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The next most obvious condition among the blind is the needless delay, partly because of their geographical distribution, and largely because it is no one's particular duty to inform them, in securing the help of resources already organized for the blind of the state; equally true of medical resources, nursery, school, shop, and home. We have spoken at another meeting of delays in securing medical help which result in blindness. The next striking delay is in the beginning of education of those becoming blind. In the case of those becoming blind in childhood, we find delays ranging from a few years to fifteen and thirty years. I can never forget the instance, of which I have spoken before, of a man past thirty, of sound mind and body, who had, because of his blindness, been treated by his family as an invalid, and had his first chance to learn to read and write at thirty-two, when the home teachers found him. I think of him now because the Commission has just voted, despite the difficulties in the way, to give him the fullest opportunity in their power to learn to use his hands. Week before last I visited in one of our cities a tiny summer school made possible by the cooperation of the trustees of Perkins School, a local committee on the blind, and the Commission. Three blind children, aged eleven, twelve, and fourteen, sat with two or three little seeing guides about a table weaving paper and making baskets; one, a little Portuguese child, born in this state and blind from early infancy, wholly uneducated until discovered by the field work of the former Commission two years ago; two little French Canadian girls, one delicate and in need of physical training; and one, an eager, robust child, who took up reading and clay modeling with delightful zeal. They are four, five, and seven years late in beginning their education, which we should consider a very serious item in the case of the same children with sight. How much more in theirs! The consequences of delay in the case of persons becoming blind later in life are familiar to all workers among the blind. When blindness comes to the breadwinner between thirty and forty years of age, for example, there is a good chance for wrecking the home life -- the mother going to work, the father, idle and alone at home, easily losing courage, physical strength, even sanity. Prompt, substantial encouragement to learn how to be blind is absolutely essential at the start. It becomes "too late" in the case of persons becoming blind after twenty with even a more terrible certainty than with children. How is this condition to be met?

One more general need is that of practical interest in his own community for the blind workman, provided he gets the needed training and equipment, and of real understanding by each community of its own blind problem. After all is said and done, the welfare of the blind child who leaves the school, of the workman who returns home with his training and his tools, and, in fact, of all the blind, truly depends upon his own family and his own community. Institutions at their best can only contribute a share. It is within the power of the community to make the life of an active blind person happy or unhappy, to give him a chance for recognized usefulness or not.

Now all of this and a great deal more may, to my mind, be described as a general need of "socializing" all work for the blind. I have borrowed the word from another connection, and I might have named my paper, "Socializing Work for the Blind." By "socializing" work for the blind I mean treating each individual problem, whether of nursery, school, shop, or Home, in relation to personal capacity and local resources. All forms of field work are signs of the demand to know the real truth about the needs of the blind. Field work discloses the needs of which I have spoken, and from it will follow the taking up of the individual problem from the point of view of his social situation, rather than from the point of view of the institution, and if he goes to the institution making the connection with his family and community close at both ends, when he enters and when he leaves. I am convinced that the real reason no little of this has been done is partly that persons in charge of work for the blind have had too much to do to develop this side of their work, and partly that the need has not been sufficiently recognized for time, money, and workers to be set apart to keep up this end. It is field work which has convinced me and will, I am sure, convince others of the true situation.

The outward and visible signs of the attempt to meet this situation are: a central office and workers who know, or at least want to know, the real needs of the blind; who have at their command knowledge of the resources of the state, both of cities and towns, which may be in any way used to meet the needs of the blind; and have, last but not least, a continuous method for finding the blind at the time of their greatest need. This may be called a department of registration and information, if you like; but it ought to be said, don't have a mistaken idea about the register part of it, which is only a practical means of aiding memory by noting the results of field work; for what applications are made; names of those in this line of business or that; those who want to use the salesroom; who are successful men and women; who have found new occupations, etc. The register itself is a dull but very necessary matter of office technique.