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.