Three
months before I was seven years old, my teacher, Anne Sullivan, came to me. On
the aftenoon of that day, I knew that something was happening. Iwent 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 was 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 wods ‘D-O-L-L’ into my hand. I was interested
and I imitated the movements with my fingers. I learn 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 yhe 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 words ‘w-a-t-e-r’ at the
same time in my other hand . Suddenly , I felt an understanding. The mystery of
language was revaeled to me. I knew then that ‘w-a-t-e-r’ was the wonderful c
something floeing-over my hand. That living word awakened my soul,gave its
light,hope,joy,set it free.
No comments:
Post a Comment