MILTON — In her junior year at Fife High School, Jen Croak was legally blind. In her senior year, she wasn’t.
It wasn’t her vision that changed. It was her diagnosis.
All her life, eye doctors had told her family she was legally blind. She was diagnosed as such in 1994, and again in 2000.
Then, in August, a specialist classified her sight as correctable to “very low vision.”
On its face, that wasn’t bad news. But, on the eve of her senior year, it disqualified her for some college financial aid on which she had been counting.
Croak’s vocational rehabilitation counselor doesn’t expect it to be a major setback for the 18-year-old, who graduated from Fife High last week with a 3.33 grade-point average.
“She’s just one of the sweetest and kindest persons I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with; she’s a very determined person,” said Linda Wilder, who works in the Tacoma office of Washington State Department of Services for the Blind. “As soon as you meet her, you just know that she’s going to be successful, and she’s going to follow through.”
Croak was born utterly blind. Her parents’ genes combined to give her albinism. She’s the absolute blue-eyed blonde in a brown-haired family.
With the albinism came nystagmus, a condition that causes her eyes to shift back and forth, as if following a metronome.
“I’m told that at around 6 months I got progressively better,” the Milton resident said. “I don’t think anyone expected that to happen. Everyone thought it would get progressively worse.”
Her vision improved until it hit 20/200. The higher that second number goes from the ideal of 20/20, the worse a person’s sight is.
“I can see a bulletin board, and the pattern of the papers on it,” she said. “I can see the colors. But I can’t read even the biggest words.”
That has made school a challenge.
“I can’t do whiteboards,” she added. “It’s been really hard. Teachers couldn’t figure out how to help me with the whiteboard and overheads.”
Some did well, she said. Her calculus teacher was organized and printed out the work she intended to write on the board. The Fife School District provided her with large-print books, and teachers enlarged her class handouts and tests.
But it didn’t go so smoothly in less-structured classes.
Though her friends all knew about her disability, Croak tried not to draw attention to it. She didn’t want people to feel sorry for her, or to think she was different or weird.
That, she admits, meant that she did not insist on extra help with the whiteboard issue. So she compensated.
“I basically taught myself out of books,” she said.
She studied hard at home, listened hard in class.
“My son calls her ‘Too Much Type A,’” said her mom, Becky Croak. “She’s so over the top when she does anything. She’ll get the most details, read the most articles. There are no shortcuts. She wants to do everything the best she possibly can.
“You would have no idea she has a vision problem. People will say, ‘What do you mean you can’t see that?’”
Becky Croak is a single mom on a tight budget, and she’s insisted that her son and daughter earn the grades and help find the money to go to college.
Jen Croak, 18, intends to become a doctor. She’s known from the beginning that scholarships and loans will have to pay for it. She thought her eyesight would give her an edge on scholarships.
“Everyone, ever since I was able to think about college, said I need to apply for these grants as a disabled person,” she said. “From my freshman year, I was always checking them. I had a running list of scholarships for disabled, low-vision, legally blind and blind.”
Scholarships for the legally blind were among the best, with awards in the $10,000 to $20,000 range.
When Croak heard about a Tacoma vision fair, she asked her mom to take her. She thought she might find the solution to her whiteboard problem. She wanted to be prepared to make the most of college.
At the same fair, they chanced on a booth offering referrals to low-vision testing. She and her mom made an appointment with Dr. Erick Hartman, whose practice includes work with the state Services for the Blind.
“He informed me that I had 20/200, and best corrected vision of 20/80,” Croak said. “I said that’s cool.”
The state bought her new glasses and sunglasses. Suddenly, she was not legally blind any more.
The glasses have allowed her to pass her driver’s license test, with the restriction that she can’t drive at night. In the past year, she could drive to school after she no longer had a ride with her brother, Phillip, who is 19 and went to college. She limits her driving to familiar territory.
In the practical world, better vision with the right equipment is a huge plus.
In the world of getting help paying for college, not so much.
“It wasn’t until a little later that I said, ‘Wait. How does this apply to scholarships?”’ she said.
Croak did not want to take money from another student whose sight is worse than hers. “That would be living a lie,” she said.
At the same time, she now faces the certainty of serious debt.
The University of Portland has accepted her, and will give her $14,910 toward its annual fees of around $42,000 a year.
The school is the right match, she said. Its classes and campus are small, and it is located in a city with good public transportation.
“They have an awesome disabilities department, and a counselor,” Becky Croak said. “They will have a special table for her computer and camera in every classroom.”
It’s manageable in every way but financially.
Jen Croak is working on that. She earned a $2,000 scholarship from the Greater Pierce County Community Network. State Services for the Blind can offer a grant of $6,880. She has learned that she won another scholarship through school, but does not yet know how much it is.
And, like so many young people, she is looking for a summer job. She’s volunteered with the Tacoma Rescue Mission, at a fundraising food concession at Safeco Field, filing for the city of Milton and as an “angel swimmer” keeping up with contestants at a women’s triathlon. She’s held a job as a lifeguard.
There’s no outrage here. Croak is grateful to the many people who have done so much for her. This is simply an ironic little tale of how even the best of intentions can come with unintended, and expensive, consequences.
It got her down at first. But she has since put it in perspective.
“Every obstacle yields to strong resolve,” she wrote in an e-mail note. “I am thankful for every moment of difficulty, because it has shaped the person I am. For that I am proud.”
Information from: The News Tribune, www.thenewstribune.com
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