I remember my dad teaching me the power of language at a very young age. Not
only did my dad understand that specific words affect our mental pictures,
but he understood words are a powerful programming factor in lifelong
success.
One particularly interesting event occurred when I was eight. As a kid, I
was always climbing trees, poles, and literally hanging around upside down
from the rafters of our lake house. So, it came to no surprise for my dad to
find me at the top of a 30-foot tree swinging back and forth. My little
eight-year-old brain didn't realize the tree could break or I could get
hurt. I just thought it was fun to be up so high.
My older cousin, Tammy, was also in the same tree. She was hanging on the
first big limb, about ten feet below me. Tammy's mother also noticed us at
the exact time my dad did. About that time a huge gust of wind came over the
tree. I could hear the leaves start to rattle and the tree begin to sway. I
remember my dad's voice over the wind yell, "Bart, Hold on tightly." So I
did. The next thing I know, I heard Tammy screaming at the top of her lungs,
laying flat on the ground. She had fallen out of the tree.
I scampered down the tree to safety. My dad later told me why she fell and I
did not. Apparently, when Tammy's mother felt the gust of wind, she yelled
out, "Tammy, don't fall!" And Tammy did. fall.
My dad then explained to me that the mind has a very difficult time
processing a negative image. In fact, people who rely on internal pictures
cannot see a negative at all. In order for Tammy to process the command of
not falling, her nine-year-old brain had to first imagine falling, then try
to tell the brain not to do what it just imagined. Whereas, my
eight-year-old brain instantly had an internal image of me hanging on
tightly. This concept is especially useful when you are attempting to break
a habit or set a goal . You can't visualize not doing something. The only
way to properly visualize not doing something is to actually find a word for
what you want to do and visualize that. For example, when I was thirteen
years old, I played for my junior high school football team. I tried so hard
to be good, but I just couldn't get it together at that age. I remember
hearing the words run through my head as I was running out for a pass,
"Don't drop it!" Naturally, I dropped the ball.
My coaches were not skilled enough to teach us proper "self-talk."
They just thought some kids could catch and others couldn't. I'll never make
it pro, but I'm now a pretty good Sunday afternoon football player, because
all my internal dialogue is positive and encourages me to win. I wish my dad
had coached me playing football instead of just climbing trees. I might have
had a longer football career.
Here is a very easy demonstration to teach your kids and your friends the
power of a toxic vocabulary. Ask them to hold a pen or pencil.
Hand it to them. Now, follow my instructions carefully. Say to them, "Okay,
try to drop the pencil." Observe what they do.
Most people release their hands and watch the pencil hit the floor.
You respond, "You weren't paying attention. I said TRY to drop the pencil.
Now please do it again." Most people then pick up the pencil and pretend to
be in excruciating pain while their hand tries but fails to drop the pencil.
The point is made.
If you tell your brain you will "give it a try," you are actually telling
your brain to fail. I have a "no try" rule in my house and with everyone I
interact with. Either people will do it or they won't.
Either they will be at the party or they won't. I'm brutal when people
attempt to lie to me by using the word try. Do they think I don't know they
are really telegraphing to the world they have no intention of doing it but
they want me to give them brownie points for pretended effort? You will
never hear the words "I'll try" come out of my mouth unless I'm teaching
this concept in a seminar.
If you "try" and do something, your unconscious mind has permission not to
succeed. If I truly can't make a decision I will tell the truth. "Sorry
John. I'm not sure if I will be at your party or not.
I've got an outstanding commitment. If that falls through, I will be here.
Otherwise, I will not. Thanks for the invite."
People respect honesty. So remove the word "try" from your vocabulary.
My dad also told me that psychologists claim it takes seventeen positive
statements to offset one negative statement. I have no idea if it is true,
but the logic holds true. It might take up to seventeen compliments to
offset the emotional damage of one harsh criticism.
These are concepts that are especially useful when raising children.
Ask yourself how many compliments you give yourself daily versus how many
criticisms. Heck, I know you are talking to yourself all day long. We all
have internal voices that give us direction.
So, are you giving yourself the 17:1 ratio or are you shortchanging yourself
with toxic self-talk like, " I'm fat. Nobody will like me.
I'll try this diet. I'm not good enough. I'm so stupid. I'm broke, etc.
etc."
If our parents can set a lifetime of programming with one wrong statement,
imagine the kind of programming you are doing on a daily basis with your own
internal dialogue.
Here is a list of Toxic Vocabulary words.
Notice when you or other people use them.
But: Negates any words that are stated before it.
Try: Presupposes failure.
If: Presupposes that you may not.
Might: It does nothing definite. It leaves options for your listener..
Would Have: Past tense that draws attention to things that didn't actually
happen.
Should Have: Past tense that draws attention to things that didn't actually
happen (and implies guilt.) Could Have: Past tense that draws attention to
things that didn't actually happen but the person tries to take credit as if
it did happen.
Can't/Don't: These words force the listener to focus on exactly the opposite
of what you want. This is a classic mistake that parents and coaches make
without knowing the damage of this linguistic error.
Examples:
Toxic phrase: "Don't drop the ball!"
Likely result: Drops the ball
Better language: "Catch the ball!"
Toxic phrase: "You shouldn't watch so much television."
Likely result: Watches more television.
Better language: "I read too much television makes people stupid. You might
find yourself turning that TV off and picking up one of those books more
often!"
Exercise:
Take a moment to write down all the phrases you use on a daily basis or any
Toxic self-talk that you have noticed yourself using. Write these phrases
down so you will begin to catch yourself as they occur and change them.
My Dear friends. Don't get so nervous be positive, confidant, realistic and
energetic in your plan and action. You remember you are going to be top
among all others and most capable to handle all odds.
