All in Seven Innings

All in Seven Innings

By Emily Zitek

(Editor’s Note:  This is the winner of our Metro Chapter’s 2015 essay contest.)

As blind individuals, some of us meet hundreds of people every day.  We may not know it, but the people we impact the most may be those we might interact with and not think of it until much later.  This happened to me one night in late August of 2014.  My husband had gotten four tickets to a Minnesota Twins baseball game, and he decided to invite one of his good customers from work, Juan, who brought his six-year-old son, Marcus, to the game.  Since I had gone to the Twins stadium straight from work, I brought my Braille notetaker along.  After all, it had an FM radio that allowed me to listen to the announcers announcing the game play-by-play.

It was one of those gorgeous, 70-degree nights we get during the summer when everyone says the weather is just perfect.  Juan and his son Marcus showed up at the game a little late, and when they got there, I was writing something down on my BrailleNote for work.  Like most children his age, he seemed very curious about the computer, and I explained how the BrailleNote is like a laptop computer, with a Braille display instead of a monitor that most people can see.  During the game, I grabbed my cane from under my seat so that I could go to the restrooms and then buy a hot dog.  By the time I got back, it was probably the fifth inning, and Marcus was getting a little restless.  It appeared to me that he was getting tired and wanted to go home.  But his dad was explaining how the cane works, and I stepped in and gave him more details after I sat down.  I really didn’t think Marcus would remember very much because of his restlessness, and his dad said he hadn’t been feeling well.  But just before the seventh inning began, I remember telling Marcus that one day there might be a blind student in his class, or that he might meet a blind person in his neighborhood.  I explained that being blind is okay and that he shouldn’t be afraid of a child because of their blindness.  I encouraged him to make conversations with a blind classmate or playmate if he meets one in the future, and maybe one day they could make friends.  At the bottom of the eighth inning, the four of us left, because it was a tie game, and we didn’t know how long the game could last.

Six months later, my husband came home and said that Juan had stopped by his store earlier that week and told him that Marcus’s teacher had mentioned something during a parent-teacher meeting.  His second-grade class was discussing the topic of blindness, and the teacher said that Marcus sort of took over the lecture.  He told his class about how a blind person uses the white cane to get around and that with the right training we can do just about anything we set our minds to.  He explained how he had met a blind woman at a baseball game who had had a “braille computer,” and that instead of forming letters on a monitor, it makes dots for the blind person to feel.

Although I had thought briefly about Juan and Marcus since that night, it had never dawned on me how much I had influenced Marcus.  Sometimes when we meet certain people, especially children, we may not realize how much just 15 or 20 minutes of simple education can change their views about blindness.  Although Juan seemed to have a good perspective on blindness himself, who knows what Marcus’s thoughts and attitude might have been if we hadn’t met.  By sharing his experiences with his class, he educated 15 or 20 second-graders who, for the most part, had never interacted with a blind person.  The next time I question whether someone is really listening and taking in what I have to show him or her, I’ll always give him or her the benefit of the doubt.  Sometimes we affect individuals or even groups in comfortable environments when we don’t even think about it.