In the spirit of full disclosure, I’m an engineer. There it is; right up front; out of the closet. Among other quirks and peculiarities, this means that I tend to look at things schematically. I like words and they generally like me, but my bias is that if I can render an idea as a diagram, I feel more certain that it has some validity.
Maybe this is not surprising, given that my company, E.A.S.Y. LLC, is inventing and marketing tactile drawing tools for blind people and people with low vision. But that’s a topic for another time. And so to the point. If there is one theme heard and echoed at virtually every NFB Convention my company partners and I (all sighted) have attended, national and affiliate, it’s captured in this simple assertion: a frequent obstacle to the development of independence in young blind people is low expectations.
We hear this again and again, an NFB mantra. Phrases like “Let me do that for you” or “You’ll need help with that” or worst, “You won’t be able to do this” – this sort of spoken or demonstrated expectation of failure is an almost physical barrier to growth. Well OK; sounds plausible. But how to integrate this with my mental graphic of what I have witnessed, for example, in the development of my own (sighted) children and now grandchildren. My diagram had looked like a circle. A the top, the youngster takes a courageous gamble and tries something new – riding a two-wheeler for example. A one skinned knee later, to her surprise, she’s riding without Dad holding on. This increment of competence is the second way point on the circle. And, along with this particular new independent skill comes a small but important growth of confidence – the third node. And, delightfully, continued travel round this self-reinforcing loop leads back to the top where she finds new and generalized courage to try for another new competence. And so on and so on.
So what does this have to do with expectations? Since my progeny have tended to grow up in an atmosphere that anticipated big things from them (sometimes too big?), I hadn’t given much thought to simple fact that this merry-go-round of courage, competence and confidence has no obvious entrance. Why and how would one jump on – or decide not to? That first leap – and subsequent renewals of courage – can be propelled and protected by high expectations. What my Federationist friends remind me is how compelling and impelling it can be to live around family and friends – and organizations – that expect a lot. Without a matter-of-fact atmosphere of high expectations, any and all of us may miss critical chances to take and repeat this ride to skill and the independence it brings.
So now my circle has a stem, or a gangway, or an entrance ramp. It’s a more complete model. This graphics-happy engineer is happy, at least for now.
Image Source: West Windsor Bicycle and Pedestrian Alliance
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