A Lifetime of NBP Braille: From Reader to Proofreader

By Carey Scouler, Proofreader

I’m sure that everyone can remember or relate to the joy of receiving an expected gift in the mail as a child; counting down the days until it would be delivered, checking the mail every day for weeks, then eagerly ripping it open when it finally came. From the ages of six to ten, that gift for me was the chance to visit new worlds and delve into the lives of all sorts of characters, while at the same time learning new letters and words. It was the gift of literacy, a gift for which I owe all of my thanks to National Braille Press.

carey

Proofreader Carey Scouler and her guide dog Hayden

Ever since I was very young, reading has always been a passion of mine, and that passion was fueled considerably when I began receiving books from the Children’s Braille Book Club. My mother and I would sit on our plushy couch side by side, and she would animatedly read the printed words in a book to me. She would then gingerly hand me the book, and my fingers would carefully touch each braille dot as I learned new letters and sounded out words. This was a fun activity for us both, and I continued to enjoy reading as I branched off and began exploring more advanced braille books. This love of reading and my eagerness to learn the braille code couldn’t have been achieved without the wonderful books I first received from National Braille Press.

oh-the-places-youll-go

Oh, The Places You’ll Go

The lessons I learned from the books were not the only thing about National Braille Press which stayed with me forever—so did their address. One day, while sitting in the back of my parents’ car, lovingly clutching “Happy Birthday, Rotten Ralph” (a print/braille book which my grandmother had often read to me), I casually asked my parents where 88 St. Stephen Street was after carefully examining the book’s title page. They told me where it was and we discussed possibly visiting. For a while after that, I checked the address on the cover of every book I received from NBP, each time still longing to visit and learn about where the books I had grown to love had come from.

As I got older, my love of braille led me to make some wonderful friends. When I was in fourth grade, I began competing in the Braille Challenge, a competition which tests students from grades 1 to 12 in different aspects of braille literacy such as charts and graphs and reading comprehension. The winners in the regional level would then have a chance to compete nationally. Through many years of participating in this contest, I made many wonderful friends, most of whom I’m still in touch with to this day.

When it came time for me to graduate from college and start looking for a job, I knew I wanted to do something involving words. I had graduated with degrees in English and journalism, and immediately started looking for writing and editing jobs. During the networking process, I realized that NBP was hiring and looking for a proofreader. I was thrilled at the idea of being able to read things I hadn’t gotten the chance to, while at the same time looking for errors and essentially practicing my editing skills. I took part in two interviews, and was hired to work as a proofreader a few weeks later. Now I can say that I’ve not only visited 88 St. Stephen Street once, but that I have been given the opportunity to go there every day. It’s such a wonderful feeling to know that each day, I get to be a part of helping kids and adults receive the same gift I was given—the gift of literacy.

Ruby Bridges and Her Teacher Reunite Because of a Print-Braille Book

When my son was small, he was my best sampler of kids’ books to offer in our Children’s Braille Book Club. Book cover of "The Story of Ruby Bridges"“No, Mom. Forget it. Borrring!” was the gist of his review of many, many books. But sometimes he would surprise me, like the time he sat quietly as I read all the way through “The Story of Ruby Bridges” by Robert Coles. It was 1995, a long time after the actual story took place.

Ruby Bridges was six years old when she agreed to be one of the first black students to integrate New Orleans schools in 1960. Her parents must have Ruby Bridgesagreed, too. It was a brave decision all around. She would later remember the white woman who heckled her from the sidewalk, carrying a black doll in a coffin.

When Ruby showed up at school, everybody left. Yep. The entire school emptied out. The only two people left were Ruby Bridges and her teacher Barbara Henry, who was white, and the only teacher willing to teach a black student. For one year, Henry taught Bridges alone. When the year ended, Henry moved and the two lost touch.

This is where my son re-enters the picture. He took the print-braille version of the book to his school in Boston. That night he mentioned, over a plate of spaghetti, “Mom, you know what? Ruby’s teacher is at my school.” I smiled. I didn’t believe him. I cleared the table.

“Really, Mom. And she wants to keep the book.”

Several days later on the drive to school, “Mom. What shall I tell Mrs. Henry? She wants the book. She’s been trying to find Ruby all these years.” For some reason in that moment it clicked. I checked the book jacket information and saw that it mentioned only Mrs. Henry’s maiden name—her whereabouts unknown.

I went into the office and called the publisher, Scholastic Inc., and reported the connection. A few minutes later I took a call from an excited publicist, “Ruby has been looking for her teacher all these years, too!” In 1996, after thirty-five years, the two were reunited on Oprah. Ruben and I made a bowl of popcorn and watched the whole show—and we cried.

To Ruben, Keep the faith and thanks so much for bringing Barbara back to me! – Ruby Bridges

Dear Ruben, You will ever be so very special to me for all the joys you helped bring to me in finding Ruby and renewing our friendship and love. – Barbara Henry