The United States edition of The Guardian is looking for stories from people who feel they’ve struggled to find or secure work because of their disability, but if you want your story included, you’re going to have to write it quickly: The deadline to submit is this Thursday, February 23, at midnight.

Have you struggled to find or secure work because of your disability? Do you keep your disability hidden from your employer? Have you experienced bullying or harassment at work? If you have a disability at work, The Guardian wants to hear from you.

You can even submit your contributions anonymously using their online form, just make sure you submit it by Thursday at midnight. The Guardian plans to publish an edited selection on their Careers site this Friday, February 24, 2017, as part of its disability at work week, and they might share contributed stories across social media as well.

Employment and having a disability (I have Asperger’s syndrome) can be a tricky combination. It can be even more difficult to navigate when one doesn’t know they are on the autism spectrum. I navigated my first several jobs not knowing (I was diagnosed at age 20).

With that said here are five things I wish I knew about having a job then that I know now.

1. Chain of command.

At every job I had I didn’t understand that there was a chain of command. When I worked at the video game store I emailed corporate through the chain’s internal network. Well, I actually emailed the CEO fearlessly not knowing I was out of place. However, they listened and changed a policy! I was also told not to email them again.

2. Small talk.

When I worked at the bowling alley and then the video game store I didn’t understand why my coworkers would try and chit chat about things I deemed irrelevant. Actually, I took this as a sign of the utmost disrespect because I thought, “How dare they talk to me about such things because I’m at work to work.” This isn’t to say that a person should go to work to talk, but I didn’t understand that they were trying to be my friend by talking to me about non-work related topics.

3. It’s okay to ask for help.

I worked at a racing shop as the office manager and the owner would often give me a long list of things to do such as, “Go into the shop, find this item and that item, then put them in a box, and mail them to so and so at their alternate address.” I didn’t realize I have some auditory processing delays and that anything after the first directive became lost on me. But did I write this down? No, I didn’t and I would always have to go back and ask again, and again. This angered him, but I could’ve helped myself by asking for help before I went searching by asking him to write it down instead of trying to do it without assistance.

4. If possible, find a job that is in an area of interest.

This is critical, but can’t always be done. However, if it can be, motivation is going to be higher. My second job was at a video duplicator (remember VHS tapes?) that saw me load 85 VHS tapes into VCRs, wait an hour, take those tapes out, label them, box them, ship them, repeat eight times a day. I will say I loved the routine of it and I got highly efficient at it, but it wasn’t something that I had interest in. This isn’t to say every job is going to be enjoyable, but if one is looking for a career long term then if it’s in an area of high interest the chances of burnout will decrease. The video duplicator job lasted no more than four months.

5. Team effort.

My hobby job now is that I am the flagman for two national racing series. When I first landed these jobs I was quiet about my diagnosis because I didn’t want them to think less of me. It was kind of hard to hide and when I opened up I let them know my strengths and my weaknesses. It was the best thing I’ve done because as we grow the amount of awareness and understanding out there, people are going to be more accommodating and understanding. I’m no longer put into situations that I can’t do and am instead put into areas where my strengths show. I know not every place of employment is going to be that way, but as they become so I hope the strengths of us all will have the ability to shine much, much brighter.

Aaron Likens, author of Finding Kansas: Decoding the enigma of Asperger’s Syndrome, and the National Autism Ambassador for Easterseals, has spoken to over 80,000 people at over 900 presentations and has given to the world a revelation of how the Autism Spectrum Disorder mind works. His willingness to expose his inner most thoughts and feelings has unveiled the mystery the Asperger’s mind. Join him on his journey from hopelessness to hope.

This is part two of Ali’s interview story. You can catch part one here, where she walks us through her job search experience.

On the day of my job interview, I turned from nervous to excited. At least, while I was on the bus.

I had scheduled the ride well in advance. They usually drop off all the on-campus riders before the off-campus ones, but that day, even though the other passenger was staying on campus, the driver went out of his way to drop me off first. This was a job interview, and the driver agreed with me that the earlier I got there, the better.

When we arrived, the driver led me in the building, and that’s when the excitement turned to nervousness. Remember: I hadn’t told them ahead of time that I was blind, so I’d be walking in with my cane and they were going to have to interact with me face-to-face.

Or were they? What if they told me to leave? Would they really tell me that? Why might they? All these thoughts were circulating around my head when the driver approached someone at the desk and told them I was here for an interview. I took it from there — I can speak for myself.

The receptionist hesitated a moment. “You’re here for the job?” she asked, and I couldn’t tell if maybe it was just me over-analyzing it or if she actually sounded skeptical. Like, skeptical of my ability or something. I gave a confident smile and said yes. She told me to sit down. I politely asked her to lead me to a chair, and she acted flustered while giving me directions.

Once I was seated, she then gave me the name of the person who would be interviewing me. My heart sank. It was the same person I’d talked to on the phone, the one I didn’t want to talk to now. But I had to. I plastered on a smile and said, “Okay, thanks.”

When the interviewer explained the job, he said material had to be “sent over” to a department where data is collected. I am familiar with Microsoft Excel and spreadsheets, that sort of thing, but the guy said they don’t have the type of software I would need to do the job. He practically dismissed me right then and there.

I think I took this all well, though. I thanked him for his time, and I also made him aware that a lot of blind people do search for jobs. I told him it’s very possible that I’m not the only blind person he will see interviewing for this job. I recommended he call the Disability Resource Center here on campus. If nothing else, maybe they’ll have a software recommendation.

When I walked out of the office, though, I was very discouraged. I called the bus driver, and when I told him I was ready for a ride home, he said, “You’re done already?” The interview was supposed to last a half-hour. It had only been ten minutes. I could tell the driver knew from my voice it did not go well. “I’m on my way,” he said.

I called my boyfriend Joe from the bus, of course. This was one of those days where being blind is really difficult. It doesn’t normally bother me. Sometimes I just have minor mishaps throughout the day where I think, “This would be easier if I could see,” but this… this felt different. It sort of shook my confidence for a while.

When I told all this to Joe, he sympathized. He said he was sorry it didn’t go well, but he was proud of me for putting myself out there and getting the experience. He also took the time to remind me of a talk we had a while ago about the advantages of being blind.

It’s something I try to remember when I have these type of days.

Today’s guest blogger Bryana Peters studies animal science at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign. After graduate school, Bryana hopes to train service dogs, especially diabetic alert dogs like her own Labrador Retriever Leanna.

Leanna (left) and Bryana (right)

by Bryana Peters

If you were to take a screenshot of me right at this moment, I look entirely able-bodied. What the picture fails to represent is my pancreas failing me, my severe knee pain from a chronic pain disorder, my back aching from two bulging discs, and my left ankle swelling in my boot from complex regional pain syndrome, a disorder of the nervous system.

Many of my friends and peers are simply unaware of how difficult it is to exist with all of these disabilities. I have been in and out of hospitals since birth, had major back surgery when I was 16, and I experience a wide array of pain while presenting a picture of youth and happiness to the world.

