Jack L. Chen has been blind since the tenth grade. But he doesn't want to talk about it.

He'd rather discuss God, guitar, the waffles in the Quincy House dining hall or Surface Washable, the name of both his Gund teddy bears (a friend suggested it after reading the instructions on their tags).

"Music, stuffed animals, AABS [Asian-American Bible Study] and food: that's what I am at Harvard," the sophomore says.

Chen is adamant about playing down his blindness. For him, it's just one more part of who he is, even if it's the part most people notice first.

"The image I like to portray is that there isn't much difference. Sure, there are little things here and there, but I'm just like everyone else in a lot of ways," he says.

Chen, a computer science concentrator, doesn't talk about his blindness much with friends. "Generally, the topic doesn't come up," he says. "I don't think people are uncomfortable--it's just not something that I find important, and other people don't either."

Yet it affects virtually every aspect of his life.

Just this month, Chen had to start the semester behind in his course work because Harvard's reading service required two weeks to record his textbooks onto audio tape. The Coop had stocked the books only one week before classes began.

When his classes offer lecture notes, Chen's teaching fellows send them to him via e-mail and his voice-synthesizer computer reads them aloud. He also uses his computer to take notes in class.

In the dining hall, he locates utensils by memory; someone must read him the list of entrees. He finds an empty seat by listening for pockets of silence amid the buzz of conversation.

Chen takes his exams separately, typing answers into a computer after someone reads the question.

Yet the sophomore maintains that he is not at all removed from the mainstream of classes. "I try to be independent," he says.

Fellowship

Chen has been interested in computers since fifth grade, when he first started writing programs. He is considering attending graduate school in computer science, but says he hasn't thought much about long-term plans.

"I don't think my strong point is academics," Chen says.

Instead, he devotes much of his energy to church activities.

"Most people in computer science really get into it, [but] most of my free time is not compute science but AABS."

AABS is part of the Harvard-Radcliffe Christian Fellowship [CF]. Chen is on the CF technical crew, and helps to lead a Mather/Leverett/Dunster small group Bible study.

This summer, he is planning to teach in Taipei, Taiwan with "Love Asia," a Christian missionary program.

"My favorite thing here is not my academics, but a lot of stuff with fellowship," he says. "I've learned so much about how to interact with people, and about caring for people. It's been one of the best things about being here."

His friends say caring is one of his best attributes.

"He listens attentively to everything you say," says Elizabeth S. Dinonno '95. "I talk to him, he responds, and I know he's listened."

After some prodding, Chen admits that he has a talent for communicating with others.

"Interpersonal skills are part of my strong points," he says. "I really enjoy talking to people about the hard questions of life and sharing about my faith. It's what really gives me the most joy."

Chen was not raised Christian; his parents are both Buddhists. "My parents look the other way," he says of his faith "It makes it hard."

But his brother, fellow Quincy House resident Richard L. Chen '95, became a Christian. And then Jack did too.

Jack recalls that when he was "eight or nine," he lived in Taiwan, learning English from an American missionary who introduced him to Christianity.

But Chen didn't practice the religion fully until his first year at Harvard.

He says that he has been learning a lot more about his faith through CF and AABS. "I've totally gotten into it," he says.

Two Brothers

Chen was not completely blind until his sophomore year in high school. before tenth grade, his eyesight was far from perfect, but he could still see well enough to participate in freestyle biking and other activities.

"[My eyesight was] better than it is now," he laughs.

He lost his sight completely during the last of four operations to improve the vision in his left eye. Chen says it is "questionable" exactly what happened during the operation, but his optic nerve was destroyed, and his sight was gone.

"Sure, I was angry," he says. "The typical American thing is to use them for malpractice. But I don't find myself really angry anymore. I'm just angry that my parents were subjected to all this and had to pay for all those things that were supposed to work and didn't.

His older brother Richard says: "It was sort of tough, but it made him even more independent, which is sort of ironic."

