I received an honorary doctorate from that university in the year 2000 at its millennium convocation along with other notables, such as Her Excellency the Right Honorable Adrienne Clarkson, former Governor General of Canada, and the former Supreme Court Justice Louise Arbour, High Commissioner for Human Rights for the United Nations.

As stated at the beginning of this letter, CNIB has not added anything of value to my life as a totally blind person in Canada. The organization’s sole mission is to collect money from the public to support its infrastructure, which does nothing to significantly advance the quality of life for blind people in Canada. In order to pull at the purse strings of the public, CNIB pulls at the heart strings of the public. The charity has no scruples about the messages it broadcasts about blindness. As long as the money comes in, CNIB is happy. Of course the public can’t necessarily tell what is a good message about blindness and what is a bad message about blindness, which is why CNIB still exists, even though the unemployment rate among blind working-age Canadians remains at over 80 per cent. No business would survive with that level of abysmal service.

Now I will discuss CNIB’s current ad campaign, which is harmful to blind people and which has been a negative influence in my own life. These ads demonstrate just how far CNIB will go to exploit the blind in order to promote itself. The ad is visual, so I haven’t actually seen it, and I never will. There are some benefits to being blind. Nevertheless, I have felt the repercussions of that commercial in the heart of my family.

My wife, Mary Ellen, is also blind and we have four sighted children. Joanne, 17, Jeffrey, 14, Philip, 10 and Elliott, 8. Recently when we were dining at an exclusive restaurant, Joanne told my wife that one of the younger children was mimicking the CNIB commercial. In this most recent commercial, a punk makes inappropriate gestures at a blind person and the blind person has no way of knowing he is being made fun of. The vulnerability of the blind to visual ridicule is being broadcast to the nation. One of my children thought it was funny enough to replicate to his mother without his mother knowing, in a public restaurant. Our children can learn this kind of disrespect for blind people, compliments of CNIB.

The damage does not stop there. The blind person in the commercial is not totally blind. Instead of telling the punk he can see him and to quit his disrespectful gestures, he gestures behind the punk’s back. The commercial then says something like, “we don’t only serve the totally blind.” The commercial leaves the impression that a totally blind person wouldn’t have noticed the gestures, which is true. But why broadcast that kind of a message on national television? How does that make a totally blind person feel empowered? It certainly doesn’t do that for me. The ad only served to teach my child that it was funny to make obscene gestures in front of a blind person because he wouldn’t notice.

CNIB does not have the wisdom to choose which kinds of messages about blindness would be empowering and which kinds of messages would be disrespectful. The organization promotes the idea that some vision is better than no vision, which is not true. Low vision can get you into trouble if you don’t know its limitations. With total blindness all the perceptual systems function correctly. Vision is simply absent.

I hope you will understand my concern about this commercial and that you will use this letter to guide your judgment when it comes to supporting CNIB. I truly believe blind people would be better off without this organization. My life hasn’t benefited in the least by its actions. Most blind Canadians I know feel the same. Thank you for taking the time to read this letter. If you would like to support efforts to promote positive attitudes about blindness and programs that can help blind Canadians compete on terms of equality, please contact me.

Cordially,

Paul Gabias, Ph.D. LL.D.

Back to Top

Blindness Is Nothing

Article With Dr Abebe Teklu

(Reprinted from the Victoria Times Colonist April 13, 2007)

“It’s a new day, what am I going to do?
I wish I was getting ready for work, like you.
I believe I am capable of working, like you,
They barred the door to me and never knew.
Just for being blind, nothing else could they see.
I wonder who was really blind; them, or me?”
– – –
Losing his sight as a child in Ethiopia did not create the obstacles that Abebe Abay Teklu faces in Canada. Rather, it is society’s perception of his abilities that put up barriers to work.

“Blindness is nothing,” Teklu said from his home in Victoria. “I am really happy with what I am. I mean it. … What did I lose?” Not his focus. Not his perseverance. Not his determination to reach his goals.

Teklu is receiving his PhD in UVic’s Department of Curriculum and Instruction this spring. UVic said he will be the first blind person to graduate with a PhD from a B.C. university.

His dissertation examines challenges of life in Canada facing blind Ethiopian immigrants and their families. He earlier earned his bachelor and master’s degree in Social Work at UVic, and also completed Grades 10, 11 and 12 in Canada.

“Canada can do better. There is an urgent need for the Canadian government and interested groups to make policy changes,” he said in his dissertation summary. Disabled immigrants face high unemployment rates, and poverty for their families.

“The data clearly shows that educated disabled people and their families do not want a handout. They want training and employment. Employment is part of achieving full
citizenship.”

Smallpox took Teklu’s sight. He went on to earn a teaching degree and work as a musician, poet and playwright. Horrendous hardships faced Teklu as a social activist in Ethiopia opposed to the county’s military government. He spent more than a year in jail where conditions were “horrible,” he said. “They terrorize you. They beat you.”

With the help of Amnesty International, he was released and was among 1,000 Ethiopians who fled the country, walking 2,000 miles to Sudan. His one pair of shoes wore out mid-way and his feet are scarred from the rigors of that barefoot march. An armed army helicopter found the group and fired on the people, killing hundreds but somehow missing Teklu. “I was not touched, even by a single bullet. It was amazing.”

After arriving in Canada 15 years ago, Teklu anticipated finding work, but his credentials were not recognized. He was surprised by attitudes here. “Canadians are well-educated and Canada is a country with advanced technology, so I expected to meet fewer challenges than I met back home. I found it was not what I expected.” Not only was his degree not recognized, but Teklu said his culture was incorrectly viewed as primitive, and officials urged him to change his name.

After earning his bachelor’s degree in social work, he said, he couldn’t get a job because he didn’t drive. Teklu, who is in his early 40s, married and father to three young children, continued at university and is now hoping to find a job as an instructor. But he sees other educated blind immigrants who have gone through long-term unemployment.

He said Canada has a dismal record among Western countries in hiring disabled workers, falling behind Portugal, for example, where the majority of the disabled labour market is employed.

“Negative stereotypes and attitudes hold that disability inevitably involves dependency, helplessness and tragedy,” he said in his summary.

His study of blind immigrants who took part in his research found, “Despite their education and past careers, the blind participants are experiencing long-term unemployment and poverty. The interview data revealed that the participants struggle to remain hopeful despite despair and stigma.”

Teklu credits his family for support during his education. He would love to work in Victoria because moving would mean disrupting his family.

The word disabled is meaningless, he said, referring the accomplishments of the late Helen Keller, the influential deaf-blind American woman who graduated from university
and was an author. “I don’t feel I’m a disabled person,” Teklu said.

Our society and employers demonstrate a lack of awareness of the abilities of disabled people, he said. “Employers don’t give them a chance to work or be employed. …It is not only discouraging. They are wasting human capital.”

“And I know I am talented. Gifts were given to us all. I can’t use my skills because I hit that wall. What is life, if you cannot work, earn money, and go home to look back on the day’s work that you have done? As a blind father, I have children and a wife, and I want to support them with a fulfilling life.”

— Excerpts from work by Abebe Abay Teklu.

TEKLU’S RECOMMENDATIONS:
– The government should create an internship program placing immigrant professionals with employers to provide Canadian work experience.
– Establish a mentoring program, connecting skilled immigrants with people employed in the same field.
– Increase accountability of agencies helping visually impaired and blind people by using a government watchdog.
– Set up a government agency to raise public awareness of the capabilities of visually impaired or blind people.
– Agencies for the blind should be largely staffed and run by blind and visually-impaired people to provide an example and role model. Agencies should be “of” the blind, not
“for” the blind.
– Educational institutions be encouraged to hire more visually impaired or blind persons in appropriate and visible positions.
– Education: Recent studies describing what ethnic minority immigrants face when coming to Canada should be given to immigration officials so they can provide an accurate picture of what may happen.
(T.C. article by Carla Wilson)

Back to Top

Discussion of Blind Pre-School Children

Speech by guest speaker, Carla McQuillan

CFB ‘Believe’ Convention 2005

(transcribed to word from speech – from MP3 audio)

I am the director of three Montessori schools. I have worked professionally with a few blind children, but my main experience has been as Director of NFB Camp, a children’s program that occurs during the annual convention of the National Federation of the Blind.

What Montessori said about young sighted children also applies to young blind children, sometimes magnified. I’ll explain some of her philosophies to illustrate what I mean.

I won’t go into too much detail here. If any of you have specific questions or interests in learning more about working with young blind children, I would be happy to provide you with information.

A lot of what I’ve learned is in my own head, because there aren’t many people in this field who have done extensive research on how we should work with young blind children. The Jernigan Institute has developed an Early Childhood Committee to focus on this need. It is an area of blindness that is virtually untrodden. We believe if we can get in there with our ideas, if young children get the NFB philosophy when they’re three, four and five years old, then by the time they get to the professionals in the schools, they’ll already be light years ahead of the professionals’ expectations. It will be a lot harder for those professionals to tell their parents, “No, your children can’t travel with a white cane” –because they already will be travelling with one, or, “No, your children can’t learn Braille” – because they already have begun learning it. I find this Federation priority very, very exciting!

For anyone who hasn’t learned about Montessori theory – here’s your crash course.

Maria Montessori was the first female medical doctor in Italy. She believed education was about the child, not about the teacher being the centre of attention in the classroom. She adopted a model that was not exclusively cognitive and social with three, four and five year-old children. She chose a more big picture medical model.

She said if we look at all living things in nature, we find several things to be consistent from one species to the next.

The newborn of whatever species has a drive, an instinct to learn to be independent. Without anybody teaching it, the new calf learns to stand up and to run. It moves through all of the different phases that will help that animal become independent. Maria Montessori believed humans were the same, and that the only things standing in the way of proper development of a human are those well-meaning, caring, nurturing adults in the child’s environment.

She said parents tend to stifle the natural development and progression of a child’s independence. She called this instinct the ‘Conquest of Independence’. From the minute children are born, they have a drive to learn to move, to crawl, to sit up and eventually to walk. The child naturally does this work to gain more and more control and understanding of the environment.

So, what do we do as adults? We’re concerned about safety – right? So, the child stands up and starts to run. What do we do? “Oh oh ohh, slow down, slow down, you’re going to hurt yourself.” We adults impose fear. Maria Montessori said you should never check a child’s behaviour, because it is only with running and stretching and lifting things that are too heavy – (every two year old child wants to pick up stuff that’s too big and heavy) — that they develop their muscles, their co-ordination – all their skills. It’s instinctual. We adults are the ones who try to stop it. We should leave them alone.

Now, let’s look at the blind child. What do we do? We’re worse because we are afraid. Instead of requiring blind children to reach out to find something in their environment and explore it, we bring it to them. That’s exactly what we do. What are we teaching these children? Absolute dependence. We are teaching the children that if they wait long enough, we’ll bring stuff to them.

I have found that the most capable blind adults, who were blind as children, are the ones whose parents did not know what to do with a blind child. The parents didn’t stop the child from exploring.