So you must have patience and trust on you. Don't ask silly questions on
Age, Qualification etc. and Don't get so tense about Revised Pattern of
Preliminary. No need to show so much curiosity in this.
Just take it easy, leave it to times in his nature and One day it will come.
So in this context the advice putted by our popular and peoples president
A.P.J Abdul Kalam must work out up to some extent.
Source:
http://upscportal.com/civilservices/Article/The-Power-of-Positive-Talk-by-Dr
-Abdul-Kalam?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+ups
c
Saturday, January 30, 2010
My Favorit Speech of DR. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam
Letter of some facts about India - APJ
The President of India DR. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam 's Speech in Hyderabad .
bWhy is the media here so negative?
Why are we in India so embarrassed to recognize our own strengths, our
achievements? We are such a great nation. We have so many amazing
success stories but we refuse to acknowledge them. Why?
We are the first in milk production.
We are number one in Remote sensing satellites.
We are the second largest producer of wheat.
We are the second largest producer of rice.
Look at Dr. Sudarshan , he has transferred the tribal village into a
self-sustaining, self-driving unit. There are millions of such
achievements but our media is only obsessed in the bad news and
failures and disasters.
I was in Tel Aviv once and I was reading the Israeli newspaper. It was
the day after a lot of attacks and bombardments and deaths had taken
place. The Hamas had struck. But the front page of the newspaper had
the picture of a Jewish gentleman who in five years had transformed
his desert into an orchid and a granary. It was this inspiring picture
that everyone woke up to. The gory details of killings, bombardments,
deaths, were inside in the newspaper, buried among other news.
In India we only read about death, sickness, terrorism, crime.. Why
are we so NEGATIVE? Another question: Why are we, as a nation so
obsessed with foreign things? We want foreign T.Vs, we want foreign
shirts. We want foreign technology.
Why this obsession with everything imported. Do we not realize that
self-respect comes with self-reliance? I was in Hyderabad giving this
lecture, when a 14 year old girl asked me for my autograph. I asked
her what her goal in life is. She replied: I want to live in a
developed India . For her, you and I will have to build this developed
India You must proclaim. India is not an under-developed nation; it is
a highly developed nation.
Do you have 10 minutes? Allow me to come back with a vengeance.
Got 10 minutes for your country? If yes, then read; otherwise, choice is yours.
YOU say that our government is inefficient.
YOU say that our laws are too old.
YOU say that the municipality does not pick up the garbage.
YOU say that the phones don't work, the railways are a joke. The
airline is the worst in the world, mails never reach their
destination.
YOU say that our country has been fed to the dogs and is the absolute pits.
YOU say, say and say. What do YOU do about it?
Take a person on his way to Singapore . Give him a name - 'YOURS'.
Give him a face - 'YOURS'. YOU walk out of the airport and you are at
your International best. In Singapore you don't throw cigarette butts
on the roads or eat in the stores. YOU are as proud of their
Underground links as they are. You pay $5 (approx. Rs. 60) to drive
through Orchard Road (equivalent of Mahim Causeway or Pedder Road)
between 5 PM and 8 PM. YOU come back to the parking lot to punch your
parking ticket if you have over stayed in a restaurant or a shopping
mall irrespective of your status identity. In Singapore you don't say
anything, DO YOU? YOU wouldn't dare to eat in public during Ramadan,
in Dubai YOU would not dare to go out without your head covered in
Jeddah.
YOU would not dare to buy an employee of the telephone exchange in
London at 10 pounds (Rs.650) a month to, 'see to it that my STD and
ISD calls are billed to someone else.'YOU would not dare to speed
beyond 55 mph (88 km/h) in Washington and then tell the traffic cop,
'Jaanta hai main kaun hoon (Do you know who I am?). I am so and so's
son. Take your two bucks and get lost.' YOU wouldn't chuck an empty
coconut shell anywhere other than the garbage pail on the beaches in
Australia and New Zealand.
Why don't YOU spit Paan on the streets of Tokyo ? Why don't YOU use
examination jockeys or buy fake certificates in Boston ??? We are
still talking of the same YOU. YOU who can respect and conform to a
foreign system in other countries but cannot in your own. You who will
throw papers and cigarettes on the road the moment you touch Indian
ground. If you can be an involved and appreciative citizen in an alien
country, why cannot you be the same here in India ?
Once in an interview, the famous Ex-municipal commissioner of Bombay ,
Mr. Tinaikar, had a point to make. 'Rich people's dogs are walked on
the streets to leave their affluent droppings all over the place,' he
said. 'And then the same people turn around to criticize and blame the
authorities for inefficiency and dirty pavements. What do they expect
the officers to do? Go down with a broom every time their dog feels
the pressure in his bowels? In America every dog owner has to clean
up after his pet has done the job. Same in Japan .
Will the Indian citizen do that here?' He's right. We go to the polls
to choose a government and after that forfeit all responsibility.
We sit back wanting to be pampered and expect the government to do
everything for us whilst our contribution is totally negative. We
expect the government to clean up but we are not going to stop
chucking garbage all over the place nor are we going to stop to pick a
up a stray piece of paper and throw it in the bin. We expect the
railways to provide clean bathrooms but we are not going to learn the
proper use of bathrooms.
We want Indian Airlines and Air India to provide the best of food and
toiletries but we are not going to stop pilfering at the least
opportunity. This applies even to the staff who is known not to pass
on the service to the public.
When it comes to burning social issues like those related to women,
dowry, girl child! and others, we make loud drawing room protestations
and continue to do the reverse at home. Our excuse? 'It's the whole
system which has to change, how will it matter if I alone forego my
sons' rights to a dowry.' So who's going to change the system?
