A student with vision: by taking on life "with both hands," David showed me that there was nothing to fear. (End of the Day).

Retinitis pigmentosa. It sounded scary. It's basically the deterioration of a person's eyesight over time. For me, it meant I would have a blind student in my fourth-grade class. I was terrified. I had taken for granted being able to show students examples of how to do something; now everything had to be verbalized, down to how to fold a piece of paper.

By the end of the first day, David's "I can handle this if you can" attitude had prepared me for one of the most memorable learning experiences of my life. He was an excellent teacher for me and his classmates simply by his actions and his approach that there was nothing to fear.

At first, I wondered what he'd say after we said hello. I didn't quite expect, "Is it OK if I look around?" With his hands outstretched, he fearlessly walked the perimeter of the room, touching the bookshelves, the chalkboard, the coatroom, my desk, the tables, and the doorway.

The New Jersey Commission for the Blind provided Braille books, and a part-time Braille teacher stopped in three times a week. He helped David with Braille reading and writing and helped me learn some rudimentary survival Braille.

On gym day, we headed outside for a game of kickball. By the time the kids were finished choosing up sides, David and his teammates had arranged a system of coaches who would stand near the bases and yell so he'd know which way to run.

Someone else would stand behind home plate and yell "KICK!" when the ball got to the right spot. When the game was softball, David learned to "keep his ear on the ball" as the pitcher bounced it to him.

David valiantly completed all assignments, including maps. We were able to pre-order Braille maps, but sometimes we used maps informally in unplanned activities. I traced the important boundaries in thick, black marker lines, and David examined the maps with his glasses on and his head an inch or two from his desk, struggling to see the black and white contrast.

Art projects presented another challenge. Suddenly, I couldn't make a cut and hold it up with a simple, "Cut yours like this." David listened, then cut and pasted and showed off his creative works, some of which were remarkably better than those of the sighted students. His frequent request after an art lesson was, "May I wash my hands? I have paste on the finger I read with."

Twenty-two years after my year teaching David, he came back to visit my classroom. He is now a technology services specialist for the New Jersey Commission for the Blind, an author, and a motivational speaker. He brought Braille samples for the children and talked to them about living their dreams in spite of all obstacles. He takes no credit for any of his accomplishments. He told the children how lucky he was to have had a supportive family and such fine teachers throughout his life. I told the children how lucky I was to have seen courage up close, and to have spent a year with a boy who knew how to see things the way we should all be able to see them.

Genevieve Petrillo is a third-grade teacher at School 10 in Belleville, New Jersey. She has been teaching for 30 years.