The loss of the majority of my vision in the summer of 1986 left me reeling, numb and wondering what the hell had just happened to me. No one can expect such a change in life and be OK with it.
There were many reasons why I shouldn’t have been accepting of my vision loss. I gained certain freedoms as a fifteen-year-old that included driving on my own. That was gone.
Also, something I had yet to realize was how this vision loss would affect my schooling. I was supposed to enter my sophomore year sitting in the top ten in my class and I had expectations as the next three years of high school went by. I was a smart student and enjoyed work and school. I was up for the challenge.
I was in for a rude awakening when it came to my schooling and re-introduction to high school as a visually impaired teenager. I had no idea of the extent of the true challenge ahead of me, concerning academics, students/teachers and the quality of the facility to accommodate my vision issues..
As the 1986-1987 school year rolled around, I was not attending school. I couldn’t start because I was unable to sit in a classroom and learn like the rest of the students. No longer could I see the chalkboard or the teacher or take notes or a test in class.
Before the school year started, my mom went to talk to school administrators at San Diego Independent School District in San Diego, Texas. Officials wanted a quick, but thoughtless, solution to trying to integrate me back into school. Initially they wanted to place me in woodshop and auto mechanics classes. Put a Band-Aid on the issue. An obvious problem with this is that I had just recently lost my vision and I doubted I wanted to lose a finger or two in the process of cutting wood. Ridiculous suggestion. Then the individual who spoke with my mom saw my class standing and figured I wasn’t some barely-passing-his-classes student. So wood shop and auto mechanics were out the window. I was an A-B honor roll student. So I was given the “normal” classes of English, world history, science and theatre arts, among others. But I didn’t set foot in the classroom.
Instead, I started my sophomore year being homebound and taught by a teacher who came out to the ranch twice a week. We’d sit at the dining room table and work for a few hours. She talked and I listened. It was difficult adjusting to learning by hearing rather than by sight.
And that’s how my new life as a visually impaired student started. I was taught at home and life began to cave in upon itself. I rarely left the ranch for months. The season changed and the South Texas autumn began, which means the air is a little fresher but it’s still hot. I became isolated and spent much time in my room listening to music. I’d sleep late and stay up late. My life became a depressive state of mind. I wanted nothing to do with anyone or anything as the realization of my situation hit me. I COULDN’T SEE ANYMORE! At that time, I thought my life was over.
At home I put on no pretenses. No hiding of my vision loss. But I tried to maintain my previous normal routine at home. But it was no use. My life had changed. I started watching countless hours of TV, especially at night. I would sit up close to the TV, a foot away. I gave up on reading since it was impossible to read. Items at home had to remain in some order or I would be unable to find them. It was a depressing situation. All my family members had to alter the way they lived at home. Suddenly my family was living with a person with a disability. Although no one said it. I think no one wanted to admit—including myself—that something bad and probably permanent had occurred to me.
But life rolled on and it took the shape of a person with a disability. Internally, I believe I fought this. I wanted nothing to do with being a person with a disability. That status would make me an outcast, a different person in a place where being different was frowned upon. My world had shrunk, my possibilities and opportunities had disappeared. How was I going to cope?
As I said, life took a turn in the direction of a person with a disability.
Eventually I got connected with the Texas Commission for the Blind (TCB) and the organization started helping me out, despite still not having a diagnosis or being labelled blind or legally blind (that status would not occur for another three to four years). Through the help of TCB I got introduced to the Talking Book Program, which introduced me to audiobooks. Again, I had to learn to “read” in a different way. But at least books were now available to me. I also received a Visual Tech machine that magnified a book’s content through a series of mirrors onto a monitor. This machine magnified a book’s words into large print. The book was placed on a sliding tray with the magnifying mirrors below the monitor. It was dizzying to read at times and hard to adjust to. It was a frustrating time in my life.
The goal of this new equipment was to ease me back into school again. With reluctance that happened before Christmas break. I was so scared. Here I was returning to school a whole other person, a different person than I’d left freshman year. I had no clue how I’d be treated or even how I’d get around the small high school campus.
- Roel -
(Part 3 of 4)
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