I don’t know if any of you know Bennett Prows. He is a blind lawyer who has a twin brother who is sighted. Bennett was expected to do everything his brother did. His parents said, “Bennett, how come you’re not doing that?” They kicked him out of the house and made him go play outside. They made him ride a bicycle, because that’s what his brother was doing. I believe he is the capable, confident adult that he is today, because he was expected to do everything his sighted brother was expected to do. That’s the child’s ‘conquest of independence’.

Some teachers and professionals tell you that your blind child will not walk at the same age as sighted children. I am naïve, I did not know how prevalent this was. I started working with a family with a 17 month-old blind daughter. The little girl was just blind; she had no other disabilities. Of course, it is different if there are other extenuating circumstances, but a child who is blind, with no other disabilities, should be expected to develop within normal age ranges.

The mother said at 14 months her daughter was the only child in her play group who was walking; she was the youngest child there. There were children two and two-and-a-half years old who weren’t walking. The itinerants and the O & M instructor had told parents you can’t expect a blind child to walk before they are two years old. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.

If you tell a parent their child won’t walk until they’re two, what are these parents going to do? Are they going to hold out their fingers and let their child walk with them? Are they going to stand across the room and call their child to come to them? No, they’re not.

These parents are going to feed into what they have been told about the delayed development of blind children and ultimately prevent that child from following their natural course of development.

In the National Federation of the Blind, we do not perpetuate this ‘deficit model.’ Those of us on the Jernigan Institute Early Childhood Education Committee are talking about natural childhood development and what we need to do to make sure our blind children fit into that model. We call our model the ‘Typically Developing Child’ model.

The ‘Typically Developing Child’ model should apply to all blind children, not exclusively to those ‘perfect children’ some people use as examples. The model must apply to all our kids.

I run NFB camp at national convention. We offer child care for 80 to 100 kids every year. I have also done a babysitting workshop for the teens.

A couple of years ago I worked with 12 teenagers, about half of them blind and half of them sighted. The room we were using was so small I could reach my hands out and almost touch both walls. There was a pitcher of water at the front of the room. There was a pitcher of water at the back of the room with glasses. Well, it was very warm. This was in Louisville – remember the air conditioning in Louisville – or the lack of it?

We had 13 breathing teenagers in this room. When we took a break, I said, “OK, there’s water up front.” I pounded the table. “There’s water in the back of the room, just in the opposite corner.” Several of the blind kids turned to their sighted friends and asked them to get water. I said, ‘Oh, no, no, no. You’re here in the babysitting workshop. If you are going to take responsibility for someone else’s children, then by golly, you’ve got to take responsibility for yourself.

A couple of them, braver than others, stood up first and went towards the water. We had a 15 year-old blind girl whose family has been with the NFB for as long as I can remember. She went to the back of the room, found the water, started pouring and over-poured her glass, and panicked.

Now, I thought to myself, “Where did we go wrong?” She knew to put her finger over the lip of the glass. She knew in theory that she was supposed to stop pouring when the water touched the tip of her finger. But, she didn’t stop poring. Have any of you watched a three year-old trying to pour liquid for the first couple of times? They spill it. Why do they spill it? For sighted children, it has to do with hand-eye coordination. For the blind child, it’s hand-hand coordination. It doesn’t matter whether the person is blind or sighted, when she learns to pour water, she’s going to over-spill the glass, until she practices enough to become graceful. With practice, pouring water becomes natural enough that she stops immediately when that liquid gets to her finger. If she is 15 before she begins to learn – the process is the same.

Because there is sometimes a misguided expectation of perfection for our blind kids in the NFB, parents forget that learning is a process. Parents observe blind adult role models – role models like Paul and Mary Ellen and Elizabeth. They see people who are accomplished, capable, graceful in their actions, not appearing to ever have gone through the process. (The three of you are laughing because you remember what the process was like for you and you know it was far from effortless.) I think sometimes the sighted parent of the blind child does not put that together. Rather than let their child appear unsuccessful, the parent does it for them. The child knows what the procedure is, but somebody’s always there to do it because the parent wants to see the success, rather than the process.

In Montessori we talk about the process, not the product. What is important is the steps you take to get there, not that you are there. If you don’t go through the process, you’re never going to have the product as you want it. When children are young, when they are two, three, four and five years old, the process is all that matters to them, because that’s when they’re developing and learning their skills.

I recommend that people who have young blind children, or any children in that age range, incorporate some simple learning opportunities into everyday life. In Montessori we call it practical life. We set up activities where children learn to pour. First we start with grains, like beans. They learn scooping, spooning and pouring of grains, –then of liquids. We have activities like shoe polishing and other things. I can give you a list. I have write-ups I give to my training classes. If you have children in this age range I strongly recommend that, to develop their skills in a non-judgmental environment, you put together these kinds of activities. Place the materials you’re using on a tray. Give your child two pitchers. Let the child pour back and forth from one to the other. If they spill, guess what? They clean it up. That’s part of the process, that’s the expectation.

So if they spill, they know not to panic, because they know what to do. Isn’t that part of life? You’re going to spill, but you’re not going to expect somebody else to clean up for you, because you understand that’s part of your responsibility. If you start them when they’re young, then they will have the grace; they will have those skills; they will think nothing of it when they become adults. They’ll be able to interact just like everybody else in their environment.

I encourage you to think about this. I believe it doesn’t matter whether a child is blind or sighted, we train our children to do exactly what they do.

I believe in the theory of development called ‘patterns of behaviour’. We encourage certain patterns of behaviour. If we stopped to think about them, we wouldn’t be happy about most of the things we encourage, but we do them. Once our children get set in a pattern, they find it harder to change than if they never got there at all.

One common pattern of behaviour for blind kids is waiting for somebody else to do it for them. We have a little boy who is blind at our preschool. When he was two, he had a brain tumour that knocked out his vision; it pressed on his optic nerve – he has nothing else wrong with him – he just suddenly lost his vision. The family came to visit the school when he was two. He started attending when he was three. During his first visit, he started exploring. He put his hands all over everything in the classroom, as you’d expect from a two year-old. A year went by before I saw him again. He was not exploring, he was not curious – somebody had stopped him – somebody was afraid he was going to hurt himself. So they stopped him from reaching out and exploring. He became withdrawn.

This little boy has been in my school everyday for two years. Getting around the building is real basic. You come up the front stairs into a straight hallway, which is six feet wide and 14 feet long. On one side is a wall; on the other side is carpet that leads into the rest of the office. A kid with a cane cannot possibly mistake this hallway. Every day, for two years, this child would walk in the front door and stop dead. Do you know why? Because he was waiting for somebody to take his hand and drag him along. That’s what he was used to. I had a great assistant who was working with him and who loved to sing. She would stand at the back door and sing to him. Eventually, he’d figure out that nobody was coming to grab his hand, so he would finally start moving. But, he was with us three hours a day. He was home the other 21 hours. Counter-balancing the stuff going on at home was very, very difficult.

His loving parents wanted the best for him. But they tried so hard to protect him from all of the hazards out in the world, that they kept him from developing any degree of confidence and potential.

He’s a younger version of a lot of folks we come across as adults. These adults have a challenge turning that dependency around. It’s not that it can’t be done, but the only way to do it is to have the positive attitude, the positive philosophy, and the encouragement and support of people like Elizabeth, Mary Ellen, Oriano and all the other people in this room.

We didn’t all start where we are – I did not start where I am. It’s been a process and a continuing road for me. It makes me not only pleased, but honoured for the opportunity to help other people along. So, if you are feeling like “you want that” – you want to be like that – you want to have that level of confidence to walk out of here and go some place you’ve never gone before all by yourself, there are a lot of people who start that way. They tell themselves, “I want that, I want to learn that, and I’m going to.”

That’s what this organization is about. That’s why I’m here, and that’s why I keep coming back to these things, because when I walk out this door… I’m going to meet somebody who will not believe in me the way the Federation has taught me to believe in myself.

Recently I was walking through the Denver airport. That’s the hub I use whenever I travel back East, so I go through there often. I was cruising along with my cane. The airport has a strip of carpet where all the gates are. Then there’s an area of tile, where all the restaurants are located. Then it’s carpet, then tile, carpet, then tile. I was walking along and this gentleman walking next to me turned and said, “You’re coming up on some tiles.” I thought about this and wondered, what information was he trying to offer? What did he want me to do about it? The cane would tell me that. I would hear the difference when I got to the tiles. That lack of knowledge about how we operate is common.

I don’t know if you know Fred Schroeder. He’s a great guy. He travels constantly for his work. He tells a story about going to the restroom in the airplane. Now, if you’ve been in these spacious, luxurious restrooms in airplanes, you can appreciate his experience. The flight attendant stopped him as he was going in and asked, “Do you need some help, Sir?” He said, you know, I’ve often wanted to answer, “why yes” just to see exactly what they would do. There’s not enough room for two people in there. People don’t think through things logically before speaking. They just don’t think.

I can’t imagine what would happen to my self-esteem without the Federation. Once when I was in Walmart a woman tried to scan my cane – and then laughed about it. Those sorts of things happen to blind people frequently. I was standing at a mailbox licking an envelope when someone asked if I needed help. My spit apparently is not good enough for my envelope – apparently I needed some assistance with that. These incidents are humorous, but they do wear on one.

This is the reason why our organization is here and the reason why it needs you. It’s not just, “Boy, I’m trying to learn it all myself – what can I do?” Just by being here, you’re giving back. Because what you learn from the Canadian Federation of the Blind and the National Federation of the Blind – what changes your life and your attitudes about blindness – gives you energy, so much energy that you want to give it back.

It’s exciting and rewarding for me to see the group of people here. You’ve told me you’re glad I came. Yah, me too! This has been a great experience. I thank you very much for your hospitality and for all you do.

Back to Top

A Simple Secret, A New Understanding: A Blind Mother’s Experience with a Premature Infant

Speech by Elizabeth Lalonde, president, CFB

CFB ‘Moving Forward’ Convention 2007

“And here is my secret, a very simple secret – it is only with the heart that one can see. What is essential is invisible to the eye.” – Antwan Desantage Zuparee, The Little Prince. Now I will tell you a story – the story of another little prince – my son Rhys.

Instead of the usual coming into the world after nine months, Rhys was born three months early. He weighed 1lb 14 ounces.

The day of his birth began the profound journey – four months in the neonatal special care unit.

People ask us how we did it. All I can say is we did. We survived. And, more importantly, Rhys survived, the incubator, the respirator, the endless IV’s and oxygen, the steroids and the surgery. Just as other mothers and fathers do when they have a premature baby, my husband Jeff and I and our family did all we could to help our son.

Here is a poem I wrote about the experience:

I Love
(Dedicated to my son Rhys)

I love
How you entered the world tiny and red, fighting for your life.
The way you came three months early,
Perfect and fresh, cocooned in your isolet,
The incubator I was supposed to be.

