The Blind Leading The Blind

If you were to come to my school each morning around the time the bell rings, you would see a really beautiful thing: The blind leading the blind. Literally.

No. Students aren’t ignorantly wondering the hallways trying to figure out where to go. They know where to go. Rather, it’s one teacher helping another teacher get her students to class.

While most buses unload at the side of the school so that students can go directly to breakfast before going class, the special needs bus unloads at the front of the school where their teacher meets them.

At the beginning of the year, the teacher took the entire class to breakfast. Each student who was able would carry his/her tray back to the classroom to eat. As the year has progressed, though, the process has changed. Instead of every student going to the cafeteria, some go with the teacher to get food while some go with the vision impaired teacher to the classroom. This is where it gets beautiful.

Our vision impaired teacher, S, is blind. Seeing that our special needs teacher needed help in the mornings—and she would say that she saw it—she volunteered to help. Her job became to take a few students directly to class.

S now always takes C to class. C is non-verbal and in a wheelchair.

Most of the time S takes P, too. P is blind and the reason S comes to our school each day. I’m glad for this reason. P knows people by the sound of their keys and the feel of their bellies.

P loves C. One day after C wasn’t at school, P literally cheered when C returned and said, “I missed you.”

Because of this love, one of the things that P really enjoys doing is taking C to class.

So the picture is this: P rolling C down the hall, S following behind, singing a song that she made up. “Good morning, good morning, good morning to you.” S singing often causes C to smile and clap his hands. Did I mention that C loves music and that C can rock the beginning of the ABC song?

In those moments, it is literally the blind leading the blind leading one who cannot speak for oneself. And they are all happy. And safe. And they all belong right where they are—with us—at school—learning.

At the end of Proverbs, the writer writes “an inspired utterance his mother taught him.” In the middle of this utterance, he pens one of the most challenging yet important commands of scripture:

Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves,
for the rights of all who are destitute.
Speak up and judge fairly;
defend the rights of the poor and needy.

I’m not really sure why, but when I see S walking with P pushing C down the hall and when I hear her singing to C and imagine C’s smile and I hear P greet everyone with a friendly hello just because that’s who P is, I can’t help but think of these verses and know that there are people speaking up and living fairly and defending the rights of the least of these—not because there is anything wrong with the least of these—but simply because they can—and because they are alive—and they are loved and able to give love in return.

May we each live with boldness and courage of S, who “sees” the world clearly though she sees nothing at all; the trust and simple excitement of C, who slobber kisses hands to say, “I love you;” and the whimsical openness and love of P who genuinely cares how everyone is doing and dreams of one day becoming a bus driver and owning a boat.

Oh God, thank you for these amazing teachers.
And thank you for the beauty of the blind leading the blind.
Thank you for the beauty of the blind leading me.
Amen.