Mobility

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Mobility

Getting around when your blind is, obviously, different than when you're looking around; this does not mean it can't be done, it's a huge obsticle, that you have to be terrified while doing it, or that there is something wonderful about getting from here to there. While it is in the interests of some organizations and instructors to make it seem like a mysterious art that only people must spend their whole life studying in order to teach, luckily, or unluckily for them, this isn't true.

Blind people have been training other blind people for several decades now and doing it well. It would seem obvious that if a blind person can travel on their own then with a little training on how to teach, they can teach other blind people the skill as well.

The argument over which is better, the white cane or the guide dog close to, but not quite, irrelevant; everyone is differnet and needs to figure out which they work better with. The white cane doesn't need to be fed or cleaned up after, but a guide dog is smart, can give a second oppinion on crossing that driveway, and let's face, makes for better company.

So, now that you know about what you did when you started this page; here are some articles on the different aspects of mobility, not just dogs and canes.

The Long White Cane: Why Use The Long White Cane? Black Belt--White Cane. Why She Walked Out On Me. Canes And Preschoolers: The Eight-Year Revolution. A Cane In Our Lives.

Guide Dogs: Unique Features Of Guide Dogs: Backtracking And Homing. Supremacy. Of Shakespeare And Dog Guides. List Of Guide Dog Schools. - See more at: http://www.blind.net/alternative-techniques/mobility/#sthash.yjNwmBII.dpuf

Why Use The Long White Cane?
by Allan Nichols
Copyright © 1995 National Federation of the Blind

From the Associate Editor: Allan Nichols is one of the leaders of the National Federation of the Blind of Wyoming. He recently graduated from the Colorado Center for the Blind, one of the NFB adult rehabilitation centers, where he mastered Braille and the use of the long white cane. He is now a forceful and dedicated proponent of both skills. (See the February, 1991 issue of the Braille Monitor for his article on using Braille as a diabetic.) Recently he has been thinking about cane travel and the importance of coming to terms with the long white cane, and he has made me stop and think about the same subject.

The first cane I was trained to use was made of aluminum and came to my diaphram. It had a crook at the top; its tip got caught in every crack in the sidewalk; and I hated it. The summer before I left for college, my state agency counselor suggested that I switch to a folding cane so that I wouldn't be so conspicuous. He explained (with faulty logic that even I should have spotted at the time) that a folding cane didn't need to be as long as a straight cane. So I armed myself with a waist-length cane that would fall apart whenever the elastic wore through--generally in the most inconvenient and embarrassing places-and entered college. Not until I joined the Federation did my cane, like my mind and my spirit, begin to grow. Almost my first act in the exhibit hall at my first national convention was to purchase a fifty-seven-inch straight cane. It was longer than any cane I had ever seen, let alone used, and it took me a few weeks to get used to handling the greater length. But through the years my canes have grown to sixty-three inches. They come to my nose when I am wearing high heels, and I keep several on hand to use with different color combinations and in different situations. I often observe cane-users around me and wonder why so many continue to cling to canes that are obviously and painfully too short for them. Mr. Nichols has asked himself this same question, and his analysis appears in the article that follows. But I think that there are at least two additional factors to consider: Despite all our talk about the many ways in which Federationists help one another to improve their cane technique, many of us don't find ourselves in situations in which we can ask really competent cane travelers to show us what good cane technique looks and feels like. People who do not travel independently with confidence usually go to chapter meetings and state and national conventions with others who are willing to give them a hand. So they don't find themselves alone with good travelers where they can talk and work without inconveniencing a sighted guide. Cane travel seminars at state conventions, in which people are encouraged to move around the hotel using longer canes and improved technique, can be very helpful to many members. Good travelers should make a point of offering to work with interested

people whenever there is an opportunity. This must be done tactfully, however. It is easy for a short-cane user to be made uncomfortable by implied or direct criticism. The truth is that the quality of one's travel skills, not the quality of one's mind or spirit, is reflected in the length of one's cane and the dexterity with which one uses it. The other issue that we confront very infrequently is the question of how to manage the increased length of a cane. Personally I think it is better to get used to a longer cane gradually. I don't mean using a long cane occasionally and a short cane the rest of the time. Rather, I recommend that people who do not have the luxury of working with a good cane travel teacher regularly begin with a cane that is two to four inches longer than the one they are used to traveling with. The increase in the amount of information obtained will be immediate and noticeable, and one can learn to manage the slightly greater length more easily than one can an increase of ten inches or a foot. As one's skill and confidence increase, one will instinctively replace each cane with a longer one until the right cane length is achieved. Many cane travel teachers suggest that the cane should come up to the chin. Faster walkers will want somewhat longer canes. I have heard three complaints leveled at the long cane: it is hard to stow safely in a car; it is hard to keep out of other people's way when it is not in use; and it is hard to use safely and courteously in a crowd. All of these complaints have some validity, but all are solvable. There are some cars manufactured in the developing world that really are too small for a long straight cane. I rode in several of them last year in the Philippines. In such situations there is no alternative but to use a telescoping cane and collapse it before entering the car. But most cars driven in America, even if they are small, are large enough to admit a long straight cane. The problems evaporate if one remembers to bring the handle in first if one is entering the front seat and the tip in first if one is assigned the back seat. When the handle comes first, push it back over the shoulder nearest the door, and guide the tip in with your hand until it is resting on the floor beside your feet. In this way it will not be crushed when the door is closed. If the back seat of a four-door car is your destination, get in and slide the tip along the side of the front seat until enough of the shaft is lying between the front seat and the front door to allow you to pull the handle through the back door.

Hold the cane close to your body and close the door. Getting into the back seat of a two-door car will require a certain amount of trial and error since the size of the door will determine the best way to bring the cane in. But if you have mastered front and back seat entry in a four-door car, you will find yourself in control of the two-door situation. The biggest trick to conscientious management of a cane at rest is to remember it. Take note of any nearby walls or corners against which the cane can be propped or slid. If not, can it lie safely along a row of chairs? I keep my foot on my cane to insure that it does not decide to migrate while I am doing something else. One should always know where both ends of the cane are and should keep them out of patterns of traffic. If you can't tell whether the cane is stowed safely, ask someone else if it is out of the way. Traveling safely and considerately has its own tricks and rules. In the wide open spaces of an empty sidewalk, the cane tip can arc freely, making a small angle with the ground. The problem is that a cane held in this position can be dangerous to people in front of the blind traveler if the tip accidentally gets between their legs or under one foot. The more densely crowded an area is, the more nearly vertical the cane should be held. The larger angle formed by the cane and the ground decreases the distance one can sweep, but in a crowd one does not need as much stopping time or distance since one's speed is necessarily slowed. The pencil grip is the best way to hold a cane in a crowd since one has maximum control in this position, and the hand can slide quickly and easily down the shaft of the cane in order to shorten the length being used. As soon as the path opens again, with a flip of the fingers the cane will slide back out to its full length. There is ample reason for each of us to practice and master these skills. We have all seen people use canes rudely, and one can hardly blame others for wanting to avoid behavior that can anger or injure other people. But the long white cane is a wonderful tool, and everyone who uses a cane at all should be encouraged to try it. Here is Allan Nichols' article about his experience: Last week I received a telephone call from our chapter president. He told me about a bad accident that had happened to a blind woman who lives across from him in his apartment building. She took a bad fall in an antique

store. It is not my intention to embarrass her in this article. However, I do want to point out the way in which this unfortunate accident could have been prevented by the proper use of a long white cane. I telephoned her in the hospital the day after it happened because I was concerned about her. She told me that she had been in a local antique store, where she asked an employee for directions to a particular item. She said that this employee had given her confusing instructions. Before she knew what had happened, she had walked into a stairwell and had fallen, unable to stop herself. Her injuries included a broken right wrist, two broken fingers on her left hand, and multiple bruises on her neck, head, back, and legs. As bad as things are, she was fortunate that her fall did not paralyze or kill her. A woman in her seventies and almost totally blind, she uses a short support cane when she goes out by herself. On the surface this is just an unfortunate accident caused by miscommunication between a blind woman and a store employee. However, a closer look at this woman's background sheds light on the possible reason that this accident occurred. She uses a short white support cane for the limited independent travel she does. According to her friend in the apartment building, her cane is just long enough to check a few inches in front of her. She uses it because it gives her support when she walks. When asked why she does not use a longer one, she has told him, "I know a person who was in an accident because he used one of those long canes." I know that she has not had proper training in the use of the long white cane. In talking with her just the other day, I learned that in the three times she has attended the blind camp offered here in Wyoming, no one ever gave her training in mobility and the use of the long white cane. She has picked up the limited knowledge she has of how to use her short cane on her own. In the National Federation of the Blind we have the opportunity to share good ideas and travel techniques with each other. When one of us encounters a problem or learns a lesson the hard way, we share the knowledge in an effort to prevent the same thing from happening to someone else. That is one of the reasons why we have the NFB training centers located in Colorado, Louisiana and Minnesota. I am sure that there are other training