Last year in June I started working with a service dog. Trained by Power Paws Assistance Dogs in Arizona, Leanna is primarily my diabetic alert dog, but she does light mobility work for me, too.

Working with a service dog has changed my life. She is my greatest asset when it comes to managing my multiple disabilities. She gives me much more independence and a sense of safety.

But here’s the problem: because I look able-bodied, I am often asked an assortment of borderline intrusive questions. Some examples:

• Who are you training her for?
• What’s wrong with you?
• Well, why do you need the dog?

Having Leanna by my side has presented a unique set of complications, no matter our situations. Many assume I am faking it, regardless of how well Leanna is behaving. Gaining access to many locations, including airports, for example, is met with skepticism. I am allowed to enter, albeit begrudgingly, once I explain the law. From there, I am stalked with peering eyes looking for any chance of a mistake – either on my own part, or on Leanna’s doing.

So it is absolutely exasperating for me to see other individuals with small dogs barely in a heel, barking at my service dog as we walk into a movie theater. On a plane, Leanna is in a tight tuck at my feet (left), sleeping, while a dog wearing a service dog vest jumps on people and begs them for food. Later, I hear barks and whines from their general direction.

I fight hard to teach the general public about service dogs and all the incredible work they can do, yet it is often an uphill battle. People who believe that their pet needs to be by their side at all times jeopardize my own and Leanna’s health and well-being. Many assume bringing a pet into a store or faking disabilities is a victimless crime. That could not be further from the truth.

Those of us in the service dog bubble have heard about Delta Airlines new stricter rules concerning Emotional Support Animals and service dogs boarding their planes. Essentially, Delta grew tired of passengers presenting untrained pets as service animals, and now they’re cracking down. I understand their frustration — it is one I share with them wholeheartedly.

Those who are blessed enough to receive a service dog to assist us to navigate our unconventional worlds have yet more mountains to climb due to others selfishness. Leanna and I are just starting our adventure together. I can only hope that those of us with real service dogs can reach a clear understanding with those who do not have them as to what the laws and expectations are. I am grateful to be able to pilot this world with four paws by my side.

More posts about service dogs:

• Why You Should Think Twice About Faking a Service Dog
• Stricter Rule for Service Dogs Goes Against the ADA
• A Tribute to a Seeing Eye Dog

My Seeing Eye dogs and I have visited dozens of elementary schools over the years that pair average kids with students who have disabilities in “buddy” programs. The school Whitney and I are visiting today takes that idea one step further.

At Glen Grove Elementary in Glenview, Illinois, students are paired with a fellow student who has a disability, but then these fifth-graders interview family members and others who spend time outside of school with their “buddy,” too. The students use iPads to record video of those interviews, and by combining them with video of their own interactions with their buddies, they create documentaries presented at the end of the school year.

The idea is the brain child of Glen Grove fifth-grade teacher Amanda Martinsen, who was awarded a Human and Civil Rights Award from the Illinois Education Association for a project the IEA described as “life-changing for students with conditions that sometimes make it difficult for them to connect with others.” A story from the Chicago Tribune explains:

“The Nora Project grew out of Martinsen’s concern that students like her cousin’s daughter who have Down syndrome, cerebral palsy, autism and a host of other medical conditions often experience difficulty making connections and friendships with other students in school.

Martinsen said she agreed that the project has been “life-changing” for many students, but not just those with special needs.

‘The change we’ve seen from students is they’re so much more aware of kids with special needs that are different from them,’ she said. ‘They are so much more accepting.’

One student said she had heard the term Down syndrome, but didn’t know what it was, Martinsen said.

‘She said she never thought she would have been friends with someone with Down syndrome, and now she is,’ she said. ‘I see them interacting with many kids. They’re high-fiving each other, asking how their day is.'”

As for me, I’ve been asked to come to Glen Grove Wednesday to share tips on using respectful language and appropriate questions during the interviews they’ll be doing with their buddy’s family members and friends. I’ll tell you one thing: I’m pretty sure I’ll learn more from these fifth graders and their buddies than they will from me!

Mrs. Martinsen’s award-winning project is named for her niece, Nora. To learn more about the Nora Project, visit thenoraproject.ngo. Documentaries produced by the students are available there under the Nora Friends tab.

Two years ago Alicia Krage wrote a guest post for our Easterseals national blog about some of the challenges and joys of being – and dating — someone who’s blind. She and Joe are still together, and I asked her if she’d be willing to write a post for Valentine’s Day with advice for others on how to keep a long relationship like theirs stay strong. Lucky for us, she said yes!

Ali and Joe.

by Alicia Krage

In the spirit of Valentine’s Day, I’m writing a post that focuses less on my disability and more on the foundation of the relationship that my boyfriend Joe and I have built. Joe and I have been together nearly three years now, and I’ve learned a lot of things during that time.

As it goes with any relationship, we’ve had our ups, downs, and obstacles. And we’ve had to make compromises. Over the years I’ve used what I’d learned from previous relationships to strengthen this one. Some of the things I learned were simple, some were difficult, and today I hope my nine tips might help readers who are in a longer relationship keep it going:

1. Prioritize and make time for each other. You’d be amazed at how little time Joe and I get with each other sometimes. There have been plenty of days when we were both so busy that the only time we saw each other was when we had dinner together at the dining hall for about 30 minutes. After that, it was back to schoolwork. Once things calmed down, we used our next free day to do a date night. Dinner, a movie, or sometimes we’d just have our own game nights here in the dorm. The goal is always the same: quality time together.
2. Remember that while you are partners, you are also friends. Having known Joe for seven years now, it’s weird to picture a time when he wasn’t in my life. Something that has always been a comfort to me is that we were best friends first. Date nights are fun, keeping the romance alive is important, but I also think it’s important to remember that you’re also friends. I love those moments that remind me that he’s honestly and truly my best friend in the entire world, and there’s nothing I can’t tell him. Heart to hearts at 1am will always be one of my favorite things to share with Joe.
3. Relationships are not always sunshine and rainbows. Relationships are hard and they take work. I’m usually the type of person that wants to solve things as soon as possible when we’re in a fight — I really hate going to sleep sad or angry. But sometimes it happens. Taking time to breathe, to calm down, and wait until you’ve worked out what you want to say before talking things over (without shouting) is much more effective than trying to solve it ASAP when your words aren’t coming out right.
4. Communication is key. Since we are both blind, I feel like this is even more important. We can’t look at the other person’s face right after we’ve said something to see their reaction, to know if they’re offended, or if something’s just not okay and they’re having a bad day. We need to communicate these things, because otherwise we literally have no way to know.
5. Encourage one another during new or challenging experiences. Joe and I have gone to a lot of new places — some local, some not — and it’s nice when one person is more encouraging and has a positive attitude about it. Whenever Joe has an idea of going somewhere or doing something new (the first time we went to the movies, for example) I’m always a bit nervous and instantly start worrying about what will go wrong. Joe always says the same thing: “We’ll figure it out.” I can hear the smile in his voice when he says this, and it’s all the assurance I need. There will be obstacles, but we’ll figure them out as we go.
6. Don’t just be comfortable with one another and slip into the same day-to-day routine. Surprise one another with things. Occasionally, when I’m picking up a cup of coffee for myself from Dunkin Donuts, I’ll grab a hot chocolate for Joe on the way out. Sometimes Joe comes back to the dorms with Culver’s custard for me. It’s nice to know that while you’re off doing your own thing, someone else is thinking about you.
7. Balance is key. You can have your own life and your own friends, and you should also want time to yourself. You should unapologetically want that extra space. Sundays are typically that day for me – homework at a coffee shop in the morning, relaxing in the afternoon, and then we usually meet up later in the evening for dinner at the dining hall. We need time to ourselves. Time to ourselves is important.
8. Be spontaneous. Don’t go to the same places all the time – try something new. One morning Joe and I went to a bagel shop that I discovered online — I’d read good reviews about it on Yelp. Now we go there on Saturdays. Not every Saturday, but on Saturdays when time allows.
9. Bring back some memories sometimes. Joe and I have had a lot of time together, and it’s nice to take a trip down memory lane. I still remember the precise day we had our first date (March 28, 2015) and where it was (IHOP). Now, every year on that same day, we have dinner at IHOP just like we did that night. Of course it’s different now, but it’s nice to go somewhere that brings back memories and takes us back to where it all began.

