The Story of My Life: With her letters (1887-1901) and a supplementary account of her education, including passages from the reports and letters of her teacher, Anne Mansfield Sullivan, by John Albert MacyKeller, Helen
General
The Story of My Life: With her letters (1887-1901) and a supplementary account of her education, including passages from the reports and letters of her teacher, Anne Mansfield Sullivan, by John Albert Macy
Keller, Helen
Deafblind women -- United States -- Biography; Keller, Helen, 1880-1968
Thus I learned from life itself. At the beginning I was only a little
mass of possibilities. It was my teacher who unfolded and developed
them. When she came, everything about me breathed of love and joy and
was full of meaning. She has never since let pass an opportunity to
point out the beauty that is in everything, nor has she ceased trying in
thought and action and example to make my life sweet and useful.
It was my teacher's genius, her quick sympathy, her loving tact which
made the first years of my education so beautiful. It was because she
seized the right moment to impart knowledge that made it so pleasant
and acceptable to me. She realized that a child's mind is like a shallow
brook which ripples and dances merrily over the stony course of its
education and reflects here a flower, there a bush, yonder a fleecy
cloud; and she attempted to guide my mind on its way, knowing that like
a brook it should be fed by mountain streams and hidden springs, until
it broadened out into a deep river, capable of reflecting in its placid
surface, billowy hills, the luminous shadows of trees and the blue
heavens, as well as the sweet face of a little flower.
Any teacher can take a child to the classroom, but not every teacher can
make him learn. He will not work joyously unless he feels that liberty
is his, whether he is busy or at rest; he must feel the flush of victory
and the heart-sinking of disappointment before he takes with a will the
tasks distasteful to him and resolves to dance his way bravely through a
dull routine of textbooks.
My teacher is so near to me that I scarcely think of myself apart from
her. How much of my delight in all beautiful things is innate, and how
much is due to her influence, I can never tell. I feel that her being is
inseparable from my own, and that the footsteps of my life are in
hers. All the best of me belongs to her--there is not a talent, or
an aspiration or a joy in me that has not been awakened by her loving
touch.
CHAPTER VIII
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 to break off in the nick
of time. Miss Sullivan and I kept up a game of guessing which taught
me more about the use of language than any set lessons could have done.
Every evening, seated round a glowing wood fire, we played our guessing
game, which grew more and more exciting as Christmas approached.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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