BABY-SITTING
                        by Barbara Walker

     From the Editor: In the National Federation of the Blind
there are three simple sentences which we have repeated among
ourselves and to others so often that they have become more than
words and more than slogans. Barbara Walker's story,
"Baby-Sitting," is a graphic demonstration of the truth of those
three sentences. Read her story. At the end of it you'll find the
three sentences I'm talking about. Incidentally, Barbara Walker
is one of the finest people I know.

     As I hung up the phone, I thought to myself, "I bet Sue has
no idea what she has just done." To her it was probably just
another routine thing to do. But as I told my husband about it, I
felt the warmth that true acceptance brings flowing through me
and giving a spark to my comments.
     "Jim," I said, "Sue just called and suggested that we have
our school parent-teacher conferences back to back so I can watch
Eric during hers and she can watch Marsha and John during ours.
She asked if I would arrange it since she's real busy at work
during Larry's free time."
     It was a routine call about a routine matter for parents. So
what was I so thrilled about? It was the first time anyone had
talked to me about watching their children without commenting in
some way or expressing some apprehension about my blindness. Sue
did tell me later that people had asked her about how she could
trust me to watch Eric. She had told them that all she knew was
that my children seemed fine and well cared for to her and
whenever she wanted to know specifically how I did things she
asked. 
     Unfortunately, Sue is still an exception in this and many
other everyday circumstances for the blind. But people like her
help people like me deal with the more typical approaches we
face, such as that with Chong.
     Chong, like Sue and several others, had been providing rides
for my children to and from pre-school. Occasionally, she would
invite my children to play with hers after school and then bring
them home. They enjoyed it, and as they got to know Jenny and
Bryan better, wanted to have them to our house. The first couple
of times I asked Chong about it, the reasons they couldn't seemed
plausible. But by the third time, it seemed that perhaps reasons
were becoming excuses. My children began wondering aloud why
Chong's children couldn't play at our house. At one point, Marsha
said she thought Jenny was disappointed about not coming. I
thought about blind friends who had talked about this kind of
thing. Now it was happening to me. Perhaps we were all paranoid
and jumping to conclusions. I thought of Sue and decided we
weren't.
     The next time I talked to Chong, I said that my children
loved to play at her house, but they were wondering why they
could never play with Jenny and Bryan at ours. I talked about
Jenny's apparent disappointment. Then I took the plunge and asked
if my blindness had anything to do with it. She said shyly, "No,
not really." I said that if it felt uncomfortable to her, I would
be glad to explain how I do things or answer questions. I told
her I am used to doing that. She said she didn't have any
questions, and we arranged for a time for them to come.
     On the day that they were to come, she called and said that
Bryan was sleeping late and she would prefer not to wake him. I
said we weren't on a schedule that would make their coming later
a problem. I was relieved when she agreed to that.
     When they arrived, I explained to them in their mother's
presence that I was going to put bells on their shirts so I would
be able to hear where they were going. I also explained my rule
about answering when I call their name unless we were playing
hide and seekūsomething which is only done with everyone knowing
before the game starts.
     From the time their mother left until she returned,
three-year-old Jenny asked almost nonstop questions about my
blindness. She wanted to know how I kept track of things, how I
got food, how I knew where I was going, how I read stories, how I
knew what color things were, how I picked out my clothes, how I
washed myself and my children, how I knew who people were, etc.
When I changed her two-year-old brother's diaper, she watched
with keen interest as I cleaned him and snapped up his clothes.
The children all had a good time.
     When Chong came to get Jenny and Bryan, I told her what a
good time we had all had. I said Jenny had asked a lot of
questions and had been very interested in how I do things. I then
told her what Jenny had asked and how I had answered. She
listened intently, occasionally adding a comment or question of
her own. As they prepared to leave, Jenny, who had been in the
other room with my daughter during most of Chong's and my
conversation, talked excitedly to her mother about my ways of
doing things, most of which were just like hers.
     I had the distinct impression that Chong and Jenny had
wondered to each other about things before coming to our house.
Both the bubbly three-year-old and the reserved mother seemed
pleased about learning new things, and our relationship
thereafter was much more relaxed and comfortable.
     Since that time, I have had many opportunities to supervise
other people's children. Sometimes the parent or parents have
been immediately receptive to trade-offs such as the one Sue
initiated with me. Sometimes it has taken direct conversations or
recommendations from others to help parents feel comfortable
about my watching their children. There continue to be a few who
just won't do it.
     My perspective on this is that we, through our everyday
lives, are making progress. I am glad there are people like Sue
to provide a balance for those who won't accept our lives for
what they are. Sue and others like her give substance to our
acceptance of ourselves as part of the mainstream of society. I
also appreciate those like Chong who are willing to listen and
change their minds about us. Without them, the progress we're
making would not be possible. 
     Most of all, I applaud children for their willingness to ask
questions and remind us that change is occurring through them. As
they expect us to take charge, we find it more possible to do so.
As they challenge us to live what we say, we reach to do that,
too. As we in the National Federation of the Blind share our
experiences with each other and with the rest of society, we will
find encouragement and the strength to continue to educate
ourselves so that the success of acceptance will breed success.
It is a privilege to be a part of the process.
     As we in the National Federation of the Blind have learned
so well, the real problem of blindness is not the loss of
eyesight. The real problem is the misunderstanding and lack of
information which exist. If a blind person has proper training
and opportunity, blindness can be reduced to the level of a
physical nuisance.