I love
When I reached in the hole into the hot humidity of your house,
And touched your head, your hand, your paper-thin skin
And your cry,
The unearthly sound you made with your immature lungs,
Quiet, but loud.

I love
Your impatience,
When you pulled the tubes from your nose with your smaller-than-baby hands,
Strong.
Your diaper, tinier than a newborn’s,
That rose passed your bellybutton.
And the facecloth blanket that kept you warm.

I love
How I held you,
Without rocking in the hospital rocking chair
Under my gown,
While your dad kept your breathing mask on.

The nurses who cared for you,
And the monitors that beeped and buzzed and rang,
Made me jump
And told me you were alive.

I love
The plastic pump that took milk from my breasts,
The tube that pushed my milk into you.
And every slow hard ounce you gained.

I love
The day we took you home,
When you were finally ours to care for.
And the sleep broken
By your hunger, your cries,
The exhaustion.

I love
The way you grew, became chubby and round
And weighted down by your
Heaviness.
And the bite of your beaver teeth,
The pinch of your nails,
The tug on my head when you pulled my hair.
And the big sound of your cry that drove me
Crazy
With frustration and happiness.

I wrote this poem with all the love and pain and practicality a mother could have. I wrote it as a mother who knows the depth of feeling one person can have for another and as one who knows the responsibility of one person for another. I wrote this poem as a mother. The fact I am a blind mother is irrelevant.

Generally, the nurses and doctors treated Jeff and I with respect, and we felt like part of a family outside the normal parent-baby union. As the weeks went on and Rhys grew and gained strength, responsibility shifted from less nurse care to more parental care. Jeff and I changed and bathed Rhys and gave him a bottle, and I started to breast feed.

Unfortunately, a few negative experiences occurred during this time regarding my ability as a blind parent. These incidents came as a surprise, considering the positive relationship I had gained with staff over the months in hospital. Funny how no-one questioned my ability as a parent until I started actually taking care of Rhys, and until people thought about us going home.

I was unprepared when three months into Rhys’s stay at the hospital, one of the new nurses said, “Do you have enough sight to take care of Rhys when you get home?” I sat speechless. It was late in the evening. I had been at the nursery for several hours and felt tired. For three months I had been there for my son and managed in a trying situation. Yet this woman was questioning my ability as a parent.

At first, I reacted with anger. But I knew this wouldn’t help. The nurse meant well and she just didn’t know how blind people could take care of babies. I took a breath, and explained that level of competence, not level of vision determines good parenting. And I talked about blindness skills and alternative techniques. From then on, the nurse and I grew close. We banished the white elephant in the room by dealing with the subject of blindness directly. The experience became positive, and if that nurse ever meets another blind parent, she will have the information and understanding gained from knowing me.

A similar incident occurred a couple of weeks later with another nurse. This nurse grumbled at me throughout her shift. Then I started to breastfeed Rhys, which is hard at first with a preemie. I asked my mom to help me get him latched on. I would have needed help even if I was sighted. But the nurse thought my blindness was the problem. She didn’t understand. In the end, I was one of the few mothers who managed to full time breastfeed a baby born as early as Rhys.

I felt anger. How dare she question my ability, and how dare she deprive me of the need to learn and get help just like anyone would in that situation. Was I as a blind mom supposed to nurse a premature infant perfectly right away, when all the sighted moms needed assistance and often didn’t succeed?

After calming down, I spoke with her supervisor about the incident. The next day I returned determined to be nice. The nurse who had questioned me the night before came and spoke pleasantly, and even mentioned an idea for putting a tactile marking on my breast milk bottles to help me find them in the fridge.

The last blindness-related incident occurred just before Rhys went home. My husband, myself, the hospital social worker and Rhys’s doctors met to discuss a going-home plan. I was excited. The meeting started. Suddenly all the people talked around
me and over my head as if I wasn’t there. Slowly the meaning of their words
took shape in my mind.

They asked if Jeff would be home with me and, if not, would someone else come to help me take care of Rhys? They said it was vital to see the colour of the baby at all times. If Rhys turned blue, it meant he was low on oxygen. They said since I was blind, I wouldn’t be able to detect this essential sign.

I was overwhelmed. Usually I come up with solutions, but nothing came to me. I left the meeting demoralized. What kind of a mother was I if I couldn’t be left alone with my own baby – if I had to get a babysitter to help me care for my child? Because my husband was sighted, did that mean he was the significant parent, and I a lesser parent?

Something was wrong, but I needed time to think. My son meant everything to me, far more than my pride. Was it false pride that made me question what they said, or was there a solution that would allow me to maintain my independence as a parent?

I called two friends, one a nurse, the other another blind mom. Both said I was capable of taking care of Rhys on my own even with the concern about his breathing, and I could learn other, non-visual ways to determine his oxygen level. Who knew a baby better than it’s own mother? And if the hospital staff were that concerned about Rhys’s breathing, should he be leaving the hospital at all? Finally, they pointed out something obvious: do sighted parents watch their premature infants 24 hours a day, without taking their eyes off them, without leaving the room, just staring at them continuously? Certainly not. My pride wasn’t the problem. Their misunderstanding about blindness was.

The next day I told the social worker about my concerns. She said they hadn’t meant to offend me, and she called another meeting for that day. At this meeting people treated me like a responsible mother. The doctors came up with solutions and showed me how to touch Rhys’s chest to check for in drawing of breath, feel his body for clamminess and listen to the pace of his breathing. What a change from the day before – a change in attitude, a change in understanding.

Finally, we took Rhys home. A glorious day. He was born in April and now it was August. The birds sang and the sun shone, and Rhys was seven pounds and breathing on his own — one journey ended, another about to begin.

Rhys is three years old now, and doing well. Jeff and I are expecting another baby in July. Hopefully this one will go to full term.

The techniques I use as a blind mother:
-a bell on Rhys’s shoe;
-a harness when we go for walks;
-following him around at the park, rather than watching from a distance

These alternative strategies help me do my job as a parent. But these techniques don’t change my ability as a mother. Good blind parents, like good sighted parents take the journey of parenthood and do the best they can on the way.

Parenthood is not about blindness or sightedness, it’s about love, strength, perseverance. It’s about sleepless nights, heart burn and feeling like no matter how much you do, it’s never enough. And, it’s about competence, wisdom and a lot of learning as you go.

Back to Top

A Letter Written by Mary Ellen Gabias To Her Local Radio Station In Kelowna, BC, About The Topic Of Quiet Cars

I’m writing because of your interest in the ethics surrounding the way we use automobiles.

I agree that the global romance with the automobile has been a somewhat tawdry love affair. Cars are a wonderful convenience. They’ve broadened the horizons of millions of people and helped this vast country come together by making it easier for Canadians to travel from sea to sea to sea. They’ve also encouraged urban sprawl, created air pollution, and filled countless junk yards.

Because practically everyone relies on the private automobile, public transportation has been treated like a poor relation. People who don’t own cars or who can’t drive them practice creative problem solving in order to get around efficiently. They succeed because staying home is not an option. Those who can’t find a way to get access to wheels live as second class citizens.

I’m impressed that Kelowna is trying to dethrone king car, or at least making sure that public transit shares a corner of the throne. However, I doubt most people will easily give up the freedom and convenience of the private car.

Though my husband, Paul, and I are both blind and use the bus, we pay for a car and arrange to have it driven because it’s more convenient to load groceries in our trunk than to schlep them home in a back pack or grocery cart. Like most North Americans, we’re willing to pay in order to be lazy. I’m ashamed to say that, like most North Americans, we’re willing to make the environment pay too.

That’s why the hybrid car sounded like such a good idea to me. We could save the environment and gas money at the same time. What a deal! Unfortunately, it’s a deal which gives us all more than we bargained for.

Hybrid cars are quiet, very quiet. In fact, when they run on their electric motors they’re virtually silent. It’s a great selling point for people who want to eliminate noise pollution, but it’s a terrifying prospect for blind pedestrians who listen to the sounds cars make in order to know where vehicles are. Imagine a technology that could make cars invisible. They would still weigh several tons. They would still travel fast enough to knock you flat and injure or kill you. The only change would be that you would no longer be able to see where they were. How confident and safe would you feel walking through a parking lot or across a street?

Blind people aren’t the only ones endangered. Traffic safety programs in schools teach sighted children to stop, look, AND LISTEN for good reason. Everybody needs sound to be alerted to the presence of an unseen moving car. As the number of hybrids grows, I predict pedestrian injuries will increase too. The walking public may come to think of hybrids as stealth killers.

Some have suggested that installing audible pedestrian signals at traffic lights will solve our problems. These are walk lights with sound, usually chirping birds or other beeping apparatuses. Sorry, no cigar, not even close. First, the beeping and chirping obscures noise, particularly the miniscule noise made by hybrids. Second, audible signals cost several thousand dollars apiece. It would cost millions to install them at every traffic light in Kelowna. Third, there are many intersections without traffic lights where a pedestrian could be struck by a quiet car, not to mention parking lots or cars backing out of driveways. But, perhaps the most important flaw in the reasoning underlying the advocacy of audible signals becomes clear when considering traffic safety taught to sighted people. Would you put your faith in the walk light without looking at what the cars are doing? Not if you intend to live a long and healthy life. No one has ever been injured by a walk signal, but many people have been injured by cars that haven’t obeyed the signal. That’s why sighted people look at the walk sign and the traffic. That’s why blind people must be able to hear the traffic.

Hybrid manufacturers could solve the problem inexpensively with a little engineering. They would need to design electric motors that sound like a car idling. The sound wouldn’t need to be as loud as the internal combustion engine, just loud enough to alert pedestrians to the presence of the vehicle. Noise pollution could still be significantly abated.

No one set out to endanger blind pedestrians when they designed silent cars. It never occurred to them to consider us at all. We weren’t on the radar screen.

The National Federation of the Blind in the United States and the Canadian Federation of the Blind intend to educate not only car manufacturers but the general public. I believe your listeners would want to know about this problem. I would appreciate the chance to talk with you about simple things we could all do before anyone is injured.

Blind people walk the streets with confidence and pleasure. We are determined to keep it that way. Staying home is not an option.

Back to Top

CFB’s Letter To The Federal Government About The Quiet Car Issue

(sent to the Honourable Lawrence Cannon, Minister of Transport, Infrastructure and Communities; and to the opposition critics: NDP MP David Christopherson, and Liberal Party MP Paul Zed)

(Note: A bill intended to protect blind people and other pedestrians from the dangers posed by silent hybrid cars has been introduced April 9, 2008 in U.S. Congress. The National Federation of the Blind has pushed for this legislation. The Canadian Federation of the Blind would like to see legislation here in Canada.)

April 6, 2008

As president of the Canadian Federation of the Blind, I am writing to ask your help to make sure that blind pedestrians continue to have the freedom to walk safely on the streets and sidewalks of this country. The threat to the freedom of blind citizens comes from the proliferation of quiet hybrid cars, those which use both a gasoline and electric-only motor. Electric cars, which are in the planning stages, but not yet in common use, also are silent and pose a hazard.

