By Carrie Gilmer

When my son Jordan was in 7^th grade, he had the typical sewing project as all the other seventh graders at his school: a pair of pajama shorts.  As the class approached, his teacher of blind students at Northdale Middle School in the Anoka-Hennepin school district informed me that I should go out and buy “highly contrasting fabric and thread” for the project.  I was shocked.  Hardly believing what she suggested, my immediate response was to ask aloud, “Is that what blind people do? Wear clothing with highly contrasting fabric and thread?”  From discussion before and after this statement it appeared to me that this teacher (with decades of teaching experience) did not really know how blind people sewed.  She had voiced some exploratory suggestions of a few possible low-vision techniques that seemed poor and inadequate at best—and some, such as the contrast suggestion, seemed completely ridiculous.

Thankfully, at the time I knew very well that totally blind people sewed proficiently everyday according to their own purposes (personal or professional) using a few simple techniques and tools.  I also knew Betty Bishman, and that she regularly taught people to sew using absolutely no vision at all.  Jordan’s  teacher of blind students agreed to (and did) talk with Betty about the techniques, where to get the tools, and then was to inform and assist the classroom teacher in implementing them.  The teacher of blind students never did so; she abandoned the techniques and the tools and left Jordan and the classroom teacher to their own improvisations—using teacher guidance (meaning the classroom teacher doing steps for Jordan that other students did independently—which the nonvisual techniques would have allowed for), and in the end by drawing a bold marker line on the seams for him to follow visually.  He sewed the entire pair of shorts with his head tilted, forehead pressed against the machine while it was operating—straining to follow the marked lines.  No one told me of any of this!  Jordan never complained or told me he hadn’t gotten the nonvisual techniques or tools—he kept saying all was fine.  I found out when the shorts came home.  He had done this thinking he had to make the best of the only available option.  He had been determined to complete the same project as his classmates.  (Believe me we really worked hard on self-advocacy skills after this incident!) 

A year and a half later, in the summer after eighth grade, Jordan had the opportunity to learn how to sew—as a blind person—from Betty Bishman at Blindness: Learning in New Dimensions (BLIND).  He made a beautiful, perfect-fit, pair of pajama pants—this time including a pocket!—using no vision, independently!  He said it was MUCH easier nonvisually, more comfortable, faster (and, I thought, SAFER).  Betty’s love, encouragement, and matter-of-fact high expectations helped to heal the memory and experience of betrayal and low expectations he had received from his school district’s teacher of blind students.

He still wears both the shorts and the pants regularly.  Do you think he will ever forget the difference?  Not until the day he dies!  And that is how long we will think of Betty with fondness and gratitude.  What would Betty say?  She was simply doing her job.  She was simply teaching with an accurate view of blindness.  What had the teacher of blind students have to say?  She “couldn’t be expected to be everywhere,” and didn’t I realize that “Jordan likes to use his vision.”

For over a decade Betty Bishman showed blind student after blind student—hundreds of them—that they can cook virtually anything from grilled cheese to gourmet, and that they can sew or shop or totally manage their own homes; eyesight not necessary!

Betty was a dear to work with, and she was on duty 24/7/365 by choice, always giving 100% MORE than was asked or expected.  Whenever a student rang the Freedom Bell at BLIND after a major accomplishment, I noticed Betty’s face glowing with happiness for them as if it were the first time or the first student.

Betty’s retirement party was a night of great laughter and tears.  I salute you Betty! And I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you’ve done to bring my own son along on his path to personal freedom.