The Story of My Life by Helen Keller (good books to read for beginners .txt) 📕

ears. Naturally, there was at first a strong tendency on her part to use only the important words in a sentence. She would say: “Helen milk.” I got the milk to show her that she had used the correct word; but I did not let her drink it until she had, with my assistance, made a complete sentence, as “Give Helen some milk to drink.” In these early lessons I encouraged her in the use of different forms of expression for conveying the same idea. If she was eating some candy, I said: “Will Helen please give teacher some candy?” or, “Teacher would like to eat some of Helen’s candy,” emphasizing the ‘s. She very soon perceived that the same idea could be expressed in a great many ways. In two or three months after I began to teach her she would say: “Helen wants to go to bed,” or, “Helen is sleepy, and Helen will go to bed.”

 

I am constantly asked the question, “How did you teach her the meaning of words expressive of intellectual and moral qualities?”

I believe it was more through association and repetition than through any explanation of mine. This is especially true of her earlier lessons, when her knowledge of language was so slight as to make explanation impossible.

 

I always made it a practice to use the words descriptive of emotions, of intellectual or moral qualities and actions, in connection with the circumstance which required these words. Soon after I became her teacher Helen broke her new doll, of which she was very fond. She began to cry. I said to her, “Teacher is SORRY.” After a few repetitions she came to associate the word with the feeling.

 

The word HAPPY she learned in the same way; ALSO, RIGHT, WRONG, GOOD, BAD, and other adjectives. The word LOVE she learned as other children do—by its association with caresses.

 

One day I asked her a simple question in a combination of numbers, which I was sure she knew. She answered at random. I checked her, and she stood still, the expression of her face plainly showing that she was trying to think. I touched her forehead, and spelled “t-h-i-n-k.” The word, thus connected with the act, seemed to impress itself on her mind much as if I had placed her hand upon an object and then spelled its name. Since that time she has always used the word THINK.

 

At a later period I began to use such words as PERHAPS, SUPPOSE, EXPECT, FORGET, REMEMBER. If Helen asked, “Where is mother now?”

I replied: “I do not know. PERHAPS she is with Leila.”

 

She is always anxious to learn the names of people we meet in the horse-cars or elsewhere, and to know where they are going, and what they will do. Conversations of this kind are frequent: HELEN. What is little boy’s name?

 

TEACHER. I do not know, for he is a little stranger; but PERHAPS

his name is Jack.

 

HELEN. Where is he going?

 

TEACHER. He MAY BE going to the Common to have fun with other boys.

 

HELEN. What will he play?

 

TEACHER. I SUPPOSE he will play ball.

 

HELEN. What are boys doing now?

 

TEACHER. PERHAPS they are expecting Jack, and are waiting for him.

 

After the words have become familiar to her, she uses them in composition.

 

September 26, [1888].

 

“This morning teacher and I sat by the window and we saw a little boy walking on the sidewalk. It was raining very hard and he had a very large umbrella to keep off the raindrops.

 

“I do not know how old he was but THINK he MAY HAVE BEEN six years old. PERHAPS his name was Joe. I do not know where he was going because he was a little strange boy. But PERHAPS his mother sent him to a store to buy something for dinner. He had a bag in one hand. I SUPPOSE he was going to take it to his mother.”

 

In teaching her the use of language, I have not confined myself to any particular theory or system. I have observed the spontaneous movements of my pupil’s mind, and have tried to follow the suggestions thus given to me.

 

Owing to the nervousness of Helen’s temperament, every precaution has been taken to avoid unduly exciting her already very active brain. The greater part of the year has been spent in travel and in visits to different places, and her lessons have been those suggested by the various scenes and experiences through which she has passed. She continues to manifest the same eagerness to learn as at first. It is never necessary to urge her to study. Indeed, I am often obliged to coax her to leave an example or a composition.

 

While not confining myself to any special system of instruction, I have tried to add to her general information and intelligence, to enlarge her acquaintance with things around her, and to bring her into easy and natural relations with people. I have encouraged her to keep a diary, from which the following selection has been made:

 

“March 22nd, 1888.