More posts by Alicia:

• How One Student Who is Blind Planned the Perfect Date
• “Dating someone who is blind is honestly not as hard as it sounds”
• Do I prefer to date people who are blind or not?

February is Black History Month and at this time I find myself reflecting on prolific leaders who have come before me. Teachings of the past shape our present. This is something I’ve always known, but it is a truth that holds more significance as I embark on a new journey as President and CEO of Easterseals. In particular, Martin Luther King, Jr.’s legacy has always held a special place in my heart and inspired how I lead.

Dr. King’s great dream of a vibrant, multiracial nation united in justice, peace and reconciliation included a place at the table for children of every race and ability. I believe we are called this Black History Month, not merely to honor and remember, but to celebrate the values of equality, tolerance and inclusivity he so compellingly expressed in his great dream for America.

Over the course of human history, we’ve seen pieces of that dream come into fruition — witnessed the power of collective human will for good. But we’ve also seen the destruction of individuals, families and entire communities as a result of intolerance and exclusivity.

As I read Dr. King’s writings, speeches and interviews, I am struck by his eloquence. I am struck by his power and passion to speak truth and life into a world that sometimes fails to acknowledge the worth and dignity of all people.

Dr. King called us to “all learn to live together as brothers or we will all perish together as fools. We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality.”

If this is true, at what point do we citizens in this society recognize that “a house divided cannot stand?”

Dr. King once said that we all have to decide whether we “will walk in the light of creative altruism or the darkness of destructive selfishness.” Life’s most persistent and nagging question, he said, is `what are you doing for others?’

This Black History Month, I want you to ask yourself these questions:

• How do I show love to my neighbors who don’t look like me or are not in my sphere of influence?
• How do I show love to my colleagues at work? To family members?
• Am I love in action?

I believe that not only the course of history, but this very moment, can be shaped by acknowledgement and acceptance of your duties and responsibilities to be “love in action.” I have the audacity to believe that peoples everywhere, of all abilities, can have three meals a day for their bodies, education and culture for their minds, dignity, and equality – and that we all have a part in creating such a world.

Easterseals believes in this too. We believe all people should have the opportunity to reach their full potential and be their greatest self – just as Martin Luther King did. It is why we wake up every morning. We strive to be love in action. Will you join us?

North American music fans know Mandy Harvey from her stunning appearance on America’s Got Talent. The 19-year-old was pursuing a music career when a rapid decrease in her hearing left her completely deaf. Her memoir, Sensing the Rhythm, was recently reviewed on a blog called Life Unscripted: Life as I See it…or Don’t.

I’ve always appreciated the way Life Unscripted reviews books about disabilities, and when I asked if we could publish an excerpt here, they generously said yes. I hope you’ll read to the very end — the final line says it all.

Sensing the Rhythm: Finding My Voice in a World Without Sound

By: Mandy Harvey and Mark Attberry

The publisher of Sensing the Rhythm summarizes Mandy Harvey’s memoir as “a deeply moving story about Mandy’s journey through profound loss, how she found hope and meaning in the face of adversity, and how she discovered a new sense of passion and joy.” Even though the publisher’s summary talks a lot about inspiration and overcoming adversity, I found this short book more approachable and relatable than I expected to.

Initial Impressions

I chose to listen to this book in audio format, narrated by Mandy herself. Mandy’s narration lends additional warmth to her breezy, accessible style of writing. I was immediately transported to an unforgetable performance where, without words, all musicians knew exactly where to be and what to do.

We are taken on Mandy’s journey with her – from the rapid decrease in her hearing to her time of depression to her discovery that she could still sense the rhythm of music. I laughed and cried with Mandy, and some portions of her journey really made me think. I found this short book more approachable and relatable than I expected to.

Disability Identity

Mandy chooses to communicate using sign language, something she thought was important to use during her performance. Her deafness is as much a part of herself as her musicianship, and I found myself feeling a complicated sense of sorrow and frustration when Mandy relates her experiences in early college as her hearing loss was progressing. She asked for an accommodation to learn an assignment and was denied that request.

When students stood up for her, she admitted feeling like a burden, feeling uncomfortable, feeling like her hearing loss made her stand out. I found myself relating to and frustrated by her feelings of her disability experience and the reactions of those around her.

More than Disability

Yes, Mandy is deaf, and yes, she’s a musician. But she has some insights about life that are not exclusively disability-related. In particular, I found her formula for success to be an incredibly insightful look at talent and determination. Her hard-won insights on supporting a loved one through a life-changing event — based on what she found helpful and what she didn’t — may not be revolutionary, but they are told in a gentle and powerful way.

Mandy neither makes herself out to be a saint or a martyr, but as a woman who has made mistakes and chosen to learn from them. There are some portions of her book that some might find preachy (Mandy is a born-again Christian), but they are generally interwoven with her own lived experiences, adding to their tapestry rather than jutting out at odd angles.

Conclusion

I usually prefer longer books and getting to know characters and real people. But Sensing the Rhythm is a short tome that I’m glad I picked up. It’s not a literary masterpiece, but it can be as easy or as profound as you, the reader, make it out to be.

Much like all of us.

The fifth graders at Glen Grove school.

Early last month we published a post I wrote about a trip my Seeing Eye dog and I were taking to a school in the Chicago suburbs. The fifth graders we were visiting that day at Glen Grove Elementary are working with the Nora Project. They’ve already been paired with a student who has special needs, and now these ten and eleven-year olds seem excited – yet understandably nervous – to start interviewing their buddy’s family members and others who spend time with their buddy outside of school. As a writer/journalist who has conducted hundreds of interviews, I was there to answer their questions and quell their nerves.

