tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57933979263630626942012-02-16T06:02:19.063-08:00The Story Of My LifeElizanoreply@blogger.comBlogger301100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-58749230284803411502008-09-15T09:30:00.001-07:002009-06-21T12:57:45.854-07:00

No one can have read Miss Keller's autobiography without feeling that she writes unusually fine English. Any teacher of composition knows that he can bring his pupils to the point of writing without errors in syntax or in the choice of words. It is just this accuracy which Miss Keller's early education fixes as the point to which any healthy child can be brought, and which the analysis of that

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-77092299320242715442008-09-15T09:28:00.001-07:002008-09-15T09:28:44.699-07:00

The two persons who have written authoritatively about Miss Keller's speech and the way she learned it are Miss Sarah Fuller, of the Horace Mann School for the Deaf in Boston, Massachusetts, who gave her the first lessons, and Miss Sullivan, who, by her unremitting discipline, carried on the success of these first lessons.Before I quote from Miss Sullivan's account, let me try to give some

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-12620556484935136462008-09-15T09:26:00.000-07:002008-09-15T09:27:14.768-07:00

It is now sixty-five years since Dr. Samuel Gridley Howe knew that he had made his way through Laura Bridgman's fingers to her intelligence. The names of Laura Bridgman and Helen Keller will always be linked together, and it is necessary to understand what Dr. Howe did for his pupil before one comes to an account of Miss Sullivan's work. For Dr. Howe is the great pioneer on whose work that of

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-64101487100278771332008-09-15T09:24:00.000-07:002008-09-15T09:25:16.420-07:00

Mark Twain has said that the two most interesting characters of the nineteenth century are Napoleon and Helen Keller. The admiration with which the world has regarded her is more than justified by what she has done. No one can tell any great truth about her which has not already been written, and all that I can do is to give a few more facts about Miss Keller's work and add a little to what is

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-63324282532801896862008-09-15T09:23:00.001-07:002008-09-15T09:23:52.220-07:00

It is fitting that Miss Keller's "Story of My Life" should appear at this time. What is remarkable in her career is already accomplished, and whatever she may do in the future will be but a relatively slight addition to the success which distinguishes her now. That success has just been assured, for it is her work at Radcliffe during the last two years which has shown that she can carry her

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-6737486699928355232008-09-14T08:53:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:54:12.384-07:00

Would that I could enrich this sketch with the names of all those who have ministered to my happiness! Some of them would be found written in our literature and dear to the hearts of many, while others would be wholly unknown to most of my readers. But their influence, though it escapes fame, shall live immortal in the lives that have been sweetened and ennobled by it. Those are red-letter days

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-58274566506972670982008-09-14T08:51:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:51:43.570-07:00

I trust that my readers have not concluded from the preceding chapter on books that reading is my only pleasure; my pleasures and amusements are many and varied.More than once in the course of my story I have referred to my love of the country and out-of-door sports. When I was quite a little girl, I learned to row and swim, and during the summer, when I am at Wrentham, Massachusetts, I almost

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-32613509618464148312008-09-14T08:49:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:49:46.370-07:00

I have thus far sketched the events of my life, but I have not shown how much I have depended on books not only for pleasure and for the wisdom they bring to all who read, but also for that knowledge which comes to others through their eyes and their ears. Indeed, books have meant so much more in my education than in that of others, that I shall go back to the time when I began to read.I read my

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-22863045385479173892008-09-14T08:48:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:48:50.102-07:00

The struggle for admission to college was ended, and I could now enter Radcliffe whenever I pleased. Before I entered college, however, it was thought best that I should study another year under Mr. Keith. It was not, therefore, until the fall of 1900 that my dream of going to college was realized.I remember my first day at Radcliffe. It was a day full of interest for me. I had looked forward to

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-10827283506915432792008-09-14T08:47:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:47:59.949-07:00

When I began my second year at the Gilman school, I was full of hope and determination to succeed. But during the first few weeks I was confronted with unforeseen difficulties. Mr. Gilman had agreed that that year I should study mathematics principally. I had physics, algebra, geometry, astronomy, Greek and Latin. Unfortunately, many of the books I needed had not been embossed in time for me to