What does a system consist of? Very conveniently for us it consists of
our neighbours, other households, other cities, other communities and
the government. But definitely not me and YOU. When it comes to us
actually making a positive contribution to the system we lock
ourselves along with our families into a safe cocoon and look into the
distance at countries far away and wait for a Mr.Clean to come along &
work miracles for us with a majestic sweep of his hand or we leave the
country and run away.
Like lazy cowards hounded by our fears we run to America to bask in
their glory and praise their system. When New York becomes insecure we
run to England When England experiences unemployment, we take the next
flight out to the Gulf. When the Gulf is war struck, we demand to be
rescued and brought home by the Indian government. Everybody is out to
abuse and rape the country. Nobody thinks of feeding the system. Our
conscience is mortgaged to money.
Dear Indians, The article is highly thought inductive, calls for a
great deal of introspection and pricks one's conscience too.. I am
echoing J. F. Kennedy's words to his fellow Americans to relate to
Indians...
'ASK WHAT WE CAN DO FOR INDIA AND DO WHAT HAS TO BE DONE TO MAKE INDIA
WHAT AMERICA AND OTHER WESTERN COUNTRIES ARE TODAY'
Lets do what India needs from us.
Forward this mail to each Indian for a change instead of sending Jokes
or junk mails.
Thank you,
Dr. Abdul Kalam
The President of India DR. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam 's Speech in Hyderabad .
bWhy is the media here so negative?
Why are we in India so embarrassed to recognize our own strengths, our
achievements? We are such a great nation. We have so many amazing
success stories but we refuse to acknowledge them. Why?
We are the first in milk production.
We are number one in Remote sensing satellites.
We are the second largest producer of wheat.
We are the second largest producer of rice.
Look at Dr. Sudarshan , he has transferred the tribal village into a
self-sustaining, self-driving unit. There are millions of such
achievements but our media is only obsessed in the bad news and
failures and disasters.
I was in Tel Aviv once and I was reading the Israeli newspaper. It was
the day after a lot of attacks and bombardments and deaths had taken
place. The Hamas had struck. But the front page of the newspaper had
the picture of a Jewish gentleman who in five years had transformed
his desert into an orchid and a granary. It was this inspiring picture
that everyone woke up to. The gory details of killings, bombardments,
deaths, were inside in the newspaper, buried among other news.
In India we only read about death, sickness, terrorism, crime.. Why
are we so NEGATIVE? Another question: Why are we, as a nation so
obsessed with foreign things? We want foreign T.Vs, we want foreign
shirts. We want foreign technology.
Why this obsession with everything imported. Do we not realize that
self-respect comes with self-reliance? I was in Hyderabad giving this
lecture, when a 14 year old girl asked me for my autograph. I asked
her what her goal in life is. She replied: I want to live in a
developed India . For her, you and I will have to build this developed
India You must proclaim. India is not an under-developed nation; it is
a highly developed nation.
Do you have 10 minutes? Allow me to come back with a vengeance.
Got 10 minutes for your country? If yes, then read; otherwise, choice is yours.
YOU say that our government is inefficient.
YOU say that our laws are too old.
YOU say that the municipality does not pick up the garbage.
YOU say that the phones don't work, the railways are a joke. The
airline is the worst in the world, mails never reach their
destination.
YOU say that our country has been fed to the dogs and is the absolute pits.
YOU say, say and say. What do YOU do about it?
Take a person on his way to Singapore . Give him a name - 'YOURS'.
Give him a face - 'YOURS'. YOU walk out of the airport and you are at
your International best. In Singapore you don't throw cigarette butts
on the roads or eat in the stores. YOU are as proud of their
Underground links as they are. You pay $5 (approx. Rs. 60) to drive
through Orchard Road (equivalent of Mahim Causeway or Pedder Road)
between 5 PM and 8 PM. YOU come back to the parking lot to punch your
parking ticket if you have over stayed in a restaurant or a shopping
mall irrespective of your status identity. In Singapore you don't say
anything, DO YOU? YOU wouldn't dare to eat in public during Ramadan,
in Dubai YOU would not dare to go out without your head covered in
Jeddah.
YOU would not dare to buy an employee of the telephone exchange in
London at 10 pounds (Rs.650) a month to, 'see to it that my STD and
ISD calls are billed to someone else.'YOU would not dare to speed
beyond 55 mph (88 km/h) in Washington and then tell the traffic cop,
'Jaanta hai main kaun hoon (Do you know who I am?). I am so and so's
son. Take your two bucks and get lost.' YOU wouldn't chuck an empty
coconut shell anywhere other than the garbage pail on the beaches in
Australia and New Zealand.
Why don't YOU spit Paan on the streets of Tokyo ? Why don't YOU use
examination jockeys or buy fake certificates in Boston ??? We are
still talking of the same YOU. YOU who can respect and conform to a
foreign system in other countries but cannot in your own. You who will
throw papers and cigarettes on the road the moment you touch Indian
ground. If you can be an involved and appreciative citizen in an alien
country, why cannot you be the same here in India ?
Once in an interview, the famous Ex-municipal commissioner of Bombay ,
Mr. Tinaikar, had a point to make. 'Rich people's dogs are walked on
the streets to leave their affluent droppings all over the place,' he
said. 'And then the same people turn around to criticize and blame the
authorities for inefficiency and dirty pavements. What do they expect
the officers to do? Go down with a broom every time their dog feels
the pressure in his bowels? In America every dog owner has to clean
up after his pet has done the job. Same in Japan .
Will the Indian citizen do that here?' He's right. We go to the polls
to choose a government and after that forfeit all responsibility.
We sit back wanting to be pampered and expect the government to do
everything for us whilst our contribution is totally negative. We
expect the government to clean up but we are not going to stop
chucking garbage all over the place nor are we going to stop to pick a
up a stray piece of paper and throw it in the bin. We expect the
railways to provide clean bathrooms but we are not going to learn the
proper use of bathrooms.