These students will be using iPads to record video of the interviews they do. Soon they’ll combine footage from the interviews with video of their own interactions with their buddies. The documentaries they create from all this footage will be presented at an assembly towards the end of the school year.

The only way I know to explain how their curiosity about my blindness intertwined with their concerns about the upcoming interviews is to look over some of the questions they asked during the Q&A part of my presentation:

• You say in your Safe & Sound book that you take your dog’s harness off when you get home. How do you get around your house by yourself?
• What would be the best questions to ask to get the best answers from the Nora Project parents?
• You can’t see, so what sense do you rely on the most?
• If you tell your dog to sit, and you can’t see the dog, how do you know it’s sitting?
• What did it feel like when you found out you were blind?
• You and your husband were both working when you found out you were blind, and then they fired you, so what was that like with money?
• How do you know what you’re wearing?
• How can we ask questions to get long answers?
• Do you remember what your childhood was like?
• What do you do if someone answers your question wrong?
• If you were never blinded, which would you rather be: a cat person, or a dog person?
• When you’re asking somebody something, how can you tell if the question is a rude question or a curious question?
• You look great in that shirt!

That last one was a statement, not a question, but I didn’t correct the student who said it. I just thanked him…and blushed. I absolutely love this Nora Project. Playing a very small part of it during that visit earlier this month was an honor.

To learn more about the Nora Project, visit thenoraproject.ngo. Documentaries produced by students from previous years are available there under the Nora Friends tab.

Once I settled in after transferring colleges, I decided it was time to apply for a job. 

Despite some accessibility issues with the application, I was able to apply for a job I thought I was well qualified for. A week went by with no word, but I was so busy with schoolwork that week that I actually forgot about it.

I received a phone call the next week, but when I didn’t recognize the number that came up on the caller ID, I didn’t answer. I checked the voicemail they left me, though, and when I found it was from the place where I had recently applied, I immediately called them back.

The person on the phone told me that they got my voicemail and asked if I was still interested in the job. I said I was. They discussed the number of hours and where they were located.

While we conversed, I noticed they didn’t sound very pleasant, almost annoyed or bored like they didn’t actually want to be talking to me. But I ignored that, because I really did want this job. I went along with it, but I did secretly hope this wouldn’t be the person doing the interview.

After the interview was set up, I was overjoyed. I was also nervous, though, because there was a pressing issue that was nagging at me: Do I tell the employer that I’m blind? If I were to tell them, they’d know ahead of time and could think about accommodations, if there needed to be any. They could also jump to the conclusion that I was incapable of doing the job before even having met me. What to do?

Finding a job can be a problem for people who are blind or visually impaired. The American Federation of the Blind reports that 75 percent of the estimated 4 million adults in the U.S. who are blind or visually impaired are not in the labor force.

I had asked my boyfriend for his input, as well as a few of my friends that are also blind. I wanted to gain their perspective. They all said that ultimately, it was up to me. This didn’t help! For some reason, I wanted someone to tell me exactly what to do. When I told my parents about the interview, I asked them the same thing, and they gave me the same answer. So I finally decided on my own: I wasn’t going to tell them.

The day before the interview, I received a call from the same person saying a snowstorm was on the way. They’d already been informed that my university would be closing the next day, so we needed to reschedule the interview.

So, we rescheduled it for February 13th. That gave me four days to prepare, but also an extra four days to just wait. I’m not good at waiting.

Stay tuned for part two of Ali’s story, where she shares her interview experience!

This is part two of Ali’s interview story. You can catch part one here, where she walks us through her job search experience.

On the day of my job interview, I turned from nervous to excited. At least, while I was on the bus.

I had scheduled the ride well in advance. They usually drop off all the on-campus riders before the off-campus ones, but that day, even though the other passenger was staying on campus, the driver went out of his way to drop me off first. This was a job interview, and the driver agreed with me that the earlier I got there, the better.

When we arrived, the driver led me in the building, and that’s when the excitement turned to nervousness. Remember: I hadn’t told them ahead of time that I was blind, so I’d be walking in with my cane and they were going to have to interact with me face-to-face.

Or were they? What if they told me to leave? Would they really tell me that? Why might they? All these thoughts were circulating around my head when the driver approached someone at the desk and told them I was here for an interview. I took it from there — I can speak for myself.

The receptionist hesitated a moment. “You’re here for the job?” she asked, and I couldn’t tell if maybe it was just me over-analyzing it or if she actually sounded skeptical. Like, skeptical of my ability or something. I gave a confident smile and said yes. She told me to sit down. I politely asked her to lead me to a chair, and she acted flustered while giving me directions.

Once I was seated, she then gave me the name of the person who would be interviewing me. My heart sank. It was the same person I’d talked to on the phone, the one I didn’t want to talk to now. But I had to. I plastered on a smile and said, “Okay, thanks.”

When the interviewer explained the job, he said material had to be “sent over” to a department where data is collected. I am familiar with Microsoft Excel and spreadsheets, that sort of thing, but the guy said they don’t have the type of software I would need to do the job. He practically dismissed me right then and there.

I think I took this all well, though. I thanked him for his time, and I also made him aware that a lot of blind people do search for jobs. I told him it’s very possible that I’m not the only blind person he will see interviewing for this job. I recommended he call the Disability Resource Center here on campus. If nothing else, maybe they’ll have a software recommendation.

When I walked out of the office, though, I was very discouraged. I called the bus driver, and when I told him I was ready for a ride home, he said, “You’re done already?” The interview was supposed to last a half-hour. It had only been ten minutes. I could tell the driver knew from my voice it did not go well. “I’m on my way,” he said.

I called my boyfriend Joe from the bus, of course. This was one of those days where being blind is really difficult. It doesn’t normally bother me. Sometimes I just have minor mishaps throughout the day where I think, “This would be easier if I could see,” but this… this felt different. It sort of shook my confidence for a while.

When I told all this to Joe, he sympathized. He said he was sorry it didn’t go well, but he was proud of me for putting myself out there and getting the experience. He also took the time to remind me of a talk we had a while ago about the advantages of being blind.

It’s something I try to remember when I have these type of days.

Thanks to Vivette Rifkin and other readers, students with visual impairments got their textbooks in audio on a timely basis.

I’m giving a talk at the University of Illinois Chicago (UIC) this afternoon to honor a woman who helped young people with visual impairments and other disabilities make it through school 50+ years ago.

