I love to read!!!!!!! If I have a book i want to read for fun, i will probably read it over studying, like I am doing right now.
I have always enjoyed reading; my family read to me when i was very little, and there were always books, even if there weren't that many.
I started learning to read when I was three. I read with Braille, so it was important to start as soon as possible; my teacher wanted me to be able to read before i got to first grade, so i could follow along with the other students in my classes. I am soooooooo happy to have been taught Braille. Only TEN percent of blind people know how to read and write in the US; if this was the literacy rate for everyone, it would be a tragedy. Anyway, I started getting Braille books from the National Library for the Blind and Physically handicapped, and a Braille teacher would braille books for me, too. They were always like, you finished that one already?
Now, I still enjoy reading, but I use more than har-copy Braille. I will take books in any format I can get. NLS also has talking books; they have novels, classic lit, other fiction, and lots of other books. I also get books from learning ally; this is where I get some of my textbooks, well, if they actually have the book or the edition of the book that I want. There are commercial audio books from audible.com.
I love having a computer and being able to download books. There is webBraille, where someone can download most Braille books from NLS. There is also bookshare, a library of Braille book files. My final sources for books are the kindle store, but only for pleasure reading because they only work when the computer reads to me; if I want a quote, I have to listen many times and transcribe.
If a book isn't in any Braille or audio format, I scan it. I have to do this for most textbooks, or for certain series books that I read.
Thanks to electronics, I am never without reading material. I put books in my pronto and read them in Braille. I have the victor stream that lets me listen to all of my books. And if that isn’t enough, I can put more on my iphone.
Being able to read is wonderful. Whether it is researching for a class or reading to pass the time on a 30-hour bus trip, I always have a great way to educate and entertain myself.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Teach them well
As teachers of blind students, we have so many tasks to complete. From making sure the students are literate in Braille and using a cane to reaching milestones for age appropriate expectations to taling to them about blindness, some things can easily slip through the cracks.
One of our most important jobs is to make sure the blind student can advocate for himself or herself. This could include anything from saying “I can pick up my book,” to asking a teacher for the list of textbooks for the next school year to see if any are available in accessible formats. As important as it is to teach the student to advocate, it is also crutial that the student knows that you and other members of the IEP team will be supportive and that he or she should talk to you if they are having difficulty with other teachers.
I was fortunate to grow up with a mother who believed in the National Federation of the Blind’s philosophy. She taught me that being blind didn’t mean I couldn’t be independent at home and at school.
As a first grader, I had a paraprofessional who stayed with me all day; her job was to help me with class assignments, go to lunch with me, and make materials accessible. However, she was overprotective and didn’t want me to walk by myself, run outside at recess, or cary my tray and open my milk at lunch. I eventually had enough of this treatment. One day, I exited the van to go into school, and as the tactless six-year-old I was, I pushed her hand off of my arm and said, “go away, I don’t want you, I can do it myself.” This made her upset; later the same day, we had peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches with tomato soup, and I said the same thing as she took the plastic tray from my arm.
I don’t know how much time passed; it could have been the next day or the next week, but my first grade teacher informed me that there was going to be a meeting in the afternoon to discuss my behavior. When I got there, my first grade teacher, paraprofessional, the special ed teacher, the school psychologist, the principal, and some other adult were sitting around a big table. I was scared, and I remember thinking “Why do all the grownups want to yell at me?” They told me to sit down, and I refused.
They talked at me, lecturing on how it wasn’t safe for me to get out of the van by myself, especially after I fell down the last step because my shoe was untied. I shouldn’t carry my tray, especially on soup days, because it was very hot, and I could burn myself. I couldn’t walk to class alone because I would geet lost. I shouldn’t sass my aid because she was doing her job and helping me. I needed to be a good girl and do what my teachers said because I was there to learn. It went on and on and on, and by the time it was over, my little legs were very tired, and they accomplished what they set out to do: silenced me.