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-37608274422953004652008-09-14T08:46:00.000-07:002008-09-14T08:47:00.782-07:00

In October, 1896, I entered the Cambridge School for Young Ladies, to be prepared for Radcliffe.When I was a little girl, I visited Wellesley and surprised my friends by the announcement, "Some day I shall go to college--but I shall go to Harvard!" When asked why I would not go to Wellesley, I replied that there were only girls there. The thought of going to college took root in my heart and

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-81725532434054528722008-09-14T08:45:00.000-07:002008-09-14T08:46:11.222-07:00

In the summer of 1894, I attended the meeting at Chautauqua of the American Association to Promote the Teaching of Speech to the Deaf. There it was arranged that I should go to the Wright-Humason School for the Deaf in New York City. I went there in October, 1894, accompanied by Miss Sullivan. This school was chosen especially for the purpose of obtaining the highest advantages in vocal culture

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-7963848185869128452008-09-14T08:44:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:44:57.692-07:00

Before October, 1893, I had studied various subjects by myself in a more or less desultory manner. I read the histories of Greece, Rome and the United States. I had a French grammar in raised print, and as I already knew some French, I often amused myself by composing in my head short exercises, using the new words as I came across them, and ignoring rules and other technicalities as much as

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-24353494480801668342008-09-14T08:43:00.000-07:002008-09-14T08:44:06.092-07:00

The summer and winter following the "Frost King" incident I spent with my family in Alabama. I recall with delight that home-going. Everything had budded and blossomed. I was happy. "The Frost King" was forgotten.When the ground was strewn with the crimson and golden leaves of autumn, and the musk-scented grapes that covered the arbour at the end of the garden were turning golden brown in the

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-1833789892653621922008-09-14T08:42:00.000-07:002008-09-14T08:43:15.205-07:00

The winter of 1892 was darkened by the one cloud in my childhood's bright sky. Joy deserted my heart, and for a long, long time I lived in doubt, anxiety and fear. Books lost their charm for me, and even now the thought of those dreadful days chills my heart. A little story called "The Frost King," which I wrote and sent to Mr. Anagnos, of the Perkins Institution for the Blind, was at the root of

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-70490862485049800772008-09-14T08:41:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:41:49.230-07:00

It was in the spring of 1890 that I learned to speak. The impulse to utter audible sounds had always been strong within me. I used to make noises, keeping one hand on my throat while the other hand felt the movements of my lips. I was pleased with anything that made a noise and liked to feel the cat purr and the dog bark. I also liked to keep my hand on a singer's throat, or on a piano when it

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-67679548872269501502008-09-14T08:40:00.000-07:002008-09-14T08:41:01.331-07:00

After my first visit to Boston, I spent almost every winter in the North. Once I went on a visit to a New England village with its frozen lakes and vast snow fields. It was then that I had opportunities such as had never been mine to enter into the treasures of the snow.I recall my surprise on discovering that a mysterious hand had stripped the trees and bushes, leaving only here and there a

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-11172642389986150052008-09-14T08:39:00.002-07:002008-09-14T08:40:18.215-07:00

In the autumn I returned to my Southern home with a heart full of joyous memories. As I recall that visit North I am filled with wonder at the richness and variety of the experiences that cluster about it. It seems to have been the beginning of everything. The treasures of a new, beautiful world were laid at my feet, and I took in pleasure and information at every turn. I lived myself into all

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-36590134938483302302008-09-14T08:39:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:39:24.431-07:00

Just before the Perkins Institution closed for the summer, it was arranged that my teacher and I should spend our vacation at Brewster, on Cape Cod, with our dear friend, Mrs. Hopkins. I was delighted, for my mind was full of the prospective joys and of the wonderful stories I had heard about the sea.My most vivid recollection of that summer is the ocean. I had always lived far inland and had

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-9186444260894502802008-09-14T08:38:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:38:39.494-07:00