Some background about the woman the seminar is named for: Vivette R. Rifkin (1911 – 2007) founded Educational Tape Recording for the Blind in the 1960s to help her daughter Jill and countless other people with visual impairments and other disabilities succeed at school. Jill was born prematurely and was left with badly impaired vision. In her younger years Jill attended a special school for children who had disabilities, and when she expressed a desire to attend her neighborhood high school and go on to college, her mother helped by recording textbooks for her. When her daughter started at University of Missouri, Mrs. Rifkin and her team started recording textbooks for students all over the country. From the Chicago Tribune:

What made Mrs. Rifkin’s firm especially valuable was its quick turn-around on book orders. Employing a team of volunteers, and recording for five hours a day herself, Mrs. Rifkin would get students and others the books they needed, even lengthy tomes on science and other subjects, in a matter of days.

Vivette Rifkin herself never had the chance to go to college, but in 1999 the University of Illinois at Chicago (UIC) awarded her an honorary doctorate of humane letters. After Mrs. Rifkin’s death in 2007, her family established the Vivette R. Rifkin Seminar at the University of Illinois at Chicago.

Late last year I was contacted by Keenan Cutsforth, Assistant Dean for Advancement at the UIC College of Applied Health Sciences, to invite me to meet with him and Dovie Horvitz, another of Vivette Rifkin’s daughters, to talk about the 2018 Vivette R. Rifkin Seminar. Over lunch, Dovie told us that her mother had been recording textbooks well into her nineties. “The University of Illinois was right to give her that degree,” Dovie said with a shrug and a smile. “After reading thousands and thousands of college textbooks, she could have been hired to teach classes there!”

Dovie and I really hit it off over lunch that day — how could you not love a woman named Dovie? After lunch she accompanied me to an elementary school in Deerfield to hear me talk with the kids there, and now I’m looking forward to being with her again at the seminar this afternoon. Here are the details :

The 2018 Vivette R. Rifkin Seminar presented by Beth Finke

Blind in the City: Not as Dark as it Sounds

Description: In her presentation, Beth will outline her decision to move from a small community to a large city after losing her sight at age 26. Through her talk, Finke will examine cultural attitudes about disability, reasonable accommodation issues, and the role disability arts and culture movements play in urban life.

Thursday, March 15
12:30 – 1:45 p.m.

UIC Lecture Center Building F, F006
807 S. Morgan St.

It is an honor to be asked to give a talk for the 2018 Vivette R. Rifkin Seminar. I hope I do it justice. For more information about this event, directions or other inquiries, contact Keenan Cutsforth, Assistant Dean for Advancement at the UIC College of Applied Health Sciences, at keenanc@uic.edu or 312.966.1339.

Erin Hawley

Accessibility breaks barriers. It’s not just about navigating a space using a wheelchair, or working in a scent-free environment; these are both part of a bigger, more important consideration – that disabled people should have access to the community.

Visiting friends or going to a restaurant means calling ahead to check if a place is accessible, researching public transit routes, and hoping subway elevators aren’t down for maintenance. Leaving your house is a gamble, and a drain on physical, financial, and/or emotional resources. For me, attending any type of gaming convention (I’m a huge nerd) needs lots of planning and checking in with game designers to see if their event is accessible for me; sometimes I can play, sometimes I can’t. And while the games I do play are exciting and memorable, I can’t help but think of all I am missing out on.

This feeling translates across every facet of my social life, from friend’s parties, to concerts, to historical tours, to vacations and weddings and volunteer opportunities. I do a lot of fun and meaningful things via online communities, like Easterseals Thrive, but I don’t always feel part of an offline, local community beyond my immediate family – and sometimes that hurts.

Inaccessibility leads to isolation, to feeling like you are not wanted in a space. Inaccessibility is mostly a result of ignorance and the belief that disabled people don’t go out in the community. I can tell you that most of us do, but more of us would go out if things were accessible. I want to be more involved with my local community, but I am often reminded that I am not welcome here. My town prioritizes history and old-time charm over accessibility, and any attempt at change, or even dialogue, is met with scorn.

But there’s room for hope. Easterseals affiliates and organizations across the nation are working toward community access equality. Easterseals Project Action Consulting offers travel training based on the Americans with Disabilities Act. Many affiliates, like Easterseals New Jersey, offer Day Habilitation, a program that gets disabled people involved in social settings with peers and in the community. These services are crucial, and will change how society views and treats disabled people.

An accessible community is something I dream of. I imagine a fully accessible public transit system with adequate room for wheelchairs and other mobility devices. Curb cuts on every corner, and paved sidewalks. A ramp in every home. Captions and audio descriptions for movie theaters. ASL interpreters at events. Quiet rooms. Braille restaurant menus. The list goes on.

I do think these goals are achievable. In fact, many are already on their way to becoming a reality; we just need to keep pushing for change.

What does an accessible community look like to you?

More posts by Erin:

Thankful For Online Friends and the Technology That Connects Us

Empowered and Disabled: Why I Don’t Like ‘Special Needs’

Disability and Dating: How to Find Love While Being True to Yourself

image c/o

In a May 2011 interview with the New York Times, journalist Claudia Dreifus asked Stephen Hawking, “Given all you’ve experienced, what words would you offer someone who has been diagnosed with a serious illness, perhaps A.L.S.?”

Hawking, who prepared his answers ahead of the in-person interview, answered: “My advice to other disabled people would be, concentrate on things your disability doesn’t prevent you doing well, and don’t regret the things it interferes with. Don’t be disabled in spirit, as well as physically.”

Hawking’s progressive and positive attitude toward disability here exemplifies everything Easterseals works toward every day: A world in which people with disabilities can achieve their goals without barriers; the notion that disability isn’t something to fear or regret, rather it’s a natural part of life.

Let’s dig a little deeper into his wise words:

1. Concentrate on things your disability doesn’t prevent you doing well: Certain things may be harder to accomplish with a disability, but that doesn’t mean that everything will be. Everyone is uniquely capable of contributing talent, perspective, and skill to make an impact. Hawking was a wonderful example of this. We help people of all abilities make their unique impact at Easterseals, with the right supports and resources. We are confident that one of the next world-changers will be a part of the Easterseals family.
2.  Don’t regret the things (your disability) interferes with: Hawking was diagnosed with A.L.S. in 1963 at the age of 21. Following his diagnosis he resisted using a wheelchair. Becoming a person with a disability later in life (as opposed to being born with a disability) was hard on him. However, he eventually let go of regret and focused on what he was good at and what he was put on this earth to do. He embraced assistive technology to continue his groundbreaking work, and had a hand in developing and advancing the programs he used. Later he became a vocal disability advocate, taking part in the Charter for the Third Millennium on Disability, which stated: “In the 21st century, we must insist on the same human and civil rights for people with disabilities as for everyone else.”
3. Don’t be disabled in spirit as well as physically: The experience of being human includes disability. We all have the capacity to reach for our wildest dreams, live the fullest lives, and make the greatest change in the world – not in spite of perceived limitations, sometimes because of them. It is what makes us unique, genuine and complete. Hawking calls us all to not be a barrier to ourselves while navigating difficulties in life. Do not stifle the dreams you were born to realize.