programs across the country also effectively teaching good techniques to blind people. The Federation's fifty-one years of progress in sharing information and the good rehabilitation teaching that exists in several locations suggest that we have already worked out many of the problems with travel techniques. The task now is getting this information to the people who really need it. What am I suggesting? Could this woman have avoided this bad accident? I believe so. First of all, if she had been using a long white cane, she would have had adequate warning before she came to the steps on which she fell. A properly sized cane should sweep two to three steps in front of the user who is walking at a normal pace. I received a good portion of my mobility training at the Colorado Center for the Blind (CCB). The travel instructors encouraged each of us to use a cane that came up to between the chin and the tip of the nose when held vertically. When I first arrived at the CCB in Denver, I was using a short (fortyeight-inch) straight cane and a folding cane, about fifty-two inches long. Neither of these, however, was satisfactory for me to use in walking confidently. The short straight cane did not allow me to walk upright. It also did not give me adequate warning of obstacles in front of me. My folding cane, while a bit longer, was too heavy to allow me to get a good rhythm when I walked. Its length proved inadequate. On my first day of mobility training, my travel instructor gave me a fifty-seven-inch cane to use. My first reaction to it was that it seemed to be too long for me. However, the more I used it, the more I began to rely on its additional length to warn me of hazards in my path. After a few months of using this length cane, the size did not seem so unwieldy any more. Before I finished training at the Colorado Center, I changed to a sixty-one-inch cane with which I now feel more comfortable. Being about five feet, ten inches tall, I can walk confidently using this length with a good measure of safety. I have also found that, if I project an image of confidence when I walk, people treat me with more respect. If I look lost or bent over, groping with a cane that is too short, strangers I meet often react to me as if I were disoriented and unsure of myself. This view of blind people perpetuates the myth of helplessness that has for too long kept us from achieving first-class status.

Since I have been traveling independently, I have had many instances in which the extra length has saved my bacon. While walking on campus at the University of Wyoming in Laramie, I normally keep a fairly quick pace, especially in familiar areas. I can remember two instances in which I could have had disastrous falls. One day I was walking down a hallway briskly, not paying much attention to where I was going. I was a bit farther to one side of the hall than I normally walked. Suddenly, I felt the end of my cane drop. I had located a stairwell that I did not even know existed. I simply stopped, adjusted my path, and continued to my destination. With this simple warning I avoided bodily injury by only a step or two. A second incident happened in a different building. Again I was traveling quickly to get to an appointment. I assumed that the hallway was clear as I walked down it. Unknown to me, someone had placed a cart with audiovisual equipment in my path, just outside a classroom doorway. I hit the equipment cart with my cane in full stride, but because I had the proper length of cane, I had adequate time to react, and I was able to stop before I cracked into it. Certainly there is no way for blind people to avoid all accidents, just as there is no way for sighted people to do so. About eleven years ago, when I became the manager of a Randolph-Sheppard cafeteria in Cheyenne, I had an experience that graphically illustrates this point. The day that I received the door keys to my coffee shop for the first time, I felt quite proud of myself as I left for the evening. I walked out of my coffee shop located in the basement of the GSA Post Office complex in downtown Cheyenne and prepared to mount the stairs, ready to go home. I was not paying much attention to what I was doing and definitely not covering the area in front of my feet with my cane. I subsequently plowed my head into the wall next to the stairwell. Seeing stars for the first time in years, I felt the blood trickling down my face. Fortunately, a building maintenance man saw my problem and helped me. In this instance I do not know if my problem was my lack of attention to what I was doing, my short cane, or my lack of skill in using it. Perhaps it was a combination of all three. I do know that I have avoided similar disasters since then by having the proper size cane and acquiring the training to use it correctly. It seems to me that fear of the unknown is our greatest enemy. Many newly blinded individuals, and some not so newly blinded ones, fear going

places by themselves. Either they do not go out at all, or they wait until a sighted family member or friend can accompany them. I believe that it is their fear of being involved in an accident that keeps some blind people confined to their own homes. The use of a long white cane and the knowledge to use one can ameliorate this fear. After sufficient training and getting experience using the cane, a blind person can safely and confidently travel virtually anywhere. The valuable training I received at the Colorado Center for the Blind has proven this to me. I have traveled through the streets of downtown Denver independently with no fear of imperiling myself. I have used Denver's regional bus system to travel from my apartment in the suburb of Littleton to Denver, then to Boulder to walk around the campus of the University of Colorado, before returning home. All of this travel was done using my own wits and my long white cane. Others may prefer using a guide dog. But whether we use a dog or a cane, we need to be in charge of where we go and what we do. The cane and the dog are just tools. They can be used properly or misused. For instance, no one would dare imply that we ought to outlaw the use of hammers for constructing buildings. Some people have accidentally hit themselves with a hammer, but this is no reason to get rid of hammers. They are simply tools, and people need to know how to use them properly. The same can be said for the long white cane. It is not simply a device telling others that we are blind and that they either ought to stay out of our way or ought to rush sympathetically to preserve such helpless creatures. The long white cane must be recognized as a device that blind people use as a tool of independence. I am not ashamed to be seen with my long white cane. I think of it in the way others might regard their eyeglasses. When I travel on an airliner, I view anyone who wants to take my cane away the same way as another person might a flight attendant who tried to confiscate his eyeglasses. Until we blind people feel comfortable and unashamed walking with our canes, we will not achieve the first-class status we so rightly want. Until the sighted world views our canes as normal and a part of our independence, we will continue to have an image problem. With adequate education of blind people in using the long white cane, we can overcome the fear of traveling anywhere we wish. When others see us participating in our communities, not fearing

our blindness, we will make headway in overcoming the negative stereotypes that have traditionally plagued us. Let us grab our long white canes and confidently and fearlessly stride out to join the rest of the world. - See more at: http://www.blind.net/alternative-techniques/mobility/why-usethe-long-white-cane.html#sthash.wQHqXhfx.dpuf

Black Belt--White Cane
by Jody W. Ianuzzi
Copyright © 1995 National Federation of the Blind

From the Associate Editor: Jody Ianuzzi lives in Keene, New Hampshire, with her husband and two childrenq. Though she has known something about the Federation for some time, she attended her first actual NFB gathering this past October when she came to the New Hampshire affiliate's annual convention. She is now working hard to organize a chapter in Keene and reports that the first meeting of the Monadnock chapter of the National Federation of the Blind of New Hampshire will be held on Sunday, January 12. Jody is energetic and capable, and she has become an enthusiastic Federationist. She brings all these traits to everything she does, including judo--another discipline to which she is deeply committed. She addressed the New Hampshire convention about her experience with judo. Here in large part is what she had to say: A blind woman is traveling alone down a dark, deserted street. There are some people who might consider her helpless and vulnerable. I would like to change that image. That blind woman just might be me on my way to teach my judo class.

