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Goodbye, Bradley… By
Amy Brush Graduate
Student, It
was the first weekend in my TVI program. I
had just had my first baby, Matthew a few weeks prior, but was ready to dive in
and get started. I was enrolled in
two courses for the trimester, including a psychology course and Communication
Skills I (a.k.a. “literary Braille). This
all had seemed like a great idea until I really sat down to read the course
description in detail. Braille.
All those dots that we notice here and there in public places - at
McDonalds, on ATM’s (which I still get confused about sometimes), on public
restrooms, etc. - all these were going to become an integral part of my life.
Well, I was already experiencing night sweats imagining that we would be
required to read Braille code tactually (probably being blindfolded) and I found
myself touching any Braille I could (literally) get my hands on to test the
sensitivity of various fingers. I
had secretly considered some kind of training to get my fingers ‘ready’ for
this challenge - with absolutely no idea as to how that could be achieved.
Well,
within the first hour of class, I was able to rest assured that I would mainly
be trained to read the Braille for the course visually with only some emphasis
on tactual methods. Whew!
The relief I felt was overwhelming. No
problem - I could learn a code, right? It’d
be like one of those puzzles you solve on the back of a cereal box.
I had a good language background - so I was ready to go.
There were three of us who had missed the first class and we were asked
to stay for a few minutes to pick up our braillers and get our missed homework
assignments. I figured I’d just
get the briefing, drop my brailler into my purse and be on my way.
That
was when I met Bradley, my very own Perkins brailler on loan for the year to me.
He was a cold, hard, grayish color, and way too heavy to ‘drop
into my purse’. Well, I sat down
and looked at him - I could not believe this metal ‘thing’ was a brailler.
I guess I expected something more…portable, I guess.
Then I took a good look at the lessons for review.
Oh, boy. I started by telling
myself that I could somehow get out of this and return to my normal life and job
because I could tell I was about to dive into the deep end of something that I
wasn’t too sure of. I mean, come
on - I’d just had a baby-how could I possibly expected to do all this?
How foolish I had been to think that a career change was right for me at
this time? I mean, she really
expected us to learn ALL twenty-six letters , then the numbers - these had some
backward L symbol that made them into numbers.
And don’t get me started on my feelings about punctuation at that
point. I tried to be casual as I
wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead. Putting
the paper in was the first challenge - apparently if you aren’t careful,
Bradley tends to eat paper. Great.
Not only did I have to lug this doorstop with me back and forth to
school, but it was possible that I’d break him or lose my work in him
somehow in the interim. My very
grade depended upon this cold, ugly machine.
But
as we practiced a few letters it seemed to be going alright - I was gaining
confidence thinking to myself, “Memorize the alphabet, the numbers 0-9, the
punctuation, what else could there possibly be?
What exactly are we going to do all semester?
There isn’t anything else left.”
(Little did I know…) So
home I went with my assignments, some “catch-up” work to do…and Bradley.
As I lugged everything out to the car, my husband took one look at
Bradley and asked me, “What do you have to do with that thing?”
I just hefted him in, tried to explain the basics of what I’d just
absorbed in class and began to wonder how I was going to manage Braille.
I was careful to put Bradley on the floor as the idea of him hurtling
through a window onto the interstate seemed pretty dangerous…but I wasn’t
necessarily opposed to that scenario. Once
home, I began the work for the first Braille assignment.
I wasn’t really sure where to put Bradley to do my work.
He seemed awkward wherever I put him - would it be easier to put him on
the coffee-table or on my desk in the office?
The kitchen table was out of the question as each stroke seemed to echo
even louder. He was like an
unwelcome houseguest that I wished would just find somewhere else to stay.
The
other thing that bothered me about him was that he kept waking Matthew.
