By DeAnn Elliott
During the Bay State Council of the Blind’s annual convention held May 20th, the organization presented its 2023 Community Access Award to Joseph Kolb, an orientation and mobility (O and M) specialist at the Carroll Center for the Blind.
Many BSCB members are among the more than 1000 clients who have benefitted from Joe’s instruction during his 40-year career. My own experience with Joe was the subject of a blog post I wrote for the Carroll Center in 2013. An updated version is printed below.
When the doorbell rang, I wasn’t sure what to expect. It was 2001 and my vision was diminishing quickly due to a hereditary eye condition. It was getting harder to do what I needed to do as a stay-at-home mother to a preschooler, but rehabilitation training wasn’t available until I became legally blind, and I wasn’t there yet. Self-pay instruction was an option. I made a call. Now the teacher was on my doorstep.
His name was Joe. Our first mobility lesson consisted of the two of us sitting on my sofa. I listed in great detail all the reasons why using a red and white cane was not a good idea. It seemed fraudulent to carry a cane if one wasn’t yet blind. After all, it wouldn’t be right to park in an accessible parking space without a placard. A red-and-white cane seemed premature. I could still see some things well and didn’t think I needed that much help. Besides, I was pretty sure that a cane could make me a target for muggers, because I lived in a big city and it would signal that I couldn’t run very fast or identify a thief in a line up.
We talked about the difference between registering for services for the blind, which requires proof of eligibility, and using tools that help us walk more safely and alert others to our legitimate vision loss. If I encountered a mugger, I could get away more quickly with a cane. I’d also be more likely to get help from strangers if they knew that I didn’t see well. And being blind doesn’t mean one can’t run fast! There are actually a lot of competitive blind runners. Somehow, he persuaded me to agree to go outside on our next lesson.
I insisted on going to a dead-end street where no one could see us. He cheerfully walked behind me under my cloak of secrecy until I got bored and decided that it might be interesting to try to walk to the store.
Many of us tell fond stories about our mobility instructors. These selfless souls work in every kind of weather and are often “lifers” in the sense that they stay in their jobs for years despite the modest financial compensation. They know the esoteric language of space and have the unique ability to transform a confusing muddle into a clear mental map that we can use later to get around on our own, which is so essential to our well-being.
Their contribution, however, is more than technical. It’s often on the street that we confront our fears: the trauma of a past injury we want to avoid, a concern about getting disoriented in a new neighborhood, or simply a preference not to be embarrassed. An instructor can spend nearly as much time helping a client work constructively with perceived barriers as physical ones, and in the process of breaking it down into something manageable, the thing doesn’t look so bad.
I recall one early piece of advice about navigating encounters with difficult people. “It’s usually best to respond with patience to situations where you feel unfairly treated or challenged,” Joe said. “We educate people around us every day, whether we try to or not. Just by getting out and going about your business, people with disabilities confront the public with a different way of thinking.” When I’ve encountered a person who tempts me to say something I’ll later regret, Joe’s advice usually carries the day and the situation ends well.
A dozen years after my first mobility lesson, I needed a mobility boost to get around in a new neighborhood. Mobility instructors have a funny way of magically reappearing throughout our lives at milestone moments, like when we get accepted to college, get a new job, or experience a change in our vision. This was one of those moments.
Fortunately for me, Joe was available because he’d recently decided to leave his managerial position in order to return to direct service, teaching clients how to be street wise. He appreciates the importance of the calling in part because he has known clients who have had unfortunate accidents.
So, there we were on the subway platform, and the conversation bounced between the proper cane technique for detecting the tactile strip that marks the edge of the pit, where to get the best Thai food, how to trail the wall without injuring your hand, favorite iPhone apps, and the legacy of Barbara Walters. It’s the curious balance of daily life, to navigate a world full of potential threats and simultaneously not get overwhelmed or take it– or ourselves– too seriously.
I commented that over the years, he’d probably seen it all, and I asked him if there were some sessions that stood out in his memory. He shared a story about an unusual experience that happened early in his career, when he was working with a client in a commercial district.
A young man bolted out of a jewelry store, followed a second later by a shopkeeper who shouted, “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?!”
Joe had just graduated from college, where he had been a long-distance runner. The client offered to wait, and Joe took off after the thief, who eventually put down a diamond ring and jumped a fence. As the sirens converged on the thief and the shopkeeper retrieved his merchandise, Joe returned to his client and resumed the lesson.
Although the comparison would surely embarrass him, I see some resemblance to Superman. Like Clark Kent, a mild-mannered professional, he ducks into telephone booths to change into his red cape and emerge as Mobility Man, apprehending criminals, passing along bits of life wisdom, and making the world safe for the blind…all in a day’s work.
On behalf of the Bay State Council of the Blind, thank you Joe Kolb for opening doors for so many people. A recording of the awards presentation can be downloaded to your computer by clicking on the following link:Joe Kolb Receiving the Bay State Council of the Blind 2023 Community Access Award.