As we all know, the challenges of blindness can be overcome by learning alternative techniques, but some situations can be a bit more challenging than others. As a child in public school, I remember the schoolyard bully, who tested my vision by punching me in the face. My gym teacher gave me a permanent waiver from class after years of sitting on the sidelines while the rest of the class played a variety of ball games. Eventually I found a solution to these challenges as well. Judo became my ultimate alternative technique. When I first heard about judo classes, I was hesitant. Based on my past experience, I didn't think the judo instructor would consider me as a student. Happily, I was wrong! The instructor didn't care that I couldn't see. He was more interested in what I could do, and I could do judo. I sincerely mean it when I say that my life hasn't been the same since that day. It is now twenty years later. Life has come full circle. I am the instructor, and I am recruiting blind and sighted members to my judo club. I want to give to my students what judo has given to me. Unlike some other martial arts, judo needs no adaptation for blind players, who have been active in judo for many years, practicing with sighted players on an equal basis. For blind children judo can provide an opportunity to be just one of the kids, both at practice and during club activities. This is as it should be, because it benefits both the blind and sighted players and embodies the philosophy of judo as well. Judo is a full contact form of self-defense that includes throwing techniques, pins, chokes, and joint-locks. A basic principle of judo is that a small person can throw a larger by using that person's motion to complete the throw. In this way, if a person pushes you, you pull him or her into a throw. The physical benefits of judo practice include self-defense training, weight control, and physical fitness. With regular practice there is a noticeable improvement in balance, coordination, and orientation. Judo can be enjoyed by men and women of all ages from small children to adults. It is a great way to get back into shape and stay there while having a lot of fun, too. One enjoyable aspect of judo is that it challenges the mind as well as the

body. Other forms of exercise can be boring, and it is easy to lose interest in them. My students and I have attended many tournaments and clinics, both large and small, and we have never been excluded or shown any favoritism. I remember one tournament we attended at West Point. One of the club instructors wanted to present my student with the Best Player trophy, based on her blindness. The tournament director's reaction was to say, "It's no big deal that she's blind; I'll give her the Best Player trophy when she comes here and wins." She won a lot more than a trophy that day. On the way home from the tournament she told me that it was the first time in her life she felt like she was just one of the kids. And for the first time I began to realize that I was giving back some of what judo had given to me. There is a philosophical benefit to judo training. As you challenge yourself, you gain a feeling of accomplishment that carries over to all aspects of life. The knowledge that you can handle a physical conflict makes a verbal conflict much less threatening. You will find that you develop a strength of mind to stand up for what you believe in, but also a strength of mind that will allow you to step back when that is the wise thing to do. You actually become less defensive and more relaxed. In twenty years it has never been necessary for me to use judo for self-defense, but I have used the strength of judo every day in all types of situations. Part of this strength comes from a feeling that you are in control. You carry this control with you in confident body language, in the way you walk and communicate with people. When you project confidence, you are less likely to be confronted. The self-confidence that can be gained from judo is very important to children. The blind child who is frustrated by his or her limitations in mainstreamed gym classes or who is segregated in classes for disabled students can feel less capable than classmates. Judo gives the blind child the opportunity to participate in mainstreamed activity on an equal basis with his or her peers. When the other kids are talking about their sports and club activities, the blind child can join in with talk of personal accomplishments. This equality is important to blind children, but it is also very important to their sighted peers as well. The focus is on what you can do, not on what you

can't. It becomes less important that you can't play baseball when there is something unique you can be proud of. "I can" is the concept that becomes important. Self-defense is important to everyone nowadays, but as blind people we are perceived by some as more vulnerable than others. Judo gives a balance to this misconception. All of us should learn to defend ourselves, not just for our own benefit, but as a means to change society's image of blindness. Self-defense can be as simple as being sure of who is at your door before you open it, or as involved as defending your life. You should avoid shortcuts through less traveled areas and stay in places where there is safety in numbers. Also avoid walking next to buildings since doorways and alleys are places where someone might hide. Stay in the center of the sidewalk so that you can be clear on all sides. When I walk down the street, I try to identify the age, sex, number, and location of the people around me. This is kind of a game, but it is also a way of training yourself to be more aware of everything around you, so you can anticipate a situation before it develops. Judo classes are usually taught in a club setting, which includes men, women, and children of all ages. Judo is often a family activity. There are judo clubs all over most states. Judo instructors usually teach at no charge. This might seem surprising, but we enjoy judo, and we teach because we love it. Class fees are usually minimal and include club dues, a uniform, and United States Judo Association membership. The United States Judo Association has been very active in encouraging instructors to recruit blind players, and the instructors are already familiar with the benefits of judo to blind players. As you learn judo, your skills and attitude will develop. The school bully will be less of a threat. You can walk down that deserted street and be a lot less vulnerable than some might think. Those people who attempt to dominate you will not be successful. The unsolicited helper who attempts to take you across the street or the airline employee who attempts to load you into the wheelchair will both be surprised to find that you are in control of the situation. Judo is a way to even the odds and change what it means to be

blind. I have made judo my ultimate alternative technique, and I hope you will make it yours as well. I hope I have sparked an interest in you to learn judo. It can change your life as it has changed mine. If you would like more information or if you would like to locate a judo club near you, contact Larry Lee, Executive Director, United States Judo Association, 19 N. Union Blvd., Colorado Springs, Colorado 80909, (719) 633-7750. He is waiting to hear from you! - See more at: http://www.blind.net/alternative-techniques/mobility/blackbelt-white-cane.html#sthash.PJw0PeJh.dpuf

Why She Walked Out On Me
by Zach Shore
Copyright © 1995 National Federation of the Blind

From the Associate Editor: As the president of a state affiliate, I get lots of telephone calls from people with problems. Some of them are folks hoping to get rid of a young dog by giving it to a blind person to act as a dog guide. At the opposite extreme are those blind people so depressed and damaged by their perceptions of blindness that there is very little anyone can initially do to help them. Most, however, are people urgently in need of someone to listen and understand what they are going through. I can listen; I hope I can understand; and when I can, I help. The following article, which appeared in the fall, 1990, edition of Insight, the newsletter of the National Federation of the Blind of South Dakota, reminded me painfully of two calls I received this past week. The

first was from a woman who became blind rather suddenly last February. She and her husband have two sons about to enter their teens, so she has many responsibilities in her home and no current interest in getting a job. Right now she does not believe that blind people can hold down jobs anywhere, but then she herself is also prey to the stereotypes. She does not even believe she can go up or down stairs without the strong probability of falling. She needs rehabilitation and has established her eligibility to receive it with the state, but she has been calling her counselor for months to beg for training. Mostly he does not return her calls, but this week he told her--or at least so she says-that she could not have any training because she does not want to work outside her home. I am now trying to get to the bottom of that misunderstanding, but in the meantime, I found myself talking to her about ways of moving about safely and easily in her home. The other call was similar. This woman was sent to her local rehabilitation center for training of various kinds last winter. She was given some cane travel training, but the instructor based his teaching heavily on use of her remaining sight. She questioned him about what would happen if she lost that bit of vision, and he told her to think positively. She woke up one morning seven weeks ago to discover that she was totally blind. She called the agency that had given her the original training, but they told her that her case was closed and there was nothing they could do. In desperation she called the Federation. One of our members drove to her home to give her a usable cane and stayed to work with her a little. She was calling me because she was veering badly and could not safely cross streets. She is about to be married and does not want to be a prisoner of blindness in her own house. I found myself giving her advice about what causes veering and how to correct the problem. I wonder what the professionals who so violently disapprove of the blind helping other blind people with cane travel would have had me do. Granted, I was not out on the street with either of these women, but if I had been close enough to them, I would have been. That would have been far more helpful to them than my telephone instructions. Of course I can help to see that both of them get the cane travel lessons they need, but simple humanity demands that I pass on to them the information I have and they so desperately need.

Zach Shore is one of our most dedicated and talented younger leaders. Having graduated last spring from the University of Pennsylvania, he has now moved to Seattle, Washington, where he is an active member of our Washington affiliate. Here is what he had to say at the South Dakota convention last May: I have been speaking before large groups since my high school days. Over the years I have made people laugh, cry, and get excited. Some I have even put to sleep. But not until I spoke in Rapid City at the state convention of the NFB of South Dakota had I ever given a speech which angered anyone to the point of leaving the room. What I said in that presentation was so offensive, so morally reprehensible, and so emotionally disturbing to one woman that she could not even remain in the room to hear the whole of my remarks. What did I say to evoke such a response? Did I attack any agencies or blaspheme against any groups? Not at all. Did I mock or insult this particular woman? Not at all. Did I use profanity or make obscene gestures? Certainly not. What, then, could I have said to prompt such an emotional reaction? It is very simple. I told the convention how I went with Andre, a twelve-yearold blind student, to his new middle school and gave him his first cane lesson. Most people in the audience seemed pleased to hear about Andre's success. This irate woman, however, would hear none of it. Why not? This rehabilitation counselor and mobility instructor felt compelled to walk out because she believes it is wrong for me to instruct anyone in cane travel when I am not certified to do so. This counselor is correct about one thing: my college degree is not in education, and I am not a certified mobility instructor. To some degree her distress is understandable. Credentials are generally important and meaningful. I would not want someone to perform surgery on a child if that person had not graduated from medical school and obtained the necessary certification. And, if mobility instruction really required a master's degree and an official certificate of approval, I would refuse ever to teach any blind person cane techniques until I had obtained the necessary documents. But of course this is not how it is.