For Hawking, the limits of what was possible were vast. He made us consider not just the wonder of the stars, but the wonder of our existence. We remember him as one of the great minds of our time, but I hope we also remember him as an important figure in the timeline of disability history.

I’ll leave you with another wonderful quote from this same interview: “Obviously, because of my disability, I need assistance. But I have always tried to overcome the limitations of my condition and lead as full a life as possible. I have traveled the world, from the Antarctic to zero gravity. Perhaps one day I will go into space.”

More blog posts by Angela Williams:

• Black History Month Calls Us All to Be Leaders in Love and Equality
• Message From the New CEO: A Look Ahead

The questions were fast and furious. Photo courtesy of retired teacher Maria LaPlaca Bohrer, who, with her husband Glenn, graciously fed and put us up for the night.

My husband Mike, my Seeing Eye dog Whitney, and I flew into La Guardia last month just in time for their fourth Nor’easter hit this year. We were there to see old friends and visit elementary school students who’d read my children’s book about guide dogs, Safe & Sound. The day after we arrived, New York City schools were closed due to snow. The next day, schools on Long Island were closed, too, so our Thursday visit to Rall Elementary School was cancelled.

Eyebrows up! Whitney and I finally outlasted Mother Nature on Friday. We spent that entire day at Harding Avenue Elementary School in Lindenhurst, and if you ask me, the questions the kids asked there made the wait worthwhile. Some examples:

• • What happens when you have to go upstairs?
  • How many dogs have you had?
  • What inspired you to write books?
  • How do you eat ice cream?
  • How can you write books if you can’t see??
  • What if your Seeing Eye dog bit you?
  • How come you’ve had so many dogs?
  • But what if the ice cream is in a cone?
  • Can your dog have babies? Why not?
  • When you go to shop, how do you pick out clothes?
  • How can you drive?
  • How come you have to change dogs so much?
  • Is your dog with you all the time when you’re at home, too?
  • How do you feel if you’re blind?
  • You said all you can see is the color black, right, so I gotta wonder if, when your dog pulls you, does she keep you safe?

It took that little boy a while to get that last question out. I sure didn’t mind — it just gave me a chance to lean down and scratch Whitney’s ears while I listened. Bonus: the concern in the boy’s voice motivated me to lift the harness on Whitney’s back and demonstrate how a Seeing Eye dog works.

And so, for our grand finale, I commanded “Whitney, outside!” The kids watched in awe as my magnificent Seeing Eye dog led me safely around chairs, bookshelves and children sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor to the door out of the room.

Special education teacher Caitlin Farrell emailed me after our visit with a note. “I read the story to my students on Friday afternoon,” she wrote. “We had some really great discussion about how important seeing eye dogs are, and how we can educate other people about avoiding touching dogs that are service dogs.”
Bonus: she attached thank you notes from her class that I can hear. If you are looking for — or need — something to smile about, click the players below to hear their beautiful voices.

Two years ago, while the Summer Paralympic Games were about to start in Rio, I heard a story on NPR about two teenagers with disabilities who ended up on the same high school wrestling team in inner city Cleveland. Dartanyon Crockett was legally blind as a result of Leber’s disease and Leroy Sutton lost both his legs at 11, when he was run over by a train. The ways these wrestlers worked together and cared for each other motivated me to write a post here about cross-disability assistance.

Fast forward to 2018. While gearing up to watch the 2018 Winter Paralympic Games in March, fellow blogger blindbeader remembered my 2016 post and decided to read the book an ESPN writer wrote about those two wrestlers: Carry On: A Story of Resilience, Redemption, and an Unlikely Family. I was flattered to hear that blindbeader had rememberred my post from all those months ago, then delighted when she generously agreed to let us publish an excerpt here of the thoughtful and honest book review of Carry On that she’d originally published on her Life Unscripted blog.

by blindbeader

Lisa’s Story

This story is deeply personal. While it is interwoven with strong and sharp threads of Leroy’s and Dartanyon’s stories — and those of other key figures — this is Lisa’s story. From early childhood memories to blustering and fumbling her way to a dream job to high school wrestling matches and beyond, We get to know Lisa as a warm-hearted woman who yearns for a family. And she definitely gets her wish! We’re introduced to athletes, to coaches, to parents and siblings. We laugh, we cry, and we hope and despair. But, make no mistake, this is Lisa’s story.

Sports — The Great Equalizer?

I’m not huge into wrestling, but Lisa’s writing puts the reader in school gyms, locker rooms, and world-class sports venues. You can definitely feel her respect for athletes in their own right, though there’s a strong undertone (sometimes voiced by coaches and observers and sometimes by Lisa herself) that athletes with disabilities are not talented in their own right… they’re talented “for a legless kid” (as someone referred to Leroy). The reactions to both young men — men of colour, living in poverty, and with disabilities — are almost exclusively related to their disabilities (as many of their peers are both people of colour and living in poverty). Some are astounded that they can wrestle at all and use them as “inspirations,” others don’t want to challenge them out of fear or ignorance, and still others give them the respect of laying it all on the mat. And yet, it’s clear that wrestling — and Lisa and ESPN’s exposure — gave both Leroy and Dartanyon opportunities they otherwise wouldn’t have had.

Disability as Inspiration or Tragedy

As much as I enjoyed this compelling read overall, I had a hard time escaping the prevailing theme that disability was something to be pitied or inspirationalized. In Lisa’s career as a sports editor, she interviewed athletes from all walks of life, including a hockey player who — years before the interview — became injured and paralyzed just seconds after stepping onto the ice during his first major game (you could almost hear the sad cellos playing in the background).

Leroy and Dartanyon’s wrestling coach contacted the local newspaper to write a story about his two disabled wrestlers (clearly without consulting them); Lisa was unable to explain why she thought it was a story that needed national attention, but to her it was, so she dropped everything to fly back to her home city and interview these kids. When the resulting ESPN story aired, the resulting letters and responses left this reader with the distinct feeling that Leroy and Dartanyon were meant to be viewed as recipients of generosity and catalysts for people to look outside themselves, rather than talented athletes in their own rights.

And Yet…

No one can ignore the confluence of race, poverty, and disability, and how Leroy and Dartanyon’s families — neither of which were what many would consider “stable” — shaped their high school and college/university experiences. Dartanyon, in particular, frequently refused to be “pitied” as a blind guy, even though he could’ve made use of adapted services, because he didn’t want anyone to treat him differently. Leroy didn’t have the luxury of being able to blend in, but it is clear that his school and training environments are not well-equipped for many students (lack of uniforms and sports equipment) and definitely not set up with wheelchair-accessible buses or classrooms.

It’s hard to look away from the reality that many cards are stacked against these young men’s lives and journeys. Lisa is tireless in her desire to provide for Leroy and Dartanyon, even as her adopted and biological family with her husband keeps growing. It’s heartwarming and frustrating and an important conversation — nature and nurture and empathy and personal responsibility. It made this reader uncomfortable, and maybe that’s a good thing.