The next important event in my life was my visit to Boston, in May, 1888. As if it were yesterday I remember the preparations, the departure with my teacher and my mother, the journey, and finally the arrival in Boston. How different this journey was from the one I had made to Baltimore two years before! I was no longer a restless, excitable little creature, requiring the attention of everybody

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-82072121957439108692008-09-14T08:37:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:37:48.160-07:00

The first Christmas after Miss Sullivan came to Tuscumbia was a great event. Every one in the family prepared surprises for me, but what pleased me most, Miss Sullivan and I prepared surprises for everybody else. The mystery that surrounded the gifts was my greatest delight and amusement. My friends did all they could to excite my curiosity by hints and half-spelled sentences which they pretended

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-14491637949703827782008-09-14T08:36:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:36:54.526-07:00

The next important step in my education was learning to read.As soon as I could spell a few words my teacher gave me slips of cardboard on which were printed words in raised letters. I quickly learned that each printed word stood for an object, an act, or a quality. I had a frame in which I could arrange the words in little sentences; but before I ever put sentences in the frame I used to make

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-88489745517998943972008-09-14T08:35:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:35:53.476-07:00

I had now the key to all language, and I was eager to learn to use it. Children who hear acquire language without any particular effort; the words that fall from others' lips they catch on the wing, as it were, delightedly, while the little deaf child must trap them by a slow and often painful process. But whatever the process, the result is wonderful. Gradually from naming an object we advance

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-29508179230045912622008-09-14T08:34:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:34:37.129-07:00

I recall many incidents of the summer of 1887 that followed my soul's sudden awakening. I did nothing but explore with my hands and learn the name of every object that I touched; and the more I handled things and learned their names and uses, the more joyous and confident grew my sense of kinship with the rest of the world.When the time of daisies and buttercups came Miss Sullivan took me by the

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-82327142412032902922008-09-14T08:33:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:33:21.356-07:00

The most important day I remember in all my life is the one on which my teacher, Anne Mansfield Sullivan, came to me. I am filled with wonder when I consider the immeasurable contrasts between the two lives which it connects. It was the third of March, 1887, three months before I was seven years old.On the afternoon of that eventful day, I stood on the porch, dumb, expectant. I guessed vaguely

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-52132691894416468072008-09-14T08:30:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:30:21.315-07:00

Meanwhile the desire to express myself grew. The few signs I used became less and less adequate, and my failures to make myself understood were invariably followed by outbursts of passion. I felt as if invisible hands were holding me, and I made frantic efforts to free myself. I struggled--not that struggling helped matters, but the spirit of resistance was strong within me; I generally broke

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-36084648568387827492008-09-14T08:28:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:28:52.017-07:00

I cannot recall what happened during the first months after my illness. I only know that I sat in my mother's lap or clung to her dress as she went about her household duties. My hands felt every object and observed every motion, and in this way I learned to know many things. Soon I felt the need of some communication with others and began to make crude signs. A shake of the head meant "No" and a

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-74820321787364231662008-09-14T08:27:00.001-07:002008-09-14T08:27:35.483-07:00

It is with a kind of fear that I begin to write the history of my life. I have, as it were, a superstitious hesitation in lifting the veil that clings about my childhood like a golden mist. The task of writing an autobiography is a difficult one. When I try to classify my earliest impressions, I find that fact and fancy look alike across the years that link the past with the present. The woman

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-77661289531389643912008-09-14T08:17:00.000-07:002008-09-14T08:18:15.033-07:00

This book is in three parts. The first two, Miss Keller's story and the extracts from her letters, form a complete account of her life as far as she can give it. Much of her education she cannot explain herself, and since a knowledge of that is necessary to an understanding of what she has written, it was thought best to supplement her autobiography with the reports and letters of her teacher,

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5793397926363062694.post-9600423515713986362008-09-14T08:10:00.000-07:002008-09-14T08:11:46.945-07:00

To ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELLWho has taught the deaf to speak and enabled the listening ear to hear speech from the Atlantic to the Rockies, I dedicate this Story of My Life.

Elizanoreply@blogger.com0