After that meeting, and for the next six years I was an extremely quiet child. When my parapro asked me questions such as “do you like this?” or “Did you miss me?” I always nodded or whispered yes, even if I truly disagreed with her. I didn’t share my opinions with anyone because I was too afraid of getting in trouble again. I didn’t tell the teachers when I saw other students doing something wrong. And most importantly, until after my mother and others fought for a long time with the rest of the IEP team, I didn’t travel many places by myself and didn’t carry my tray at lunch because I had been discouraged and internally accepted that I couldn’t do it.
All it takes is one time to plant the seeds of uncertainty and doubt. I told my mother who fought for me, but it never occurred to me to tell my Braille teacher. To borrow words from Whitney Houston’s song, “I believe children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way.” Give them the tools so they can believe in themselves and fight for what they need. But, I hope you can also let them know that if they have fallen into silence, that you will be there to help them talk again and not because you feel obligated to but because you genuinely care about the future they can have if they have a positive attitude, proper training, and the chance to succeed in the classroom and in life.
One of our most important jobs is to make sure the blind student can advocate for himself or herself. This could include anything from saying “I can pick up my book,” to asking a teacher for the list of textbooks for the next school year to see if any are available in accessible formats. As important as it is to teach the student to advocate, it is also crutial that the student knows that you and other members of the IEP team will be supportive and that he or she should talk to you if they are having difficulty with other teachers.
I was fortunate to grow up with a mother who believed in the National Federation of the Blind’s philosophy. She taught me that being blind didn’t mean I couldn’t be independent at home and at school.
As a first grader, I had a paraprofessional who stayed with me all day; her job was to help me with class assignments, go to lunch with me, and make materials accessible. However, she was overprotective and didn’t want me to walk by myself, run outside at recess, or cary my tray and open my milk at lunch. I eventually had enough of this treatment. One day, I exited the van to go into school, and as the tactless six-year-old I was, I pushed her hand off of my arm and said, “go away, I don’t want you, I can do it myself.” This made her upset; later the same day, we had peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches with tomato soup, and I said the same thing as she took the plastic tray from my arm.
I don’t know how much time passed; it could have been the next day or the next week, but my first grade teacher informed me that there was going to be a meeting in the afternoon to discuss my behavior. When I got there, my first grade teacher, paraprofessional, the special ed teacher, the school psychologist, the principal, and some other adult were sitting around a big table. I was scared, and I remember thinking “Why do all the grownups want to yell at me?” They told me to sit down, and I refused.
They talked at me, lecturing on how it wasn’t safe for me to get out of the van by myself, especially after I fell down the last step because my shoe was untied. I shouldn’t carry my tray, especially on soup days, because it was very hot, and I could burn myself. I couldn’t walk to class alone because I would geet lost. I shouldn’t sass my aid because she was doing her job and helping me. I needed to be a good girl and do what my teachers said because I was there to learn. It went on and on and on, and by the time it was over, my little legs were very tired, and they accomplished what they set out to do: silenced me.
After that meeting, and for the next six years I was an extremely quiet child. When my parapro asked me questions such as “do you like this?” or “Did you miss me?” I always nodded or whispered yes, even if I truly disagreed with her. I didn’t share my opinions with anyone because I was too afraid of getting in trouble again. I didn’t tell the teachers when I saw other students doing something wrong. And most importantly, until after my mother and others fought for a long time with the rest of the IEP team, I didn’t travel many places by myself and didn’t carry my tray at lunch because I had been discouraged and internally accepted that I couldn’t do it.
All it takes is one time to plant the seeds of uncertainty and doubt. I told my mother who fought for me, but it never occurred to me to tell my Braille teacher. To borrow words from Whitney Houston’s song, “I believe children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way.” Give them the tools so they can believe in themselves and fight for what they need. But, I hope you can also let them know that if they have fallen into silence, that you will be there to help them talk again and not because you feel obligated to but because you genuinely care about the future they can have if they have a positive attitude, proper training, and the chance to succeed in the classroom and in life.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
hands off please
I'm standing in line at the bus stop, and everyone has gotten off. I use the tip of my cane to lightly touch the person in front of me, so I can tell when it is time to move forward. Suddenly, someone squeezes their hand hard around my upper arm and propels me forward. I tell her "I'm fine thank you, yet she does not let go. I wiggle my arm signaling that I am uncomfortable, and she continues to hold.