I believe that the incensed counselor, and many other professionals like her, are outraged by something much deeper than our lack of certification. They believe that blind people are truly unsafe and therefore are endangering another's life when we teach travel. Many people, both sighted and blind, espouse this view. When they say it, they reveal their lack of belief in the blind. If they do not believe that blind people can travel well enough to teach the techniques, then how can they believe that the blind can ever be safe, efficient travelers at all? When Andre first began exploring his new middle school with a long cane, he was uncertain and sheepish, but he caught on quickly. He stopped staring at his feet and started looking forward. Negotiating stairs no longer seemed like an obstacle course. Finding classroom doors became easy for the first time. He moved faster and with self-assured strides. After only 30 minutes Andre was feeling comfortable and much less frightened. That was when we met his vision teacher. This woman explained that she would arrange for all of Andre's classes to be located on the same floor. She also assured him that he would get plenty of extra time to get from one class to the next. As she recited her incantation about how difficult it would be for him to navigate the school building, all of Andre's newfound confidence melted away. The more she talked, the more Andre's demeanor mimicked her defeatist words. I tried to counteract her spell by saying that Andre might be a bit slower at first; but, if he were pushed to keep up with his classmates, I was certain he would do just fine. Unfortunately for Andre I was unable to convince her. Blind people are teaching other blind people to travel independently every day, and they are doing it without certification. They cannot obtain certification solely because the Association of Educators and Rehabilitators of the Blind (AER) refuses to certify any and all blind mobility instructors. But these blind mobility instructors will go on doing their jobs while irate professionals wave their degrees and stamp their feet. None of this is to suggest that all professionals are bad or against us. That is not true. The blindness system, however, is predominantly out of touch with the realities of what the blind can do.

This is not an issue of safety or of certification. It is simply a matter of fact that blind people can both travel and teach travel safely, whether professionals choose to believe it or not. The angry counselor does not believe the blind are as capable as she, and this is why she walked out on me. It is for that very same reason that we cannot, must not, walk out on Andre. - See more at: http://www.blind.net/alternative-techniques/mobility/why-shewalked-out-on-me.html#sthash.nCdlUjyS.dpuf

Canes And Preschoolers: The Eight-Year Revolution
by Barbara Cheadle
Copyright © 1995 National Federation of the Blind

In 1980 you couldn't buy a white cane for a preschooler for any amount of money. They didn't exist. I know because we tried to find one for our twoyear-old son. My husband ended up cutting down an adult-size cane for our son to use. The adult handle was too large, so he made a smaller one using layers of electrician's tape. There weren't any canes because there wasn't any demand. There wasn't any demand because the Orientation and Mobility (O and M) profession didn't believe in giving canes to young children. O and M professionals had been taught how to teach adults, and children were taught the same way--as if they were just smaller versions of adults. Naturally, this meant most children couldn't meet the O and M standard for cane readiness. Occasionally a bright, precocious child would get a cane in elementary school, and very rarely a preschooler would get a cane, but almost always

blind youth had to wait, often until fifth or sixth grade--usually later--to get one. But by 1982 this was beginning to change. That was the year the National Federation of the Blind first offered child-size white canes for sale (see the July, 1982, issue of the "NFB Newsletter for Parents of Blind Children," the POBC publication that preceded Future Reflections.) To the best of my knowledge, these were the first mass-produced children's canes in this country. About the same time Fred Schroeder (a blind O and M instructor, an educator, and a leader in the National Federation of the Blind) began giving canes and lessons to all blind children as soon as they entered school in the Albuquerque, New Mexico, school district. (He supervised the Albuquerque Low Incidence Programs from August, 1981, through June, 1986. See the article, "A Step Toward Equality: Cane Travel Training for the Young Blind Child," in the Winter, 1989, Future Reflections.) His success raised doubts about the traditional approach to cane travel for kids and gave the professionals a new model to follow. Then in 1983, while Mr. Schroeder was in the middle of implementing his program, the Parents of Blind Children Division of the National Federation of the Blind began distributing the video, "Kids With Canes." This video, originating in Nebraska, showed innovative approaches to teaching cane travel to youngsters as young as five. Both the New Mexico program and the "Kids With Canes" video set the stage for encouraging even earlier use of the cane. The following year, 1984, Future Reflections printed an article which openly promoted canes for preschoolers, "Canes and Blind Preschoolers," March/April/May, 1984. Since then Future Reflections has featured a steady stream of articles which focus on cane travel for young blind children--articles such as "God, Table Manners, and Independent Travel: A Mother's Viewpoint;" "We Have Just Begun to Fight;" "Joseli"; "One White Cane Saga"; "Dan"; "Cane Travel for Preschoolers"; and "Parental Attitudes Can Make the Difference." Although there were a few O and M instructors eager to experiment with this new approach, the O and M professionals on the whole fought this trend. They wanted nothing to do with this grass-roots movement. And that is what it is. Information and encouragement came from the National Federation of the Blind; but parents--as it should and had to be--took the lead. Perhaps the professionals felt threatened or inadequate to the challenge.

Certainly some were downright offended to think that non-professionals (parents! blind people!) could actually teach them something about O and M. Please do not misunderstand me. There are, and have been from the beginning, O and M instructors who are open-minded and earnest in their desire to form partnerships with blind consumers and with parents. But the overall tone has been arrogant and elitist. Nevertheless, this revolution in the approach to cane travel and children, as led by parents and nourished by the National Federation of the Blind, could not be denied or turned back. And the reason lies in the children themselves. Invariably, young blind children love the white cane. The joy and eagerness with which they accept it is sufficient evidence of the need to make this a standard practice. Maybe that is what finally turned the tide. Although there is still resistance from individual instructors and institutions, there is a new tone of acceptance (although cautious and usually overlaid with tedious professional jargon) within the O and M field. What evidence do I have for this judgment? There are many signs and indications--such as the warm reception given to the 1989 Handbook for Itinerant and Resource Teachers of Blind and Visually Impaired Students. Written by Doris M. Willoughby and Sharon L. M. Duffy and published by the National Federation of the Blind, it includes four chapters on teaching cane travel to children from preschool age on up. The mild reaction to what had once been considered an extremist approach was one sure sign that the revolution was coming to an end. But the surest evidence came in the form of a catalog. In the "New Products" section of its 1990-91 aids and appliances catalog, the American Foundation for the Blind, the granddaddy of the blindness establishment, offers children's canes in sizes from twenty-four inches on up. It seems appropriate, somehow, that the end of the revolution should be marked by the same action which marked its beginning when, eight years ago, the National Federation of the Blind was the first organization ever to sell mass-produced child-size white canes (twenty-four inches and up). Although there will still be individual battles and skirmishes as parents slug it out with die-hard O and M instructors, it is only a matter of time before it will be standard practice to give canes to preschoolers. However, as

we have learned from the recent war in the Middle East, it isn't good enough to win the war; one must then win the peace. Parents will now be faced with a whole new set of problems and questions. Most of these are not new to the adult blind, but they will be new to parents. Do parents have to wait for permission from an O and M instructor to get a cane? What if the parents and the instructor disagree about the type of cane or its length? Should you wait to get a cane until your child can get O and M lessons, however long that may take, or should your child have a cane right away? Can blind people safely teach or demonstrate cane travel to children? What do you do if your school can't find an O and M teacher, or if the teacher can only come once a month? What do you do if you get a poor O and M teacher and your child begins to lose confidence, not gain it? Most of these questions can be boiled down to these fundamentals: What do the professionals really believe about blindness? Does your child's O and M teacher truly believe that a blind person can learn to travel safely and independently, or does he or she have a limited definition of independence and low expectations for your child? As we straddle the end of one era and the beginning of a new one in our approach to independent mobility for blind children, parents more than ever need information and guidance. We have come to understand that there are pretty straightforward answers to many such questions. Yes, competent blind people can safely teach and demonstrate independent mobility, and yes it is best to get a cane for a child as soon as possible, even if professional instruction is not yet available. But what parents need most of all and what the National Federation of the Blind is equipped to provide are plenty of inspiration and a philosophical blueprint to follow for the mobility-related problems that will inevitably have to be solved individually by parents and blind youth. Together, parents and the organized blind movement have brought about a revolution; let us continue to work to ensure that every blind child in this country has the opportunity to benefit from our victory. - See more at: http://www.blind.net/alternative-techniques/mobility/cane-andpreschoolers-the-eight-year-revolution.html#sthash.8LEOzQxQ.dpuf

