Feel Good Story (Proud Dad)
Jun 19, 2007 6:35:21 GMT -5
Post by Lost_Child on Jun 19, 2007 6:35:21 GMT -5
This is from todays newspaper. 
For those that don't know
Jessica is my daughter !
She no longer sees, but her life is vibrant
By AMY JETER, The Virginian-Pilot
© June 19, 2007
NORFOLK
SILVER AND GOLD stars sparkled from the walls of the Willard Model Elementary School gymtorium last Tuesday evening.
Six pairs of Willard dancers climbed up the wooden steps and took their places on the stage. The audience cheered and filmed. Judges sat in a solemn line at a table in the front.
If Jessica Bryant was nervous, she would never admit it.
She wore a white skirt - because she hates dresses - and a blue T-shirt she'd picked out that afternoon, feeling the soft material while her mother described the color and pattern.
Her favorite colors are blue, black, purple and green. But all she sees now is pitch black.
Jessica is 11 years old. She has a rare condition called neurofibromatosis that causes tumors to grow on her nerves, including her optic nerves. One day two years ago, Jessica started seeing gray blobs. Then she saw nothing out of her left eye. One morning she woke up and couldn't see anything. It was scary because her eyes were open.
"In five, six, seven, eight."
Arms up, shoulders down, Jessica and her partner, Michael Monson, took a step in unison.
Forward, back, 1-2-3. Back, together, cha-cha-cha.
Michael is pretty good, but Jessica sometimes has to keep him in line. "You mess up," she says, "you die." He occasionally guides her too fast, but he usually makes sure she doesn't get away when they let go and twirl on their own.
"OK," Michael said, as they dropped hands.
Some people at school didn't think a blind girl could learn to dance. When they started, back in January, the adults blindfolded the other kids. The boys lost their place. The girls were just scared.
At dance practices, Jessica's teacher, Gail Henrich, told her what everyone was doing and helped her learn how to move her hips.
Jessica practiced and tried to imagine it all in her brain. Because she could see before, she understands perspective.
It wasn't really hard. It was kind of easy, even though the boys sometimes drove her out of her mind.
Now, the boys think Jessica's a good dancer. She keeps her arms up in dance position and doesn't look at her feet like other girls do.
She stepped forward, spun on her right leg and ended perfectly, facing Michael.
Then it was Michael's turn to whip himself around while Jessica kept time with the music. Cha-cha-cha.
Jessica has had to learn a lot: how to read Braille, how to find her way to the library with a cane, how to use gadgets like a talking thermometer.
"What's your name?" she'll ask when someone walks up.
Some things haven't changed, like playing with her 100 dolls and listening to country music. Some things have, like coloring and riding her bike.
She misses taking off for hours on that bicycle and turning off her walkie-talkie so her parents couldn't find her. She probably misses that the most. Her freedom.
Jessica turned again. As she came around, she lifted her arms and the pair returned to the dance position.
Step to the right, 1-2-3. Step to the left, 1-2-3.
Jessica is not shy about her blindness. She thinks it can be fun, like when she wears glasses to school to confuse her friends, and plays in the dark to freak out her brother.
Even though she can't see, she can write her name and her sign, a smiley face, from memory. Her teacher wants to take her rock climbing.
Once the Make-A-Wish Foundation gave her M&Ms and the chance to drive a golf cart. Jessica yelled, "Watch out! I'm a crazy blind girl, high on sugar!"
She didn't cry about being blind, though her parents did. Jessica asked her mother, "Why are you so mad at God? I'm not mad at him, so why are you?"
Her father has the same condition, and it has made him almost completely deaf. Jessica has endured six major brain surgeries, and she'll probably have more. She has lost her sense of smell, and there is always the chance that she'll lose her hearing, too.
But doctors told Jessica she might be able to see again when she's 21 or 22. She's not sure how exactly, but that's what they say. Researchers may one day figure out how to repair or transplant damaged nerves.
Michael did his own turn, necktie flying, and Jessica caught his shoulder.
The music petered out suddenly, and Jessica broke into a quick smile and curtsied. Michael bowed, and Jessica looped her arm through his.
