Five Lectures on Blindness | Page 8

awaiting him, a task requiring the courage of a
Spartan, the wisdom of Solomon, and the patience of Job.
Unfortunately, the parents of blind children rarely understand the
importance of this early training. They are too often too absorbed in
their own sorrow at having a child so afflicted, too sure that loss of
eyesight means loss of mental vigor, to realize that their own attitude,
their own self-pity, may prove a greater handicap to the child than
blindness itself. If a child lives in a house where he is waited upon, and
made to feel that mere existence and the ability to eat and sleep are all
that may reasonably be expected of him, and that he must depend upon
his family for everything, he will grow up helpless, selfish and
awkward, and no amount of later training will entirely counteract the
pernicious effect produced in these early, formative years. When placed
in school with other children, he will be very sensitive to correction,
and may become morbid and unhappy, thus giving a wrong impression
of the blind in general. If, on the other hand, the child is taught to be
self-helpful, permitted to join in the work and play of other children,
made to feel that, with greater effort, he may do just what they do, he
will soon become cheerfully alert and hopefully alive to all the
possibilities of his peculiar position. It is true that natural disposition
has much to do with one's outlook on life, but cheerfulness and a
certain form of stoicism may be cultivated, and to the blind child these
qualities are absolutely essential if he is to attain any measure of
success in later life. It would be foolish for me to ignore the difficulties
and limitations in the path of everyone deprived of eyesight, either in
infancy or adult life, but I know that these very limitations and
difficulties may aid in forming a character whose quiet strength and
unfaltering courage can not fail to win the admiration and co-operation
of all who witness its tireless efforts for success. But in order to achieve
success, let me repeat that such training must begin at the earliest
possible date.
You may never have thought of it, but the blind child has no model, no
pattern. It must acquire everything. It learns nothing by imitation. The
normal child copies the gestures and mannerisms of its parents, and so

learns many things unconsciously, and with little or no instruction. But
the blind child must be taught to smile, to shake hands, to hold up its
head, to walk properly, to present and receive objects, and the thousand
and one details of daily living so naturally acquired under ordinary
conditions. Long before it has reached school age, the blind child
should be permitted to romp with other children, to take bumps and
bruises as part of the game, and should be encouraged to run, jump rope,
and join in all harmless sports, thus acquiring that freedom of
movement, muscular co-ordination, and fearless bearing, so necessary
if he is to cope successfully with the difficulties awaiting him. His toys
should be chosen to instruct as well as amuse, and in this way he
should be made familiar with the different forms, the square, the circle,
the oblong, the triangle and the pyramid. The Goddard form board and
Montessori insets are invaluable at this period. He should be trained to
recognize the difference between smooth and rough, soft and hard, light
and heavy, thick and thin. He should be given plasticine or clay with
which to model, and be urged to reproduce his toys, thus assisting in
the muscular development and intelligent use of his fingers--another
essential equipment. As soon as possible, the process of dressing
should be taught. The child may learn this more readily if a doll is used
as a model, and he is required to put on its clothes each morning, and
remove them just before his own bedtime. This important process
should be made as interesting as possible, and each successful effort
greeted enthusiastically, each failure carefully pointed out, its cause
discovered, and its repetition prevented, when possible. In this way he
acquires system, learns to put his clothes away in a certain place, and to
locate them again without assistance. His little fingers should be kept
constantly employed stringing beads, putting pegs in a wooden board,
cutting paper with kindergarten scissors, and modelling with plasticine.
If thus occupied, he will escape the mannerisms peculiar to the blind
child whose only amusement has been to put his fingers in his eyes,
shake his hand before his face to see the shadow, rock his body back
and forth, and whirl around in dizzy circles. I found just such a child, a
girl of eight