Dr. Robert Shelton on finding his way
2015-10-29
For the October 2015 National Disability Employment Awareness Month, Johnson Space Center is honoring an employee whose character embodies the theme of the month, “My disability is one part of who I am.”
The weight of the world on the shoulders of any man is considerable—not to mention when heaped upon the reedy shoulders of a boy. But Dr. Robert Shelton, a NASA veteran since 1971, accepted his lot at age 11 with a forbearance and tranquility that is almost unheard of. However, if anyone were to hear it … it would be Shelton. Devoid of sight after a failed eye surgery as an adolescent, Shelton’s hearing is exceptionally keen.
“I like to tell people that my ears are eyes that can see through walls and around corners,” Shelton said.
What Shelton lacks in sight he makes up for in other areas—most notably, his mental prowess. A mathematician, computer science expert and engineer, Shelton can visualize the connections in abstract concepts that most cannot fathom.
“I’d always been good at math and science,” Shelton said. “I never remember not knowing how an electric motor worked, because my dad was essentially a self-taught electrical engineer, and we always had stuff out in the garage to mess with.”
Being smart came easy. Tests came easy. What went quickly, though, was the world as Shelton knew it.
“I was born with something called congenital glaucoma,” Shelton said. “Glaucoma is typically a disease of adults or elderly people, but there are cases where children have it, and it’s very difficult to treat in children. And the treatment for glaucoma is medication, which was only a partial solution. Then surgery—which is pretty crude, even today.”
With too much pressure in the eye, the doctors essentially poke a hole in it to allow it to drain. But kids are resilient little creatures. Unlike adults, they are quick to heal—necessitating more surgeries—and more risks.
Surgery when Shelton was an infant left him sightless in his left eye. From then on, all the surgeries to his right eye were all or nothing.
After that one surgery when he was 11 … “When I woke up, I couldn’t see.”
It was a stunning loss, but one that Shelton and his parents didn’t dwell on for long. They had understood the risks and were somewhat prepared for that eventuality.
“I had very unusual parents,” Shelton said. “They looked at the educational options (which at that point, they didn’t mainstream blind students—they put them in a state school). And they said, ‘You know what? You’re going to stay in public school—and we don’t care if we have to sue the school board to do it.’”
Shelton’s parents never had to make good on the threat.
“The school board was very progressive and open to it as long as I could pass the test,” Shelton said. “And I was pretty good at that, and they were happy to have me. So I went through the rest of middle and high school, and I got a full scholarship to Rice University when I graduated.”
Shelton was invaluable to Johnson Space Center from the beginning, adept in both math and computer science. It was a heady STEM-centric combination that would see him gainfully employed by JSC—as well as two universities as a math professor for many years in between—before coming back within the fold of human spaceflight.
Shelton now is a lead simulation engineer in JSC’s Engineering Orbital Dynamics Division. He also chairs the No Boundaries (NoBo) Employee Resource Group, which was chartered to include JSC team members with disabilities and those who want to improve JSC’s culture and environment for those experiencing mobility and other challenges.
Shelton is proud of the work NoBo has done this year, especially in bringing information and resources available to the JSC workforce out to the forefront.
“We’ve also given demonstrations that are intended to give people an idea of what it’s like to struggle with various kinds of physical challenges,” Shelton explained.
But what he most wants to do with NoBo is to just make being disabled a non-issue.
“We want to essentially normalize the idea of having disabled people in the workforce,” Shelton said. “I’ve been a big admirer of the Out & Allied group, because they’ve gone from having to hold their meetings, essentially, in secret, to [JSC Director] Ellen [Ochoa] leading the Pride Parade. Of course, with disabilities, you don’t necessarily have a negative concept of a person, but there is this element of fear. And I think it’s because people think, ‘God, what if that was me?’ And I want to get rid of that. I want it to be just another day at the office.”
While Shelton realizes the normalizing part is no simple feat, he’s never been one to shy from challenges.
“The thing I’m most familiar with is blindness, and I think it goes back to fear of the dark,” Shelton said. “As children, we were always afraid of that, and we can’t imagine how we would deal with it. The truth of the matter is, it really has nothing to do with that. With any kind of sensory disability, it has to do with getting enough input—getting enough information to carry on your life and make decisions and functions. And if you learn alternative techniques, you can do that just fine.”
Shelton has learned to work around his limitations thanks to his resilience, willingness to go outside of his comfort zone, mobility training and rapidly accelerating adaptive technologies. Another key for him, which NoBo helped explore, was giving others the chance to be helpful. Whereas years ago Shelton may not have reached out to facility managers to ask if certain areas were off limits due to construction—now he has no problem just asking.
In his free time, Shelton likes to read, listen to sports talk radio—and spend time with his family. Married for 45 years, Shelton is the father of three sons and a proud grandfather to boot. Despite all he has going on, he still pounds out more than 30 miles a week on his treadmill.
Though he doesn’t find his life particularly exceptional—there is no argument that he is.
Shelton doesn’t have all the answers when it comes to changing a “normal” person’s perception of the disabled. But he’s pretty good at just doing his own thing, and doing it with great results.
