When I was around 5 or 6 years old, I went with my parents, whom I love dearly, to a place called the Atlantic Provinces Special Education Authority or APSEA for a couple days of what they called assessment. It was two days of different eye tests, some which were a lot of fun, others not as much, but they wanted to gauge where my eyes were so that they could make recommendations to my school as to how they could best help me at the time.
One afternoon a few days later, I come home from school as I was accustomed to. I jump on the bus, sit in the seat behind the bus driver and beside my friend who we will call Newt. I ride the 20 minutes or so from the school to my bus stop. Upon arriving, I say goodbye to Newt and get off the bus. I meet my dear mother at the bus stop and we walk the short distance down the dirt road from the bus stop to our house, as we have done every single school day before that. I enter my home, hang my book bag in the place where it has been suggested I put it, and proceed to my bedroom.
Upon entering my bedroom, I notice that not only has it been cleaned better than I usually kept it at that time, but it has been completely reorganized, and I had nothing to do with it. None of my things were where I usually kept them in order to find them quickly. It took me a few days to find where everything was, and by the time I had tracked down the new locations for everything in my room, mom and dad would sneek into my bedroom while I was away at school and re organize it yet again.
They did this several times over the course of a few weeks, until I got so frustrated with it that I had to ask them why they kept re organizing my bedroom so frequently? It turns out that the folks at the wonderful organization APSEA (It really is wonderful, I’m not just being sarcastic) had suggested that they do this for me so that I would be forced to look around for things and use my eyes in hopes that they might get better. However, that plan backfired as my parents would soon discover that it really just made me take forever to find things they might need me to get quickly, and seeing the frustration it caused me, they wisely put a stop to re organizing my room on the condition that I could find a way to keep it organized and presentable….which is really as much as you can ask of the bedroom of a legally blind little kid.