AOL People Magazine
Friday, July 14, 2006

The Boy Who Sees with Sound

By Alex Tresniowski. Ron Arias

Blind since age 3, Ben Underwood skateboards, shoots hoops and plays video 
games. How does he do it? Just like bats and dolphins

FRIDAY JULY 14, 2006 06:00AM EST

"I'm a normal kid," says Ben, who lost his sight at 3. (above, he inspects his 
prosthetic eyes.) Photo by: Theo Rigby

There was the time a fifth grader thought it would be funny to punch the blind 
kid and run. So he snuck up on Ben Underwood and hit him in the face. That's
when Ben started his clicking thing. "I chased him, clicking until I got to 
him, then I socked him a good one," says Ben, a skinny 14-year-old. "He didn't
reckon on me going after him. But I can hear walls, parked cars, you name it. 
I'm a master at this game."

LINK:
See the Video: Watch Ben Underwood use echolocation to connect with dolphins

requires Quicktime. URL extracted by Leon Gilbert)

SEE IT
http://pdl.stream.aol.com/time/gl/people/video/underwood_dl.mov

Ask people about Ben Underwood and you'll hear dozens of stories like this - 
about the amazing boy who doesn't seem to know he's blind. There's Ben zooming
around on his skateboard outside his home in Sacramento; there he is playing 
kickball with his buddies. To see him speed down hallways and make sharp turns
around corners is to observe a typical teen - except, that is, for the 
clicking. Completely blind since the age of 3, after retinal cancer claimed both
his eyes (he now wears two prostheses), Ben has learned to perceive and locate 
objects by making a steady stream of sounds with his tongue, then listening
for the echoes as they bounce off the surfaces around him. About as loud as the 
snapping of fingers, Ben's clicks tell him what's ahead: the echoes they
produce can be soft (indicating metals), dense (wood) or sharp (glass). Judging 
by how loud or faint they are, Ben has learned to gauge distances.

The technique is called echolocation, and many species, most notably bats and 
dolphins, use it to get around. But a 14-year-old boy from Sacramento? While
many blind people listen for echoes to some degree, Ben's ability to navigate 
in his sightless world is, say experts, extraordinary. "His skills are rare,"
says Dan Kish, a blind psychologist and leading teacher of echomobility among 
the blind. "Ben pushes the limits of human perception."

Kish has taught echolocation to scores of blind people as a supplement to more 
traditional methods, such as walking with a cane or a guide dog, but only
a handful of people in the world use echolocation alone to get around, 
according to the American Foundation for the Blind. A big part of the reason Ben
has succeeded is his mother, who made the decision long ago never to coddle her 
son. "I always told him, 'Your name is Benjamin Underwood, and you can
do anything,' " says Aquanetta Gordon, 42, a utilities-company employee. "He 
can learn to fly an airplane if he wants to."

CAPTION: Ben listens for noises made by a beluga whale at San Diego's SeaWorld
Photo by: Theo Rigby

Ben plays basketball with his pals, rides horses at camp and dances with girls 
at school events. He excels at PlayStation games by memorizing the sounds
that characters and movements make. "People ask me if I'm lonely," he says. 
"I'm not, because someone's always around or I've got my cell phone and I'm
always talking to friends. Being blind is not that different from not being 
blind."

Ben was just 2 years old when doctors discovered his retinal cancer. Ben's 
first Braille teacher, Barbara Haase, believes the boy's ability to see during
his first two years helped him develop "a sort of map of the physical world," 
she says. Growing up, Ben got help from his brothers Joe, now 23, and Derius,
19, and sister Tiffany, 18. (His father, Stephen, died in 2002.) "They taught 
him how to find the seams on his clothes so he puts them on right side out,
stuff like that," says Aquanetta. "But they didn't overdo it."

Aquanetta sent Ben to mainstream schools, where professionals on staff gave him 
individual attention and taught him to overlook taunts from classmates who
waved their hands in his face or snatched food off his tray. "The hardest thing 
for me to accept is rejection," says Ben, who starts ninth grade in the
fall. "I can tell when someone rejects me in some way." At home his mother let 
him play with no restrictions. "If he fell, she would just say, 'Oh, he
fell,' and he'd get up and try again," says his kindergarten teacher Ann 
Akiyama. "I've seen him run full speed into the edge of a big brick column and
get back up. He was fearless."