“You know, if you have a complicated thing to get across … there’s nothing like an example,” Shelton said.
Catherine Ragin Williams
NASA Johnson Space Center
The weight of the world on the shoulders of any man is considerable—not to mention when heaped upon the reedy shoulders of a boy. But Dr. Robert Shelton, a NASA veteran since 1971, accepted his lot at age 11 with a forbearance and tranquility that is almost unheard of. However, if anyone were to hear it … it would be Shelton. Devoid of sight after a failed eye surgery as an adolescent, Shelton’s hearing is exceptionally keen.
“I like to tell people that my ears are eyes that can see through walls and around corners,” Shelton said.
What Shelton lacks in sight he makes up for in other areas—most notably, his mental prowess. A mathematician, computer science expert and engineer, Shelton can visualize the connections in abstract concepts that most cannot fathom.
“I’d always been good at math and science,” Shelton said. “I never remember not knowing how an electric motor worked, because my dad was essentially a self-taught electrical engineer, and we always had stuff out in the garage to mess with.”
Being smart came easy. Tests came easy. What went quickly, though, was the world as Shelton knew it.
“I was born with something called congenital glaucoma,” Shelton said. “Glaucoma is typically a disease of adults or elderly people, but there are cases where children have it, and it’s very difficult to treat in children. And the treatment for glaucoma is medication, which was only a partial solution. Then surgery—which is pretty crude, even today.”
With too much pressure in the eye, the doctors essentially poke a hole in it to allow it to drain. But kids are resilient little creatures. Unlike adults, they are quick to heal—necessitating more surgeries—and more risks.
Surgery when Shelton was an infant left him sightless in his left eye. From then on, all the surgeries to his right eye were all or nothing.
After that one surgery when he was 11 … “When I woke up, I couldn’t see.”
It was a stunning loss, but one that Shelton and his parents didn’t dwell on for long. They had understood the risks and were somewhat prepared for that eventuality.
“I had very unusual parents,” Shelton said. “They looked at the educational options (which at that point, they didn’t mainstream blind students—they put them in a state school). And they said, ‘You know what? You’re going to stay in public school—and we don’t care if we have to sue the school board to do it.’”
Shelton’s parents never had to make good on the threat.
“The school board was very progressive and open to it as long as I could pass the test,” Shelton said. “And I was pretty good at that, and they were happy to have me. So I went through the rest of middle and high school, and I got a full scholarship to Rice University when I graduated.”
Shelton was invaluable to Johnson Space Center from the beginning, adept in both math and computer science. It was a heady STEM-centric combination that would see him gainfully employed by JSC—as well as two universities as a math professor for many years in between—before coming back within the fold of human spaceflight.
Shelton now is a lead simulation engineer in JSC’s Engineering Orbital Dynamics Division. He also chairs the No Boundaries (NoBo) Employee Resource Group, which was chartered to include JSC team members with disabilities and those who want to improve JSC’s culture and environment for those experiencing mobility and other challenges.
Shelton is proud of the work NoBo has done this year, especially in bringing information and resources available to the JSC workforce out to the forefront.
“We’ve also given demonstrations that are intended to give people an idea of what it’s like to struggle with various kinds of physical challenges,” Shelton explained.
But what he most wants to do with NoBo is to just make being disabled a non-issue.
“We want to essentially normalize the idea of having disabled people in the workforce,” Shelton said. “I’ve been a big admirer of the Out & Allied group, because they’ve gone from having to hold their meetings, essentially, in secret, to [JSC Director] Ellen [Ochoa] leading the Pride Parade. Of course, with disabilities, you don’t necessarily have a negative concept of a person, but there is this element of fear. And I think it’s because people think, ‘God, what if that was me?’ And I want to get rid of that. I want it to be just another day at the office.”
While Shelton realizes the normalizing part is no simple feat, he’s never been one to shy from challenges.
“The thing I’m most familiar with is blindness, and I think it goes back to fear of the dark,” Shelton said. “As children, we were always afraid of that, and we can’t imagine how we would deal with it. The truth of the matter is, it really has nothing to do with that. With any kind of sensory disability, it has to do with getting enough input—getting enough information to carry on your life and make decisions and functions. And if you learn alternative techniques, you can do that just fine.”
Shelton has learned to work around his limitations thanks to his resilience, willingness to go outside of his comfort zone, mobility training and rapidly accelerating adaptive technologies. Another key for him, which NoBo helped explore, was giving others the chance to be helpful. Whereas years ago Shelton may not have reached out to facility managers to ask if certain areas were off limits due to construction—now he has no problem just asking.
In his free time, Shelton likes to read, listen to sports talk radio—and spend time with his family. Married for 45 years, Shelton is the father of three sons and a proud grandfather to boot. Despite all he has going on, he still pounds out more than 30 miles a week on his treadmill.
Though he doesn’t find his life particularly exceptional—there is no argument that he is.
Shelton doesn’t have all the answers when it comes to changing a “normal” person’s perception of the disabled. But he’s pretty good at just doing his own thing, and doing it with great results.
“You know, if you have a complicated thing to get across … there’s nothing like an example,” Shelton said.
Catherine Ragin Williams
NASA Johnson Space Center