While I sometimes ask for help with directions somewhere or other tasks, I want it to be on my terms, and grabbing me is not the way to be helpful.
First of all, I am not comfortable with a lot of people touching me, particularly random people I don’t know. Most people keep traditional American personal space manners, but when a person has a disability, that respectful boundary seems to disappear. Second, grabbing my hand/wrist/arm is sometimes physically painful and unbalancing. Some days, I am dizzy or my ankle and/or hip is locking, so grabbing me unexpectedly throws off my already unsteady balance. With that being said, if I am about to fall down a 10-foot manhole or something heavy is falling towards my head, than grabbing me to move me out of the way of danger would be greatly appreciated.
A better way, if you see a disabled person and want to help, is to ask “do you need help.” If the person says, yes, you can ask him or her the best way that you can assist. If the person says no, continue with whatever it was that you were doing, and please don’t feel offended with the no response.
While I sometimes ask for help with directions somewhere or other tasks, I want it to be on my terms, and grabbing me is not the way to be helpful.
First of all, I am not comfortable with a lot of people touching me, particularly random people I don’t know. Most people keep traditional American personal space manners, but when a person has a disability, that respectful boundary seems to disappear. Second, grabbing my hand/wrist/arm is sometimes physically painful and unbalancing. Some days, I am dizzy or my ankle and/or hip is locking, so grabbing me unexpectedly throws off my already unsteady balance. With that being said, if I am about to fall down a 10-foot manhole or something heavy is falling towards my head, than grabbing me to move me out of the way of danger would be greatly appreciated.
A better way, if you see a disabled person and want to help, is to ask “do you need help.” If the person says, yes, you can ask him or her the best way that you can assist. If the person says no, continue with whatever it was that you were doing, and please don’t feel offended with the no response.
Friday, November 4, 2011
call for submissions for the november disability blog carnival
Still accepting late submissions if anyone wants to write.
I know for me, and probably others as well, the word inspiration or inspirational mostly triggers a negative conotation. No one wants to be classified as "the supercrip" and all the stereotypes and misconceptions that entails. However, being inspired can be a good thing. Some suggestions could be was there a disabled character from a book or movie, fictional or nonfictional, who inspired you when you first became disabled? Is there someone whom you have met in real life or online who has had an impact on how you view your disability or disabled people in general? It doesn't have to be anything huge; it could be something as simple as before I didn't know I could dance from my wheelchair or this tip helped me save time on my low energy days.
When you submit, I'd like your name or screen name, the name of your blog, and the link to your post. Links are due by November 27.
I know for me, and probably others as well, the word inspiration or inspirational mostly triggers a negative conotation. No one wants to be classified as "the supercrip" and all the stereotypes and misconceptions that entails. However, being inspired can be a good thing. Some suggestions could be was there a disabled character from a book or movie, fictional or nonfictional, who inspired you when you first became disabled? Is there someone whom you have met in real life or online who has had an impact on how you view your disability or disabled people in general? It doesn't have to be anything huge; it could be something as simple as before I didn't know I could dance from my wheelchair or this tip helped me save time on my low energy days.
When you submit, I'd like your name or screen name, the name of your blog, and the link to your post. Links are due by November 27.
my Christian privilege
As a woman who is Latina, blind, has depression, and an adoptee I am often in the minority when it comes to social issues and privilege. However, in one area, I am in the majority. I was raised as a Christian.