A Cane In Our Lives
by Carol Castellano
Copyright © 1995 National Federation of the Blind

From the Associate Editor: The preceding article summarized the events that have taken place in the revolution to bring cane-travel training to young children. Reading the account of this victory by determined parents and blind adults is both satisfying and encouraging. Vital as it is, however, to remind ourselves of the details of such victories, it is perhaps even more important to remember that hundreds, and eventually thousands, of young lives will have been rescued by our efforts. Some of these youngsters, maybe many, will never recognize what we have done for them by giving them the chance to grow up normally, with the independence that a cane provides. But we must never allow ourselves to forget how much is riding on our efforts for reform. Here is the story of one child's introduction to the white cane and what it meant to her and her entire family. It first appeared in the Summer, 1991, issue of Future Reflections, the magazine of the Parents of Blind Children Division of the National Federation of the Blind. Carol Castellano is no stranger to these pages. She has been telling us about her daughter Serena's development for several years now. It's gratifying to see one of our Federation children growing up normally and naturally in a loving, accepting family. Here is the latest chapter in her adventure: With thanks to Joe Cutter, O and M instructor, a creative and innovative person who teaches parents to teach their children and who believes in and respects other people, sighted and blind. Last Christmas, when she was five years old, our daughter Serena received a cane from Santa Claus. To be sure, her father and I were a lot

more excited about it than she was that first day, but it wasn't long before Serena discovered just what it would mean to have a cane in her life. She realized immediately that by holding that long object out in front of her, she could avoid bumping into things with her nose. She also found that she could get advance warning of steps, curbs, changes in the terrain, and the like. She no longer had to rely on holding someone's hand to avoid potential danger. Suddenly she was free. It took her about a week and a half to incorporate the new tool into her existing repertoire of travel skills, and then there was no stopping her. The sidewalk was hers. Unfamiliar stairways--no problem. The way to our neighbors' house was easily learned, and Serena strolled over to deliver a package. At the mall she was free to explore corridors and enjoy the echoes. Finding elevator doors was a snap; escalators provided great amusement (for her, not me). We were able to begin teaching her how to cross our quiet street alone, a skill appropriate to her age. We began to walk to the park like other families, holding hands sometimes for the pure pleasure of it and not because we had to. One day my husband and I walked over with the children to the local school to vote. While we were busy signing in, Serena went off exploring. She followed the strains of an orchestra, which was rehearsing in the school auditorium, a few hallways away. Halfway down the aisle, heading for the stage, was the new Miss Independence. What possibilities the cane opened up! I recall how it used to strike me as a little odd to see in the Braille Monitor picture after picture of people posing with their canes. Were they showing pride in being blind? Were they trying to prove a point? Eventually I came to understand that the white cane is both a symbol of independence for blind people and a basic tool of making independence a reality. Matter-offactly showing the cane in a photograph expresses the fundamental normalcy of blind people's lives. In this year's Halloween picture of my children, the Queen of the Prom stands holding her cane next to brother Superman. It's not a display; it's not a soapbox issue. To us, a cane in Serena's hand is just the most natural thing.

When our NFB friends gathered for a picnic in our backyard, Serena at one point was hanging around in the kitchen comparing canes with the rest of the gang--just the most natural thing. When I look back, I realize that getting the cane was the most significant event to happen to our family this year. It vastly changed Serena's level of independence; it changed mine. At Grandma's house, we can simply direct her to the steps; no longer do I have to hang onto her along with anything else I might be carrying; she can proceed independently at her own pace. At the library I can rush ahead with my pile of books, without worrying about her tripping on the steps or falling into the fountain. When we arrive at friends' houses, she can navigate the front walks and stairways herself. Serena goes from our car in the driveway, along the walk, up the front steps, and into the house alone; I do not have to walk her. Since we are in and out of the car many times each day, this skill is very important to my freedom as well as hers. The cane greatly raised our expectations. It is natural now for Serena to move along independently. We expect this of her; more important, she expects it of herself. Would Serena have progressed as much if she hadn't had a cane? I think not. Her curiosity and urge to explore would have been thwarted; she would not have been able to move about nearly as freely beyond the four walls of our home. Her development would have been needlessly hampered. It is hard to believe that canes are not given as a matter of course to young blind children, since the cane is probably the most important external factor in the development of independence. What does it say about the attitudes of many professionals towards blind people and independence if they will not give canes to children? Could it mean that it is satisfactory, in their eyes, for the blind always to be followers, always to be led? It is impossible to understand--and chilling to ponder--why anyone would argue against normal, natural independence in a child's life. That is what the cane makes possible. It provides the opportunity for the blind child to make the normal developmental moves away from his or her parents, to be just like any other child, expected and encouraged to venture with increasing independence into the world.

One day a few weeks ago, Serena's cane got stuck in a crack, and when she pulled it out it broke. The magnitude of the disaster suddenly struck her. "Ooooh," she whined, "now we're going to have to hold hands." - See more at: http://www.blind.net/alternative-techniques/mobility/a-canein-our-lives.html#sthash.I2F7dK9H.dpuf

Unique Features Of Guide Dogs: Backtracking And Homing
by Paul Gabias
Copyright © 1995 National Federation of the Blind

From the Associate Editor: Dr. Paul Gabias is a professor of psychology at Okanagan College in Kelowna, British Columbia. He is also married to Mary Ellen Reihing Gabias, a long-time Federationist and for several years before her marriage a staff member at the National Center for the Blind in Baltimore. Those who meet Dr. Gabias soon notice how intelligent and well-behaved his guide dogs are. I have known him long enough to have watched him with two animals, both of which he has trained himself. He clearly loves and respects animals, but his guide dogs are not pets; each has been a working partner. What he has to say about using and training dogs as guides is sensible and practical. The following article is reprinted from the December, 1991, issue of Harness Up, the publication of

the National Association of Guide Dog Users, the guide dog division of the National Federation of the Blind. Here it is: I want to begin by contrasting the guide dog and the cane as two very different mobility methods, each with its own strengths and weaknesses. It is not my intent here impartially to list these. Instead, my purpose is to highlight several specific skills of the dog and the ways they can be integrated into the guide dog's working life. I will do so against the backdrop of contrast with the cane. I call these skills backtracking and homing. The terms mean just what they imply. Backtracking is retracing steps; homing is finding one's way home. Obviously, in a familiar area both activities are easy. However, most exciting travel is done in unfamiliar areas, where by definition the layout changes constantly and homes don't last for more than a few days. It is in these situations that the guide dog, with the skills of homing and backtracking, is at its best. After contrasting the cane and guide dog as useful but different mobility methods, I will describe how to train a guide dog in homing and backtracking. First I want to make it clear that, even though the guide dog is my preferred travel aid, I am an experienced cane user and therefore believe that I can make a fair comparison between the two travel methods. I will explain how to teach a guide dog four specific commands: inside, outside, upstairs, and downstairs. The mastery of these commands predisposes the dog to pay attention to the layout of the environment. This attention to layout is what makes the dog ready to learn the strategies of backtracking and homing. I will also make a few comparisons between guide dog training and computer programming. The harness handle can be considered a transducer of visual information to proprioceptive information. This transduction from one form of energy to another is not unlike the transduction which goes on inside the nervous system for vision and hearing.

