I found this article in the April/May, 1989 issue of The Braille 
Monitor, published by the National Federation of the Blind. You can 
view the entire issue by going to http://www.nfb.org/bm/bm89/brlm8904.htm.

WHAT IS THE CHANCE FOR BRAILLE?
by Marc Maurer 

Recently I received a letter from a woman who aspires to be a Braille 
teacher. She took what she regarded as the first logical step in her plan
she learned Braille. Although she does not yet have a teaching 
certificate, she thought that her knowledge of this skill might be useful
in her local school district and, therefore, might help her get a job. So
she went to the administrator of the program for blind students and asked
for a job as a teacher's aide. The result was unfortunately all too 
predictable. The administrator could not imagine why blind students 
should be taught Braille, and when the aspiring teacher began to explain 
(apparently her explanation was both spirited and enthusiastic), the 
administrator announced that she was being defensive and that the 
interview was at an end. As I read the letter, I wondered again what the 
chances are for blind students to learn Braille. The attitude of this 
administrator is so commonplace as to be the norm. It is shocking not 
because of its occurrence but because of its prevalence. In widespread 
among school officials that I think there is a real possibility that this
woman's having learned to read Braille (not only with her eyes but also 
with her fingers) may be a real disadvantage to her as she begins to look
for jobs. Some administrators believe that teachers who have achieved 
fluency in Braille will spend too much time trying to teach it. They 
assume that using Braille is an outmoded skill and that such teachers are
trying to rely on techniques that may have been acceptable in the 1800's 
but are no longer sufficiently up-to-date. I attended a school for the 
blind in Iowa for the first five years of my education. Students there 
were introduced to Braille in the first grade, but I did not learn it. 
First graders were given a little Braille primer with stories about Dick 
and Jane and Sally. For a week this primer sat on my desk each day. The 
person in the front seat of my row (there were two rows in my class) was 
asked to read the first page. Then the second person was instructed to 
read the same page. After that it was the turn of the third person. By 
the time the teacher came to me (as I remember it, I was the next to the 
last in the row), I had memorized the words on the page. I recited them 
to the teacher and the class, after which the teacher put a gold star on 
the first page of my book. It was the only gold star I ever received from
first grade through law school.

The teacher suggested that I take the book home and show
it to my mother. I very often was able to go home on the
weekends because we lived only a little over a hundred 
miles from the school for the blind. So I took the book 
with me and proudly displayed my gold star. My mother 
asked me to read the page, so I recited the text. Since 
she has always been a suspicious woman, she borrowed the
book from me. Later, my mother, who had received 
certification from the Library of Congress as a Braille
transcriber, brought me a Brailled sheet of paper and 
asked me to read it to her, but I could not. She then 
explained that it was a copy of the first page of my 
Braille book. I regret to say that, despite my mother's 
early detective work, I managed to finish the first 
grade without learning any Braille. During the following
summer, however, she took me in hand. I complained as 
loudly and vigorously as I knew how, but it did me no 
good. My mother insisted on teaching me how to read.

As I write this article, I am returning to the National 
Center for the Blind from California, where I have 
delivered a speech to the Southern California Safety 
Institute about the airline problems faced by blind 
passengers. The speech was written in Braille, and 
without it I could not have done the job effectively. My
mother was right; I needed Braille. My Braille problems
are solved or at least partly so. I can read and write 
effectively. Of course, there is not enough Braille, and
there are an increasing number of professionals who 
would argue that its use has diminished because it is no
longer necessary. The real cause of its decline, however,
is that the teachers who are supposed to teach it do not
know it, and administrators do not recognize that the 
ignorance of these teachers is a shocking disgrace. In 
this environment what chance does the blind student have?
Of course, the National Federation of the Blind is 
committed to the teaching of Braille. Some states now 
require by law that it be offered to blind students. 
There are other states with regulations mandating that 
interested youngsters be taught it. These laws and 
regulations did not come about by accident. The National
Federation of the Blind recognizes the importance of 
Braille and has worked to make it possible for students 
to learn it. If many of those who are teachers and 
administrators of educational programs for the blind had
their way, Braille would not only become obsolescent but
obsolete. But the blind simply will not let it happen. 
Literacy is necessary for a full life. Without it many 
opportunities cannot be grasped, and many challenges 
cannot be met. We will help enlightened teachers and 
would-be teachers, and we will encourage blind students.

