You may be expecting stories about learning Braille, eating while blindfolded, leading persons with visual impairment up stairs properly, learning about technology and low vision aids, and watching talent shows or games of beepball. All interesting and informative stories (which I may describe at a later date), but the above are common experiences for anyone who works at a school for the blind. What follows are what I hope are unique lessons that I received, because I honestly wouldn't wish any of these on another human being.
Often when I told people that I worked at a school for blind kids, they asked me if I knew sign language. It was a frequent mistake, but one I never really understood. Perhaps watching a Helen Keller film is the closest that most people ever come to people who are blind or deaf, so they think most people are deaf-blind and must learn both sign language and Braille.
To add a complication to answering this question, I did know a limited amount of sign language, since I had a deaf friend when I was little. This gave me the important basics: "Want to play?" "I want a cookie." "Stop that now!" "Don’t do that!" "Shut up!" "You're weird." "Sorry." "Forget it." and "You're beautiful." And I could fingerspell words relatively quickly.
So my answer to "Do you know sign language?" always went a bit like this: "Yes, I do, because I had a deaf friend when I was a child. But the kids at my school can't see, so they learn Braille. And yes, I've learned some Braille since working there, but I read Braille by scanning it with my eyes not my fingertips. And I actually use sign language at work too, because my department shares a building with Deaf and Hard of Hearing Services."
I don't think I cleared up anyone's confusion with an answer like that.
It was convenient that I knew some sign language, because half the staff of Deaf and Hard of Hearing Services (DHHS) spoke in sign language. We communicated through a combination of signs, finger spellings, charades, and as a last resort - the written word. My days would have been very lonely if I hadn't been able to communicate with the people in the other department, because the members of my own department were usually out of the office and on the road.
The exception to this state of affairs was when my coworkers were hosting classes or conferences for teachers of students with visual impairments from across the state.
It was while one of these classes was being taught, that I witnessed a clash of cultures within our building. At break time, a group of blind adult students set out in search of a restroom and took a wrong turn into the DHHS area. Canes were swinging wildly narrowly missing the deaf employees, and the latter were unable to communicate and redirect the students. A true city of Babel.
I had to call out over the confused commotion and lead the bathroom seekers to the other end of the hall. And then return to apologize profusely in sign language. Luckily the words "very" and "sorry" were within my limited vocabulary.
Lesson #1: Without good directions and/or good communication, there is chaos.
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