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5 Conclusion

 Framing story: “I am an astronaut”

An astronaut in a bulky and heavy space suit stands on a portable foot restraint connected to the Canadarm on during a spacewalk. A Canadian flag patch is on their shoulder.
Image credit: NASA

So, what happened to the young person whose journey we’ve been following? Well, they went on to become an astronaut and much more, of course! They went on to make new discoveries and encounter new environments and challenges, because the journey never ends.

And while floating in the heavens high above, the astronaut did not feel alone.

They thanked the Earth from which they came.

They thanked Louis Braille for creating a tactile writing system in 1824.

They thanked the Six Nations Public Library for sharing braille books.

They thanked their mom for nudging them into the CNIB Learning Academy.

They thanked blind astrophysicists and the ambassadors at AstroAccess for demonstrating what is possible.

They thanked all the blind advocates and their web developer allies for making websites, including the Canadian Space Agency’s, more accessible.

They thanked all the blind academic advocates and their post-secondary allies who made university and college spaces more equitable and inclusive.

They thanked Henry Guidmond for creating the Jeremey Hansen’s mission patch with sacred teachings shared by Elders, including the Seven Sacred Laws: the buffalo representing respect, the eagle representing love, the bear courage, the sasquatch honesty, the beaver wisdom, the wolf humility, and the turtle truth.

And floating in outer space, the astronaut thanked the Eagle Nebula for the sounds made by the Pillars of Creation.

Accessibility: Know your motivations

Blindness and disabilities are gifts of creation. Creating accessible content is not a favour to students with disabilities. Accessibility has a rippling effect, making our learning environments more equitable and inclusive. This, in turn, results in a diversity of students, educators and researchers, ultimately benefiting humanity.

While diversity of perspectives benefits us all, specific solutions or features need not benefit everyone for us to implement them. Within the education context, we hear that accessible designs are good for everyone, a phenomenon often described as the Curb Cut Effect. But what happens when someone needs Nemeth braille, American Sign Language, or pro-tactile sign language? Does that benefit everyone?  If we expect a feature to have broad benefits, will we be ready and willing to provide a feature that may only benefit a relative few?

We also hear that accessibility is a human right. Framed from this perspective, we may hear stories about injustices. But doesn’t this imply we need to be motivated by a high moral source before we act? Can we not nurture the expectation that making environments more accessible can be done for average-everyday reasons?

Perhaps we can approach accessibility by thinking of it as: “it’s just my job”? No fuss or fanfare. We have witnessed too many folks to name whose motivation is just this. People leave their schools and workplaces changed for the better by taking responsibility to remove obstacles, being curious, and being innovative. And part of that job is to get good at removing barriers or furnishing our environment with features, even when it is challenging. “That’s just our job. That’s what we signed up for.  End of story.”