"it gave him some focus," the older Chen brother continues. "He really became a lot more concentrated and hard-working because he knew it would be a lot harder to get good grades. So he got better grades."

Richard Chen is legally blind himself, although he has limited sight. He and Jack don't discuss their blindness, he says, beyond giving each other tips for how to get around.

"We don't talk about it--it's there," he says.

Christianity became more of a focus for Chen after he became blind, and he says it allowed him to forgive his doctors.

"In a lot of ways I wish I wasn't missing a lot to things. But [being blind] is a part of me," he says. "Sometimes I wish it wasn't there, but if it wasn't there, it wouldn't be me."

Now, Chen is leading the life of a fairly typical student--taking four classes, feeling guilty about not taking five, and exploring new interests.

"Music's really a big thing for me," he says. "I really like people who are musically talented." Chen and his two roommates own electric guitars, violins and a keyboard, among other instruments. The sophomore says he enjoys playing everything from worship to a capella and club music, partly because his friends at home are DJs.

Chen is learning how to play the guitar on his own, without a teacher. While the beginning of the semester doesn't leave much time for music, he says, he experimented for three or four hours every day during intersession.

"Basically, I hear something, listen carefully, and pick out the chords, and then go back to my room and just figure them out," he says. "One of the things I hope for in the future is to start composing some stuff," he adds.

Chen also has an extensive stuffed animal collection, through he only brought six to school. The in-house residents include four Winnie-the Poohs and the two Gund bears.

His nickname is "The Mouth," he says. "Everyone knows I eat tons and tons--pasta and seafood on plates as big as cafeteria trays."

But he says his favorite food, as of this year, is Belgian waffles.

"I live my weeks for Belgian waffles." he says. Besides the Sunday brunch standard, he wakes up early for breakfast on Wednesdays, when they are served in the Quincy House dining hall.

Extra Pressure

For Chen, the routine tasks that most students take for granted require constant effort.

He has developed a good memory, out of necessity. "If you have to remember something, you're going to remember it," he says.

Being blind gives even everyday life an added layer of difficulty. While Chen does most of his work on his computer, there are times when he can't perform tasks unaided.

And no matter how hard he works, he is often forced to compromise or accept special arrangements. For example, he says the reading service still has not arrived at a solution that would allow him to start classes on an equal footing with other students.

"There's a lot of miscommunication," he says. "Intentions aren't communicated."

Chen tries to accept the extra difficulties that come with his blindness, he says. But often, it's not easy.

"I can get angry at things," he says. "I know at Harvard I have to have people read stuff for me. Of course this is unfair. But if I weren't' this way, I wouldn't be me."

Most of the time, however, Chen doesn't give much attention to his condition. Many of the stereotypes about blind people, he says, are unfounded.

"Everyone asks me, do you count steps?" he says, bemusedly. "Do people really do that?"

In fact, Chen doesn't count steps, or number-off distances and says he just knows familiar places by instinct. To those who have asked him the step-counting question, he offers and analogy to set them straight: "after a while," he says, "you can walk around in your house at night in the dark."

Friendship and Faith

Despite, or perhaps because of their curiosity, other students often seem reluctant to introduce themselves, Chen says.

"In general, people get stuck in their comfort zones. I know I do," he says. "It's one area I should improve in, by introducing myself and drawing others in."

Chen's efforts might be unwarranted. Others say he is widely-known and well-liked.

"Jack has a lot of friends," Dinonno says. "He's always with someone I know."

But Chen argues that he always has room for more.

"I value friends a lot," he says. "I think I'm more willing to sacrifice for others than for myself."

Chen's friendships and his faith have sustained him through challenges that others might not have withstood. Even more, they have led him to believe that those trials aren't what is significant about his life at all, important than the ordinariness of activities like practicing the guitar or and studying the Bible.

"One thing really came out of me losing my eyesight--afterwards, the only thing in this world is Christianity," he says. "I developed a heart that can forgive."