The Story of My Life
Perkins Institution to learn if anything could be done for his friend's
child. He saw a gentleman whom he presumed to be the director, and told
him about Helen. He says the gentleman was not particularly interested,
but said he would see if anything could be done. Doesn't it seem strange
that Mr. Anagnos never referred to this interview?
March 20, 1887.
My heart is singing for joy this morning. A miracle has happened!
The light of understanding has shone upon my little pupil's mind, and
behold, all things are changed!
The wild little creature of two weeks ago has been transformed into
a gentle child. She is sitting by me as I write, her face serene and
happy, crocheting a long red chain of Scotch wool. She learned the
stitch this week, and is very proud of the achievement. When she
succeeded in making a chain that would reach across the room, she patted
herself on the arm and put the first work of her hands lovingly against
her cheek. She lets me kiss her now, and when she is in a particularly
gentle mood, she will sit in my lap for a minute or two; but she does
not return my caresses. The great step--the step that counts--has been
taken. The little savage has learned her first lesson in obedience, and
finds the yoke easy. It now remains my pleasant task to direct and mould
the beautiful intelligence that is beginning to stir in the child-soul.
Already people remark the change in Helen. Her father looks in at us
morning and evening as he goes to and from his office, and sees her
contentedly stringing her beads or making horizontal lines on her
sewing-card, and exclaims, "How quiet she is!" When I came, her
movements were so insistent that one always felt there was something
unnatural and almost weird about her. I have noticed also that she eats
much less, a fact which troubles her father so much that he is anxious
to get her home. He says she is homesick. I don't agree with him; but I
suppose we shall have to leave our little bower very soon.
Helen has learned several nouns this week. "M-u-g" and "m-i-l-k," have
given her more trouble than other words. When she spells "milk," she
points to the mug, and when she spells "mug," she makes the sign for
pouring or drinking, which shows that she has confused the words. She
has no idea yet that everything has a name.
Yesterday I had the little negro boy come in when Helen was having
her lesson, and learn the letters, too. This pleased her very much and
stimulated her ambition to excel Percy. She was delighted if he made
a mistake, and made him form the letter over several times. When he
succeeded in forming it to suit her, she patted him on his woolly head
so vigorously that I thought some of his slips were intentional.
One day this week Captain Keller brought Belle, a setter of which he
is very proud, to see us. He wondered if Helen would recognize her old
playmate. Helen was giving Nancy a bath, and didn't notice the dog at
first. She usually feels the softest step and throws out her arms to
ascertain if any one is near her. Belle didn't seem very anxious to
attract her attention. I imagine she has been rather roughly handled
sometimes by her little mistress. The dog hadn't been in the room more
than half a minute, however, before Helen began to sniff, and dumped
the doll into the wash-bowl and felt about the room. She stumbled
upon Belle, who was crouching near the window where Captain Keller was
standing. It was evident that she recognized the dog; for she put her
arms round her neck and squeezed her. Then Helen sat down by her and
began to manipulate her claws. We couldn't think for a second what she
was doing; but when we saw her make the letters "d-o-l-l" on her own
fingers, we knew that she was trying to teach Belle to spell.
March 28, 1887.
Helen and I came home yesterday. I am sorry they wouldn't let us
stay another week; but I think I have made the most I could of the
opportunities that were mine the past two weeks, and I don't expect that
I shall have any serious trouble with Helen in the future. The back of
the greatest obstacle in the path of progress is broken. I think "no"
and "yes," conveyed by a shake or a nod of my head, have become facts
as apparent to her as hot and cold or as the difference between pain and
pleasure. And I don't intend that the lesson she has learned at the cost
of so much pain and trouble shall be unlearned. I shall stand between
her and the over-indulgence of her parents. I have told Captain and Mrs.
Keller that they must not interfere with me in any way. I have done my
best to make them see the terrible injustice to Helen of allowing her to
have her way in everything, and I have pointed out that the processes of
teaching the child that everything cannot be as he wills it, are apt to
be painful both to him and to his teacher. They have promised to let me
have a free hand and help me as much as possible. The improvement they
cannot help seeing in their child has given them more confidence in me.
Of course, it is hard for them. I realize that it hurts to see their
afflicted little child punished and made to do things against her will.
Only a few hours after my talk with Captain and Mrs. Keller (and they
had agreed to everything), Helen took a notion that she wouldn't use
her napkin at table. I think she wanted to see what would happen. I
attempted several times to put the napkin round her neck; but each time
she tore it off and threw it on the floor and finally began to kick the
table. I took her plate away and started to take her out of the room.
Her father objected and said that no child of his should be deprived of
his food on any account.
Helen didn't come up to my room after supper, and I didn't see her again
until breakfast-time. She was at her place when I came down. She had put
the napkin under her chin, instead of pinning it at the back, as was her
custom. She called my attention to the new arrangement, and when I did
not object she seemed pleased and patted herself. When she left the
dining-room, she took my hand and patted it. I wondered if she was
trying to "make up." I thought I would try the effect of a little
belated discipline. I went back to the dining-room and got a napkin.