So many things in society have the Christian basis, and I unconsciously benefit from them. I get vacation from grad school for Christmas and Easter without having to request time off, and unlike Islamic or pagan holidays, I don’t have to explain what it means. At many conferences and conventions I attend, there is some kind of welcome benediction, and it is 95% of the time done by a Christian minister without thinking of the non-Christian or nonreligious members of the delegation.
I can have a cross or other Christian symbol charm, decoration, or tattoo without living in fear of persecution. I do not have to face judgment or criticism from others if I choose to wear the symbol in public.
And finally, the one that sparked this post, others can mention God in his/her life and relate it to mine, and I can say I know without feeling the need to go along with the conversation in order to avoid disapproval and discord. A few days ago, I went to the doctor and was telling her my medical history. I was born a little more than three months early and was less than two pounds. She said, “Lord, God must have had big plans for you to help you survive that! Modern medicine made it possible, but it’s ultimately through him that the miracle happened.” Going to the doctor is uncomfortable as it is, and I was fortunate that I could just smile and nod instead of dealing with the discomfort that my religious preference wasn’t even considered before she made the comment.
So many things in society have the Christian basis, and I unconsciously benefit from them. I get vacation from grad school for Christmas and Easter without having to request time off, and unlike Islamic or pagan holidays, I don’t have to explain what it means. At many conferences and conventions I attend, there is some kind of welcome benediction, and it is 95% of the time done by a Christian minister without thinking of the non-Christian or nonreligious members of the delegation.
I can have a cross or other Christian symbol charm, decoration, or tattoo without living in fear of persecution. I do not have to face judgment or criticism from others if I choose to wear the symbol in public.
And finally, the one that sparked this post, others can mention God in his/her life and relate it to mine, and I can say I know without feeling the need to go along with the conversation in order to avoid disapproval and discord. A few days ago, I went to the doctor and was telling her my medical history. I was born a little more than three months early and was less than two pounds. She said, “Lord, God must have had big plans for you to help you survive that! Modern medicine made it possible, but it’s ultimately through him that the miracle happened.” Going to the doctor is uncomfortable as it is, and I was fortunate that I could just smile and nod instead of dealing with the discomfort that my religious preference wasn’t even considered before she made the comment.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
reuseable menstrual products and hankies
Today, I’m going to write about a topic which some people might find disgusting: reusable menstrual products and handkerchiefs.
One of my favorite products is a menstrual cup. It is a bell-shaped medically safe silicon that captures the flow. On the heavy days, I empty it four times and on the lighter days, I only have to empty it once or twice. This might seem unsanitary, but the cup is easy to clean. I can either put some boiled water in a container along with some teatry oil and let it soak, or I can take it out in the shower, use some Dr. Bronner’s liquid soap, and it is cleaned for use again.
I like this vs. using tampons; the price of tampons adds up over time, and I don’t trust how some are chemically treated. They are also known to cause toxic shock syndrome, which sounds horrible. It is also better on the environment because pounds of garbage are not going into the sewer system and possibly affecting the water supply.
Another product I use is handkerchiefs. I have some from picnic basket crafts on etsy, and a hankybook. Both of these are made from soft cotton or bamboo. Traditional tissues are made from virgin paper; that is, trees that are cut for the sole purpose of making disposeable paper products. The “green” tissues made from post-consumer product are too thin. What I love about handkerchiefs is that they do not cause tiny papercuts on my already sore nose when I have a cold or allergies. To clean these, I just throw them in with my whites when I do laundry, and I have clean tissues for the next time I need them.
One of my favorite products is a menstrual cup. It is a bell-shaped medically safe silicon that captures the flow. On the heavy days, I empty it four times and on the lighter days, I only have to empty it once or twice. This might seem unsanitary, but the cup is easy to clean. I can either put some boiled water in a container along with some teatry oil and let it soak, or I can take it out in the shower, use some Dr. Bronner’s liquid soap, and it is cleaned for use again.
I like this vs. using tampons; the price of tampons adds up over time, and I don’t trust how some are chemically treated. They are also known to cause toxic shock syndrome, which sounds horrible. It is also better on the environment because pounds of garbage are not going into the sewer system and possibly affecting the water supply.