Until recently, independent travel for the blind has been a relatively simple matter. Once a blind person has been trained in travel techniques and has learned to use a white cane or to travel with a guide dog, the blind person is independent. Blind people listen to the sounds of automobile engines to determine the direction, speed, and pattern of traffic. Sounds from traffic tell blind pedestrians how many vehicles are near them and how fast they are moving, whether the vehicles are accelerating or decelerating, and whether the vehicles are travelling toward, away from, or parallel to them. With all of this information, blind people can accurately determine when it is safe to proceed into an intersection or across a driveway or parking lot. The information obtained from listening to traffic sounds allows blind people to travel with confidence and without assistance.

However, when vehicles make little or no sound, they compromise the safety of blind travelers and other pedestrians.

The silence of gasoline-electric hybrid cars poses an immediate and growing threat to the safety of blind people and other pedestrians, and jeopardizes the ability of blind people to travel independently.

To address the threat of quiet cars, the vehicles must emit a sound detectable by the human ear.

Auto manufacturers are aware of the problem, but so far have been reluctant to make the simple and inexpensive changes pedestrians need.

We ask the Government of Canada to take international leadership in this area by mandating standards developed in consultation with the Canadian Federation of the Blind and other interested pedestrian groups.

These standards should include the following:

* vehicles should be required to emit an omni-directional sound with similar spectral characteristics to those of a modern internal combustion engine.

* This sound should be detectable in all phases of operation, including times when the vehicle is at a full stop.

* The sound should vary in a way that is consistent with the sound of vehicles with combustion engines to indicate whether the vehicle is idling, maintaining a constant speed, accelerating, or decelerating.

This sound would allow the blind to continue to travel in safety, and would also protect cyclists, runners, other pedestrians and children, all of whom rely on the sounds of traffic to varying degrees.

The addition of components that will emit a minimum sound discernible to blind people and other pedestrians will not adversely affect the environmental benefits of gasoline-electric hybrids and other automobiles running on alternate power sources; nor need the sound be loud enough to contribute to noise pollution. Automobiles that operate in complete silence endanger the safety of everyone. Silent operation should be seen as a design flaw, and be considered similar to the external safety measures now used, such as daytime running lights and the audible vehicle reverse beeper.

Quiet cars were designed to protect the environment from harmful pollutants and to reduce gasoline consumption. Silent operation was a byproduct of their design, not its principle intent. It would be a grim irony if vehicles intended to make the environment better for all of us made it unsafe for blind citizens. No one wants that, and we urge you to help ensure our continued freedom to walk with pride and independence.

I look forward to hearing your response to this important safety issue.

Back to Top

The Hybrid Car Song

by Mary Ellen Gabias
(sung to the tune of ’Surry With a Fringe On Top’)

(reprinted from the Braille Monitor, March 2008)

Kids and dogs won’t know when to scurry.
Silent death arrives in a hurry.
All who walk have reason to worry
‘Bout the hybrid car.
We all want to stop the polluting,
Save a lot of gas while commuting.
If they made sound there’d be no disputing
With the hybrid car.
Saving the planet we all hold dear.
Nobody wants to destroy it.
Please make cars pedestrians can hear
‘Cause we want to be ’round to enjoy it.
We don’t need a noisy vrum-vrumming,
Just a simple audible humming,
So that we can know when you’re coming
In a hybrid car.
Then we all can walk with safety on the street
Without fear that we will accidentally meet
A hybrid car.

(An audio recording of ‘The Hybrid Car Song’, sung by NFB member Tom Bickford, can be listened to at www.nfb.org , click publications, then click on Braille Monitor March 2008 issue.)

Back to Top

Premantura – A Vacation Spot Like No Other

By Doris Belusic

Imagine – sitting on the pergola-covered veranda under the Mediterranean sun, sipping a cappuccino, mineral water, and/or something more spirited, overlooking the landscaped resort grounds and laughing with your friends. Imagine – taking a ten-minute stroll from your accommodation through narrow, picturesque streets to swim in the 23 – 28 degree Celsius waters at the resort’s privately owned Adriatic beach. And, imagine – having three delicious meals served to you in the dining room each day – leaving you with only thoughts of relaxation and enjoyment.

My husband and I found this paradise resort for the blind in Premantura, Croatia. We know of nothing else like it. Twice we’ve made the long trek from our home on the west coast of Canada. My husband is fully blind and I have RP. I am legally blind with some useful central tunnel vision and night blindness. We were two among thousands of tourists who flocked to enjoy the Croatian coast and hospitality this August.

The town of Premantura lies 12 km outside the city of Pula, on the north coast of Croatia. This area is deeply embedded with centuries-old history, as is all the Mediterranean, having once been ruled by the Romans, Venetians, Austro-Hungarians, by Italy and Yugoslavia, until in 1991 Croatia became an independent country.

In Premantura, old structures stand alongside modern, stylish buildings and new construction sites. Traditional Mediterranean stucco shades of terracotta, peach, pink, and yellow, with the usual red terracotta tile roofs, colour the neighbourhoods. To this palette add azure blue sky and sea, white rock shores, lush green trees, palms, grape vines, cacti and red, pink or white flowering oleanders. Interspersed grow olive, nut, fig and fruit trees. Houses flaunt beautifully crafted rock walls that divide properties. Views are scenic, and everything is built with solid permanence.

Runke 17 is the address of the Edukacijsko Rehabilitacijski Kamp Slijepih (ERKS) resort/hotel for the blind. The Croatian Association of the Blind owns and runs this resort. The complex sits on more than one acre of land. There are 26 minimally furnished rooms, each with its own bathroom and most with balconies. Presently, approximately 60 guests can be accommodated (there are plans for expansion). The air-conditioned dining room seats 60 – 80 guests and there is assigned seating so that you can always sit at the same table with your family or friends. There is a small coffee/bar room which leads out to the large pergola-covered veranda with tables and chairs. At the back of the property stretches the landscaped park with a paver walkabout, lawn, trees, benches, picnic tables, and a children’s play area.

Dining room staff serve a European breakfast at 8 am, consisting of fresh bread, salamis, cheeses, liver paste, butter, jam and milky tea, coffee or cocoa. If you’d like your room attended to, be out between 9 and noon each morning. Staff serve lunch at 1 pm and dinner at 7:30 pm. They are both four-course meals with soup, salad, a choice of two entrees, and a dessert. The food tastes fresh and delicious, and the portions are large, so don’t expect to lose weight! If you have alternate plans, let the staff know and they’ll cancel your meal.

You can do whatever your heart desires between meals: walk about Premantura, go to a coffee bar or bakery, swim, read a book, sit on the veranda with friends for drinks, take a bus or taxi to Pula for serious shopping, or visit the many tourist destinations close by. Pula has one of the world’s best-preserved Roman ampitheatres and Venice, Italy is just a three-hour ferry ride across the sea from Pula. The resort has no scheduled activities. Your vacation is all up to you.

My husband and I take it easy on our vacations here and do many of the activities listed above. The most work I’ve done is hand-wash laundry, since the resort has no laundry facilities and we travel light with only carry-on bags.

Swimming is the main activity in Premantura. Often people will go in the morning and again in the later afternoon, when the sun is not so hot. The natural coastline consists of solid rock or stones and is hard to walk on, so the resort beach features a spacious, classy cement and stone-pavered patio. There are railings at most of its edges and at the steps that guide you down into and out of the sea. Rope and buoys cordon the large swim area. Many people sunbathe on the patio. You can also use the peddle-powered boat. It is like going to a spa – salt water, exercise, sun and fun – you feel good – and then you are ready for the next meal!

A five-minute walk from the resort takes you to the centre of Premantura. There are a handful of outdoor coffee bars, restaurants, small stores, bakeries, a church and bell tower. A longer stroll takes you through older and newer residential areas. The streets are narrow, and both pedestrians and vehicles need to pass one another with some caution. You will likely hear the unique “who whooooo who” call of a local bird, and the water sprinkler “ch ch ch” sounds of the cvrcak, a type of cricket. The aroma of meat roasting on a spit at a local restaurant fills the evening air.

Summer reaches a hot and humid 27 – 35 degrees Celsius. Sunscreen is a daytime must and mosquito repellant is essential for evenings. The weather can be changeable. Clouds will sometimes roll in and bring a heavy, brief, tropical downpour, often with thunder and lightning. There could be rain in the morning, then sun by noon.

Premantura has a whole different atmosphere. The local people can be quite boisterous. It is interesting to sit on the veranda and listen to the banter that is thrown back and forth – and the laughter. The people are fun and kind, and the children play happily. A few of the guests play the accordion and sing, so some evenings the veranda bursts to life with song and drink until 11 pm. Other evenings some guests retire to the auditorium to watch or listen to the Croatian football team on the large screen TV. At times you’ll hear blood-curdling yells when their team has scored!

Zagreb, the capital of Croatia, has an accomplished blind choir which gives concerts and sells CD recordings. Zagreb is also home to a guide dog school. Zagreb has a blind theatre company that performs many types of plays, from Shakespeare to blindness- related topics. The actors perform on stage for the public and at European theatre competitions.

The blind here avidly play goalball. In July, a team from Croatia competed in Brazil. Blind people in Croatia are also addicted to an electronic speaking dart board game called ‘Pikado’. They meet weekly to play and frequently take part in tournaments.

Ahhhhh, the tastes of Premantura! Whether dining at the resort or at a restaurant in town or stopping at a coffee bar for cappuccino and cake, the local cuisine is top-notch. And, the local people pride themselves on their domestic products, including cheeses, prosciutto, honey, wine, beer, spirits, etc. One day we ventured to Mercator, a large department store in Pula. We have never seen such fantastic selections of fresh and cooked food. No wonder Croatians love to eat! “Dobar tek!” Bon appetite!

When in Croatia, there are two things you need to know. One, most of the local people do not speak English, although the younger generations are learning it. And, two, just as in the rest of Europe, many Croatians smoke.

The resort at Premantura is becoming increasingly known, and you should book early. One night’s accommodation per person, including three meals, in the summer of 2007 cost approximately $40. Probably the best value in Europe! Any drinks are extra – be it coffee, mineral water, fruit juice, beer, wine, or other alcoholic beverage. Domestic alcohol beverage prices are very reasonable. For example, a half litre of beer or a glass of wine costs only $1.50. “Chin, chin, zivili!” Cheers!

Premantura is a special place. The climate, the beauty, the food, the beach, the people, and the resort are wonderful. One could want to stay forever. But, when you do go home, Premantura will live in your memory forever! And, chances are, like us, you’ll go back!

Back to Top

Blindness: The Development Of Federationism In Canada

Banquet Speech by Dr Paul Gabias, PhD, LLD

CFB ‘Believe’ Convention 2005

An essential aspect of life is the capacity to make decisions. This is true for any individual, but it is also true for a movement of individuals acting collectively.