Experience with White Cane and Guide Dog
At the age of fifteen, while I attended L'Institut Louis Braille, a school for the blind near Montreal, I received cane travel lessons from two blind instructors. I travelled with a cane for three and a half years. Although the cane was too short, it got me where I needed to go safely enough, but much more slowly than necessary. It also brought me into contact with the public. The instructors at the school for the blind did not teach me how I was to deal with the continual pity and amazement of the public generated by my walking around independently with a cane. At the age of eighteen I purchased a Labrador retriever puppy I called Rapha. With the help and encouragement of the late Dr. Robert Lambert, who trained his first two guide dogs, I successfully trained Rapha. A few years later John Byfield, a long-time director of training at Guide Dog Foundation and the current director of training at Fidelco Guide Dog Foundation, gave written attestation to my competence as a trainer. Rapha retired at fourteen and a half and was euthanized a year later. During Rapha's lifetime I also successfully trained two other guide dogs. Both were trained and worked in New York City and the surrounding areas. During most of the training of both these dogs, which lasted about four months each, I successfully used a white cane. Then, for approximately a year and a half during Rapha's retirement and the training of my next guide dog--a golden retriever named Viva--I also used a cane. The change from dog to cane was difficult for me. Thanks to the NFB, I was now using a long cane, but it took a great deal of work on my part to accept the cane emotionally. The techniques and style were quite different. It seemed to me that the cane made blindness so blatant. I became acutely aware that, through the use of my dog's vision, I had protected myself from strong unresolved negative feelings about blindness. Rapha's retirement and my unwillingness to replace him until he was dead forced me to deal with these feelings. Through the NFB and a very powerful mentor, I was able to deal healthily with these issues.

After a year and a half of cane use, Viva, my second guide dog, was pretty well trained. Unusual though it may seem, she attended her first National Convention in Kansas City at seven months of age. Those who remember her there will attest to her superb behavior despite her youth. She was a dog in a million. I deeply regretted her death at three and a half years. As we were moving to a new home, she was suddenly stricken with a spinal embolism which left her hindquarters completely paralyzed. Four days later I was again without a guide dog. Walking has always been therapeutic to me. The day after Viva's death I took a four-mile walk with my white cane in an unfamiliar area. I repeated this activity for several days. That academic year was new for me on many fronts. I had a new job with new students, new surroundings, a new wife who was pregnant, and a new golden retriever puppy named Schubert to train. Thanks to the National Federation of the Blind and my wife, I was now using my cane with confidence and pride. At the end of that year I used my cane on two job interviews, which led to two job offers. One of those interviews resulted in our move to Kelowna, British Columbia, and my appointment as psychology professor at Okanagan College. I am a strong advocate of white cane use. Every blind person should know how to use one. But the white cane and guide dog are very different mobility aids. I would like to focus on several of the differences before talking about backtracking and homing.

Contrasts Between the White Cane and Guide Dog
All the functional differences between using a white cane and a guide dog are derived from one basic difference: the white cane is a tactile aid; the guide dog is a visual aid. In comparing them, it will be useful to begin by examining the kind of information available to the blind pedestrian without either aid.

Information about the texture of the ground is gathered by the feet and by analyzing the sound that the feet make. Information about the proximity of objects is collected by the ears. Information about the texture and shape of objects and the texture and layout of the ground is picked up by the skin and changes in joint position which occur during exploration with hands and feet. Odors often provide useful information through the nose, and wind direction and sun position, which can both be very useful, are gathered by the skin. Therefore, without using either a dog or a cane the blind pedestrian still has access to information about the environment--topography of the ground and the proximity, texture, and shape of nearby objects. In addition, during street crossing, information about the pattern of traffic is picked up by the ears. This traffic pattern is useful in locating the opposite corner. What additional information can be provided by the skillful use of the long white cane? The cane is a tactile scanning instrument. It warns the pedestrian of changes in terrain texture and layout, e.g., steps, pathways, and doorways, before the information would be picked up by the feet and the hands. It makes contact with objects before the user's body does, allowing the pedestrian to walk around them. It also augments the auditory information provided by echoes. In short, the cane is mostly a tactile aid, and the range of its information pick-up is very short--that is, distances within a few feet of the user. On the other hand, the guide dog is a visual aid. The dog, through its visual system, has access to information at some distance, e.g., the layout of an enclosed space or a large open area like a mall or the lobby of a hotel. At a distance it can perceive the location of significant points in the layout such as staircases, entrances, exits, and elevators. The dog can perceive paths through the gaps in a crowd. The trick is to make the dog's visual information about distance useful to the blind person. The dog communicates with its owner through movements of its body, transmitted through the harness handle or, in some circumstances, through the leash. This communication is a transduction of information from vision to touch, called proprioception, which is transfer of information from electromagnetic energy to mechanical energy. Similar kinds of transduction occur within the nervous system. In vision, for example, the receptors of the

retina transform electromagnetic energy into nerve impulses. In hearing, vibrations in the air are picked up as mechanical energy in the outer and middle ear, are transformed into hydraulic energy in the cochlea, and are transformed into nerve impulses in the basilar membrane of the inner ear. By analogy, the harness on the dog transforms its visual information into proprioceptive information that can be used to determine the owner's steps. For example, a pause in the dog's forward movement indicates a change in layout. One ascertains the type of change with the foot and the subsequent movement of the harness handle. Lateral motions of the dog and the harness handle mean that there is an obstacle to be avoided by moving to the left or the right. The direction through a crowd is chosen by the blind pedestrian, but the specific route is selected by the dog. Through its choices as the pair proceed through a crowd, the dog's visual information is transformed into proprioceptive information by the harness handle. The same occurs at street corners. If the two corners of the intersection are not directly opposite each other, no problem. The dog selects the correct trajectory, and the information about the necessary angle for safe crossing is conveyed to the blind pedestrian as he or she listens to the traffic and walks across the street. Another difference between the guide dog and the cane is that the cane does not learn. It is incapable of pattern recognition. It cannot recognize familiar routes. It cannot make correct choices at appropriate points. It cannot recognize the entrances of familiar buildings, nor can it recognize customary pathways taken through these buildings. The cane is a passive aid while the guide dog is an active, interactive aid. Because of this the dog must be trained or programmed to send specific messages to deal with particular changes in layout. Further, the blind person must learn to understand the messages travelling through the harness handle. The blind person must also learn how to integrate the messages from the harness handle into the perceptual information available through other sources. If the messages do not match the information available to the blind person, e.g., the dog is distracted or requires more training, the blind person must correct the dog or update its programming. The guide dog's behavior must be consistent with the owner's expectations. If the blind person keeps those expectations high and is vigilant about keeping the animal programmed properly, the dog will perform as it should.

Backtracking and Homing
We now come to the issues of backtracking and homing. I have deliberately introduced computer language because I believe that with dogs, as with computers, we can achieve a high degree of control over the outcomes resulting from particular inputs. With computers, of course, the key to control is parsimonious, logical, step-by-step programming. With dogs, the key to control is step-by-step shaping of behavior and consistent reinforcement. Of course, the dog is much more complex than any computer. Its natural tendencies and emotional make-up must always be taken into account in any training situation. As I have mentioned, dogs can learn to obey commands such as "inside," "outside," "upstairs," ":downstairs,": ":elevator,": and ":follow.": As far as I know, most of these commands are not formally taught by the majority of guide dog schools. If you choose to, you can surmount this problem with a little work. After all, information about the layout of the building is visually available to the dog, through both perception and memory. Why should we not take full advantage of this information? But the dog must be trained to transmit the information to us, and here is how it can be done. Let us start with the command "inside." To begin, face the doorway of a building. Give the dog the "forward" command, followed by "inside." The dog will obey the "forward" and take you to the door. Repeat this procedure several times. Then continue with the procedure, but omit the "forward" command. Simply give the "inside" command. If the dog does not move, encourage it along by nonverbal means. Repeat the procedure until the dog moves forward with only the "inside" command. Of course, praise the dog at appropriate places, e.g., after the dog has begun to move and at the doorway. Make a fuss at the door, telling the dog how good it is. Once your dog understands that, when you are facing the doorway, "inside" means to move toward the doorway, you are ready to proceed to the next step. By the way, always use the same trajectory to and from the door. In this way you are inculcating the rudiments of backtracking in the dog.