"OK," she said. "Now we walk offstage."
content.hamptonroads.com/story.cfm?story=126902&ran=219673
Also a short video !
For those that don't know
Jessica is my daughter !
She no longer sees, but her life is vibrant
By AMY JETER, The Virginian-Pilot
© June 19, 2007
NORFOLK
SILVER AND GOLD stars sparkled from the walls of the Willard Model Elementary School gymtorium last Tuesday evening.
Six pairs of Willard dancers climbed up the wooden steps and took their places on the stage. The audience cheered and filmed. Judges sat in a solemn line at a table in the front.
If Jessica Bryant was nervous, she would never admit it.
She wore a white skirt - because she hates dresses - and a blue T-shirt she'd picked out that afternoon, feeling the soft material while her mother described the color and pattern.
Her favorite colors are blue, black, purple and green. But all she sees now is pitch black.
Jessica is 11 years old. She has a rare condition called neurofibromatosis that causes tumors to grow on her nerves, including her optic nerves. One day two years ago, Jessica started seeing gray blobs. Then she saw nothing out of her left eye. One morning she woke up and couldn't see anything. It was scary because her eyes were open.
"In five, six, seven, eight."
Arms up, shoulders down, Jessica and her partner, Michael Monson, took a step in unison.
Forward, back, 1-2-3. Back, together, cha-cha-cha.
Michael is pretty good, but Jessica sometimes has to keep him in line. "You mess up," she says, "you die." He occasionally guides her too fast, but he usually makes sure she doesn't get away when they let go and twirl on their own.
"OK," Michael said, as they dropped hands.
Some people at school didn't think a blind girl could learn to dance. When they started, back in January, the adults blindfolded the other kids. The boys lost their place. The girls were just scared.
At dance practices, Jessica's teacher, Gail Henrich, told her what everyone was doing and helped her learn how to move her hips.
Jessica practiced and tried to imagine it all in her brain. Because she could see before, she understands perspective.
It wasn't really hard. It was kind of easy, even though the boys sometimes drove her out of her mind.
Now, the boys think Jessica's a good dancer. She keeps her arms up in dance position and doesn't look at her feet like other girls do.
She stepped forward, spun on her right leg and ended perfectly, facing Michael.
Then it was Michael's turn to whip himself around while Jessica kept time with the music. Cha-cha-cha.
Jessica has had to learn a lot: how to read Braille, how to find her way to the library with a cane, how to use gadgets like a talking thermometer.
"What's your name?" she'll ask when someone walks up.
Some things haven't changed, like playing with her 100 dolls and listening to country music. Some things have, like coloring and riding her bike.
She misses taking off for hours on that bicycle and turning off her walkie-talkie so her parents couldn't find her. She probably misses that the most. Her freedom.
Jessica turned again. As she came around, she lifted her arms and the pair returned to the dance position.
Step to the right, 1-2-3. Step to the left, 1-2-3.
Jessica is not shy about her blindness. She thinks it can be fun, like when she wears glasses to school to confuse her friends, and plays in the dark to freak out her brother.
Even though she can't see, she can write her name and her sign, a smiley face, from memory. Her teacher wants to take her rock climbing.
Once the Make-A-Wish Foundation gave her M&Ms and the chance to drive a golf cart. Jessica yelled, "Watch out! I'm a crazy blind girl, high on sugar!"
She didn't cry about being blind, though her parents did. Jessica asked her mother, "Why are you so mad at God? I'm not mad at him, so why are you?"
Her father has the same condition, and it has made him almost completely deaf. Jessica has endured six major brain surgeries, and she'll probably have more. She has lost her sense of smell, and there is always the chance that she'll lose her hearing, too.
But doctors told Jessica she might be able to see again when she's 21 or 22. She's not sure how exactly, but that's what they say. Researchers may one day figure out how to repair or transplant damaged nerves.
Michael did his own turn, necktie flying, and Jessica caught his shoulder.
The music petered out suddenly, and Jessica broke into a quick smile and curtsied. Michael bowed, and Jessica looped her arm through his.
"OK," she said. "Now we walk offstage."
content.hamptonroads.com/story.cfm?story=126902&ran=219673
Also a short video !