When I started school at six, my life changed drastically. My parents enrolled me in a boarding school for the blind in Montreal. The spoken language was French. I did not speak nor understand French. The layout of the school was foreign to me. I hated being away from home.

Everything was different: the camp cot bed with its metal springs and foam mattress; the large dormitory where 40 children slept all together; the little dresser, the wooden locker, the common toilets, the common shower, the large playroom, the little chairs in the playroom on which we were supposed to put our shoes at night – I didn’t even know how to tie my shoes, and I worried about who was going to tie them; the little plastic bowls we ate from.

Everything was different. The food was different. Nobody could tell me what was in my bowl at each meal because I didn’t understand what they were saying. I had to get used to porridge for breakfast and bologna sandwiches for supper. Sometimes, after the porridge, they served us tourtière or stew for breakfast. I assume they were the leftovers from what the nuns had eaten the night before. Everything was served in the same bowl. Often there was a leftover porridge taste mixed in with the tourtière or the stew, which they called ‘Fricassee’, in French.

The nuns imposed periods of silence on the children, for reasons we didn’t understand. When we walked to places, they made us be silent. They assigned an older boy to help each of the younger children.

I still remember the name of the boy assigned to me. I also remember he was mean and he stank.

We had to change in and out of our play-time overalls in silence. We ate our meals in silence, except for designated periods during which we could speak.

The nuns had a strange word for overalls. They called overalls ‘sallopettes’, which translated literally means little dirty farts. “Such a strange word for overalls,” I thought. I had never worn overalls before. It’s like your pants continue over where your shirt should be. It’s like wearing pants all over you; such a strange thing!

There were so many strange things at that school: a cement balcony with steel guard rails and huge cement columns to hold up the cement balcony. At home we had a small wooden balcony.

They had a child’s tractor, except that no child was ever allowed to use it. The nuns only used it to make the children feel good about coming to the school. Parents visiting the school with their children for the first time were led to believe that their children would have fun at the school. The nuns wanted the children to believe that too. The tractor made separating parents and children easier when it was time to say good bye for the first time.

I realize now that the nuns were keeping the tractor as a show piece, and that’s why each child only got to try it out once.

The school had grounds with grass and trees and asphalt pathways. In what they called the refectory, we sat on wooden chairs and ate from bowls on metal tables. At lunchtime, we ate the soup, meat and potatoes, and dessert in sequence all from the same bowl. For dessert, they didn’t serve Jello instant pudding, like I was used to. They served sucre à la crème and real maple syrup with bread. They served jam sandwiches at three o’clock. They never served us peanut butter sandwiches or orange juice. We never had eggs, except on Friday. We were never served the usual poached, scrambled or fried eggs. They served us what they called egg sauce, which consisted of some kind of sauce with broken up pieces of hard boiled egg in it.

Because this was a Catholic school, there was no meat on Fridays. The fish they served was dreadful, particularly the sardines. I often skipped one or more meals on Fridays.

Until Grade three, I was the only one allowed to go home on Friday nights. The other children could receive visitors in what they called “the parlor”, for two hours every Sunday afternoon. The children had to get dressed in their Sunday best, so uncomfortable! Most children never had any visitors because their families lived in other parts of Quebec, too far from Montreal for weekly visits. Many children only went home twice a year, once for Christmas and once for the summer holidays.

We only saw girls during class periods. The girls wore uniforms with stiff plastic collars. I was so glad I was not a girl. We boys didn’t have to wear uniforms, except the overalls during play periods and mealtimes. It was fun to scratch the plastic collars on the girls; it made such a strange sound! The girls hated their collars being scratched by the boys. They retaliated by elbowing, pinching, scratching or screaming. It was so much fun! The girls had their separate yard and separate quarters.

The nuns wore robes that went down to their feet. They wore a big metal cross around their neck. Their heads were covered. I assume they had no hair, because sometimes at night, when the nun was in her room, which was off the dormitory, I heard the nun using an electric shaver for a very long time. I assume to this day, that she must have been shaving her head. How weird!

Many of the nuns were mean. If you misbehaved, which could range from talking during a silence period, to passing gas in the chapel and making everybody laugh, the consequences were dire. The nuns told the children who were bad that they would have to line up at the nun’s bedroom door that evening before going to bed. Each child was taken in one at a time. We could hear the nun order each child to pull down his pants. We could hear the slaps against the child’s skin and the wailing. Ten to 12 children waited in line on any given night.

The nun’s tried to perpetuate an atmosphere of terror, but most children stood up to it, got used to it, and always found ways to fight back. I remember a night-time cookie raid on the kitchen. One older child wrestled a nun to the floor. Another nun had to come to her rescue.

It seemed that the further away your parents lived, the meaner the nuns allowed themselves to be. I remember one little boy, Jeannot Plante. His family was poor. They managed to send him a statue of the Blessed Virgin for his birthday. One time he and I were in the infirmary together on his birthday. We were talking when we were supposed to be silent. The nun came in and started screaming. Then she smashed his statue. I guess it wasn’t a sacrilege because it hadn’t been blessed yet. The next thing I knew, she was beating Jeannot over the head with a tin can. She hit me in the face a few times with a cardboard box. My parents lived in Montreal. Jeannot’s parents lived in Rimouski. My father gave the nuns five dollars a week. Jeannot’s parents were poor, and probably less educated. The Plante family had two other younger children at the school: Antonin and Francine.

The school had some good things too. They had garden swings on which we could rock ourselves back and forth and imagine that we were being gently rocked by our mother or our father. That usually didn’t last too long because other kids got on the swing. They wanted it to swing high and they wanted the swing to jump. The nuns always intervened when we got too rough with the garden swings. There were regular swings too. There was a set of monkey bars. There were scooters and tricycles that we were sometimes allowed to use. There was a slide on which we could toboggan in the winter. There were prizes at the end of the year for good behavior. But, there were no hugs, no gentle caresses and there was no love.

Victor Frankel, a psychologist, wrote a book, published in 1946 called “Man’s Search for Meaning”. I haven’t read the book. But perhaps I can say my childhood experiences at L’Institut Nazareth resonate with his in a very distant way, without sounding too melodramatic. Dr. Frankel describes life in a concentration camp for Jews in Germany. He said the most important thing that determined people’s survival, beyond just being lucky, was the will to survive. Perhaps, survival was based on an understanding and a decision that went like this: as long as there is life, nothing can break the human spirit.

There is an apt child’s saying: sticks and stones can break my bones but names will never hurt me.

Freud suggested there is a life instinct and a death instinct. In practical terms, this means that at every moment we can decide to live or we can decide to die. Life can be described as a series of “yes- no” decisions, from moment to moment. At every moment, we can decide to love or to hate. In computer terms, life is a series of binary decisions; a series of “one-zero” decisions. Computer programs are made up of a series of zeroes and ones.

Contrary to what the behaviorists believe, we have free will. We can decide to be number one or zero, or somewhere in between. Regardless of our circumstances, the decision at every moment is up to us: to live or to die. Normally no one else can make that decision for us.

I excelled at L’Institut Nazareth, at L’Institut Louis-Braille, at Concordia University and at New York University. I have never been unemployed. To stay employed, I moved to five different Universities, one every year for five years. Out of necessity, I started our family home business. This business, which is affiliated with a company called Nikken, has enormous potential.

Just as an individual can have a strong will to survive, so can a group of individuals, or a movement. In Floyd Matson’s book, “Walking Alone and Marching Together,” the history of the organized blind movement in the United States is brought to life. It is a thick book and it contains many banquet addresses and speeches from Federation leaders over the years. Although the movement was under attack from many agencies and blind people themselves, the movement flourished and developed into the most powerful organized blind movement in the world.

The Canadian Federation of the Blind represents the philosophy of that movement in Canada. We have also survived adversity, through a collective decision to do so.

We started in 1992 as the National Federation of the Blind: Advocates for Equality. At the 1997 Convention of the National Federation of the Blind, in New Orleans, Louisiana, our delegation comprised over 90 members from Canada. We held our first Convention in Canada in Vancouver, British Columbia, in February of 1998.

Despite all the work we did between 1992 and 1998, I was defeated as President at the first NFB:AE Convention in Canada, which was held in February, 1998. Today I am not surprised, although then I was, and I was wounded, disappointed and angry. But time, goodwill and support from friends heals wounds and strengthens resolve. In retrospect, I can use history as a teacher. All we need do is look back at a speech given by Dr. tenBroek at the 1967 Convention of the National Federation of the Blind.

Dr. tenBroek was discussing the relationships between the organized blind and agencies in different parts of the world. When it came to Canada he said:

“In Canada, the story is perhaps the saddest and sorriest of all. In that northern clime, an agency colossus bestrides the world of the blind from coast to coast, making free use of company union tactics wherever any independent sentiment dares to express itself among the disorganized blind. Only a handful of undaunted spirits remain to hold the banner aloft in the deserted battlefield.”

Of course, the agency colossus he was referring to is the CNIB. The existence of the National Federation of the Blind: Advocates for Equality meant that independent sentiment dared to express itself among an organized group of blind people in Canada. This organization was not the only one to split under the axe of the CNIB. Two provincial organizations have come and gone; BOOST in Ontario and VIPAC in Saskatchewan. The CCB (Canadian Council of the Blind), which used to concern itself largely with recreational activities, was also formed. Many White Cane Clubs have left the CCB to operate on their own. It seems that, wherever the CNIB sticks its nose in the affairs of the organized blind in Canada, chaos, confusion and dissent result.

Dr. tenBroek put it well in 1967, the CNIB uses “Company union tactics” for its own gain. As far as the CNIB is concerned, every dime collected in the name of the blind should end up in CNIB coffers, and all programs and organizations of the blind must derive from or be associated with the CNIB.

In Quebec, the CNIB is weak. My feeling is that the CNIB wanted it that way. In Montreal, when I was growing up, all CNIB had to offer the blind in the area was the little building on Crescent Street. In Toronto, on the other hand, the CNIB owns many large buildings and beautiful grounds. Perhaps, dealing with so much French in Quebec proved too difficult and cumbersome for a centralized bureaucracy from Toronto. In any case, by design or not, the CNIB is weak in Quebec.

Consequently, the blind of Quebec have been able to organize in relative peace. In Quebec, there is a large Provincial organization of blind people called Le Regroupement des Aveugles et Amblyopes du Quebec (RAAQ). The largest chapter of that organization is called Le Regroupement des Aveugles et Amblyopes du Montréal. (RAAM). The blind of Quebec have not attempted to expand beyond Quebec.

I digress. Let’s get back to the growth of Federationism in Canada, particularly in British Columbia.

In February of 1999, the second Convention of the National Federation of the Blind: Advocates for Equality took place in Victoria. By that time, the founders of the NFB:AE realized we had made a mistake in expanding the organization so quickly. Any blind person could become a member of the organization. We were so in love with the National Federation of the Blind and its philosophy of blindness that we thought that everyone would love it. We should have learned from the American experience, but we didn’t.