Here is what one aspiring teacher, Beth Marsau, describes
as her experience in trying to bring more Braille to 
blind students. Her first effort failed, but she has 
made a start. In the long run she will succeed because 
we will help her do it. Her letter expresses the 
determination of the Federation to obtain a decent 
education for blind students and to enable them to 
participate fully on terms of equality with the sighted.
Here are excerpts from Beth Marsau's letter:

Because I want to serve and survive until I can achieve 
teacher training, I have been applying for teacher aide 
positions in the public schools. I feel that I have the 
right kind of attitude to help students learn Braille 
and the knowledge and ability that are necessary. I have
had teaching experience with pre-schoolers, youth 
groups, and adults, and I feel confident. I have met Dr.
Sally Mangold and have purchased her teaching manuals 
for study. [ Monitor readers will recognize Dr. 
Mangold's name from the article about Charles Cheadle in
the January, 1989 issue. Dr. Mangold recommended Braille
for Charles after evaluating him at the request of the 
State of Maryland, the school district, and his parents.
But back to Beth Marsau's letter.] I know I need more 
formal training, but I feel that I have the right 
attitude, the love, and the knowledge of Braille 
literacy, and I could use four years of teacher aide 
experience while I am enrolled in the formal university 
teaching program. I do not know if the local school 
district administrator or the state service for the 
blind program would hire me.

I have been interviewed by one special services 
administrator, and I was surprised by the situation I 
found. I have learned that in the small town where I 
live, three high school students who are severely 
visually impaired are receiving no Braille instruction. 
One of the students, age nineteen and still a junior in 
high school, has been blind for several years. She can 
read print if she holds it close to her face, but I do 
not believe she has ever been given the opportunity to 
learn Braille. I know that she has been asked by friends
of mine who have been substitute teacher aides if she 
would like to learn it. She said yes. But the teaching 
of Braille has not been provided. When I offered my 
services to teach Braille and even when I offered to 
provide a free demonstration to the three students and 
their parents, I was told by the administrator of the 
special services program that he wanted to wait and 
think it over. When I showed him a slate and stylus and 
explained that it serves as a pencil or pen for the 
blind, he asked me what value there is for a blind 
student in writing Braille. Why not give each student a 
dictaphone? He insisted that I predict the writing speed
of a slate user. When I argued that we ought to 
encourage basic literacy in school, that the value of 
writing notes is important, that I could not predict 
individual writing speed but that I had personally 
witnessed speedy note takers who use the slate and 
stylus, that giving a dictaphone to a blind person as 
the only alternative to writing is as ridiculous as 
telling kids to forget about fourth grade arithmetic 
because there are calculators, and that to offer 
dictaphones to the blind means a lifetime supply of 
cassettes and batteries, not to mention denying literacy,
the administrator stopped the interview. He told me that
I was defensive and that no job opening was available at
this time. Rest assured that I come to you as a friend 
and an advocate for the blind. I will pursue this 
situation in my home town and keep you posted on what 
happens. I hope to be hired because I want to serve and 
survive. But even if I am not hired in this particular 
situation, I will do what I can to reach these students.
Perhaps the public schools will end up hiring some 
other, more qualified teacher, who will help better than
I could. It would be good for these students to have a 
qualified teacher. But my gut feeling is that it won't 
happen, so I will strive to locate them privately 
outside the school system.

This is what Beth Marsau says, and we should ponder 
carefully the implications and nuances. As we struggle 
(sometimes pleading, sometimes arguing, sometimes 
reasoning, and sometimes fighting) for the right of our 
blind children to be taught Braille, the circumstances 
are remotely reminiscent of the situation of the 
Christians in the catacombs of Ancient Rome. Let us take
a lesson from that early minority, and let our opponents
also take a lesson from it.