by Nolan Crabb
(Reprinted from the June 1993 issue of “The Braille Forum.”)
I once asked a first-time visitor to one of our conventions, "What did you like best about the convention?" The answer took me a little by surprise at first. I thought the general sessions, special-interest group meetings, tours, and opportunities to socialize would be high on the list. Instead, the reply came back without hesitation, "I like the fact that virtually everything was accessible to me. Even the Coke machine."
Access, even to small bits of information, can make the difference between real success and merely adequate performance or even failure. I was reminded anew of that fact when I decided a few months ago to enroll in a class whose objective was to help students obtain the Novice and Technician class amateur radio licenses.
I first knew I wanted to get involved in amateur radio more than 20 years ago when I was a student at the Utah School for the Blind. One of the people who had a far-reaching positive influence on me was the school's band teacher, Merlin Peterson. I played the cornet in those days. When it became obvious to him during our one-on-one lessons that I hadn't practiced again that week, when he could no longer stand the tuneless blats and blurps that emanated from my horn, he would say with all the diplomacy of a great statesman, "Why don't we rest your lip a while." During those rest periods, he would regale me with stories about the exotic places and people with whom he'd talked as an amateur operator.
For years, I offered one excuse after another to friends in ACB and others who encouraged me to pursue my dream. I had visions of learning the necessary information by myself. So when I heard about the class, I wasn't convinced it was a good idea. I pictured this class being like so many other classes I'd taken — piles of printed pages I couldn't read for myself and endless incomprehensible scratching on a blackboard. I called the instructor and expressed my desire to enroll in the class, mentioning that I was blind. "Not a problem," she replied, and gave me the exact information on starting times and location. Imagine my surprise when she called the next day and asked, "Are you familiar with Recording for the Blind? And if so, did you check with them to see whether they had the book we'll be using?" Of course, I was familiar with RFB, but I was amazed that she would be. That was the first of a long line of pleasant surprises.
A few days before class began, I had the book from RFB. I was struck with the consistent high quality of the volunteer instructors. The endless incomprehensible blackboard scratching never materialized. Instead, instructors invariably verbalized diagrams and other information on the board. The few print handouts I received were always accompanied with explanations as to what they included. Tapes and computer disks containing Morse Code and written test information were provided to me and any other member of the class who asked.
Instructors glued electrical components to cardboard for the hands-on help that made studying circuits much more meaningful than it might otherwise have been. When equipment was demonstrated, the teacher managed to stop by my desk long enough for me to get a close-up look at it.
A few days before the fateful testing day, I called the volunteer examiner who would give me the test. "We're ready to go," he assured me. "Just bring your braillewriter, slate, Braille 'n Speak or whatever you use." Another jolt. This guy knew what a braillewriter was.
Some would argue that I passed the test because I'd studied and was motivated. Of course, those things are vital; but the big factor that helped ensure my success was the ease of access and the level playing field that access meant during the class. I contrasted my experience with sighted volunteer amateur radio operators in my county with those experiences all too many of us have known. Contrast a group of dedicated people willing to do whatever they could to provide convenient access to information to the well-attended seminars produced for businesses who want to get around, over, or under the Americans with Disabilities Act. The instructor who taught my class on circuits didn't do a feasibility study to determine whether or to what degree electrical components glued on cardboard would be of use to me. Yet there are those who would advocate feasibility study after feasibility study to determine the need for detectable warnings.
Perhaps some are offended that I would compare something as simple and relatively inexpensive as an amateur radio class to a complex costly issue like automatic teller machine access. While there are huge differences between the two, there are some similarities. Access in its most basic form requires common sense on everyone's part. It may not be practical for a municipal government in a town where the entering and leaving signs are on the same pole to buy an interpoint braille printer to produce one agenda for a blind citizen. But when that citizen and the city clerk use common sense, the resulting phone call where the agenda is read, or the tape in the mail containing the agenda, can make a world of difference in the blind citizen's ability to meaningfully participate in the affairs of his local government.
The single most important issue currently before ACB's director of governmental affairs is the ongoing debate over telecommunications issues. Jobs and even our quality of life will depend on how much access we have to the fiber optic networks being planned for a not-too-distant tomorrow. Will there be a friendly audio, large print or braille interface allowing you to take full advantage of the cable/telephone scene? Or will the smart TV and smart terminals of tomorrow be nothing more than silent boxes to us complete with snazzy graphical interfaces that don't allow for adaptive equipment? If we sit back and let Paul Schroeder fight those battles single-handedly, the victories he gains will be small indeed by comparison to what might have been accomplished.
I showed up at a class in April, and a dedicated group of volunteers provided the kind of information access that made my experience thoroughly enjoyable. All of us can have a thoroughly enjoyable experience in the wonderful world of fiber optics, but only if we go to class, so to speak, and participate in the process that makes our needs known to the cable companies, phone companies, and newspapers who will be mapping out our information future.
That first-time convention attendee's answer wasn't so strange after all. Whether it's braille on a Coke machine or access to a fiber optic entertainment center in your home, access to information is indeed the key. I can't help but think maybe it's time the so-called pros learn a few things about access provision from the amateurs whose company I have enjoyed immensely and from whom I've learned so much.