In the United States, there is an agency-dominated organization of the blind that doesn’t seem to do much else than attack the National Federation of the Blind. The name of that organization is the American Council of the Blind. We expected better of blind Canadians, but alas, in the affairs of blindness, national origin is irrelevant.

As with the development of other organizations of the blind in Canada, the CNIB was not going to be any more tolerant of the emergence of the NFB:AE than it had been of the development of prior organizations of blind people.

The top officials of the CNIB knew the National Federation of the Blind in the United States. They attended, and sometimes still attend, NFB Conventions and they often speak at the podium. The NFB in the United States has grown powerful enough, that even its enemies feel it necessary to attend and speak at its Conventions. Even the American Foundation for the Blind, an ancient enemy of the National Federation of the Blind, gets to speak at NFB Conventions.

A little history will highlight what I mean.

The American Foundation for the Blind created the National Accreditation Council of Agencies Serving the Blind (NAC). After many years of protests and demonstrations against NAC, members of the National Federation of the Blind killed this council. Still, staff members from the American Foundation for the Blind come to NFB Conventions and they are pleased to speak at these Conventions. NFB members listen politely, and assess the information they bring. Power can bring new friendships.

The reasons for the emerging presence of these agencies at NFB Conventions are complex, but the agencies wouldn’t be there if they didn’t believe the Federation was a powerful organization.

An agency, like CNIB, can have many faces, depending on its audience. An American audience knows little of the affairs of the blind in Canada. A Canadian agency can say anything it wants to an American audience and be believed. The CNIB portrays itself as a friend of the Federation at American meetings and at meetings of the World Blind Union. But, is it a friend of the Federation in Canada? How does it support the growth of Federationism in Canada?

The attack on Federationism in Canada had to be subtle. They used Canadian nationalism as their weapon. I believe that a portion of the blind attending the first Convention of the NFB:AE in Canada was already programmed to be against the Federation. These people were led to believe that the NFB:AE was too American, which made the organization of dubious relevance in Canada. Where the Canadian nationalism argument first surfaced is hard to tell. But there was enough cross-pollination of the argument between the CNIB and some blind people to effectively shut down the NFB:AE during its first Canadian Convention. The organization that took its place was keen to disassociate itself from the Federation, its philosophy of blindness, and its ways of doing things. I hear it has adopted a new name for itself. The name is irrelevant. The point here is that “National Federation of the Blind” is not part in its new name and the organization does not share the National Federation of the Blind’s philosophy of blindness.

At its second convention in 1999, some of the NFB:AE board members tried to divert funding for helping people attend NFB Conventions in the United States, for other purposes. The founders of the NFB:AE, however, felt it was imperative to help blind Canadians to attend NFB conventions in the US because of their enormous value to blind people; Canada had nothing that could compare to these empowering events. The founding members also felt sending blind Canadians to NFB conventions was crucial to developing the Federation in Canada.

The following excerpt will explain the tremendous benefits of attending a National Federation of the Blind convention in the US; this passage comes from my Presidential Report of 1997, which was given at the NFB:AE meeting at the Convention of the National Federation of the Blind:

“There can be no doubt that attending NFB US Conventions is educational for blind Canadians. In addition to programs dealing with employment in various fields, there are also seminars on adaptive technology, as well as research and development of technical aids for the blind. There are workshops for students, parents of blind children, blind parents of sighted children, guide dog users, people
with diabetes, blind children, and the deaf-blind. Throughout the convention every program item and activity presents a positive attitude towards blindness. This is not what blind people normally get in their day-to-day interaction with society where blindness is still thought to be a severe disability. At NFB Conventions the contrast is refreshing to the mind and uplifting to the spirit. It charges up a person’s batteries for another year of work in the relentless quest for equality for the blind.

Consider the group of blind professionals represented at NFB Conventions. There are meetings of blind lawyers, blind educators, blind computer scientists, blind journalists, blind musicians, blind human service workers, blind secretaries, blind merchants, blind scientists, blind government employees, and blind entrepreneurs. Although these groups of blind professionals are primarily working in the United States, blind Canadians find interactions with these various professionals invaluable. Almost every Canadian who attends NFB Conventions sends us a letter of appreciation for the opportunity to have attended an NFB Convention. They say that the convention improves their outlook on blindness and provides them with practical skills and techniques for their daily lives. They say that they look forward to attending future conventions of the National Federation of the Blind and that networking within the expertise of the blind community within the Federation on a yearly basis improves their lives and the lives of blind people in their local communities throughout Canada. They say that these conventions will increase the organizational efforts of the blind in their own communities. Therefore, it is extremely important to help blind Canadians attend NFB Convention – both in Canada and the US. The national office will do what it can to help as many blind Canadians and family members of blind Canadians to attend NFB Conventions. However, the membership of the organization must find ways to fund the organization.

This year the National Office spent $89,209.92 to help the delegation of the National Federation of the Blind: Advocates for Equality attend the US NFB Convention in New Orleans, Louisiana. This included helping blind children and their parents attend NFB Camp, a place where blind children can meet, play with, and learn from blind role models.

It is important that we spend the money to foster attendance at these conventions because ignorance about blindness and the capacity of the blind is widespread in Canadian society. It is not likely to be dispelled any time soon – unless we do something about it. The best place to gather the required experience and the emotional strength to do something about it is at NFB US National Conventions – the largest gathering of blind people anywhere in the world.

In the National Federation of the Blind, we believe that with training and opportunity, blindness can be reduced to the level of a nuisance. We believe that with proper training and opportunity, blind persons can compete on terms of equality with the sighted. We also believe that blindness is respectable. These beliefs have powerful implications. And yet most of society, including agencies for the blind and blind people themselves, do not believe what we say.”

This report explains why it is so important to send blind Canadians to the NFB conventions, and demonstrates why I fought so hard to make this happen.

As I said earlier, at the 1999 NFB:AE Convention in Victoria, some of the people on the new NFB:AE board wanted to severely diminish funding that would help members attend NFB Conventions in the United States. I had had it. We had worked with a split board for a year, and it was clear we were working at cross purposes. The new people on the board wanted to gut the Federation out of the organization. I explained my opposition to any significant reduction in funding for Conventions. I said it was not possible to work with people who weren’t prepared to promote and be part of the National Federation of the Blind. I said I was leaving the meeting and that those who wanted to follow me out were welcome to do so. I left the meeting singing, “Glory, Glory Federation”. Many blind people followed me on that wonderful day, and that’s how the Canadian Federation of the Blind was born. It was like the Boston Tea Party, where the English tea was thrown away, a revolutionary beginning for a Canadian organization steeped in NFB philosophy.

The NFB is an American organization that started in the United States. We as Canadians are proud to be a part of it, just as we are proud of the inventor of Braille who happened to be French. As blind Canadian Federationists, we will not tolerate parochialism, and second class citizenship in the name of Canadian nationalism. We won’t do it for the CNIB, we won’t do it for the Canadian sighted public, and we won’t do it for any Canadian Governmental agency.

Because of the efforts of the Canadian Federation of the Blind, Federationism is well-entrenched in Canada, and the CNIB cannot make it go away. There will be ACB type blind people in Canada. Let them join other organizations for the blind or of the blind. Let them form their own organizations. Some blind people don’t believe that blindness is respectable. Some blind people don’t believe that we can compete on terms of equality in the world, as it is.

But some blind people, like us, want to live our lives right now! We don’t want to wait for administrators to install audible traffic signals, truncated domes, high color contrasts or bumpy door knobs; these “accommodations” for the blind give a false impression of what blind people need, making it seem as if we need more accommodations than we actually do.

Instead of these “over-the-top” accommodations, what blind people need is better training in the skills of blindness and better attitudes about blindness. The sighted public could use a good dose of education about the abilities of blind people too.

This is why we formed the Canadian Federation of the Blind. That’s why we are members of the National Federation of the Blind in the United States. We want to be part of a culture of blindness that transcends borders and that believes in the capabilities and tremendous potential of the blind.

So where do we go from here? Since most of our members live in British Columbia and given the provincialization of power in Canada, let us deal with the Government of British Columbia first. We want blind people to be recognized as a class of people, who require specific funding allocations. We want to be recognized by Government and society as a distinct class of people with a distinct culture.

We need a Provincial Department for the Blind. We need a pension for the blind that deals with the costs specifically associated with blindness. We need specific educational objectives for blind children that value the importance of Braille and cane travel.

Government must manage and appropriate funding for the rehabilitation of blind adults; it must fund library services and technological support for blind people, including Newsline for the blind. (Newsline is a program administered by the National Federation of the Blind. It can provide newspapers through the telephone for every newspaper in North America.)

Canadians come from an English tradition. As Dr. tenBroek, first leader of the NFB, explained in 1967, this is not the best tradition if you are blind. In his 1967 Banquet address, Dr. tenBroek described the strained relationship between the National Federation of the Blind and the United States blindness agencies. He then said that “much the same tense and tortuous relationship existed,” between the blind and blindness agencies in other parts of the world:

“It exists, to be sure, at different stages and in various forms. In many countries of Europe, although rear guard battles are still being fought, the course of the struggle has long since been determined. The pattern has been one not of extinction of the agencies, but of their conquest and assimilation. The blind people of Europe have organized themselves, and have taken over their agencies. In England, on the other hand, almost alone of the principle European nations, the battle continues to rage unabated. There, a large national organization of the blind stands alone in the battle
of the blind against an entrenched and powerful agency and numerous satellites. It’s an unequal struggle, though far from a one-sided one, and the organized blind of Great Britain have no early hope of carrying out the continental pattern. Rather, they are attempting to secure their goal through increasing governmentalization, thereby gradually superseding the voluntary societies by having the government take over their functions and activities.”

In British Columbia, we must follow the pattern of the blind in England while remaining true to the NFB philosophy of blindness. Like in England, blind Canadians have to deal with an entrenched and powerful agency with numerous satellites. In Canada, the name of that agency is the CNIB. In England, the name of that agency is the Royal National Institute for the Blind. Like the English blind, we as blind Canadians must meet our goals of security, equality and opportunity. We must gradually supersede the voluntary societies by pressing the government to take over their functions and activities. We must do this, no matter how long it takes.

In his first banquet speech as President of the National Federation of the Blind of the United States, Dr. Marc Maurer said:

“Fire is generally regarded as the essence of drama. Flames shoot dozens, even hundreds of feet into the air. But fire is merely oxidation at a rapid rate. Although it is momentarily spectacular, its consequences are less significant than those of other forms of oxidation. In the total range of rust, rot, leaf mold, and metabolism, fire is, so to speak, only a flash in the pan, a momentary aberration. Of vastly more importance to the people of the world, are the slow, unspectacular chemical changes which take place every day; the oxidation of millions of tons of matter, occurring so slowly as to pass without comment.”

Through this brief foray into science, President Maurer meant to emphasize that the events that cause hope and despair, joy and depression are of tremendous significance, even when they pass unnoticed and without remark. He said the process of quiet but dramatic change is an integral part of being human; he said this is also the essence of the National Federation of the Blind. The cumulative effect of the drama without fanfare is reflected in the growth of our movement and in the lives of its members.