As a new mother, the last thing I needed was one more thing to interrupt
his naps. Naptime was my time to try
to get through some of these lessons. This
stuff took a lot of concentration! Well,
I made it through the work for the first class, learning that it’s just
sometimes easier to start again rather than playing back and forth trying to get
back to the exact space for a correction. My
kingdom for a delete key! I
dragged Bradley to class, back home, from table to table in my house - I even
tried once to Braille with him in my lap - once being the operative word
there. A
funny thing happened as I continued through my semester - I found that while
I’d once resisted Bradley and saw only ugly gray metal, I was now warming up
to my ‘Braille time’ with him. I
was really beginning to like Braille…and
Bradley. I’d bring him out
at family dinners to show him off and brag about his many attributes, we’d try
out new colorful paper when he was feeling down,
had a good laugh together now and then when he’d do something foolish
like try to swallow a whole golf-tee (that
ended with a very shaky Heimlich
maneuver of sorts). I had finally
accepted him into our life at home. In
fact I made a ‘Bradley corner’ in the office with a small desk that turned
out to be just right for him. I
surrounded him with all the assignment sheets from class, a poster supporting
Braille literacy, a photo of one of his other friends from Perkins,
and a little baggie with 2-3 golf tees inside - I figured I’d better
have some spares after the ‘incident’. I
added a bookstand and piano light to ease the whole process and especially
enjoyed brailling late in the evening after the baby was asleep with some Dave
Matthews playing. Bradley preferred
show tunes-but his singing made it hard for me to concentrate. I
found myself brailling Christmas cards for local organizations, re-doing past
lessons that needed to be ‘brushed up’ - all with a strange sense of
pleasure and accomplishment. My
time with Bradley had come to be a sort of relaxation to me now.
When I started Communications II (Nemeth Code), I got a bit nervous, but
Bradley stood solidly at my side and we weathered the storm of confusion,
stopping often to look up rules and examples, and there was a lot of sighing.
I would occasionally rest my forehead on his cold soothing metal surface
in order to regroup and continue. But
it was all beginning to fall into place. I
would sometimes have to defend Bradley from outsiders who just didn’t
understand or appreciate him. If
someone commented on his weight or clunkiness, I’d just find a reason to steer
them out of the office. He didn’t
need to be exposed to that kind of abuse. On
wintry days, I email our professor to find out if Bradley would be needed for
the next class session and I always felt better when he could stay home and
relax for those weekends with a nice cup of hot cocoa.
I had developed a fond partnership with Bradley, mixed with a protective
mothering instinct. At
the end of February, I woke with the same cold-sweat nightmare feeling I’d had
before starting Braille. This time
was different, though. I suddenly
realized that Bradley would be leaving us - this intruder into my home had
become part of our family and I didn’t want to see him go.
Bradley
served me well through the end of my Communications II semester.
I am happy to report that we successfully completed that course - and the
sighing had subsided considerably. On
the last day of class I gently returned him to the hands of my professor and
said goodbye. I really did consider
it a parting with a close friend. Coming
to this field after ten years in another teaching field was a scary yet exciting
transition for me. It has been
exhilarating to start from the basics again.
Learning Braille under the guidance of a gifted professor has renewed my
love for literacy and the power of language.
My experience in these courses has reminded me of the importance of
personal interaction with stories and the ability to express oneself through
text. I re-experienced the thrill of
turning in braille sentences to the teacher with pride. To me, Bradley
represents Literacy for so many who deserve equal exposure to stories, favorite
childhood characters, independence, reading along (or alone) in a classroom of
peers; the communication of facts and fiction to each reader. Each reading
experience with it’s own unique meaning to the individual.
No one should be denied that opportunity.
I
draw some comfort from the thought that somewhere out there, Bradley will be
taken into someone else’s home to open up the world of Braille literacy to
them. Please be kind to your
brailler - you may just have a member of my family in your presence.
I know that there are many software programs and hardware devices that
I’ll experience in the Braille world, but I’ll never forget Bradley and my
experience with him. Goodbye
Bradley-thanks for the companionship and all you’ve taught me.
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