Conclusion

This book is part memoir, part sports journey, part family history. There are some deeply uncomfortable mentions of ableism, racism, and inspiration porn (based on the depiction of the ESPN piece, “Carry On”, this reader has no desire to see it). And yet, this autobiography is compulsively readable, uplifting in places, and thought-provoking. It’s definitely worth the read.

I don’t know what the weather is like where you are, but here in Chicago April has been cold, cold, cold — it snowed on the Cubs opening game day! I’m blaming the weather for it taking so long for me to acknowledge here on the Easterseals blog that April is Autism Acceptance Month.

This month especially we encourage you to learn a little more about what autism is, and take a look at the stories of those who are reaching their goals — finding a job, joining a baseball team, volunteering — with the help of Easterseals affiliates across the country.

Here on the blog, we’re rounding up some of our most helpful and popular blog posts related to autism. Whether you’re a parent of a child newly diagnosed with autism, a teenager navigating high school, an adult searching for the right career track, or anywhere in between, check out our suggested posts:

• Aaron Likens reflects on what it was like to work before he knew he had autism
• An instructional coach, reading specialist, and mom of person with autism breaks down the difference between help and support
• 5 Tips for Teens with Autism
• What Happens When My Thought Process is Interrupted
• Looking for a job? These companies score high for disability inclusion
• A dad of two young adults with autism discusses the impacts of Medicaid cuts on people with disabilities
• Consider asking these questions to potential day care centers for your child with autism
• Six Ways Teens with Autism Spectrum Disorder and Learning Disabilities Can Help Themselves Succeed

Looking for more autism related content? Subscribe to our Autism + You enewsletter!

Guest blogger Keith Hammond is back! Keith is a manager at the adult day services program at Easterseals Serving Greater Cincinnati, and he’s the father of two children on the autism spectrum. He’s written a number of poignant posts for us before, and I’m delighted to have him back with another one.

by Keith Hammond

Keith with his daughter and son

Recently, my wife and I took our son, Steven, to meet with a speech therapist he last saw in 2014. We reconnected with her on Facebook, and found out she was open for some sessions.

Steven has autism. He is non-verbal and communicates by RPM or Rapid Prompting Method — a board with the alphabet on it prompts him to respond and spell words to communicate. RPM is a relatively new technique; few people are adept at it.

Even with this tool, though, Steven has to feel some sort of a connection with people before he’ll communicate with them. Often, and with no pattern we can find, he chooses not to communicate at all. Even as his family, complete thoughts and sentences are something we rarely get. We usually only get simple “yes” or “no” responses, and we consider them as beautiful gifts.

As such, we re-engaged this speech therapist. At the first session, Steven and the therapist picked right back up communicating as if the absence had been four minutes instead of four years. It was great to watch — something we rarely experience.

After about forty minutes of the two of them discussing a history lesson, the therapist stopped and said, “We have twenty minutes left in the session; is there anything you all want to ask him?”

That really hit me. Twenty minutes. Think about that for a second. If you and your 17-year-old son had almost no communication, and then all of a sudden you were given twenty minutes to communicate… what would you say?

It’s a question most people never have to deal with. It’s a question so powerful, my mind darted about, jumping from one thought to the next in a song-like trance. After 17 years, there could never be enough time to ask him everything I want to know. Instead, and for reasons I cannot explain, a sampling of the questions took shape in a humble poem:

Would you like to have more friends?
Why are you so scared of the cat?
Do you like your summer camp and therapy?
Or could you do with less of that?

Are there shows you want to see on TV?
Are there certain songs you’d like to hear?
What’s your greatest, secret passion?
What’s your deepest and darkest fear?

Are there cities and states you’d like to visit?
Are there special sites you’d be excited to see?
Do you even know what autism is?
Would you like to ask God “Why Me?”

Are there actions we can do to support you?
Can we remove barriers that cause you strife?
What else can we do to make things better?
How can we help you have a happy life?

Would you like a girlfriend of your own?
Someday, would you like a kid or two?
What do you want to do after high school?
Is there a job or career you really want to do?

What do you want the future to hold for you?
Where do you want to live in a few years?
What’s so funny when you’re laughing?
Is there some reason when we see your tears?

Would you like new experiences to keep you busy?
Do we help you get enough rest?
Do you know how we feel when we fail you?
Can you understand that we try our best?

Are you truly happy with your life?
Or do you feel like it’s all so unfair?
Do you know how much we love you?
Can you feel how much we care?

There’s so many things we would love to ask you.
I honestly don’t know where to start.
Most parents have forever; we get 20 minutes.
It’s enough to break the strongest heart.

Ultimately, though, even if Steven is unable to provide the answers, I believe that someday we’ll all be together in heaven, and we can ask Steven our questions there.

One nice thing about eternity: it’s a lot longer than twenty minutes.

Alicia (left) and Joe (right)

Today is a big day for our young blogger Alicia Krage and her boyfriend Joe: it’s their third anniversary together. They started celebrating this past weekend, traveling on their own Sunday from Northern Illinois University in DeKalb (around 60 miles west of Chicago) for a romantic dinner and a night of live music at Andy’s Jazz Club in downtown Chicago. Ali and Joe are both blind, and while they’ve had experience taking commuter trains in the suburbs, the two of them have never taken a train ride to have a date in Chicago before. Ali wrote me last week for information, and I thought her questions — and my responses — might give Easterseals blog readers an idea of some of the things people who have visual impairments have to consider when traveling somewhere new.

Ali: From your experience with Flash Cab, how much time in advance should I be calling them? Keep in mind it’ll take us a little while to get out of the station.

Beth: You can either call them before you leave (even from DeKalb, if you’d like) and give them a time you want to be picked up at the station, as in, “Pick us up at 4:15 p.m. today” or you can call them when you’ve finally arrived outside the station and are at a spot where they can pick you up. Either way, tell them that both of you are blind and that the driver will need to call out to you so you know she or he is there. I’d take the first option, as you will be so busy negotiating the train station that you won’t want to stop and call for a cab. Just schedule the pick-up at a time that allows you and Joe with lots of leeway to get through the station and outside to meet the cab.

Ali: Is there only one exit?

Beth: I think there is only one. It lets you out on Madison Street. A lot of people on your train will be going to Chicago so I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to give you directions if you need them. You could ask the conductor, too, but it’s unlikely the conductor can leave the platform to guide you all the way through the station to the exit.

Ali: We’ll be taking a cab back from the jazz club to the train station, too. In your experience taking a cab to the train station, was the driver kind enough to lead you inside and to an agent to request assistance?

Beth: No. Too dangerous to leave their cab outside unattended that long. If it’s Flash Cab, though, I bet you the driver will at least lead you to the door to get into the train station. Last night I had to take a cab to WGN Radio station, it’s located in the huge Tribune Tower and the Flash Cab driver left his cab to lead my Seeing Eye dog Whitney and me right to the correct door to the lobby there.

Ali: What has been your experience with getting back to the train station? Give me as much detail as you can.