When Helen came upstairs for her lesson, I arranged the objects on the
table as usual, except that the cake, which I always give her in bits
as a reward when she spells a word quickly and correctly, was not there.
She noticed this at once and made the sign for it. I showed her the
napkin and pinned it round her neck, then tore it off and threw it on
the floor and shook my head. I repeated this performance several times.
I think she understood perfectly well; for she slapped her hand two or
three times and shook her head. We began the lesson as usual. I gave
her an object, and she spelled the name (she knows twelve now). After
spelling half the words, she stopped suddenly, as if a thought had
flashed into her mind, and felt for the napkin. She pinned it round her
neck and made the sign for cake (it didn't occur to her to spell the
word, you see). I took this for a promise that if I gave her some cake
she would be a good girl. I gave her a larger piece than usual, and she
chuckled and patted herself.
April 3, 1887.
We almost live in the garden, where everything is growing and blooming
and glowing. After breakfast we go out and watch the men at work. Helen
loves to dig and play in the dirt like any other child. This morning she
planted her doll and showed me that she expected her to grow as tall
as I. You must see that she is very bright, but you have no idea how
cunning she is.
At ten we come in and string beads for a few minutes. She can make a
great many combinations now, and often invents new ones herself. Then I
let her decide whether she will sew or knit or crochet. She learned to
knit very quickly, and is making a wash-cloth for her mother. Last week
she made her doll an apron, and it was done as well as any child of her
age could do it. But I am always glad when this work is over for the
day. Sewing and crocheting are inventions of the devil, I think. I'd
rather break stones on the king's highway than hem a handkerchief. At
eleven we have gymnastics. She knows all the free-hand movements and the
"Anvil Chorus" with the dumb-bells. Her father says he is going to fit
up a gymnasium for her in the pump-house; but we both like a good romp
better than set exercises. The hour from twelve to one is devoted to
the learning of new words. BUT YOU MUSTN'T THINK THIS IS THE ONLY TIME
I SPELL TO HELEN; FOR I SPELL IN HER HAND EVERYTHING WE DO ALL DAY LONG,
ALTHOUGH SHE HAS NO IDEA AS YET WHAT THE SPELLING MEANS. After dinner I
rest for an hour, and Helen plays with her dolls or frolics in the yard
with the little darkies, who were her constant companions before I came.
Later I join them, and we make the rounds of the outhouses. We visit the
horses and mules in their stalls and hunt for eggs and feed the turkeys.
Often, when the weather is fine, we drive from four to six, or go to see
her aunt at Ivy Green or her cousins in the town. Helen's instincts are
decidedly social; she likes to have people about her and to visit her
friends, partly, I think, because they always have things she likes
to eat. After supper we go to my room and do all sorts of things until
eight, when I undress the little woman and put her to bed. She sleeps
with me now. Mrs. Keller wanted to get a nurse for her, but I concluded
I'd rather be her nurse than look after a stupid, lazy negress. Besides,
I like to have Helen depend on me for everything, AND I FIND IT MUCH
EASIER TO TEACH HER THINGS AT ODD MOMENTS THAN AT SET TIMES.
On March 31st I found that Helen knew eighteen nouns and three verbs.
Here is a list of the words. Those with a cross after them are words she
asked for herself: DOLL, MUG, PIN, KEY, DOG, HAT, CUP, BOX, WATER, MILK,
CANDY, EYE (X), FINGER (X), TOE (X), HEAD (X), CAKE, BABY, MOTHER, SIT,
STAND, WALK. On April 1st she learned the nouns KNIFE, FORK, SPOON,
SAUCER, TEA, PAPA, BED, and the verb RUN.
April 5, 1887.
I must write you a line this morning because something very important
has happened. Helen has taken the second great step in her education.
She has learned that EVERYTHING HAS A NAME, AND THAT THE MANUAL ALPHABET
IS THE KEY TO EVERYTHING SHE WANTS TO KNOW.
In a previous letter I think I wrote you that "mug" and "milk" had given
Helen more trouble than all the rest. She confused the nouns with the
verb "drink." She didn't know the word for "drink," but went through
the pantomime of drinking whenever she spelled "mug" or "milk." This
morning, while she was washing, she wanted to know the name for "water."
When she wants to know the name of anything, she points to it and pats
my hand. I spelled "w-a-t-e-r" and thought no more about it until after
breakfast. Then it occurred to me that with the help of this new word
I might succeed in straightening out the "mug-milk" difficulty. We went
out to the pump-house, and I made Helen hold her mug under the spout
while I pumped. As the cold water gushed forth, filling the mug, I
spelled "w-a-t-e-r" in Helen's free hand. The word coming so close upon
the sensation of cold water rushing over her hand seemed to startle her.
She dropped the mug and stood as one transfixed. A new light came into
her face. She spelled "water" several times. Then she dropped on the
ground and asked for its name and pointed to the pump and the trellis,
and suddenly turning round she asked for my name. I spelled "Teacher."
Just then the nurse brought Helen's little sister into the pump-house,
and Helen spelled "baby" and pointed to the nurse. All the way back to
the house she was highly excited, and learned the name of every object