We want Indian Airlines and Air India to provide the best of food and
toiletries but we are not going to stop pilfering at the least
opportunity. This applies even to the staff who is known not to pass
on the service to the public.
When it comes to burning social issues like those related to women,
dowry, girl child! and others, we make loud drawing room protestations
and continue to do the reverse at home. Our excuse? 'It's the whole
system which has to change, how will it matter if I alone forego my
sons' rights to a dowry.' So who's going to change the system?
What does a system consist of? Very conveniently for us it consists of
our neighbours, other households, other cities, other communities and
the government. But definitely not me and YOU. When it comes to us
actually making a positive contribution to the system we lock
ourselves along with our families into a safe cocoon and look into the
distance at countries far away and wait for a Mr.Clean to come along &
work miracles for us with a majestic sweep of his hand or we leave the
country and run away.
Like lazy cowards hounded by our fears we run to America to bask in
their glory and praise their system. When New York becomes insecure we
run to England When England experiences unemployment, we take the next
flight out to the Gulf. When the Gulf is war struck, we demand to be
rescued and brought home by the Indian government. Everybody is out to
abuse and rape the country. Nobody thinks of feeding the system. Our
conscience is mortgaged to money.
Dear Indians, The article is highly thought inductive, calls for a
great deal of introspection and pricks one's conscience too.. I am
echoing J. F. Kennedy's words to his fellow Americans to relate to
Indians...
'ASK WHAT WE CAN DO FOR INDIA AND DO WHAT HAS TO BE DONE TO MAKE INDIA
WHAT AMERICA AND OTHER WESTERN COUNTRIES ARE TODAY'
Lets do what India needs from us.
Forward this mail to each Indian for a change instead of sending Jokes
or junk mails.
Thank you,
Dr. Abdul Kalam
An Amazing Story of A Wonder Lady
THE COURAGE OF HELEN KELLER
By Francene Sabin.
The sweet cent of honeysuckle floated through the air. The sun was warm. A chickadee hopped along a tree branch, singing. A golden-haired girl, just one
year old, sat on a blanket in the grass and looked up at the bird. She laughed at its merry, piping song. Then she looked down at the doll in her lap.
She liked its orange woolen hair and button eyes.
(Helen, come to Mama, darling.)
The little girl turned around. She saw her mother standing nearby, arms outstretched.
(Ma-ma.Ma-ma,) said the child. A smile shining on her face, little Helen stood and toddled to her mother’s arms.
(Happy birthday!) Said Mrs. Keller. (One year old today! Come in and see the presents everyone had brought for you.)
The presents looked pretty in their shiny wrappings, but Helen had eyes for just one thing: the birthday cake. It had white icing and pink sugar roses
with mint-green leaves. Best of all, it had one tiny candle glowing on top. The flame danced and fluttered. The little girl giggled with delight.
Helen Keller would never see another birthday candle or ever again hear her family sing (Happy Birthday) to her. For when she was one-and-a-half years
old, she suffered a terrible sickness. Her fever raged for days. Doctors could do nothing to help her. It was the winter of 1882, and Doctors didn’t know
a lot of things they know now. They also did not have the special medicines called antibiotics, which are used today to treat many illnesses. The only
thing they could do for Helen was to make her comfortable and pray for her recovery.
Helen did recover, but the illness left her totally blind and deaf. At first, Mr. And Mrs. Keller hoped this nightmare would pass. Mr. Keller would stand
near his daughter and clap p his hands together sharply. But Helen did not turn toward the sound. Mrs. Keller would hold up an oil lamp. But Helen did
not turn toward the light.
Helen’s parents finally accepted the sad truth of their daughter’s blindness and deafness. But when friends told them that their child was feeble-minded,
they could not accept that. They knew that Helen had a bright mind. And they never gave up hope that, one day, she would show the world just how smart
she was.
The Keller’s did their best to make Helen’s life full and happy. They gave her lots of love and attention. They let her roam freely around their home in
Tuscumbia, Alabama. She ran through the fields with Belle, the family setter. She rode the small pony that lived in the barn behind the house.
The little girl loved the smell of flowers in the garden, fresh bread baking in the kitchen, and her mother’s perfume. She loved the taste of cold ice
cream and hot biscuits. And she loved the rough feel of tree bark under her fingertips, and the silkiness of Belle’s fur.
There were moments of happiness, like tiny islands in a vast ocean. But mostly, Helen’s life was like being alone in a silent, dark room. Whatever she
felt was locked inside. Her love had nowhere to go.
When Helen was five, Mrs. Keller read about a woman named Laura Bridgman, who was also deaf and blind. She had been taught to read and write, and to (talk)
to people by using a finger alphabet. Her teacher was Dr. Samuel Gridley Howe, of the Perkins institute for the Blind, in Boston, Massachusetts.
Laura Bridgman’s story gave the Kellers hope that something could be done for Helen. So, as soon as they could, they took her to Baltimore, Maryland, to
see an eye specialist. The doctor examined Helen, and said, (I’m sorry, her condition will never change. But she can learn a lot of things. There is nothing
wrong with her mind. I have a suggestion to make.)
(What is that?) Mrs. Keller asked.
(We’ll do anything that might help Helen.)
(I think you should take her to Washington D.C., to see Dr. Bell. He has had great success teaching deaf people.)
The Kellers took a train to the nations capital. There, they went to see Dr. Alexander Graham Bell. Today, Dr. Bell is remembered mainly as the inventor
of the telephone. In these days, however, he was best known for the school he had founded, where teachers were trained to instruct deaf students.