Another product I use is handkerchiefs. I have some from picnic basket crafts on etsy, and a hankybook. Both of these are made from soft cotton or bamboo. Traditional tissues are made from virgin paper; that is, trees that are cut for the sole purpose of making disposeable paper products. The “green” tissues made from post-consumer product are too thin. What I love about handkerchiefs is that they do not cause tiny papercuts on my already sore nose when I have a cold or allergies. To clean these, I just throw them in with my whites when I do laundry, and I have clean tissues for the next time I need them.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
It makes me sad
I am currently going for my masters degree for teaching blind students, but my part-time job during undergrad was working with blind children and adults, helping them learn, Braille, technology, daily living skills, and talking about whatever they wanted or thought might help.
Many parents mean well; they love their children, so they think they are being helpful or protecting their blind child while they have fallen victim to low expectations.
For example, if they have other children, they would expect their five or six-year-old to tie shoes. I worked with a 10-year-old who still wore Velcro sneakers. A second grader should be allowed and able to call friends on the phone, or maybe family, and at the least know how to dial 911. A 12-year-old I worked with had no idea how to use a phone. I had to explain to him in which order the buttons were and that he had to dial numbers in a certain order so his aunt’s and grandmother’s phone would ring. When I asked his parent why he didn’t know, the person told me it was too hard to teach him. A teenager should know how to do basic kitchen things, I.E. making a frozen pizza, ramen noodles, making a sandwich, ETC. A 17-year-old I worked with didn’t know what measuring cups were and how milk got to her place at the table. She was exuberant after we made a frozen pizza and mixed a cup of instant hot chocolate. These are just a few examples of how low or no expectations hurt the children I will soon serve full-time.
Many parents mean well; they love their children, so they think they are being helpful or protecting their blind child while they have fallen victim to low expectations.
For example, if they have other children, they would expect their five or six-year-old to tie shoes. I worked with a 10-year-old who still wore Velcro sneakers. A second grader should be allowed and able to call friends on the phone, or maybe family, and at the least know how to dial 911. A 12-year-old I worked with had no idea how to use a phone. I had to explain to him in which order the buttons were and that he had to dial numbers in a certain order so his aunt’s and grandmother’s phone would ring. When I asked his parent why he didn’t know, the person told me it was too hard to teach him. A teenager should know how to do basic kitchen things, I.E. making a frozen pizza, ramen noodles, making a sandwich, ETC. A 17-year-old I worked with didn’t know what measuring cups were and how milk got to her place at the table. She was exuberant after we made a frozen pizza and mixed a cup of instant hot chocolate. These are just a few examples of how low or no expectations hurt the children I will soon serve full-time.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
what I'm trying
I’ve written here before that I have been struggling with depression for the past four years, so I’m going to start chronicling what I’m trying on my journey to recovery.
I’ve tried the conventional route with anti-depressants. Effexor made me hyper, and I couldn’t sleep. Prozac made me irritated with everything and everyone. Zoloft made me dizzy and disoriented, more than I usually am.
Now, I have consulted with a nutritionist. I am trying green smoothies in the morning; my roommate says they are an unpleasant green, and she sometimes watches the smoothie ooze down the sides of the pitcher. However, even though they look disgusting, they taste fine. I mix a cup of spinach, a cup of romain lettuce, a banana, and whatever other berries, grapes, apples, that happen to be around. I am also taking a multi-vitamin, a b-100 complex, and an omega 3 supplement. I think they help some, but it’s too soon to tell.
Later this week, because I finally have health insurance, I am going to have bloodwork to test for high cholesterol, b12 deficiency, anemia, and other fun things like that. I’m so tired.
I’ve tried the conventional route with anti-depressants. Effexor made me hyper, and I couldn’t sleep. Prozac made me irritated with everything and everyone. Zoloft made me dizzy and disoriented, more than I usually am.
