Oxford Blind Writers
Annette Hornsby
‘Blue Sky’ Thinking for the Sighted
‘Are you sure you don’t want to do computers?’ the student adviser asked
me. ‘The blind man who did the course really enjoyed it. We’ve never had
a blind person on this course before.’
My mind was made up. I would be that first blind person to succeed on a
Complementary Therapy Course (massage, aromatherapy). ‘Oh, well if it
gets too much for you, there’s always computers,’ said the very helpful
adviser.
I walked out of the office more determined than ever, but also very
aware that I risked facing my biggest fear of failing.
Getting accepted onto the Diploma Course was the first of many hurdles I
had to climb. The next problem was the dog. ‘You’ll have to take it over
to the field across the road to do its business,’ said the Department
Head. ‘And of course it can’t come into the salon as there might be
somebody allergic to dogs, and what if it has an accident on the carpet!
‘And there’s another problem, what if we have a fire – we’ll have to
take you down the stairs in the chair, and that would jeopardise two
people’s lives!’
I thanked her for her concern, and assured her I would be the first
person down the stairs, dog and all, and without a chair!
After my Guide Dog instructor had been to visit the college and assured
the authorities that guide dogs very rarely had accidents, and if a
student had an allergy, the room was big enough for them not to be near
the dog.
I was beginning to relax, as the problems were getting solved. The Guide
Dog instructor also pointed out that to expect a blind student to cross
a main road, then wait for her dog to spend, and get back into her
lecture in 10 minutes was impossible.
The pompous Head of Hair and Beauty Department eventually backed down,
and through gritted teeth, welcomed me. At that moment I knew we were
going to get on really well!
With eager anticipation my first day, in 16 years as a student, arrived.
I eventually found the room, only to be met with, ‘Oh no, that dog can’t
come in here, what about the hairs on the carpet? You’ll have to leave
it in Reception.’ This was the Head of Hair and Beauty speaking again.
I reminded her that it was a hair-cutting salon as well as a therapy
room, and that a few more hairs would make no difference. I then
produced a towel from my bag, and informed her that Ingrid would lie on
it, so as not to get any stains on her beautiful blonde coat, and sailed
past.
Only to be met with another lecturer, who said: ‘I’ve never taught a
blind person before. What do I do? Do you want to feel my face to see
what I look like?’ I smiled my sweetest smile, declined her offer and
thought to myself: ‘I can imagine what your face looks like perfectly
well, thank you!’
The following four years were full of hard work, hurdles and many
occasions where I had to solve the problems the lecturer threw up. ‘How
are you going to take notes? How will you see what I’m demonstrating?
How will you do your exams?’ And finally: ‘How will you do you
consultations?’
Eventually all my exams were over, the courses complete, and I stood in
front of the Principal with my Head of Department at my side, as I
received the Student of the Year award.
‘Annette has managed to overcome her handicap, and pass 6 Diplomas. It
has been a pleasure to teach her,’ she said.
Once again I put on my sweeter-than-sweet smile, thanked all the tutors
for their help and support, and thought to myself. ‘My biggest risk was
not the fear of failing, but of committing assault on the delightful
person at my side!’