Long train rides, strange hotels, meeting many new people—it all confused and frightened Helen. But Dr. Bell was very gentle. He sat her on his knees and
guided her hands to his face. She felt his droopy mustache and heavy beard. Then he held his gold pocket watch against her cheek. She could feel the steady
ticktock, and she nodded her head in rhythm within.
Helen was not afraid of this kind man. She sat still while she examined her. Then he told the Kellers, (I am certain that this clever little girl can be
taught to communicate with others.)
Dr. Bell suggested that Mr. Keller write to the Perkins Institute, where Laura Bridgman had learned the finger language. Perhaps the director, Michael
Anagnos, find the right teacher for Helen.
Mr. Keller did right the letter and soon received an answer. Mr. Anagnos knew of a young woman who would make a perfect teacher and companion for Helen.
Her name was Annie Sullivan.
Arrangements were made quickly, and Annie Sullivan arrived in Tuscumbia on March 3, 1887. Mrs. Keller met her at the train, and they rode back to the house
in a horse-drawn carriage.
Helen did not know why there was so much excitement in the house. But something told her that today was very special. When she could not find her mother
anywhere, Helen went to the front door. She stood there and waited.
The carriage drew up in front of the house, and Annie Sullivan got her first look at Helen. The young girl’s dress was dirty. Her light-brown curls were
tangled and uncombed. She stood tense and frightened, like a startled fawn in the forest.
Mr. Keller helped Annie down from the carriage. She began to walk up the wooden steps to the front porch. Helen felt the vibrations made by the footsteps,
and rushed at the stranger. Annie caught her before the wild charge knocked both of them down the steps.
Annie knelt and put her arms around Helen. She smiled as the child’s fingers felt her eyes, her nose, her hair, and her hat. When Helen was finished (meeting)
the stranger, Annie took her hand and they walked in to the house, side by side.
Their first days together were not easy. Annie was unhappy about Helen’s wild behavior. The child was allowed to walk around the dining table, sticking
her fingers into everybody’s food and taking whatever she wanted. She was very rough with Mildred, her baby sister, and with the dog, Belle. Helen would
not let anybody comb her hair or wash her face and hands. And she would fly into a fierce rage when anyone tried to make her do something she didn’t want
to do.
Annie understood why Helen acted this way. Her parents felt so sorry for their unfortunate little girl that they could not bear to punish her, no matter
what she did. They never made her obey rules.
Annie knew she had to tame this wild young girl. Helen had to learn to get along with other people. Until she did, she could not be taught anything.
First, Annie tried to win Helen’s trust. She gave the little girl a doll that had been sent to Helen by the children at the Perkins Institute.
Helen ran her hands over the doll. She smiled and hugged it tightly. A moment later, Helen felt Annie take hold of her right hand. She felt fingers fluttering
and tapping on her palm. The tapping stopped. Then again she felt the same tap-flutters on her palm. And again. Helen was puzzled.
Annie was using a special finger language to spell d-o-l-l in Helen’ hands. She spelled it over and over. But Helen did not understand what was happening.
Fear bubbled inside her. She threw the doll to the floor and rushed from the room.
Later that day, Annie took a peace of cake and touched Helen’s hand to it. Helen loved cake and started to grab it. Annie stopped her. With one hand, she
held Helen’s left hand so that it just touched the cake. At the same time, she spelled c-a-k-e into Helen’s right hand. She spelled it again and again.
Helen scowled. She started to pull away. Then, suddenly, she stopped. Putting her fingers in Annie’s hand, she very slowly spelled c-a-k-e. Annie was thrilled
with Helen’s quick response. She gave Helen the cake. The young girl ate it happily.
As soon as Helen finished the last crumb, she felt Annie guide her left and over the doll. Helen wanted it; it felt so soft and cuddly. She tugged at it.
But Annie didn’t let her have it. Then Helen put her fingers in Annie’s hand and spelled d-o-l-l. Annie guided Helen’s fingers through second L, then placed
the doll in Helen’s arms. A smile spread across Helen’s face.
This first success filled Annie with joy. Helen could learn! Now there was much to do. They began the next morning. Annie gave Helen milk and spelled m-I-l-k
at the same time. She spelled c-a-t, while Helen petted the purring pet. And in this way, one new word followed another as the day flew by.
Although Annie’s pupil’s showed great promise, there was still the problem of trying to discipline her. Sometimes Helen was very friendly. But at other
times she had tantrums. She would kick and punch, shove people or throw things, until she got her way. Annie had to stop that. She knew that Mr. and Mrs.
Keller never would. So she asked them to let her have complete control over Helen. They agreed.
At breakfast the next morning, Annie made Helen sit in her own chair at the table. She would not let the child take food from anyone else. The first time
Helen tried to, Annie slapped her hand. Helen pinched Annie. Annie slapped her hand again. Helen stamped her feet in fury.
Annie dragged Helen to her own chair and made her sit in it. Then she put a spoon in the child’s hand and guide it to her food-filled plate. Helen threw
the spoon on the floor. Annie made her pick it up.
Mrs. Keller was crying, and Mr. Keller’s face was a mask of pain. They hated to see their Helen suffer so. (She can’t help herself,) Mrs. Keller said.
(She doesn’t know better.)
(We can help her to know better,) Annie said in a gentle voice.
The Kellers left the dining room. Annie locked the door behind them. Then the battle really began. Annie was determined—Helen would learn to sit in her
chair, eat properly, and fold her napkin when she was finished.
Helen walked around, touching every chair. When she found that her parents were gone, she crawled under the table. Annie pulled her out and sat her in
her chair. Helen picked up the food with her fingers. Annie wiped them clean and gave her a spoon. Helen tried to drop it, but Annie wouldn’t let her.
Helen struggled. Annie was stronger.
