what is my real story

The story of my life 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 my parents were deeply grieved, and perplexed we lived a long way from any school for the blind or the deaf and it seemed unlikely that anyone would come to such an out-of-the-way place as Tuscumbia to teach a child who was both deaf, and blind indeed my friends and relatives sometimes doubted whether I could be taught when I was about six years old my father heard of an eminent oculist in Baltimore who had been successful in  many cases that had seemed hopeless my parents at once determined to take me to Baltimore to see if anything could be done for my eyes the journey which I remember well was very pleasant I made friends with many people on the train one lady gave me a box of shells my father made holes in these so that I could string them and for a long time they kept me happy and contented the conductor too was kind often when he went his rounds I clung to his coattails while he collected and punched the tickets his punch with which he let me play was a delightful toy curled up in a corner of the seat I amused myself for hours making funny little holes in bits of cardboard my aunt made me a big doll out of towels it was the most comical shapeless thing this improvised doll with no nose mouth ears or eyes nothing that even the imagination of a child could convert into a face curiously enough the absence of eye struck me more than all the other defects put together when we arrived in Baltimore Dr, chrisum, received us kindly, but he could do nothing he said however that I could be educated and advised my father to consult Dr, Alexander Graham Bell of Washington who would be able to give him information about schools and teachers of deaf or blind children Dr bell advised my father to write to Mr. Anaganos, director of the Perkins institution in Boston the scene of Dr House great labors for the blind and ask him if he had a teacher competent to begin my education the most important day I remember in all my life is the one on which my teacher Anne man’s field Sullivan, came to me, I am filled with wonder when I consider the immeasurable contrasts between the two lives which it connects it was a 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 and expectant I guessed vaguely from my mother's signs and from the hurrying to and fro in the house that something unusual was about to happen, so I went to the door and waited on the steps the afternoon sun penetrated the mass of honeysuckle that covered the porch and fell on my upturned face my fingers lingered almost unconsciously on the familiar leaves and blossoms which had just come forth to greet the sweet southern spring the morning after my teacher came she led me into her room and gave me a doll the little blind children at the Perkins institution had sent it and Laura bridge man had dressed it, but I did not know this until afterward when I had played with it a little while miss Sullivan slowly spelled into my hand the word doll I was at once interested in this finger play and tried to imitate it when I finally succeeded in making the letters correctly I was flushed with childish pleasure and pride one day while I was playing with my new doll miss Sullivan put my big rag doll into my lap also spelled doll and tried to make me understand that doll applied to both earlier in the day we had had a tussle over the words mug and water miss Sullivan had tried to impress it upon me that mug is mug and that what is water, but I persisted in confounding the two in despair she had dropped the subject for the time only to renew it at the first opportunity  we walked down the path to the well house attracted by the fragrance of the honeysuckle with which it was covered someone was drawing water and my teacher placed my hand under the spout as the cool stream gushed over one hand she spelled into the other the word water first slowly then rapidly I stood still my whole attention fixed upon the motions of her fingers suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten a thrill of returning thought and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me, I knew then that water meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand that living word awakened my soul gave it light hope joy and set it free there were barriers still it is true but barriers that could in time be swept away