There is still hope

    There is still hope. 

 

Yesterday Cathy and I chatted with a Third Grade Class at the Chimacum elementary school.  That's a small community near Port Townsend. 

The class is studying Helen Keller and Louis Braille, as part of their Disability Awareness class. 

What a refreshing experience!  The class consists of 24 8 year olds, a very charming and energetic teacher named Mary, and an older woman working as a teacher's aid. 

Bright, inquisitive, eager young minds.  Very polite and well mannered.  Cathy and I talked with them for a very few minutes, setting the tone, and then just let the questions and conversation take us where it would.  We brought just enough "gadgets" to demonstrate how blind people adapt their lack of sight to function in a world made for sight. 

Of course there were the usual questions that young people always ask, "How did you get blind?", "Do you see nothing but black?", "How do you know when it's morning?" 

But these children also got into questioning how it felt to be blind.  I had begun our conversation by asking, "Will the blind people in the room please clap your hands so I'll know where you are?" 

Of course I was the only one who clapped.  "This is how it is for most of us blind people," I told them.  "We are usually the only blind person in the room." 

A girl asked, "How does that make you feel?  Do you feel left out, being the only blind person in the room?" 

"I don't feel left out now," I told her, "But of course there are times when being blind does set me apart.  Think of how you'd feel if you were the only girl in a room full of boys." 

"Ugh!", she declared. 

"But mostly it would be okay, wouldn't it?" I suggested. 

"No way!" she said firmly. 

Alright, we had better move on. 

When the 45 minutes were over we had just begun.  But the children had to head for their computer class.  The teacher said they had volunteers waiting to work with the children in small groups. 

But they all insisted that we would agree to come back when they had finished their class on disabilities, and they would have more questions. 

And then we stood up to leave and a crowd of happy children all trouped up to give both of us big hugs. 

As we clambered back into our truck I said to Cathy, "There is our future.  And I think it's in good hands." 

 

Carl Jarvis