Autobiography by blind girl
The most important day I remember in all my life is the one on which my teacher, Anne Sullivan, came to me. It was three months before I was seven years old.
On the afternoon of that day, I knew that something was happening. I went outside and waited on the steps of the house. I could feel the sun on my face and I could touch the leaves of the plants. Then I felt someone walking towards me. I thought it was my mother and she picked me up and held me close. This way my teacher who had come to teach all things to me and, above all, to love me.
The next morning, the teacher took me into her room and gave me a doll. When I was playing with it, Miss Sullivan slowly spelled the word “d-o-l-l” into my hand. I was interested and imitated the movements with my fingers. I learned a lot of words like this, but only after my teacher had been with me for several weeks did I understand that everything has a name.
One day, I didn’t understand the difference between “mug” and “water”. I became angry and threw the doll on the floor. In my quiet, dark world I didn’t feel sorry for doing it. Then my teacher took me out into the warm sunshine. We walked down to the well where someone was drawing water. My teacher put my hand under the water and spelled the word “w-a-t-e-r” at the same time in my other hand. Suddenly, I felt an understanding. The mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that “w-a-t-e-r” was the wonderful cool something flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free!