Helen finally gave in and ate with the spoon. Even so, the battle was not over. When she finished eating, Helen tossed her napkin on the table. Annie made
her pick it up, fold it, and place it beside her plate. A moment later, Helen flung the napkin to the floor. Annie made her get out of the chair, pick
it up, and fold it again. Helen was sobbing, but she would not give in. Neither would Annie. At last, the napkin remained on the table, folded neatly.
Only then did Annie unlock the door and le Helen out.
That night, Annie cried herself to sleep. She hated being harsh with Helen. She really loved the child, and wanted to be her friend. But first, she knew,
Helen would have to depend on her. Only then could the real learning begin.
The battle of wills went on. But each day was a bit easier than the day before. One morning, Helen brought her comb to Annie for the first time. The next
day, she let Annie get her ready for bed, then tuck her in for the night. And she was learning, too, to sew an apron for her doll, to crochet, to string
beads, to (say) new words in finger talk.
Annie was delighted. At last, Helen liked her and trusted her. Yet there was something missing. Helen learned to make the words in finger talk, but she
didn’t know that they were words. She didn’t know how to use them the way other people did.
Then, one day, Helen and Annie found the key that opened the door to the world for Helen Keller! It was April 5, 1887.
Annie described the moment of discovery in a letter to a friend. She wrote: (We went out to the pump house, and I made Helen hold her hands under the spout
while I pumped. I spelled w-a-t-e-r in to her free hand. ‘’’ The word coming so close upon the sensation of cold water rushing over her hand seemed to
startle her. She dropped the mug and stood transfixed. A new light came in to her face. She spelled water several times.)
Then Helen reached down and touched the ground. Annie spelled g-r-o-u-n-d in her hand. Helen looked excited and pointed at Annie. Annie spelled t-e-a-c-h-e-r.
Helen understood. And from that day on, she always called Annie Sullivan by the name, Teacher.
Now Helen pointed to herself. Annie spelled h-e-l-e-n K-e-l-l-e-r. Helen trembled with joy. She had a name, too!
Helen grabbed Annie’s hand, and they flew into the house together. They found Mrs. Keller. Helen burrowed into her mother’s arms, while Annie spelled m-o-t-h-e-r
on her hand. Helen understood, and she nodded her head. Tears of thankfulness spilled from Mrs. Keller’s eyes.
Helen couldn’t learn enough to satisfy her thirst for words that day. She moved quickly around the house, touching things, learning the word for each one.
Years later, Helen wrote, (It was as if I had come back to life after being dead. ‘’’ Delicious sensations rippled through me, and strange sweet things
that were locked up in my heart began to sing.)
Helen was up with the sun the next morning, ready to learn more. She woke Annie with a hug and a kiss—and a tug of hands that said, (Hurry! Get up!)
It took a while for Helen to get dressed, but not because she made it a battle. As she put on each piece of clothing, she wanted to know all about it.
Now she knew she wore a dress, and that it had sleeves, a skirt, buttons, buttonholes, a collar, a belt.
That was just the beginning. Words poured into Helen. She touched trees and grass and stones, and learned their names. She held an egg in her hand and
felt a baby chicken break through the shell and hatch. Then Annie’s finger told her all about the miracle of life she had felt.
Her teacher taught Helen to hop and skip and jump, telling her the word for each action. They did the same thing with foods, people’s names, animals, flowers,
furniture—everything in the world around them.
Annie wanted Helen to feel free and happy. So they spent most of their days outside, doing their lessons under a big tree in the garden. Helen learned
geography by making maps with wet dirt. She shaped mountains and valleys, islands and rivers, even whole continents. She learned the shape of the Earth
by holding an orange. Annie could hardly keep pace with Helen’s endless desire for (more words.)
If Helen could read, Annie decided, she would learn much faster. So Annie taught her to read Braille. This is a way of printing words by using raised dots
on paper. It was invented by Louis Braille in 1829, so that blind people could read by touch.
Annie had Helen feel the Braille letter A with the fingers of one hand, while A was finger-spelled in to her other hand. Then B ‘’’ and C. Helen mastered
the Braille alphabet right away. Annie brought her books written in Braille. Helen loved them so much that she always slept with one in her bed.
Next, Annie taught Helen how to write in Braille. Before long, Helen was writing stories, notes to Teacher, and letters to the blind children at the Perkins
Institute.
Mr. and Mrs. Keller were thrilled at Helen’s progress. (You have worked a miracle,) Mr. Keller told Annie.
(The miracle is Helen,) Annie insisted. (She can learn anything. Why, right now, we are working on ordinary writing. You will soon be reading her letters
yourself.)
Helen wanted to learn, learn, learn. Annie did her best, but she could see that Helen needed more than she could give her. So, in the spring of 1888, they
took a train to Boston. There, at the Perkins Institute, Helen went to a real school for the first time.
Annie sat next to her in every class, spelling out the teacher’s words in Helen’s hand. Helen learned geography, zoology, Latin, German, Arithmetic, English,
Greek, and French. She didn’t have to study all these subjects, she wanted to!
From eight o.c in the morning until six o’c at night, Helen went to classes. She stopped only for lunch and for an hour of play with other children in
the gym. It was very tiring for Annie, who never left her side, but Helen thrived on it.
When Helen was ten, she read about a blind, deaf girl in Norway. That girl had learned to speak words out loud. Helen wanted to do the same thing. Annie
took her to the Horace Mann School for the deaf in Boston. There, a teacher named Sarah Fuller began working with Helen. First, Helen placed her hand on
Miss Fuller’s mouth. She felt the way words are formed. Then Helen tried to copy this with her mouth.