Now, I have consulted with a nutritionist. I am trying green smoothies in the morning; my roommate says they are an unpleasant green, and she sometimes watches the smoothie ooze down the sides of the pitcher. However, even though they look disgusting, they taste fine. I mix a cup of spinach, a cup of romain lettuce, a banana, and whatever other berries, grapes, apples, that happen to be around. I am also taking a multi-vitamin, a b-100 complex, and an omega 3 supplement. I think they help some, but it’s too soon to tell.
Later this week, because I finally have health insurance, I am going to have bloodwork to test for high cholesterol, b12 deficiency, anemia, and other fun things like that. I’m so tired.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
purse and leather treat pouch review
Ever since I've had a guide dog, I've been trying to find a treat pouch that works for me; but there was always something missing. I had the gentle leader pouch, but sometimes I couldn't quickly open it or it didn't close as easily as I needed it to. I had one that looked like a ruffwear bowl with a magnet in the middle, but if the pouch were too full, treats would pour out around the magnet if I leaned over. I had a square one with a magnetic flap, but it wouldn't close right and treats came out the top. None of them could make it through a downpour without leaving me with a wet pouch and soggie treat mush. Also, I prefer to support a person and a small business instead of a large company, so custom-made items were perfect for me.
I found Raw Dog Leather while doing a search for leather treat pouches, and I got all the features I wanted in a bag.
It is about the size of an index card. On the left side, there is a mini bolt snap, like those found on the leashes from guide dog school, and below that is an o-ring. On the main body of the treat pouch is a rain flap with a snap, and on that flap is a keyring. On the right side is an o-ring, a keyring, and a mini bolt snap. On the back are two snap tabs that can go around a belt or a shoulder strap. Once I fold the rain flap back behind the snap tabs, there is the main part. On the front is a small square pocket where I store poop bags. Inside is the cloth liner, wich is machine washable and removeable because of velcro. There are three pockets; in the front, soft, high-value treats; in the middle, kibble; and in the back, crunchy training treats. Five magnets on each side of of the liner keep it close.
It passed all of my tests: I kept the rain flap open while walking fast, and nothing fell out, even when i leaned over. I can slide a finger in, grab a treat, as well as remove my hand, and it closes without any extra movement from me. I took it out in a tourential downpour, and my treats stayed dry and whole.
I think there are pictures here
I also bought a purse. I have tried many bags; backpacks work well, but it is annoying to have to stop, have the dog sit, and take off the pack to get to water or my cell phone. This bag is 10 inches high, 8 inches wide, and 3 inches deep. It is tall enough for me to put a 18-oz klean kantine vertically in the bottle loop and close it without worrying about water leaking in the bottom. There is a zipper pocket on the front, a mini velcro pocket on the flap, a velcro pocket on the back, and the cloth, velcro liner inside with two pockets where I keep my wallet and business cards. It is big enough to hold a slate and stylus, telescoping cane, a snack bag, a basic first-aid kit, a dog bowl, and other random things. The shoulder strap is adjustable with a belt-buckle fastener. There are pictures here
The customer service was good; she sent me leather samples, so I could have an idea of the textures and colors of deer, elk, elk, moose, ETC. I love both of these bags and would buy from her again!
I found Raw Dog Leather while doing a search for leather treat pouches, and I got all the features I wanted in a bag.
It is about the size of an index card. On the left side, there is a mini bolt snap, like those found on the leashes from guide dog school, and below that is an o-ring. On the main body of the treat pouch is a rain flap with a snap, and on that flap is a keyring. On the right side is an o-ring, a keyring, and a mini bolt snap. On the back are two snap tabs that can go around a belt or a shoulder strap. Once I fold the rain flap back behind the snap tabs, there is the main part. On the front is a small square pocket where I store poop bags. Inside is the cloth liner, wich is machine washable and removeable because of velcro. There are three pockets; in the front, soft, high-value treats; in the middle, kibble; and in the back, crunchy training treats. Five magnets on each side of of the liner keep it close.
