DIVIDE AND CONQUER
                       by Melissa Lagroue

     From the Associate Editor: One of the program items during
the morning session of the student seminar that took place
February 2, 1991, immediately preceding this year's Washington
Seminar, was a panel discussion comprised of three students who
have experienced discrimination of various kinds. Each spoke
eloquently of the experience and the emotional strain associated
with the event. Melissa Lagroue, one of the leaders of the
National Association of Blind Students and a 1988 National
Federation of the Blind scholarship winner, was the concluding
panelist. Here is her story as she told it to the audience that
morning: 
     As a lot of you know, I am an elementary education major.  
I don't think until this past September and October I really
experienced any sort of powerful emotion, exclusive of sympathy,
in regard to discrimination. This past summer I was accepted into
the Teacher Education Program at Birmingham Southern College,
where I attended. I didn't realize that there would be any
problems associated with the little piece of trivia I am about to
give you. 
     One of the professors was on sabbatical leave when the
decision to admit me was made. She returned a couple of days
before classes started this past September, and I was to take the
course Teaching Math to Children from her. After the first
meeting in each of my classes, I go to the professor to discuss
test-taking with him or her. So I did that on the first night of
class. I said, "Dr. Moore, how would you like me to take tests in
your class? Here are the options I have used before." And I gave
them to her. 
     She said, "I don't know how you are going to handle testing;
I don't know how you are going to handle doing papers; I don't
know how you are going to watch children; I don't know how you
are going to be able to make the games for this class; and I
don't understand why you are in teacher education at all." 
     I said, "Well apparently we are having some problems here,
and you clearly have some questions concerning my blindness. I'll
make an appointment with you. When would be the best time?" I
made the appointment with her for the following day. I walked
out, turned the corner, and burst into tears. I really felt that
she had undermined my confidence, and that wasn't the end of it.
I went to see her the next day and sat down. She asked me a few
questions about how I would grade papers and how I would write on
the chalkboard and that sort of thing. Then she said, "You know,
Melissa, the real problem I have is this: having a blind person
teach sighted children is quite like having a person who doesn't
know math trying to teach it." 
     I thought for a second, and it occurred to me that this
analogy breaks down. I said (trying not to be obnoxious, but the
temptation was really strong), "I'm not trying to teach them how
to see; I am trying to teach them how to read and write and do
math." 
     She sat there for a few minutes. Then she said, "Well,
Melissa, apparently we're just not going to agree on this, so I
am going to bring your Teacher Education Program application up
for review and see if we can get you out of the program." 
     I said, "Well, clearly I am not satisfied with that, and I
am going to do everything I can to make sure that it doesn't
happen. I am going to give the head of the department some names
and telephone numbers of blind teachers in the National
Federation of the Blind." And that's what I did. I went home,
called another professor in the department, and said, "Look, I
have to be kept up to date about what is going on in the
department and what everyone is saying." I really needed to know
that since I wouldn't be allowed to attend the meeting in which
my application would be reviewed. I wanted to make sure that,
whatever happened and whatever was said, I would have somebody
who would tell me about it. She said that she would. Then I
called Pat Munson [President of the National Association of Blind
Educators] and left a message on her answering machine requesting
some phone numbers. She called back, leaving a message on my
machine, and gave me several. 
     The following day I went to the head of the department (this
was a Wednesday, I guess) and said, "Here are these names and
numbers. I understand that we have a little problem with Dr.
Moore, and I think we ought to talk about it." 
     He said, "Yes, we have a large problem with Dr. Moore, and
I'm not very thrilled, as you might imagine, so I am going to
call some of these people before this meeting takes place and see
what I can learn." 
     I thought, "Hallelujah! somebody with some sense." I said,
"Look, in any case, I am going to write a letter to the dean
because if this reconsideration doesn't work out in my favor, I
want to have this event reported. I want to make sure that people
in the right places know what has happened." He said that was
fine. I told him that I would be glad to send him and Dr. Moore
copies. I was nice in my letter; I was very nice. I just
recounted what had happened, including the lovely math teacher
comment that Dr. Moore made. I also told the dean that I didn't
want any action immediately. I wanted the situation to be handled
calmly and tactfully. After all, she was still going to grade my
performance in the course. I sent the letter, and a couple of
days later I was walking across campus when the Dean yelled to
me. I stopped, then went over. He said, "Well, I had a discussion
with Dr. Moore." 
     I said, "Oh, that's nice. How did it go?" 
     He said, "I don't think you'll be having any more problems.
Has she apologized yet?" 
     The Department had a meeting in which my Teacher Education
Program application was reviewed, and apparently there was a
large shouting match among some of the professors. I'm still in
the Teacher Education Program, and I got an A-minus. I learned a
lot about discrimination firsthand. Before this experience, I
really hadn't felt strong emotion about it. But I took advantage
of a lot of Federation shoulders over the telephone. I cried a
lot because I had never had an experience in which not only my
confidence, but my future was threatened. I thought, if I can't
teach, what am I going to do? Teaching was all I ever wanted to
do. Then I decided, I will teach; there is no way I won't teach.
There are 50,000 people standing behind me saying you will teach,
and there is no way that this one professor is going to stop that
from happening. I realized that it was true. 
     Something else that has occurred to me is that
discrimination is not just an event. It's not just something that
happens to you. People who discriminate see the world--my place
in it and yours--in a completely warped fashion. I remember once
a science teacher brought in prism glasses that had been used in
a psychology experiment, and when we looked through them
everything appeared reversed.  It was very strange. That is what
this experience reminded me of. 
     We are not just fighting a bunch of ideas; we are fighting a
total world view. It is hard, and we have a long, long, long way
to go. But we have no choice. We cannot sit back and let people
go on seeing things this way. We cannot for our own sakes; we
cannot for our parents'; and we cannot for our kids'. There is
too much left to do, and it's going to be hard, but in all
honesty, what choice do we have? I hope that this weekend and the
week to come will be productive. I'm sure that they will. 
     We can't just stop at the conclusion of this seminar. We
have to go home and walk down the street and deal with the people
who grab us by the arm as if we were small children running out
in front of cars. We have to cope with the people that question
our judgment when we go to amusement parks and those who try to
keep us out of exit rows and put us into those obnoxious beeping
carts at airports. Then there are the special discounts on all
sorts of things that give the impression that blind people are
appropriate objects of pity. 
     We have all this to deal with every day when we go home. We
can't just say, as I have said, "I'm sick of educating the
public." Have you ever said that? "I'm tired of dealing with
these ignorant people. I'm sick of it." But we can't do that. We
have to educate; that's our job as members of the Federation,
every single one of us. When I think about the pain that
discrimination caused me on a very personal level, it only brings
home more forcefully the pain that it causes every single one of
us. That's the pain we have to get rid of. Thank you.