Image of antique school desks.

School Of Hard Dots

The year is 1988. Billy Ocean is singing “Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car”. Steven Hawking has released A Brief History of Time. Rain Man is topping the box office. Big hair and thick scrunch socks are in. Partying involves the Blue Light Disco hosted at the local concert hall by the police. Google is not yet invented. Mobile phones are not on the market. A bag of hot chips costs less than a dollar. And this is high school. My Perkins Brailler, invented in 1951, yet still the most used mechanical braille writer in the world, weighing in at 4.8 kilograms thumps awkwardly against my thigh. Its bell tinging ever so slightly with the movement of my footsteps as I hurriedly lug it down the shabby corridor toward my designated room. It’s a room that by its very necessity marks me as someone who doesn’t belong, despite what my school uniform is designed to portray. It’s a room […]

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Image of a Labrador Guide Dog

How Much Is That Guide Dog In The Window

Shoulders back, drop your arm, soften your fingers, lengthen your torso, head up, feet together and most importantly relax, my instructor says, breathing out on that last word and chuckling at my awkwardness. It feels more like a ballet lesson with its graceful movements, flourishing gestures, precise foot positioning and adherence to protocol than a beginner’s class in mobility. I laugh nervously as I attempt to unwind my reluctant body into a more natural and sleek shape against the backdrop of my brand new guide dog. It’s a moment in time I thought and wished I’d never have to deal with. But here I am, wondering less about how it came to this and more about how it isn’t as earth shattering, soul destroying, dignity stealing and self-sacrificing as I’d expected. In other words, how come I’m still breathing? And why hasn’t the sky fallen in “Henny Penny” style as I’ve always predicted if this day ever came? I’d taken delivery […]

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