It passed all of my tests: I kept the rain flap open while walking fast, and nothing fell out, even when i leaned over. I can slide a finger in, grab a treat, as well as remove my hand, and it closes without any extra movement from me. I took it out in a tourential downpour, and my treats stayed dry and whole.
I think there are pictures here
I also bought a purse. I have tried many bags; backpacks work well, but it is annoying to have to stop, have the dog sit, and take off the pack to get to water or my cell phone. This bag is 10 inches high, 8 inches wide, and 3 inches deep. It is tall enough for me to put a 18-oz klean kantine vertically in the bottle loop and close it without worrying about water leaking in the bottom. There is a zipper pocket on the front, a mini velcro pocket on the flap, a velcro pocket on the back, and the cloth, velcro liner inside with two pockets where I keep my wallet and business cards. It is big enough to hold a slate and stylus, telescoping cane, a snack bag, a basic first-aid kit, a dog bowl, and other random things. The shoulder strap is adjustable with a belt-buckle fastener. There are pictures here
The customer service was good; she sent me leather samples, so I could have an idea of the textures and colors of deer, elk, elk, moose, ETC. I love both of these bags and would buy from her again!
Sunday, September 18, 2011
First major trip
In Feb. 2009, my second guide dog Zorro went back to Seeing Eye to be rematched with another handler. After that, I finished a semester, traveled some, and signed up to go to Urbana, a student global missions meeting in St. Louis starting the day after Christmas. I got Dee, my third guide dog, Nov. 16, 2009. She did an amazing job during our two-week training, better than either of my previous two guides. When applying for and being matched with a guide dog, it can sometimes take up to a year or more till the school finds one for you, so I thought I'd be attending with my cane. After I got Dee, I was a little nervous about how such a new guide would do there. I'd been to conventions with the National Federation of the Blind where 3,000 blind people gather to discuss important issues, but I had never been to a conference with over 20,000 college students.
We started our trip by riding 26 hours on greyhound with 3 bus transfers. I was exhausted by the time we got there, but Dee had boundless energy since she spent most of that time curled up under the seat sleeping. After dropping off my bags at the hotel and meeting one of my roommates, I think we took a local bus to register at the dome center. Travel in unfamiliar places was, and still is to some extent, difficult for me, especially when it is crowded. Dee was hesitant at first, not sure which paths to choose through the sea of people. After a quick dinner, we went to the welcome plenary session. The first event was worship with a live band and vocalists. This stressed Dee out; I could tell because she started continuously licking her paws and the floor. She settled down afterwards during the Native American dances and speeches. After the session ended, I followed some random people outside and asked for help finding the correct bus that went back to my hotel. On the way, Dee had an accident, again because of the stress. I was relieved to reach my room and go to bed, and I prayed the next day would be easier for Dee and me.
We started the next day by oversleeping, quickly running outside to relieve, grabbed granola bars from the buffet, and caught the bus 30 seconds before it pulled out. Since I was hanging out with my roommates, I had people to follow and ask for directions to all of the sessions. This time, and the other four days of the conference, Dee acted as if she guided in crowds every day. From the moment we got off the bus, her ears were forward and her whole butt was wagging. She did excellent obstacle clearance, and I only bumped into one person the whole time when she got distracted by someone with a peanutbutter sandwich.
Besides the week of guide dog training in Portland, I hadn't spent time in a city since 2005, so I wasn't used to that form of travel. All of my time was spent on campus paths or residential streets in my college town. Dee stopped for all of the curbs, traffic checked when necessary, and didn't sniff or eat food from the ground in restaurants or in the grocery store. She was also good during the evening meal when we got in line for the buffet.
