School days

School Days by Amanda Stogsdill

There have been a lot of people who have assisted me throughout my life. Family, friends, and teachers. In elementary school, I had wonderful teachers, who have unfortunately slipped from my memory.

I recall one particular person from those early years. Ms. R was my aide in the classroom. She helped me with the sometimes difficult task of learning braille. (I also had a couple braille teachers who came weekly to teach me). As Ms. R was with me daily, we both learned and struggled together. I didn't find out until many years later that she also studied braille at night. I had to skip many recesses; my classmates were outside, so we had the room to ourselves.

My class assignments were brailled by hand by Ms. R. That meant she had to get the handouts ahead of time from each teacher. I'm pretty sure brailing was done during recess or when the teacher was reading to us. She only had a Brailler (a machine with six keys, kind of like a typewriter), I guess each handout took a couple days to complete. Her desk was set up near the high school classrooms. I could hear it echoing down the hall.

She also had the enjoyable task of transcribing my assignments. She wrote in print underneath each line of braille so the teacher could grade my assignment. Not fun when I wrote three-page book reports. If she couldn't read my rubbed-out braille mistakes, she'd say, "Can you read this, I can't." I appreciate that she never corrected my wrong answers. Depending on how many correct answers I had, that's the grade I got.

I was on my own during recess. I'd play on the playground with everyone else--swinging or on the monkey bars. Sometimes, a group of us would toss a ball to each other, since four-square and hopscotch require sight.

Besides braille, she worked with me outside the classroom. Assisting me in the cafeteria line, she carried my tray until I could handle it myself. In gym, she was my running partner, and helped me do the activities with the other kids. Jumping rope took forever to learn, my feet kept getting tangled in the rope. Eventually, I got the hang of it, and could jump forwards and backwards.

In music, she was my reader. If we took tests in those classes, she read the questions and wrote my answers. I never learned to read braille music; instead, each note was outlined using puff paint which dried forming a raised outline around the note. I never learned to play an instrument, but I played the recorder in sixth grade.

Puff paint was used for pictures, maps, and anything else that needed to have an outline. Maps were (and still are), a nightmare. The atlas was bulky, each map had multiple parts. The key was on one page, the map on another. I could never tell the difference between countries and states if they are similarly shaped.

Drawing was fun. All those orange pumpkins, black cats, and Christmas trees were colored by me. My crayons (probably the regular box of twenty-four), were brailed so I could grab the right ones.

I can't remember all the art projects I did, except for the mosaic and the face. The mosaic was made using torn shapes glued to a piece of paper. Not sure if we were studying anything specific to make those. The clay face was interesting. I only remember both projects were extremely messy. Clay, glue and paint aren't the easiest things to scrub from your hands. They took weeks to complete, I'm sure. (Yes, I painted, don't ask how I kept the colors straight. Maybe Ms. R or another kid told me.)

I used two desks in all my classes, I think. One held my Brailler, the other was for my books. Ms. R had a whole table to herself. One whole wall was my personal library. Because braille books take up more room to store, each book took up multiple shelves. My dictionary filled an entire bookcase. When the books arrived, the pages were sometimes loose, so Ms. R and I had to bind them together with plastic binders. What a lovely way to spend a morning!

In addition to books and a Brailler, I used adaptive equipment. Rulers and an abacus helped with math. Braille playing cards were enjoyable during inside recess and home. In fifth or sixth grade, I received a talking dictionary. Besides the usual dictionary features, there were games like Hangman. The screen was so tiny, other students had to tilt it so they could see.

Besides practical stuff, we had plenty of laughs. "You don't have your cane. Use this." A broom handle was placed in my hand. From then on, I usually remembered my cane. Amusing now, but not then.

Listening to cassettes in her car was enjoyable. "Why were you in her car?" You ask. Because I went on monthly field trips with a mobility teacher. Usually to the mall, where I'd learn about escalators, asking for directions, and other travel skills. Anyway, I brought along a Harry Potter book for our entertainment. I don't believe we finished that book, or any of the books we started. Knowing me, I did that on my own.

Ms. R recorded movies on cassette for me. I recall The Princess Bride and The Sound of Music, with her voice in the background, providing description. At the time, I had no idea audio description for the blind was even possible.

I kept in touch with her for a few years after leaving that school. (In middle school I switched to the school for the blind, but that's another story). She made my time in elementary school as normal as possible. I've known other kids with disabilities who didn't receive any support in mainstream school. Without her, I doubt I could have participated as much.

Whether it's a teacher, classroom aide, or counselor, they are the helpers. Thanking them can brighten their day or change their life for the better. As Mr. Rogers liked to say, ”Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping."

The End