Cane Training For The Blind

CANE TRAINING

Overwork School for the Blind

Philadelphia, PA

1965

Red robins, daffodils, crocus: the first signs of spring for most people.  But for those of us who grew up near the Overbrook School for the Blind, there was another sign of spring: the first day of cane training.  In the early spring, each year, on the first nice day, we would hear the tapping of the cane on the sidewalks, followed by the crisp, authoritative commands of “right, no that’s your left.  Go right. Slower, not so fast. Pick yourself up.”

And then I would spot them: a young boy, maybe six, and an adult trainer trailing close behind him. The man would have one hand on the boy’s right shoulder, guiding him gently from the back.

Our neighborhood was old. So many of the trees had grown so much that their root system emerged under the sidewalk, causing most of these slabs of concrete to protrude inconsistently. This caused a challenge to all new students.  How do you blindly maneuver through a course that has so many obstacles?

The boy would fall down as my family and I watched him from our front porch.  It would be painful for all of us.  This boy would cry and want to give up. The instructor would help him up and set him back on course.  And we would grimace in sorrow and pity as the kid tried again and then fell again.

“No” said the instructor, “you have to pay attention. Make short gestures.  Keep your cane closer to your feet and then you’ll feel the bumps”.

It was hard to watch in the early spring. But as the season progressed, so did the student’s skills.  And eventually, he would figure out his stride and he would begin to master the cane.  And as he improved, we would sometimes call out words of encouragement. Or we would clap for him. And he would raise his cane in appreciation, not always sure exactly where we were. His head swiveled as he tried to locate our sounds.

By the end of the summer, he would finally be on his own.  The guide would walk ten feet behind him as he confidently walked the distance by himself. And when he reached this level of skill, we knew we would never see him again.  His training was complete.

And as this season ended, we knew it wouldn’t be long before we heard the first sounds of next spring and a new child, learning to be independent.