 

“Mr. Anagnos came to see me Thursday. I was glad to hug and kiss him. He takes care of sixty little blind girls and seventy little blind boys. I do love them. Little blind girls sent me a pretty work-basket. I found scissors and thread, and needle-book with many needles in it, and crochet hook and emery, and thimble, and box, and yard measure and buttons, and pin-cushion. I will write little blind girls a letter to thank them. I will make pretty clothes for Nancy and Adeline and Allie. I will go to Cincinnati in May and buy another child. Then I will have four children. New baby’s name is Harry. Mr. Wilson and Mr. Mitchell came to see us Sunday. Mr. Anagnos went to Louisville Monday to see little blind children. Mother went to Huntsville. I slept with father, and Mildred slept with teacher. I did learn about calm. It does mean quiet and happy. Uncle Morrie sent me pretty stories. I read about birds. The quail lays fifteen or twenty eggs and they are white. She makes her nest on the ground. The bluebird makes her nest in a hollow tree and her eggs are blue. The robin’s eggs are green. I learned a song about spring. March, April, May are spring.

 

Now melts the snow.

The warm winds blow

The waters flow

And robin dear,

Is come to show

That Spring is here.

 

“James killed snipes for breakfast. Little chickens did get very cold and die. I am sorry. Teacher and I went to ride on Tennessee River, in a boat. I saw Mr. Wilson and James row with oars. Boat did glide swiftly and I put hand in water and felt it flowing.

 

“I caught fish with hook and line and pole. We climbed high hill and teacher fell and hurt her head. I ate very small fish for supper. I did read about cow and calf. The cow loves to eat grass as well as girl does bread and butter and milk. Little calf does run and leap in field. She likes to skip and play, for she is happy when the sun is bright and warm. Little boy did love his calf. And he did say, I will kiss you, little calf, and he put his arms around calf’s neck and kissed her. The calf licked good boy’s face with long rough tongue. Calf must not open mouth much to kiss. I am tired, and teacher does not want me to write more.”

 

In the autumn she went to a circus. While we were standing before his cage the lion roared, and Helen felt the vibration of the air so distinctly that she was able to reproduce the noise quite accurately.

 

I tried to describe to her the appearance of a camel; but, as we were not allowed to touch the animal, I feared that she did not get a correct idea of its shape. A few days afterward, however, hearing a commotion in the schoolroom, I went in and found Helen on all fours with a pillow so strapped upon her back as to leave a hollow in the middle, thus making a hump on either side.

Between these humps she had placed her doll, which she was giving a ride around the room. I watched her for some time as she moved about, trying to take long strides in order to carry out the idea I had given her of a camel’s gait. When I asked her what she was doing, she replied, “I am a very funny camel.”

 

During the next two years neither Mr. Anagnos, who was in Europe for a year, nor Miss Sullivan wrote anything about Helen Keller for publication. In 1892 appeared the Perkins Institution report for 1891, containing a full account of Helen Keller, including many of her letters, exercises, and compositions. As some of the letters and the story of the “Frost King” are published here, there is no need of printing any more samples of Helen Keller’s writing during the third, fourth and fifth years of her education. It was the first two years that counted. From Miss Sullivan’s part of this report I give her most important comments and such biographical matter as does not appear elsewhere in the present volume.

 

These extracts Mr. Anagnos took from Miss Sullivan’s notes and memoranda.

 

One day, while her pony and her donkey were standing side by side, Helen went from one to the other, examining them closely.

At last she paused with her hand upon Neddy’s head, and addressed him thus: “Yes, dear Neddy, it is true that you are not as beautiful as Black Beauty. Your body is not so handsomely formed, and there is no proud look in your face, and your neck does not arch, Besides, your long ears make you look a little funny. Of course, you cannot help it, and I love you just as well as if you were the most beautiful creature in the world.”

 

Helen has been greatly interested in the story of “Black Beauty.”

To show how quickly she perceives and associates ideas, I will give an instance which all who have read the book will be able to appreciate. I was reading the following paragraph to her: “The horse was an old, worn-out chestnut, with an ill-kept coat, and bones that showed plainly through it; the knees knuckled over, and the forelegs were very unsteady. I had been eating some hay, and the wind rolled a little lock of it that way, and the poor creature put out her long, thin neck and picked it up, and then turned round and looked about for more. There was a hopeless look in the dull eye that I could not help noticing, and then, as I was thinking where I had seen that horse before, she looked full at me and said, ‘Black Beauty, is that you?’”

 

At this point Helen pressed my hand to stop me. She was sobbing convulsively. “It was poor Ginger,” was all she could say at first. Later, when she was able to talk about it, she said: “Poor Ginger! The words made a distinct picture in my mind. I could see the way Ginger looked; all her beauty gone, her beautiful arched neck drooping, all the spirit gone out of her flashing eyes, all the playfulness gone out of her manner. Oh, how terrible it was!

I never knew before that there could be such a change in anything. There were very few spots of sunshine in poor Ginger’s life, and the sadnesses were so many!” After a moment she added,