This growth – the growth of Federationism – has been more spectacular than any other event in the lives of blind people over the decades.

Since 1999, without fanfare, we grew the Canadian Federation of the Blind. Oriano Belusic first took the Presidency. I am grateful to him for doing that. I needed a rest. I needed a change. I needed to know that there was sufficient will in the Canadian membership to continue the growth of Federationism in Canada – with a President who had never lived in the United States, and with a President who had never been part of the Federation from the United States. Oriano did an excellent job for three years, during perhaps, the most difficult part to date of the growth of the movement. Then, in 2003, Elizabeth Lalonde was unanimously elected as President. She was unanimously reelected in 2005. She is doing an excellent job. This first Convention of the Canadian Federation of the Blind is largely to her credit.

This convention is our living monument to the work of bringing Federationism to Canada, begun in 1992. Our roots in Federationism are strong and deep, and we will never go back. We have withstood attacks from the CNIB and blind people of different persuasions, and we are stronger for it. I am sure that attacks against us will not end.

In his 1997 banquet speech to the National Federation of the Blind convention in New Orleans, Dr. Jernigan said: “For us, as with other minorities, there is only one way to achieve civil rights–that is, confrontation. The status quo always fights change”. He went on to explain “many people think that civil rights and integration are the same thing. They aren’t. The concept of civil rights precedes integration, and is a necessary precursor to it. The term civil rights in the late twentieth century, although some will deny it, means force, an ‘in your face’ attitude by the minority; laws that make somebody do this or that; picketing, marches in the street, court cases and much else”. Dr. Jernigan said that in the United States, the Federation did all of those things. “It had to”, he said.

If his assessment of the attainment of civil rights is correct, that there must always eventually be confrontation, particularly when a minority group gets close to reaching its goal, then our path is laid out for us, and sooner or later, we the Canadian Federation of the Blind, will have to engage in confrontation to achieve equality. It will not be pleasant, but we are used to unpleasant things in life, both individually and collectively.

No-one will penetrate, marginalize, malign, or cast aside our movement. We are an enduring force to be reckoned with. Federationism will grow in Canada. That is a certainty. Forces opposed to the emancipation of the blind may attempt to obstruct the progress of Federationism, or drag their feet, but their shoes will wear down.

The Canadian Federation of the Blind will not be worn down. We are ready for the future. The future is ours to shape. And we will never go back. The Canadian Federation of the Blind is here to stay, let’s celebrate our accomplishments and bask in our glory. Let’s end this banquet speech by singing all together, just as we did when we began the Canadian Federation of the Blind, “Glory, Glory Federation”.

Back to Top

The NFB Battle Song (Glory, Glory Federation) Tune: The Battle Hymn of the Republic

Words by Floyd Fields and Josephine Huff

1. Blind eyes have seen the vision of the Federation way.
New White Cane legislation brings the dawn of a new day.
The right of the blind to organize is truly here to stay.
Our cause goes marching on.
(Refrain)
Glory, glory, Federation
Glory, glory, Federation
Glory, glory, Federation,
Our cause goes marching on.

2. We have seen it in the action of four hundred chapters strong.
Good leadership and courage have righted many a wrong.
Let’s aid NFB’s program, and join in its battle song.
Our cause goes marching on.
(Refrain)

3. tenBroek has sounded trumpet which shall never sound “Retreat.”
We have sifted out the hearts of blind before our judgment seat.
Oh, be swift all blind to answer, and be jubilant your feet.
Our cause goes marching on.
(Refrain)

4. To aid the blind’s long struggle we have formed the NFB
To free them from their bondage of workshop and agency,
To give a hand to all the blind wherever they may be.
Our cause goes marching on.
(Refrain)

Back to Top

The White Cane Freedom March Song

(by Thomas Bickford, Debbie Brown, Lloyd Rasmussen and Ken Silberman)

From www.nfb.org

(sung to the tune of ‘As Those Caissons Go Rolling Along’)

1. Over hill, over dale, we will hit the concrete trail;
As our white canes go tapping along.
Down the block, cross the street, walking on our own two feet;
As our white canes go tapping along.
On the job or at home, wherever we may roam, Yes, independent and free! NFB!
We can find our way at night or in the day;
As our white canes go tapping along.

2. On a bus, on a train, even flying on a plane;
As our white canes go tapping along.
As we board, find our seat, no great danger shall we meet;
As our white canes go tapping along.
We’re the able blind, so leave your carts behind.
Don’t put us in your holding tanks! No thanks!
We’ll meet no harm. Take back your helping arm.
As our white canes go tapping along.

3. On we go at full speed. No contraptions do we need;
As our white canes go tapping along.
No rough tiles for our feet, nor the traffic signal’s tweet;
As our white canes go tapping along.
No Ph.D.’s, just skillful travelers, please, Teaching blind people to
be free! NFB!
And the rehab snobs can go and find real jobs;
As our white canes go tapping along.

Back to Top

CFB Miniatures:

-Check out our website www.cfb.ca for information about the Canadian Federation of the Blind, read about upcoming events, many interesting, informative articles and previous issues of the ‘Blind Canadian’.

-Check out www.nfb.org for the National Federation of the Blind in the U.S. for practically anything to do with blindness!

-Braille Monitor is the leading publication of the NFB and covers blindness-related events, activities and topics; it is an informative, monthly magazine, available in Braille, two or four track cassette, large print or email, and all issues can be read online through their website. More recent issues can be heard on MP3 through their website (www.nfb.org and click ‘publications’). To receive monthly issues via email for free, sign up online (www.nfb.org). To receive Braille, cassette or large print formats you can send a request to: National Federation of the Blind, Attention Braille Monitor, 1800 Johnson St. Baltimore, Maryland, 21230; or phone 1-410-659-3914 (ext 2344); or email to nfb@nfb.org. Members are invited, and non-members are requested to cover subscription cost of $35 Canadian per year. Donations should be made payable to National Federation of the Blind.

-Voice of the Nation’s Blind is an NFB web log or blog, which features news and commentary affecting the blind. (www.nfb.org and click publications)

-Future Reflections is an NFB magazine for parents and teachers of blind children from birth through college; offers insight into blindness and practical guidance in day-to-day aspects of raising a blind child. Presents resources, information, a positive philosophy about blindness, and stories of blind role models. Subscriptions are free, donations are gladly accepted. It is published quarterly and is available in print, 2 or 4 track cassette, email, or can be read on the NFB website (www.nfb.org and click ‘publications’). To subscribe for email: visit the following site: www.nfbcal.org/listserv-signup.html, and follow the instructions. To sign up for print or cassette send email to: Seth Lamkin at slamkin@nfb.org. Put “Subscribe to FR” in the subject, and include your preferred medium, your address, whether you are a parent of a blind child, a teacher, or other subscriber.

-Voice of the Diabetic is an NFB magazine put out quarterly in print, cassette, email and on the website. Personal stories and practical guidance by blind diabetics and medical professionals, medical news, resource column, and a recipe corner. Subscriptions are free, donations gladly accepted. You can read it at (www.nfb.org and click ‘publications’) and can also subscribe through this site using an online or printable form.

-Kernel Books – there are currently 30 books in this series, containing stories by blind men and women. Each volume bears important messages about blindness delivered by witty authors writing about intriguing, yet everyday situations. These books cut through misconceptions and get to the very ‘kernel’ on the subject of blindness. The entire text of each book is available to read on the NFB website (www.nfb.org and click ‘publications’). If you want to order any Kernel Books, they are free, as long as supplies last. For a current listing of available formats, visit NFB Publications in the Literature section. This page will provide all of the information you will need to order Kernel Books from the Independence Market.

-NFB Convention Banquet Speeches and NFB Presidential Releases are online at (www.nfb.org, and click ‘publications’). Discover key NFB speeches delivered by the esteemed leaders Jacobus tenBroek, Kenneth Jernigan, and Marc Maurer, and read or listen to what’s new in Dr Maurer’s monthly presidential releases. These are also available to order.

-NFB Independence Market online – go to (www.nfb.org, select Products and Technology, then click Product Catalogue) and you will find a whole online store to buy blindness-related products and publications. From long white canes, writing supplies, housewares, talking watches, clocks, calculators, medical devices, the latest technology aids, to books and NFB publications. Or, you can order via email at IndependenceMarket@nfb.org; by phone 1-410-659-9314 (ext 2216) Mon-Fri 8am-5pm ET; by fax 1-410-685-2340; or by regular mail to: National Federation of the Blind, Independence Market, 1800 Johnson St. Baltimore, Maryland, 21230.

-NFB Convention 2008 in Dallas, Texas, June 29 – July 5, 2008 at the Hilton Anatole Hotel, see (www.nfb.org) for more information.

-NFBW (NFB of Washington) Fall Convention October 31 – Nov 2, 2008 in Everett, WA at the Holiday Inn. Check their website (www.nfbw.org) for soon to be posted information.

-RDSP Registered Disability Savings Plan – With the goal of improving the quality life of disabled persons, the government of Canada has created this new savings plan featuring government grant and bond contributions. It should be available by the end of 2008 and individuals interested should ensure that they have their Disability Tax Credit status and that they have filed a recent tax return. For more information visit (www.plan.ca)

-Full page Braille-writing slate for use with standard letter-sized paper, lets you Braille 25 lines with 28 characters per line on an 8.5 by 11 inch Braille paper, without having to move the slate down the page. Made of durable plastic, the slate has Braille line numbers embossed down the right side and comes with a stylus. Visit (www.futureaids.com); send email to craig@futureaids.com; or call 1-604-852-6341.

-Audible Ebooks through British Columbia Libraries – ‘Library To Go’. Download and listen to best selling and classic audio books 24/7 on your PC, laptop, PDA or MP3 player at home, in the office or anywhere in the world. The library without walls is always open! All major library systems in BC have joined this network. You will need a library card number. Cruise the ebook catalogue. The first time you check out materials on this site, instructions will be provided for you to download the software you need. Check out your local library website. (In Victoria, visit www.gvpl.ca).

-Greater Victoria Public Library PressDisplay – catch up on the news from across North America and abroad through a web service offered by the Greater Victoria Public Library. PressDisplay offers access to more than 260 newspapers from 55 countries and in 30 languages. The newspapers are published online in their original format and layout. The service is available online at GVPL branches and to library cardholders via the “search a database” link on the website (www.gvpl.ca).

-check out blindbargains.com for deals and information related to blindness.

-NFB Braille Readers are Leaders Contest – this is a tremendous opportunity for blind students to improve their Braille skills and discover the pleasure of reading. Anyone who
knows a blind student who uses Braille or is beginning to do so should encourage participation in this annual contest. There has been at least one winner from Alberta in the past. Wouldn’t it be fun to have a BC champion? The contest begins annually on November 1 and ends January 4, on Louis Braille’s birthday. Win a trip to an NFB convention and other prizes. Information and forms are available online at: www.nfb.org/nfb/NOPBC_Braille_Readers_Are_Leaders.asp
Paper forms may be requested by e-mail, mail, telephone, and fax from: BrailleReadersAreLeaders@nfb.org; address Braille Contest, NFB, 1800 Johnson St, Baltimore, Maryland 21230; telephone 1-410-659-9314 (ext 2360 or 2361); or fax 1-410-659-5129.