The next step is to issue the "inside" command when you are not facing the doorway directly. Start with small angles of deviation and increase them as the dog improves. The "inside" command should cause the dog to compensate for the angle. You can verbally correct the dog if it does not compensate for the angle. When the dog does compensate and goes to the door, praise it profusely. When training is complete, you should be able to face completely away from the door, requiring the dog to make a 180-degree turn and head for the door after receiving the "inside" command. It is important that the dog be able to do this. It will help you in unfamiliar areas in which you are not sure where the door is. The next step involves increasing the distance between the door and the dog. Always train in a familiar area. A parking lot or a field is particularly appropriate. As you increase the distance from the door, try different facing angles. Use these strategies with different doorways. Incorporate them into the dog's working life. Once the dog has learned to respond to the "inside" command correctly, follow the same procedure for the "outside" command. As the dog comes to understand these commands, widen the scope of their use. A sensible and sensitive owner comes to know when the dog is ready for strict enforcement of the commands. Test your dog on these commands when you know which direction the door is. Once the dog knows the commands, you can correct it with the harness or the leash if it does not head in the appropriate direction. Remember that sometimes there may be a door in the opposite direction. I have been fooled sometimes and have had to apologize to my dogs. Fortunately, most dogs are of a forgiving nature. I believe that through success with these commands, over time the dog learns to pay attention to the flow of the layout of surfaces in its optic array as it moves through the environment. It learns the backtracking strategy, which usually works well: Whatever route you followed on the way into a building, do the opposite on the way out. This works very nicely in stores. One can go to a department store and follow various clerks to different displays, and experienced dogs can learn to pay attention to the layout of the store as they move through it. Unless the store has doors which face in different directions, the "outside" command will simply mean a reversal of the whole layout, that is, motion in the opposite direction.

This backtracking strategy can be useful in other settings too. Suppose you are with friends at a restaurant and wish to visit the washroom. If you don't know where it is, you can follow another person with your dog. Often sighted people will ask if they should wait until you are finished. If your dog knows the backtracking strategy, it can guide you smoothly back to the table. You can use a command like "find the seat" or "find the table." The dog should retrace its steps to your seat. Praise the dog for finding the table if it is successful. If it fails, you can practice this skill by showing the dog the table you want, starting with short distances. Do this a few times in different restaurants. The dog will catch on fairly quickly, particularly if the other people at the table are familiar or if there is another dog at the table. The dog has learned to backtrack, to retrace its steps from the table to the washroom. The training procedures for "inside" and "outside" also work for "upstairs" and "downstairs." Dogs often confuse up and down at first, but discrimination can be taught with persistent and systematic training. Ideally, you should be able to walk out of any subway train in any station and give the "upstairs" or "downstairs" command. If the station is unfamiliar, no problem. The dog can be expected to perceive the layout of the station and find the appropriate staircase on the platform. Occasionally, experienced dogs will correct themselves; first they go in one direction. Suddenly they stop and then turn around and go in another direction. Sometimes the stairs may not be immediately visible to the dog. Unless you want a particular staircase among several available, it is important not to choose a direction for the dog upon leaving the train. After all, you want to encourage the dog to take the initiative. You will be amazed at the accuracy dogs can achieve. Of course, do not expect this to happen overnight. The step-by-step approach discussed earlier must be followed first. The same procedure applies to elevators. Sometimes when training "inside" and "outside" you will find the dog mistakes large window panes for doors. Try to teach the dog that the handle of the door is the distinguishing feature. A mat in front of the door can also help discrimination. Tap the handle with your hand or the mat with your foot, and praise the dog for paying attention.

Finally, let me say a few words about homing. In my experience dogs who are well-travelled and expert with the backtracking technique and successful with the "inside," "outside," "upstairs," and "downstairs" commands develop a homing sense. This is what is happening when dogs anticipate customary turns on a familiar route. This tends to happen close to home, hence the term "homing." The common wisdom that, unless you are following, you should make the dog go to the curb before turning the corner is correct. Near home most dogs go to the curb reluctantly. They are very glad to turn in the accustomed direction. You can encourage the homing ability by doing the following: once you have the dog go to the edge of the curb, instead of giving the appropriate directional command (usually "left" or "right") turn your body in the desired direction and tell the dog "OK." The dog should take off in the appropriate direction, happy to go in the direction it wants. The dog will learn that at a corner the OK command means choose the appropriate direction. Do this in familiar areas, and praise the dog for the correct choice. I have found that there are great dividends to this technique. For well-seasoned dogs home is not just where you customarily live. For my dogs home also means the hotel room in which they were last fed or the room in which our luggage was left. The entrance to the hotel means the entrance to home. Particular relief areas may also be involved. It is always interesting to see this ability develop with each new dog. All dogs have it. It is just a question of developing the skill. I remember recently staying at the faculty club at the University of British Columbia for a few days. I decided that I wanted to pick up submarine sandwiches at a restaurant, which was not too far from campus. It was fairly late at night, and I had some difficulty getting directions across the campus and out to the restaurant. On the way back we found our way to the university, but the faculty club was at least a fifteen-minute walk through the campus. We had been there only a day or two, and I was not familiar with the layout and did not know the names of the buildings. If we didn't succeed in getting back on our own, I knew that I could eventually find somebody to take me back to the faculty club. I could also call a cab from the nearest open building or restaurant, but I wanted to try the route. On the way back Schubert first turned toward several incorrect buildings. Some were places in which I had received directions on the way to the restaurant. I told him "no" and prevented him from going toward them. We walked around, and I found the interaction between my sense of direction

and his choices quite interesting. In these situations, unless I know he is absolutely wrong, I like to let him make his own decisions. Sure enough, after about fifteen minutes, things began to seem familiar. In about ten more minutes we arrived at the faculty club. I was very proud of my young Schubert and very proud of our accomplishment. On the way back to the club somebody driving through the campus had offered me a lift. I politely refused, although at the time I wondered about the wisdom of my choice. The person told me I was amazing and that he could never do what I do. I told him that he probably could if he wanted to, thanked him for the offer, and kept going. Schubert used the information about distant layout available to him to chart our course back to the faculty club. He was not wandering aimlessly. He had a purpose in mind. Without him I would not have persisted. With my cane I would have been alone, and that would not have been as much fun. I would not have had information about distant layout available to me, which would have made the task less rewarding. I would have gotten back to the club, probably through the use of human visual information. To me there is something very special about canine vision. It belongs to dogs. A well-trained guide dog is always waiting for its owner, ready to serve, intelligent, yet extremely simple at heart. Dogs are not amazed at what we do, nor do they feel more fortunate than we because they have vision. They offer their vision freely and leave it up to us to use it effectively. Dogs have always been one of God's gifts to humanity. They have served us in many capacities. I am proud to be a guide dog handler, and I am proud to show the world what dogs can do for us. Of course, most people misunderstand the interaction completely. They believe that in some way guide dog users are in the custody of their dogs. The dog leads, and we passively hang on. The degree of misunderstanding about cane use is equally devastating. In the Federation one of our tasks is education. Hopefully, by competent use of both travel aids we will be able to increase the public's understanding of blindness. With proper training and opportunity blindness need not be the crippling disability people believe it to be. We have a right to first-class citizenship. We have a right to competitive employment, to family, to children, and to growing old with dignity. In the National Federation of the

Blind we are learning to take what is rightfully ours. We will educate the public as we go, but we will never turn back. - See more at: http://www.blind.net/alternative-techniques/mobility/uniquefeatures-of-guide-dogs.html#sthash.g2llDY50.dpuf

Supremacy
by Lois Wencil
Copyright © 1995 National Federation of the Blind

From the Associate Editor: Both dog guide and cane users would probably agree that life is more lively and complex with a dog. Canes don't look intelligent, cute, or patient. No one is tempted to pat them or talk to them inappropriately, and while one's children may occasionally experiment with the cane, a toy lawn mower or baton can usually be substituted with great success. In short, there isn't much competition for the affections of or the control over a white cane. Moreover, despite the attractions of devotion and sentient companionship, dog guide users must go outdoors in unpleasant weather and work constantly to maintain in the dog's mind and that of every human being in contact with the team that the blind person is in command and controls every situation. Sometimes this is easier to accomplish than others. Clearly, however, committed dog guide users find these annoyances a small price to pay for the satisfaction of working with a responsive animal. In the December, 1990, edition of "Harness-Up," the publication of the National Association of Dog Guide Users, Lois Wencil of Millburn, New Jersey, wrote an amusing piece about this ongoing struggle. Everyone who has ever battled a toddler for supremacy in any arena will sympathize with