Ben learned how to read Braille and walk with a cane, but when he was 3, he 
also began teaching himself echolocation, something he picked up by tossing
objects and making clicking sounds to find them. His sense of hearing, teachers 
noticed, was exceptional. "One time a CD fell off his desk and I was reaching
for it when he said, 'Nah, I got it,'" says Kalli Carvalho, his language arts 
instructor. "He went right to it. Didn't feel around. He just knew where
it was because he heard where it hit." Haase took walks with Ben to help him 
practice locating objects. "I said, 'Okay, my car is the third car parked
down the street. Tell me when we get there,' " she says. "As we pass the first 
vehicle, he says, 'There's the first car. Actually, a truck.' And it was
a pickup. He could tell the difference."

CAPTION: "I like hip-hop," says Ben (hanging out at home with his friends). 
"With dancing it takes a while to learn the moves sometimes, so I just sit and
listen." Says his pal Myeisha: "He's my first blind friend, but it's like he's 
not blind at all." Photo by: Theo Rigby

Ben was 6 when he decided he wasn't going to use a cane - he calls it a stick - 
to get around. "You go to school and you're the only one with a stick, what's
the first thing some kid's going to do? Break it in two," he says. "And then 
where are you? You're helpless." At times he was even able to come to the
aid of people with normal sight. "I remember taking him to the park with my 
son, sister and my nieces, and it got dark," says Akiyama. "But Ben had figured
out the park's layout, and he led the way out. He was in his element."

Still, Ben's zone of maximum comfort remains his family's three-bedroom stucco 
home - where he lives with his mom and brother Isaiah, 11 - and the quiet
streets around it. Some professionals who work with Ben worry that his 
near-complete reliance on echolocation could hurt him when he finds himself in 
unfamiliar
settings. Haase wishes he would use a cane to help him gauge, for instance, the 
depth of a hole. But Ben is sticking to his guns. "He's a rebellious traveler,"
says Kish, who despite teaching echolocation around the world still 
occasionally uses a cane. "Ben puts himself at risk."

Others believe Ben's remarkable abilities will make it easier for him to face 
new challenges and conquer new surroundings. "The world is not going to change
for these kids; they need to adapt to it," says Ben's eye doctor James Ruben, a 
Kaiser Permanente ophthalmologist. "His mother understood that plenty of
sighted people have miserable lives and plenty of unsighted people have happy 
lives."

Last month Ben widened his horizons even further. "The thing I'm most scared of 
is water," he says. "But if I had eyes, it's what I'd most like to see."
So on June 25 he took a trip to San Diego's SeaWorld Adventure Park to swim 
with dolphins and hear how they use echolocation. Waist-deep in a saltwater
pool, he immersed one ear as Sandy, a bottle-nosed dolphin, swam toward him. 
"Man," he said, "she clicks fast!" Ben spent 45 minutes playing with Sandy,
touching her teeth and stroking her dorsal fin. Bob McMains, supervisor of 
SeaWorld's dolphin program, says that in his 23 years there, few people have
listened so intently to the sounds the dolphins make. "He's got a gift with 
dolphins; he's truly unique," says McMains. "I told him, once he's 18 he's
got a job here anytime."

McMains can get in line. Ben's world may be dark, but the most amazing 
surprises are just a click away. He might become a math teacher or a pro 
skateboarder
- or, as his mother believes, just about anything. And wouldn't that make for a 
truly amazing Ben Underwood story? "I tell people I'm not blind," he says.
"I just can't see."

 By Alex Tresniowski. Ron Arias in Sacramento

Regards
Vishal Jain.

To unsubscribe send a message to [EMAIL PROTECTED] with the subject unsubscribe.

To change your subscription to digest mode or make any other changes, please 
visit the list home page at
  http://accessindia.org.in/mailman/listinfo/accessindia_accessindia.org.in

Reply via email to