Beth: If the cab driver lets you out at the train station, there will be lots of commuters coming in and out. I’d say there are a bunch of revolving doors, and then wayyyyy to the left of all that swishing noise of those doors swirling around you can find one handicapped accessible door (if you are afraid of revolving ones) with a button about elbow-height on the right hand side of it that you need to push so it opens for you. My experience is that lots of people will ask you if you need help, they always notice me if I’m there, especially if I make a point to look a little bewildered. The inside lobby is pretty huge, I’d ask for help in there, too. Ask them to get you to the ticket office, do this even if you already have a ticket for the train. When you get to the window where people buy tickets, tell them you need assistance to get on the train. They’ll have an official worker get you on the train, it’s very reassuring to do it that way because then you know for absolute sure that you are on the train you want to be on.

Ali: When should we schedule our ride back to the train station? I don’t know how loud Andy’s is, so I’m not sure they’d hear me. Anything is helpful!

Beth: This is another reason I like Flash Cab. In addition to their well-deserved reputation for welcoming — and understanding some of the needs of — riders with disabilities, you can book a round trip with them when you call in the first place. So let’s say you call from DeKalb to arrange your ride from the western suburbs, and you tell them you need a ride from 500 W. Madison (that’s the address of Chicago’s Ogilvy Transportation Center) at 4:10 pm, and you’re going to 11 E. Hubbard (that’s the address of Andy’s Jazz Club). Once they get all that information written down, you can tell them you’ll need a ride back to the train station later that night. They’ll book that ride right then, too. The jazz club isn’t terribly far from the train station, but its likely traffic will be heavy on a weekend night. I know you prefer getting somewhere extra early (over fretting about being late), so I’d say book the cab ride back to the train station so that the cab picks you and Joe up at Andy’s 45 minutes before your train leaves from Chicago back to the western suburbs. Bonus: Flash Cab will phone you to let you know when they’ve arrived and are waiting outside for you. That means you and Joe could put your coats on and all that stuff and then just stay inside listening to jazz until you get their phone call.

Back to me. Once Alicia has recovered from all the celebrating, she’ll write a follow-up blog post here about how she and Joe fared at the Chicago jazz club Sunday — stay tuned!

Last year Easterseals published a guest post I wrote called How One Student Who is Blind Planned the Perfect Date. Our perfect date didn’t work out that time, unfortunately.

Alicia and Joe.

Joe and I had tried to plan a trip to Andy’s Jazz Club in Chicago last year for our second anniversary, but when it didn’t work out, we tried again for this year. We have been planning this since December, so needless to say, I’d been looking forward to this for a very long time.

The day finally arrived. I was up early and scheduled our ride from campus to the Elburn train station, and I called Flash Cab Chicago to schedule two rides with them — from the train station to Andy’s, and from Andy’s back to the train station later that night. I informed them that we are both blind, so the driver would have to come get us. The dispatcher added this to her notes, and I could tell from her tone that this was nothing new to them.

The trip from Northern Illinois University to Elburn was nothing new to me. We got to the station just as the train was arriving; I could hear the loud train bells. The driver led us to the platform and onto the train, directed us to our seat, and told us to have a good day as she descended the stairs off the train. And as typical with traveling with Joe, the excited chatter started.

The hour-and-twenty minute train ride didn’t feel quite that long. We pulled in right on schedule, and my excitement quickly turned to nervousness. Here was something unfamiliar to me that I was not exactly confident about: getting off the train and out of the station. I was glad I’d scheduled our pick-up time with Flash Cab for 30 minutes after our train was due in Chicago. I overestimated the time it might take on purpose, just in case the train was late. Or in case it took us a while to get out of the station…or in case I needed to make a stop. Which I did.

I wasn’t sure who to ask. What if someone led us to the restroom and left and we couldn’t find someone to lead us back? I started voicing my worries out loud and, as per usual, Joe calmly said his favorite thing to say when traveling: “We’ll figure it out,” with a reassuring hold onto my hand.

The conductor guided us off the train and asked what we needed. “Well, our cab isn’t coming for a while, so I was wondering if you had an employee that could direct us to a restroom,” I said. I didn’t want to assume he would do it when he likely had other things to attend to, but he said he’d grab his bag and take us.

During the long walk to the restrooms, our conversation was all about what we were doing in the city today, how often we travel on the train, and how impressed he was by our confidence with this being our first trip to the city by ourselves. Once he’d led us to the restrooms, he told us he had another train to get to and informed us that a security guard would be there to lead us the rest of the way. He introduced himself and shook both our hands and departed.

As promised, the security guard was there when I exited. He led us to the exit on Madison Street, where I then received a text that our cab was on its way. There was more excited chatter (I said something like, “Can you believe it? We’re in Chicago!” like I’d never been to the city before in my life and was an out-of-state tourist.)

I received another text saying the cab arrived, but decided to stay put. I always let drivers come to me; I never try and find them. The driver addressed me by name, so I knew it was the right person.

The ride to the jazz club was short, and we arrived just as the dining area opened. Someone was there to greet us, and I gave them my last name for the reservation I had made two weeks ago. He led us to our table, and I immediately took note of the instruments I could hear to our right…very closely to our right. We were sitting right by the band!

Our server came by and asked if we needed help with the menus. Joe and I had done some research prior to this trip and looked up the menu online, but we quickly found out it had been updated since then. We narrowed down our options to pasta, and the server was happy to help.

He read everything and described it to us. He politely asked me to confirm where I got the menu online so they could update it, and I told him. We got our food right as the band began to play, so there wasn’t much conversation. It was too loud, and I was too busy enjoying the music anyway.

We spent two hours in the dining area (including eating dessert, of course), before we asked our server to lead us to the bar, where we quickly struck up conversation with a lady sitting next to me. She was visiting Andy’s Jazz Club for the first time, too.

The bar area was a little better. It was quieter so we could actually talk without having to shout. As soon as I got the text that our cab was on the way, we stood up and someone came over to help us. (People were watching out for us all evening.) They led us out the door just as the cab pulled up.

The cab driver led us into the station and found a security guard, who proceeded to use his radio to request assistance. Someone came and led us to the ticket agent, and once we had our tickets, the employee who led us to the agent then led us on the train.

Unlike the train ride to Chicago, the train ride back from Chicago was quiet. We were both exhausted, so we dozed off, but in-between sleep sessions we had a little bit of conversation. I couldn’t have asked for a better person to travel with and share the last three years of my life with. We talked about doing this as a yearly tradition — that’s how much fun we had.

Our train pulled up right on time, and my cousin met us at the platform to drive us back to campus. I can’t describe the feeling of accomplishment I felt at the end of it. I stepped out of my comfort zone and tried something new, and I knew I’d go back and do it again.

More posts by Ali:

• 9 Tips for Keeping the Romance Alive in a Relationship
• 7 Advantages of Being Blind
• “Dating someone who is blind is honestly not as hard as it sounds”