Helen could not hear her own voice, so she could not know if her words sounded the way they should. Annie worked with her, day and night. Their reward
came when Helen said, (It is warm,) in a clear voice. And when they went to Tuscumbia for summer vacation, Helen’s family received a beautiful surprise.
The Keller’s were waiting at the train station. Helen, prettier than ever, stepped down to the platform. Very proudly, she said, (Mother, I am not dumb
now. Mildred, I love you. Father, I am glad to be home.)
This was a moment the Kellers would never forget. It was a wonderful summer vacation. Then Helen and Annie returned to school in Boston. And this is how
they spent each year as Helen grew into her teens.
One day, Helen told Annie of a new goal she had her heart set on. She wanted to go to College. Some of her friends felt College would be too hard for Helen,
and that she would be crushed by failure. But Helen refused to give up her dream.
She studied tirelessly for the entrance examinations. Her hand printing was slow, so Helen learned to use a typewriter. And she typed her answers through
a nine-hour preliminary exam, plus a full-day final exam.
Helen did brilliantly. She won honors in English and German and was given credit in advanced Latin. Now her friends had to believe in her dream!
Helen attended Raddcliffe College in the fall of 1900. During her four years there, she found her life’s work: to help others. She would tell the world
her story. She would show every one that the deaf and the blind can learn. Helen wanted to bring hope to the handicapped. Her life was proof that everyone
deserved a chance to learn.
In the years that followed, Helen wrote many books and magazine articles. She traveled around the world, speaking to people of all nations. Until Annie
died, in 1936, she was with Helen every step of the way. Polly Thompson, a young Scottish woman, took Annie’s place at Helen’s side. And together they
carried on Helen’s work.
During World War II, Helen visited soldiers who had been blinded in battle. She gave them courage and faith in the future. After the war, she worked with
blind and deaf children. (I cannot stop to grow old while there is so much work to do,) she said, (and so many children to help.)
Until her death, on June 1, 1968, this most remarkable woman continued to give love, hope, and inspiration to thousands of human beings.
By Francene Sabin.
The sweet cent of honeysuckle floated through the air. The sun was warm. A chickadee hopped along a tree branch, singing. A golden-haired girl, just one
year old, sat on a blanket in the grass and looked up at the bird. She laughed at its merry, piping song. Then she looked down at the doll in her lap.
She liked its orange woolen hair and button eyes.
(Helen, come to Mama, darling.)
The little girl turned around. She saw her mother standing nearby, arms outstretched.
(Ma-ma.Ma-ma,) said the child. A smile shining on her face, little Helen stood and toddled to her mother’s arms.
(Happy birthday!) Said Mrs. Keller. (One year old today! Come in and see the presents everyone had brought for you.)
The presents looked pretty in their shiny wrappings, but Helen had eyes for just one thing: the birthday cake. It had white icing and pink sugar roses
with mint-green leaves. Best of all, it had one tiny candle glowing on top. The flame danced and fluttered. The little girl giggled with delight.
Helen Keller would never see another birthday candle or ever again hear her family sing (Happy Birthday) to her. For when she was one-and-a-half years
old, she suffered a terrible sickness. Her fever raged for days. Doctors could do nothing to help her. It was the winter of 1882, and Doctors didn’t know
a lot of things they know now. They also did not have the special medicines called antibiotics, which are used today to treat many illnesses. The only
thing they could do for Helen was to make her comfortable and pray for her recovery.
Helen did recover, but the illness left her totally blind and deaf. At first, Mr. And Mrs. Keller hoped this nightmare would pass. Mr. Keller would stand
near his daughter and clap p his hands together sharply. But Helen did not turn toward the sound. Mrs. Keller would hold up an oil lamp. But Helen did
not turn toward the light.
Helen’s parents finally accepted the sad truth of their daughter’s blindness and deafness. But when friends told them that their child was feeble-minded,
they could not accept that. They knew that Helen had a bright mind. And they never gave up hope that, one day, she would show the world just how smart
she was.
The Keller’s did their best to make Helen’s life full and happy. They gave her lots of love and attention. They let her roam freely around their home in
Tuscumbia, Alabama. She ran through the fields with Belle, the family setter. She rode the small pony that lived in the barn behind the house.
The little girl loved the smell of flowers in the garden, fresh bread baking in the kitchen, and her mother’s perfume. She loved the taste of cold ice
cream and hot biscuits. And she loved the rough feel of tree bark under her fingertips, and the silkiness of Belle’s fur.
There were moments of happiness, like tiny islands in a vast ocean. But mostly, Helen’s life was like being alone in a silent, dark room. Whatever she
felt was locked inside. Her love had nowhere to go.
When Helen was five, Mrs. Keller read about a woman named Laura Bridgman, who was also deaf and blind. She had been taught to read and write, and to (talk)
to people by using a finger alphabet. Her teacher was Dr. Samuel Gridley Howe, of the Perkins institute for the Blind, in Boston, Massachusetts.
Laura Bridgman’s story gave the Kellers hope that something could be done for Helen. So, as soon as they could, they took her to Baltimore, Maryland, to
see an eye specialist. The doctor examined Helen, and said, (I’m sorry, her condition will never change. But she can learn a lot of things. There is nothing
wrong with her mind. I have a suggestion to make.)
(What is that?) Mrs. Keller asked.
(We’ll do anything that might help Helen.)
(I think you should take her to Washington D.C., to see Dr. Bell. He has had great success teaching deaf people.)
The Kellers took a train to the nations capital. There, they went to see Dr. Alexander Graham Bell. Today, Dr. Bell is remembered mainly as the inventor
of the telephone. In these days, however, he was best known for the school he had founded, where teachers were trained to instruct deaf students.
