VIDBE-Q Volume 66 Issue 4
By the time Eddie entered school, I was working to become a teacher of
students who are visually impaired (TSVI). I knew all of the education lingo, the
individualized education program (IEP) jargon, and I knew how to describe my son
to people. In pre-school, he loved Queen, and I was happy to share that detail with
others. However, when I was asked specifically how Eddie communicated, I was
unsure. He expressed himself through smiles, a couple words, and cries when he
was upset. I used real objects for making choices, but he had no abstract tools in
place. Although I was told Eddie had an extremely low intelligence quotient (IQ)
when he was six years old, I also did not know how to get his answer to a question.
To this day, I wonder how that assessment was done and if that professional felt
good about it.
Until Eddie was well into elementary school, I was cramming our world
down his throat. I wanted him to have access to everything! He should be in the
classroom, he should hear the stories, and he should have all the braille. To me, his
education was all about access, which is true. Yet, I was not focusing on the right
kind for this stage in his life. He was getting access to braille, auditory books, and
more. Everything was tactile and he had staff that loved working with him. Even as
a TSVI, I did not realize that access included communication, which may have
been why he exhibited more negative behaviors with age. As a newbie, I thought it
