In my book “Breaking Barriers,” I talk about the unique characteristics of the five guide dogs that I’ve worked with: Heidi, the verbose Weimaraner, Nan, the effusive licker; Dunbar, the food thief; Gifford, the rumbling snorer; and Jules, the lazy troublemaker. I describe how over time I learn to work with these quirks as part of forging partnerships with each dog. And I write about the care with which Guiding Eyes for the Blind (the school that has provided both dogs and training) matches each person with an appropriate dog, as well as how they build on the strengths of each person-dog pair, manage tension, and tailor the training to the needs of each student.

The effectiveness of Guiding Eyes’s teaching approach came to mind as I thought about learning to post blogs on WordPress with the assistance of a social media publicist. Because I am totally blind, I navigate cyberspace using a speech software program called Job Access With Speech (JAWS for short). I use keyboard commands instead of pointing and clicking. Unlike people who are legally but not totally blind, I have no way of knowing what appears where on a web page. And I am not particularly tech-savvy.

“This is the first time I’ve worked with a blind person,” the publicist said over the phone as I logged in to the WordPress dashboard. After successfully logging in, she asked me to click the “add new” button.

“Where’s that?” I asked, repeatedly hitting the down-arrow key to try to find the button.

“It’s a large button in the top left corner on the screen.”

As JAWS’s voice prattled in the background, I explained that neither the button’s size nor location was helpful. “What form is it connected with?” I asked, thinking that I could use a feature that lists all forms on the page.

“There’s no form attached to it,” she said. “It’s just a button.”

“What link is near?” I asked, thinking that I could use a feature that lists all links on the page.

“It’s not really near anything,” she said as I frantically tapped on the down-arrow key listening for some version of the phrase “add new button.”

“This is the first time I’ve worked with a blind person,” she repeated.

“Don’t worry,” I grunted, continuing my rapid tapping.

“Found it,” I said. Relieved, I clicked the button. “What next?”

After entering my blog title in the “Enter title here” box, she asked me to find a blank space in the middle of the screen where I could paste in the text of my blog.

This was not helpful because JAWS cannot find a blank space. “What’s near the space?” I asked.

“Nothing; it’s just a big blank space.”

At this point, I might have given up except that I had learned from my more tech-savvy visually-impaired friends that the site did indeed work with JAWS.

After some trial and error, it turned out that the blank space was visible to JAWS once I found the “Paste as plain text” button.

Our communication improved as we continued the blog-posting process. She directed me to a button or link instead of a position on the page or a blank space. As we continued working, I discovered that JAWS could easily read the headings on the page, and I began asking her under which heading the button or link was placed. By the time the blog entry was posted, we began to feel more comfortable speaking in a way that worked for both of us.

Learning to work with a new dog, to conquer cyberspace, or to master any skill is a journey, a dialogue, a dance. It’s forming relationships and creating communication that connects through words, tone, and body signals. It’s doing your homework and practicing so you can weather the inevitable rough spots. Ultimately, it’s taking responsibility for your action to break down as many barriers as possible so that learning can take place.

And now, I’m going to try to post this based solely on the written instructions my social media publicist has provided; will I succeed?