When Music Becomes Braille: Creative Paths in Education for Blind Kids

Whimsical digital illustration of three colorful birds flying among floating music notes and Braille dots on a blue-and-yellow sky background. Curved musical staff lines weave across the scene, blending sound and touch in a dreamlike way.

Professor Mihaela Aurora Christi is a retired senior researcher of West University of Timișoara in Romania. With a background in linguistics, music, and education, Christi has spent decades working with blind and disabled students, blending music, tactile art, and storytelling into creative teaching methods. In this interview, Mihaela shares insights about her projects, inspirations, and hopes for the future of music education for blind children.

Can you tell us a little about yourself and what inspired your work?

I was born in Timișoara 70 years ago in a large family where most of us sang, more for love than for money. Growing up in Banat Province, often called Europe’s pivotal point, meant I was surrounded by many cultures and languages. Children there might speak several “mother tongues” at home and pick up even more in their neighborhood.

After traveling widely and returning home after the 1989 revolutions, I began working with children with special needs. My academic path included a PhD in stylistics and several master’s degrees, but my greatest lessons came from years of music therapy at the piano. Music became my way of telling stories without words.

The values that guide my work are rooted in three traditions: from pre-Christian philosophy, I draw on the pursuit of beauty, goodness, and truth; from Christianity, I embrace faith, hope, and love; and from the modern world, I believe in responsibility, equity, and solidarity. Together, these form a kind of compass that shapes how I approach both education and creativity.

If I had to choose a “Top 5” from the music I’ve played for therapy groups, it would include:

  • Bach’s statement of faith
  • Mozart’s double piano sonata in D major, K.448, known for its “Mozart effect” on children’s learning; and the adagio for the piano sonata in F, k 332, suggesting it was Don Quixote’s love story for Dulcinea
  • Beethoven’s reworking of the Neapolitan song Felicella
  • Oginski’s nostalgic polonaise

For those who’d like to listen, here are some of the pieces I’ve used in my sessions:

Music has always been my inspiration and my tool for reaching children.

What is your current project, and how does it help children learn both music and Braille?

My current project is an illustrated tactile ABC that combines solfeggio (musical notation) with Braille. The first part is available now, with more to come.

The idea is simple but powerful: tactile music notation can reinforce Braille learning by giving the dots double meaning. For example, the letter L in my system corresponds to the musical notes Mi–Sol–Si. A child already learning Braille discovers that letters can become music, while a child starting with music will find a natural bridge to Braille literacy. This approach is sketched on my site, awaiting feedback.

This connection isn’t new. Charles Barbier, whose system inspired Louis Braille, originally devised his dot notation for music. (See Philippa Campsie’s excellent research on Barbier.)

For an intuitive serendipity on this concept, I recommend Jarbas Agnelli’s video on turning birds on power lines into musical notes.

You’ve mentioned blending music, stories, and tactile art. Why do you feel this combination is especially important for children with vision loss?

A blind student once told me that she “watched” cartoons. When I asked her what she meant, she explained that in cartoons and in films everything happens at once, just like life, while in radio theater things happen one by one. That taught me how blind children build their own “inner vision” of reality.

Music is the world they live in: not only an art form, but also a guide. It helps them navigate, balance, and even imagine colors they cannot see. Tactile art adds another layer, letting children shape and understand the world with their hands.

I began teaching tactile composition using simple materials like clay and seeds. Later, I taught blind students to make films. One of my proudest moments was when a blind girl filmed close-ups and moving shots herself, never stumbling once as she introduced us to her creativity room.

I also draw inspiration from tactile artist Ann Cunningham and from resources such as Sensational Books.

Here’s a short film we made that shows some of this at work.

What challenges have you faced in developing your projects, and what has kept you motivated?

There have been many challenges, some universal, others unique to my context. But every obstacle has also been a reason to keep going.

One urgent problem is that fewer blind children are learning Braille today. Statistics show that only about one in ten continue to use Braille after leaving school. By introducing music notation as a tactile system at an early age, we can give children both motivation and skills to stay engaged with Braille for life.

Of course, teaching music Braille requires musicians as teachers, not just Braille specialists. It’s like learning Greek letters in a physics class; you can memorize them, but you won’t learn the language unless your teacher comes from Athens!

What keeps me motivated is seeing children discover joy and independence through music and tactile exploration.

What are your hopes for the future of music education for blind children, both in Romania and around the world?

I hope for a future where blind children can develop their gifts in music, communication, science, or even visual arts with the same support and devotion as any other child. But I am realistic: the path forward is not easy.

To close, let me share lines from the poem On Inhabiting an Orange by Josephine Miles that I often return to. They remind me that our journeys are rarely straightforward, but they are still worth traveling:

All our roads go nowhere.
Maps are curled
To keep the pavement definitely
On the world.

All our footsteps, set to make
Metric advance,
Lapse into arcs in deference
To circumstance.

All our journeys nearing Space
Skirt it with care,
Shying at the distances
Present in air.

Blithely travel-stained and worn,
Erect and sure,
All our travels go forth,
Making down the roads of Earth
Endless detour.

Despite the detours, I remain convinced that music and tactile art can open new roads for blind children everywhere.


Related Posts

Golden print letters and Braille dots flow together in a wave pattern across a green background, with musical notes accenting the design to represent the harmony between Braille and print literacy.

Braille and Literacy, Visual Impairment

Should Blind Children Learn Print Letters?

Discover why teaching both print and braille can enrich literacy for children who are blind, helping them connect with the wider world.

Illustration of a mother and baby practicing tactile sign language outdoors.

Communication, Visual Impairment

Understanding Tactile Sign Language for Deaf-Blind Children

Tactile sign language allows deaf-blind children to communicate through touch. Multiple forms of tactile sign language can be adapted to meet individual needs.

Illustration of a blind child wearing a virtual reality headset and holding a white cane, standing in a grassy outdoor setting.

Assistive Technology, iPad Apps and Accessibility, Visual Impairment

Apple Unveils New Accessibility Features: What It Could Mean for Blind and Disabled Children

Apple announced new accessibility features, including visual aid tools for the Vision Pro headset. Here's what these updates could mean for blind and disabled children, plus what parents and educators...