-There are 2 interesting stories about blind doctors well worth reading. The Blind Doctor: The Jacob Bolotin Story, by Rosalind Perlman, tells the fascinating story of a remarkable man who was born blind to poor parents in Chicago in 1888. Rejecting the conventional wisdom of his time, he was determined to [quote] be of use in the world. He learned Braille and developed an uncanny sense of touch and hearing that would later make him one of the top heart and lung specialists in the city. The publisher is.Blue Point Books, Santa Barbara, California, 2007. Source: http://www.west.net/~bpbooks/BlindDoc.html. The other book, The Doctor Will Not See You Now, is an autobiography of Canada’s first practicing blind physician, Jane Poulson. She was a diabetic and at age 27 became blind. Among many things, she set up a palliative care program at a major hospital, taught medical students and wrote articles for leading medical journals. The publisher is Novalis, Saint Paul University, Ottawa, 2002.

-The B Pass is a bus pass which you can get through BC Transit for use on the Victoria Regional Transit System. It costs $25 for a 5 year pass. Your ophthalmologist needs to sign the application verifying legal blindness. You can get information and applications through BC Transit or the Canadian Federation of the Blind. Now, you do not need to go through a charity for your public service.

-BC Transit Taxi Savers, available in most BC communities, help save on transportation costs, since you can travel by taxi at half price. Information and applications are available through BC Transit in your area.

Back to Top

Tec Talk

-knfbReader Mobile – combines the benefits of the previous knfbReader with the convenience of a multifunctional cell phone. Like the knfbReader Classic—which is still available for purchase—the new version reads most printed documents, address labels and package information, easily—no matter the orientation; stores thousands of pages of text(with easily obtainable extra memory); transfers text files to and from computers or Braille notetakers; and can adjust reading speed to a user’s preference. However, the knfbReader Mobile combines these features with a multifunctional cell phone, the Nokia N82, to better consolidate the blind consumer’s technology needs. It also contains a GPS. This pocket-size combination Reader and cell phone weighs 4.2 ounces. For more information, visit (www.knfbreader.com); call (877) 547-1500; or write to knfb Reading Technology, Inc., at P.O. Box 620128 Newton Lower Falls, Massachusetts 02462

-Olympus DS–50 Digital Voice Recorder – A professional quality digital voice recorder with voice guidance featuring recording time from 17 to 170 hours of recording time, ability to download audible.com books, and podcasts. Can be used for recording meetings, has 1 Gig of data storage capacity, and runs for over 30 hours on 2 AAA batteries. Slim and portable.

-Free Speech screen reading software for the blind – there are 3 free versions that we know of, if you do not have Jaws or WindowEyes or similar:

System Access To Go is a web-based screen speech access program for the blind that can be used from any computer that has high speed internet connection. More than a screen reader, System Access requires no installation and provides complete control of your e-mail, makes web surfing easy, and offers intuitive access to Microsoft Office productivity tools like Word, PowerPoint and Excel. SA To Go makes System Access available on the Web for instant operation and has no permanence on the using computer. Users can now access System Access software anytime, anywhere that Internet access is available. Visit (www.accessibilityisaright.org) or (www.satogo.com)

To check out Thunder screenreader visit (www.screenreader.net)

To check out NVDA screenreader visit http://www.nvda-project.org/download.html

-Victor Reader Stream – Developed with the National Federation of the Blind (NFB), the Victor Reader Stream uses the latest technology from HumanWare to be able to
read digital talking books. You be able to play and navigate books on cartridges The Stream has a USB port to connect to your computer so you can transfer download books and music from your PC to the Stream’s SD flash memory card. As the newest member of the family of Victor Reader digital talking book players, the Stream offers the same powerful and simple to use user interface made popular by the Victor Reader Classic+ and Wave players. The Victor Reader Stream can play various
electronic book formats, including DAISY, Bookshare, text, wav, MP3 and
OGG Vorbis audio files. As well, it has the ability to play the popular
commercial books from Audible.com. The player also provides integrated text-to-speech for reading books in text format, such as those from Bookshare. It uses a removable SD flash memory card to store books, music as well as electronic text, and can
even record voice notes.

-PC in a keyboard is a quality, full-size keyboard with the computer built right in it, so it provides a near zero footprint – great for small spaces. It does everything a conventional computer does.

Back to Top

Support The CFB:

Thank you for your interest and support. By donating to the Canadian Federation of the Blind, you can help make a significant difference in the lives of blind people across the country. Donations and bequests are greatly appreciated.

General donations (or Empowerment Fund donations, please specify) may be made to the Canadian Federation of the Blind by cheque and mailed to:

The Canadian Federation of the Blind
PO Box 8007
Victoria, BC, V8W 3R7

Or

Donations may be made through Paypal by visiting www.cfb.ca, click ‘Support the CFB’, then click on ‘donate’.

The Canadian Federation of the Blind Empowerment Fund:

Help a blind person attend a life-changing blindness empowerment event. All money goes directly to the CFB. All donations are welcome whether large or small.

This annual, week-long gathering of close to 3000 blind people, hosted by CFB’s sister organization, the National Federation of the Blind(NFB), (www.nfb.org), brings blind people together from around the world to mentor each other, to build self confidence and to learn a positive perspective on blindness.

At this event, participants will take part in a wide array of seminars and classes related to employment, independence and blindness skills, such as travel with the long white cane, adaptive technology and Braille; they will hear speakers who talk about blindness from a positive and proactive perspective; they will participate in workshops on everything from blind parents, to blind lawyers, to blind educators, to blind journalists; and they will take part in events such as adaptive technology exhibits, employment seminars and recreational activities.

These events provide exceptional training, education and employment
information to participants. But the chief benefit of attending this
gathering of nearly three thousand blind people (the largest gathering of blind and visually-impaired people in the world) is the opportunity to network with others and to come to understand the diversity, potential and normalcy of the blind.

To read moving testimonials, visit (www.cfb.ca and click ‘Support the CFB’).

Thrifty Foods Smile Card Fundraiser:

An easy way to support the Canadian Federation of the Blind – while doing your grocery shopping in Victoria, BC! CFB makes 5% of what you spend – and it costs you nothing! Visit (www.cfb.ca and click ‘Support the CFB’) for all the details or phone 598-7154.

* Please note, we are a registered nonprofit organization, and as such cannot issue tax receipts.

Back to Top

CFB Events And Activities

How To Get Involved

Monthly Meetings:
We hold regular monthly meetings in Victoria, and if you do not live in the area, you can join us by conference call.

CFB Chat Room:
We’ve recently launched a CFB Chat Room. You can talk to CFB members and other participants throughout Canada and elsewhere. All you need is a set of earphones with a microphone and a computer with Internet access. We will be setting up regular virtual drop-in sessions. Check our Website for times.

CFB Distribution List:
If you would like to receive updates about CFB activities and blindness issues, please send us your email, and you will be added to our distribution list.

Regular Socials and Skill-based Activities:
Members of the CFB hold regular activities such as: white cane walks, where blind people go out together to work on travel skills and independence; Braille mentoring sessions; socials; and adaptive technology demonstrations.

CFB Annual Convention:
The CFB annual convention takes place the first weekend in May. This event provides an excellent way to meet other positive blind people in a fun and informative way. Participants take part in activities that promote employment, independence, blindness skills and a positive and proactive approach to dealing with blindness.

National Federation of the Blind Annual Conventions:
We also encourage and help people to attend the convention of our counterpart in the US, the National Federation of the Blind (NFB), (www.nfb.org). This annual event, which takes place the first week in July, brings together up to 3000 blind people of all ages for intensive mentoring in employment, independence and blindness skills.

At this event, participants work together to improve cane travel and life skills and to network with people and groups with similar vocational and recreational interests.

Attendees take part in a wide array of seminars related to employment, blindness skills and independence; meet people who talk about blindness from a positive and proactive perspective; participate in workshops on everything from blind students, to blind professionals, to the deaf blind; and take part in events such as adaptive technology exhibits, employment seminars and a variety of recreational functions.

The convention provides exceptional training, education and employment information to participants. But the chief benefit of attending this gathering of nearly three thousand blind people (the largest gathering of blind and visually impaired people in the world) is the opportunity to network with others and to come to understand the diversity and potential of the blind community.

Contacting the CFB:
We hope you will get involved. We look forward to hearing from you. Please contact:

Canadian Federation of the Blind
www.cfb.ca
info@cfb.ca
(250) 598-7154
1-800-619-8789
P.O. Box 8007
Victoria, British Columbia
Canada V8W 3R7

Back to Top

Recipes!!!

Banana Blueberry Shake

(recipe submitted by Doris Belusic)

In a blender, put:

1 banana

2 handfuls frozen blueberries

4 heaping Tablespoons French vanilla yogurt

A splash of milk

Blend together on high and pour into a 1/2 litre beer mug. Makes a healthy lunch.

(Try replacing the blueberries with a peeled, cut up orange; or instead of blueberries put in a heaping Tablespoon peanut butter; the variations are endless.)

World’s Best Chocolate Chip Cookies

(recipe submitted by Doris Belusic)

1/2 cup butter or margarine

1/2 cup white sugar

1/4 cup brown sugar

1 egg, beaten

1 tsp vanilla

1 cup flour

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp baking soda

1 cup (or more) chocolate chips (or whatever you like, I use a mixture of chocolate chips, whole almonds and raisins)

In one bowl, cream together butter, sugars, then add egg and mix well.

In another bowl, combine flour, salt and baking soda. Add dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and mix thoroughly. Add chocolate chips. Drop by heaping teaspoonfuls onto greased or parchment-lined cookie sheet. Bake at 350 degrees for about 15 minutes. When done, leave on pan for a minute, then transfer to cooling rack. Makes about 15 chewy cookies. (If you like them crunchy, leave them in for about 20 minutes.) Enjoy!!

Back to Top

QUOTE: “Be serious, be passionate, wake up.” —- Susan Sontag

Our Philosophy:

We are not an organization speaking on behalf of blind people; rather we are an organization of blind people speaking for ourselves;

We believe that blindness is not a handicap, but a characteristic;

We believe it is respectable to be blind;

We believe that with training and opportunity, blind people can compete on terms of equality with their sighted peers;

We believe the real problem of blindness is not the lack of eyesight. The real problem is the lack of positive information about blindness and the achievements of blind people.

Back to Top

Member Pledge: Canadian Federation of the Blind

I pledge to participate actively in the efforts of the Canadian Federation of the Blind, to achieve equality, opportunity and security for the blind, to support the policies, philosophies and programs of the Federation, and to abide by its constitution.

Back to Top