In middle and high school, I participated in both chorus and band, competed in cheerleading and track tournaments. I made my voice heard and raised money on the student council. The school I attended isn’t your everyday middle and high school; it’s a residential school for the blind. I’ve attended a public school, so I know first-hand what it’s like to be made fun of, not to have the resources necessary to succeed, and to be lost among the crowd of students that are nothing like me. Not only do I credit The Governor Morehead School for the Blind with allowing me to be an independent adult, I credit the school with my ability to have successful friendships, and my desire and ability to attend a university. The differences between public school and a residential school for the blind are drastic, and the list of differences is extensive.
Let’s start with independence. Unfortunately, for most children with disabilities, their parents want to protect them. They baby them, and shelter them, and when it’s time for that person to be independent, they don’t know how. Had I not attended The Governor Morehead School for the Blind, I strongly believe I would’ve been one of those children,. After graduating, I immediately started school at The University of North Carolina, at Pembroke. Unlike my peers, I was used to living away from my family. Therefore, I adapted to that aspect of college rather quickly. On the other hand, I was not as used to advocating for my needs as I may have been if I’d attended a public school; the crowds were very overwhelming for me. If I’d stayed in public school, I’m not sure if I would’ve even had the nerve to attend college. They also taught me the necessary mobility skills to survive, while living in a big city like Raleigh, which I’ve also done. When an abusive relationship forced me to temporarily put college on hold, I moved to Raleigh. I lived on my own in an apartment successfully for two years. Without the independent living and mobility skills I learned at GMS, this would not have been possible.
They called me “Captain Crunch”. As the captain of a champion cheerleading squad, I was very tough. I refused to allow people to goof off during practice. This earned me the title of “Captain Crunch”. I was also a great freestyle rapper, and for that I was known as “Queen J.” This is quite funny to me now, but this is an illustration of how accepted I was at The Governor Morehead School for the Blind. I was no different than my classmates or the classmates of someone six years younger than me. It was nice to feel that sense of belonging that I never experienced in public school. Sleep overs, athletic competitions, recreational events such as skating or going to the movies, are all things I was able to participate in at GMS. I dated, I did things I wasn’t supposed to do, and I was prom queen… all because I attended GMS. In public school, I was the weird kid, I didn’t have any friends, but at the school for the blind, I was Miss Popular, and therefore, was allowed to live the very same life most able-bodied children live. If I’d never had any friends, always been considered strange, I wouldn’t be as willing to socialize as I am today. I know I’d be less likely to participate in social gatherings. It’s safe to say, I’d be a completely different person.
Now, I’ll explain how attending GMS gave me the tools necessary to attend college. Though I am no genius, I have always done well academically. In fact, when I was in elementary school, I would get so bored by the content that I’d draw all over my papers. My teachers hated it, but I really didn’t care what they thought. Looking back, there are much worse things I could’ve done with my time. Attending GMS afforded me certain opportunities that wouldn’t have been available to me in public school. A great example of this is access to assistive technology. Though my public school had a computer lab, (I was required to take computer classes), I wasn’t able to independently use a computer until I began attending GMS. Suddenly, my knowledge of computers went from simply how to type to how to navigate and operate them on my own. Another way learning was made easier for me at The Governor Morehead School for the blind is that their knowledgeable staff was actually able to teach me braille. I am able to read and write print without many issues, but doing so for a long time is, and has always been, tiresome. My handwriting is also sloppy, and I read very slowly. Braille alleviated this problem. Suddenly, I was able to read and write much quicker; taking notes was a breeze. By the time I graduated as valedictorian of my class in 2006, I had an understanding of the different types of assistive technology, how to use it, and what works best for me. When I began attending college, it was important for me to know what my needs were, so I could advocate for myself and get the equipment necessary to complete my course work. None of this would’ve taken place for me in a public school setting.
As far as I’m concerned, the numerous educational and social benefits of attending a residential school far outweigh the negatives of attending such a school, but there were definitely difficulties. The older I got, the more the school felt like a prison. I understand they were only looking out for our safety (as well as covering their butts), but it made most students miserable. An example of this is the staff members. Not all of them were easy to work with. It is hard for anyone to be happy in an environment where they are constantly being yelled at, interrogated, or accused of things they didn’t do. Certain people who worked in the dorms were especially difficult to put up with. Rudeness and early mornings just don’t go together, and it is not necessary for one to plan out my entire evening. There were times we were forced to sit in the homework center for two hours, regardless of how much homework we had to do. I also had to get my first cell phone, because the school thought it’d be a good idea to install pay phones and require us to sign up to use them. This meant that, if your family wasn’t available during your time slot, you didn’t get to talk to them that day. There were rules surrounding the usage of cell phones, but I, just like many of my peers, refused to obey. A pass was required to go pretty much anywhere on campus, and if you weren’t where someone thought you were supposed to be, you’d get interrogated and/or accused of having ulterior motives for being out of place, even if you were given permission to do so.
The decision to remain in one's public school system or to enroll in a residential school for the blind, such as The Governor Morehead School for the blind is a very personal one, and should not be taken lightly. The individual who is blind or visually impaired, and their family should discuss the pros and cons of attending both types of schools before making a dicision. What is best for the visually impaired person should be the main factor in making a choice between public or residential school. It is also important to note that an individual's needs may change over time. Maybe they'll attend public school for awhile and then try a residential school setting, only to return to public school. That is perfectly acceptable, if that is what is right for the individual.
I hope you've enjoyed this post! :) If you have any questions about my experiences in either public school or at GMS, feel free to ask.