By the end of the second day, the music, and people clapping, jumping, and singing didn't bother her, and she napped through the sessions. My roommates and random people commented on what a good dog I had, and I couldn't agree more. She showed me her best on New Year's Eve. We started at 7:30 AM as usual, and we didn't return to the hotel till 1:30 the next morning. We probably walked 4 miles that day between running from one end to the other of the two-block long building, wandering St. Louis looking for lunch and dinner, and stopping at the grocery store for snacks for the road. Dee was so excited as we were exiting the conference at 1 am because everyone was in a good mood, yelling happy new year, singing/jumping up and down, and blowing kazoos. She wiggled her whole body as she guided at a fast pace. At one point I had to have her sit, because she was trying to guide too quickly and was having trouble keeping her traction on the slippery tile floor. When we got back to the hotel, as she did every previous time we returned, she enthusiastically ran to each of us for pets and belly rubs before picking up her kong and running fast circles for two minutes before sighing and flopping down on the floor for a well-deserved few hours of rest.
This is just one of many times we have traveled together. She loved her guiding, played as hard as she worked, and again showed me what it was like to be part of a happy and effective guide dog team.
This is my contribution for The Fifth Assistance Dog Blog Carnival
We started our trip by riding 26 hours on greyhound with 3 bus transfers. I was exhausted by the time we got there, but Dee had boundless energy since she spent most of that time curled up under the seat sleeping. After dropping off my bags at the hotel and meeting one of my roommates, I think we took a local bus to register at the dome center. Travel in unfamiliar places was, and still is to some extent, difficult for me, especially when it is crowded. Dee was hesitant at first, not sure which paths to choose through the sea of people. After a quick dinner, we went to the welcome plenary session. The first event was worship with a live band and vocalists. This stressed Dee out; I could tell because she started continuously licking her paws and the floor. She settled down afterwards during the Native American dances and speeches. After the session ended, I followed some random people outside and asked for help finding the correct bus that went back to my hotel. On the way, Dee had an accident, again because of the stress. I was relieved to reach my room and go to bed, and I prayed the next day would be easier for Dee and me.
We started the next day by oversleeping, quickly running outside to relieve, grabbed granola bars from the buffet, and caught the bus 30 seconds before it pulled out. Since I was hanging out with my roommates, I had people to follow and ask for directions to all of the sessions. This time, and the other four days of the conference, Dee acted as if she guided in crowds every day. From the moment we got off the bus, her ears were forward and her whole butt was wagging. She did excellent obstacle clearance, and I only bumped into one person the whole time when she got distracted by someone with a peanutbutter sandwich.
Besides the week of guide dog training in Portland, I hadn't spent time in a city since 2005, so I wasn't used to that form of travel. All of my time was spent on campus paths or residential streets in my college town. Dee stopped for all of the curbs, traffic checked when necessary, and didn't sniff or eat food from the ground in restaurants or in the grocery store. She was also good during the evening meal when we got in line for the buffet.
By the end of the second day, the music, and people clapping, jumping, and singing didn't bother her, and she napped through the sessions. My roommates and random people commented on what a good dog I had, and I couldn't agree more. She showed me her best on New Year's Eve. We started at 7:30 AM as usual, and we didn't return to the hotel till 1:30 the next morning. We probably walked 4 miles that day between running from one end to the other of the two-block long building, wandering St. Louis looking for lunch and dinner, and stopping at the grocery store for snacks for the road. Dee was so excited as we were exiting the conference at 1 am because everyone was in a good mood, yelling happy new year, singing/jumping up and down, and blowing kazoos. She wiggled her whole body as she guided at a fast pace. At one point I had to have her sit, because she was trying to guide too quickly and was having trouble keeping her traction on the slippery tile floor. When we got back to the hotel, as she did every previous time we returned, she enthusiastically ran to each of us for pets and belly rubs before picking up her kong and running fast circles for two minutes before sighing and flopping down on the floor for a well-deserved few hours of rest.
This is just one of many times we have traveled together. She loved her guiding, played as hard as she worked, and again showed me what it was like to be part of a happy and effective guide dog team.
This is my contribution for The Fifth Assistance Dog Blog Carnival
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