Mrs. Wencil, who has written many other articles, two books, and a computer tutorial. She has been a rehab teacher, holds an M.A. in special education, and is the parent of two children. Here is the article: From the time our son arrived home from the hospital, friends would ask me if I wasn't afraid that my dog guide was jealous or might hurt the baby. As he grew, it was, however, Steve who terrorized her and stretched her endless patience. When he crawled, who better to chase? How still she remained as he pulled himself up by her fur. She seemed to know that if she moved he would fall. Fawn did learn to jump that spring; on several occasions she gracefully cleared the gate that confined Steve to our first floor. His attempts to cut his teeth on her resulted only in mouthfuls of hair. Although we tried our best to rescue her and barricade her from him, she felt compelled to be near me; I needed to be close to him. She, therefore, learned to tolerate this invader into what had once been her domain. First a front pack, then a backpack, and finally a stroller pulled behind kept him safe and her out of his reach when we were outdoors. Sitting prettily at my side, she watched carefully all who stopped to admire our carry-about. My pats and praise were what she wanted. As he became too heavy and prideful to be conveyed, she slowed her pace to accommodate his stride. Pausing at the down curb, I would scoop him up and carry him across the street. Our purchases were carried in a camping backpack now; my purse was left at home; I wore only clothes with plenty of pocket space for tissues, lollipops, and money. All went smoothly until we began discussing crossing streets; red light means..., green light means...,etc. We learned to be quiet at corners so Mommy could hear the traffic; he learned stop, look, and listen before you cross the street. He took great pride and joy in knowing when we could safely cross. Then Steve began to command in his deepest, strongest voice, "Forward, Fawn!" What a quandary; learn but don't practice! If she should respond, should I correct her? Yes! We discussed and rediscussed this point of order, but he was so very proud of his new knowledge. "I'll tell the dog, Mom! My job." In this case, however, there could be no opportunity to let him try.

So we struggled on. He now was growing heavier; at four he would not be treated like a baby. A second traveler would be on board in about five more months. The pregnancy made carrying him both imprudent and dangerous. In total frustration he began to demand, "Leave dog home; I'll wear the harness!" This was out of the question. "Don't use a cane like Daddy; I'll take you. I'm your big helper." I quickly put a stop to his even trying on the harness because Fawn did resent it. The result was a tug of war between them. The struggle for supremacy raged on! On a windy spring day we all began a trip for a light load of groceries. "Go, Mommy! We can cross." With trees swishing, it was difficult for me to hear. "Please be quiet so we can listen." "No! Go! Forward, bad girl." Dropping my harness, I patted my friend. "Good girl!" Then turning to him, "Do not tell the dog what to do. I give the command and she moves when it is safe." This was too much for the budding child-traffic guard to bear. Enraged, he sank to the sidewalk and began to screech. Enough was enough for poor Fawn too. She lowered herself to the pavement and, uncharacteristically, began to whine. What a sight to behold! First I got one up into position and then turned to the other. In the meantime, the first had gone down once again. A car stopped so its owner could offer assistance. However, when I offered both my charges to him as a gift, he beat a hasty retreat. Spanking time had arrived. We drank water instead of juice that afternoon. A week of playing only in the yard convinced Steve that Mommy alone gave the dog commands. For some time after that episode, he remained at home with Dad or a neighbor while the dog and I went shopping. Supremacy had been determined. When my daughter eventually took her place as a toddler walking beside me, she also learned to cross streets with less talk and more action. Yet today we all still travel safely.

- See more at: http://www.blind.net/alternativetechniques/mobility/supremacy.html#sthash.h5lLdM8r.dpuf

Of Shakespeare And Dog Guides
by Dr. Elizabeth Browne
Copyright © 1995 National Federation of the Blind

Monitor readers with long memories will remember the name of Dr. Elizabeth Browne (see the Braille Monitors for January, 1980 and February, 1981.) Dr. Browne is a balanced, moderate, rational woman; but woe betide the business person who is unwilling to allow her dog guide entrance into a place of public accommodation. Recently she wrote to the Braille Monitor to recount the latest of her adventures. Though Dr. Browne is a resident of Chicago, she and her husband went to Stratford, Ontario, in the spring of 1990 for a short vacation. This is the way she tells the story: "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings." Vacations for me are far more than lying about on a warm beach and absorbing the lethal rays of sun. Vacations which include the thrill of theater and stimulating discussion along with the warm, sunny sands of a beach are what I long for.

So early in the spring my husband and I, and dog guide Candide, made plans for another trip to the Stratford Festival in Canada to enjoy the drama and talks and to wander through the charming, quiet town with its myriad of excellent restaurants and antique shops. All was planned ahead. Accommodations reserved and tickets purchased in advance, we drove north into Ontario. At the door of the quaint, picturesque motel we were stopped, refused entrance despite our reservation, and abruptly told that no dogs would be allowed. "No pets," the angry proprietor snapped, and his equally outraged wife joined in with her rendition of Canadian law: "No pets!" "Let me have men (motel owners) about me who are fat (who know the law). Yon proprietor had a lean and hungry look!" What to do? A long drive from Chicago, tickets in hand, but nowhere to stay. We retraced our steps to the Festival Information Center and told our story. The sweet and friendly clerks were sympathetic and, after having checked with all the local motels, hotels, and inns, informed us that no place would allow the dog. "No pets," they said and felt very sad but finally placed us for one night only in another motel. In the morning we began to check out local laws, and we started making phone calls. Pilot Dog School in Columbus, Ohio, read Ontario's law to me over the long distance line, while the mayor's office attempted to mediate the unpleasant situation by phoning the obdurate owner of the motel. Nothing doing. Next the director of Stratford Tourism was called in, and she too attempted mediation with the motel owner, but all in vain. Now a city attorney was phoned and advised us that there are two laws on their books: the Blind Persons' Rights Act, enforced by the local constabulary and magistrates, and a provincial law about public accommodations. He suggested that we contact the Human Rights Division in London, Ontario, to file a complaint, which we did, but also advised that we

could lay a charge before the local magistrate, which we also said we were quite willing to do. Our own version of the Berlin Wall was now firmly in place, and from each side we dug in for battle. On one side the intransigent motel owners; on the other, my husband, my dog guide, and I. When they sensed that we were not about to be cajoled out of our wellplanned vacation, we were directed to the police station to "lay a charge." The police were polite but seemed bewildered as they deposited us to wait in an "interrogation room," frigidly cold and windowless, perhaps in hopes that it would freeze us out and we would take leave. We sat and shivered and waited. "There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries." Finally, a provincial officer arrived. I imagined I could hear a military firmness as he marched into the cold room to interrogate me about what exactly I wanted. "Simple; my accommodations, my vacation, my rights, justice!" "Well," he said, "do you want to press charges? Are you willing to return to Canada when this comes before the judge?" "Absolutely!" "Follow me," he said, and off we went to the motel, following the squad car and noting happy guests picnicking on the lawn, puzzled about the new arrivals with their police escort. We were finally invited in to meet the suddenly complaisant owners of the motel, who explained that it was all a misunderstanding. If only we had told them what a dog guide was, and so on and on we went as they attempted to save face. We moved in for the rest of our stay and received an invitation from the City of Stratford to be wined and dined at its most exclusive restaurant, The Old Prune, where we were warmly welcomed and treated with the elegance and charm that this delightful Shakespearian town offers.

The motel owner did not charge us for one night's stay and apologized for the inconvenience he had caused us. Oh yes, we are planning our next trip there this fall. (The following is a copy of the thank you-note I sent to acknowledge their official concern and apology.) Barbara Quarry Department of Tourism August 27, 1990 The Stratford Festival Stratford, Ontario, Canada Thank you once again for making our Stratford trip a delightful and enriching experience. The theater was excellent, the dining splendid, and the accommodations most suitable and even charming. But, most of all, thank you for helping tear down the walls of misunderstanding and unfriendliness and restoring hospitality and dignity to a regrettable situation. Please convey my sincerest gratitude to all those who were concerned and helpful: our host at the Swan, Judy Purcell at the Mayor's Office, Gerry Cullerton for clarifying the legal situation, Officer William Kreps of Sebringville, and most especially to the Old Prune and its charming hostess and its sumptuously delicious and artistically presented fare. It was an experience we shall long remember and frequently share with friends. Looking forward to our next Stratford trip, hopefully this fall. - See more at: http://www.blind.net/alternative-techniques/mobility/ofshakespeare-and-dog-guides.html#sthash.j8lAPpCn.dpuf

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