Long train rides, strange hotels, meeting many new people—it all confused and frightened Helen. But Dr. Bell was very gentle. He sat her on his knees and
guided her hands to his face. She felt his droopy mustache and heavy beard. Then he held his gold pocket watch against her cheek. She could feel the steady
ticktock, and she nodded her head in rhythm within.
Helen was not afraid of this kind man. She sat still while she examined her. Then he told the Kellers, (I am certain that this clever little girl can be
taught to communicate with others.)
Dr. Bell suggested that Mr. Keller write to the Perkins Institute, where Laura Bridgman had learned the finger language. Perhaps the director, Michael
Anagnos, find the right teacher for Helen.
Mr. Keller did right the letter and soon received an answer. Mr. Anagnos knew of a young woman who would make a perfect teacher and companion for Helen.
Her name was Annie Sullivan.
Arrangements were made quickly, and Annie Sullivan arrived in Tuscumbia on March 3, 1887. Mrs. Keller met her at the train, and they rode back to the house
in a horse-drawn carriage.
Helen did not know why there was so much excitement in the house. But something told her that today was very special. When she could not find her mother
anywhere, Helen went to the front door. She stood there and waited.
The carriage drew up in front of the house, and Annie Sullivan got her first look at Helen. The young girl’s dress was dirty. Her light-brown curls were
tangled and uncombed. She stood tense and frightened, like a startled fawn in the forest.
Mr. Keller helped Annie down from the carriage. She began to walk up the wooden steps to the front porch. Helen felt the vibrations made by the footsteps,
and rushed at the stranger. Annie caught her before the wild charge knocked both of them down the steps.
Annie knelt and put her arms around Helen. She smiled as the child’s fingers felt her eyes, her nose, her hair, and her hat. When Helen was finished (meeting)
the stranger, Annie took her hand and they walked in to the house, side by side.
Their first days together were not easy. Annie was unhappy about Helen’s wild behavior. The child was allowed to walk around the dining table, sticking
her fingers into everybody’s food and taking whatever she wanted. She was very rough with Mildred, her baby sister, and with the dog, Belle. Helen would
not let anybody comb her hair or wash her face and hands. And she would fly into a fierce rage when anyone tried to make her do something she didn’t want
to do.
Annie understood why Helen acted this way. Her parents felt so sorry for their unfortunate little girl that they could not bear to punish her, no matter
what she did. They never made her obey rules.
Annie knew she had to tame this wild young girl. Helen had to learn to get along with other people. Until she did, she could not be taught anything.
First, Annie tried to win Helen’s trust. She gave the little girl a doll that had been sent to Helen by the children at the Perkins Institute.
Helen ran her hands over the doll. She smiled and hugged it tightly. A moment later, Helen felt Annie take hold of her right hand. She felt fingers fluttering
and tapping on her palm. The tapping stopped. Then again she felt the same tap-flutters on her palm. And again. Helen was puzzled.
Annie was using a special finger language to spell d-o-l-l in Helen’ hands. She spelled it over and over. But Helen did not understand what was happening.
Fear bubbled inside her. She threw the doll to the floor and rushed from the room.
Later that day, Annie took a peace of cake and touched Helen’s hand to it. Helen loved cake and started to grab it. Annie stopped her. With one hand, she
held Helen’s left hand so that it just touched the cake. At the same time, she spelled c-a-k-e into Helen’s right hand. She spelled it again and again.
Helen scowled. She started to pull away. Then, suddenly, she stopped. Putting her fingers in Annie’s hand, she very slowly spelled c-a-k-e. Annie was thrilled
with Helen’s quick response. She gave Helen the cake. The young girl ate it happily.
As soon as Helen finished the last crumb, she felt Annie guide her left and over the doll. Helen wanted it; it felt so soft and cuddly. She tugged at it.
But Annie didn’t let her have it. Then Helen put her fingers in Annie’s hand and spelled d-o-l-l. Annie guided Helen’s fingers through second L, then placed
the doll in Helen’s arms. A smile spread across Helen’s face.
This first success filled Annie with joy. Helen could learn! Now there was much to do. They began the next morning. Annie gave Helen milk and spelled m-I-l-k
at the same time. She spelled c-a-t, while Helen petted the purring pet. And in this way, one new word followed another as the day flew by.
Although Annie’s pupil’s showed great promise, there was still the problem of trying to discipline her. Sometimes Helen was very friendly. But at other
times she had tantrums. She would kick and punch, shove people or throw things, until she got her way. Annie had to stop that. She knew that Mr. and Mrs.
Keller never would. So she asked them to let her have complete control over Helen. They agreed.
At breakfast the next morning, Annie made Helen sit in her own chair at the table. She would not let the child take food from anyone else. The first time
Helen tried to, Annie slapped her hand. Helen pinched Annie. Annie slapped her hand again. Helen stamped her feet in fury.
Annie dragged Helen to her own chair and made her sit in it. Then she put a spoon in the child’s hand and guide it to her food-filled plate. Helen threw
the spoon on the floor. Annie made her pick it up.
Mrs. Keller was crying, and Mr. Keller’s face was a mask of pain. They hated to see their Helen suffer so. (She can’t help herself,) Mrs. Keller said.
(She doesn’t know better.)
(We can help her to know better,) Annie said in a gentle voice.
The Kellers left the dining room. Annie locked the door behind them. Then the battle really began. Annie was determined—Helen would learn to sit in her
chair, eat properly, and fold her napkin when she was finished.
Helen walked around, touching every chair. When she found that her parents were gone, she crawled under the table. Annie pulled her out and sat her in
her chair. Helen picked up the food with her fingers. Annie wiped them clean and gave her a spoon. Helen tried to drop it, but Annie wouldn’t let her.
Helen struggled. Annie was stronger.
Helen finally gave in and ate with the spoon. Even so, the battle was not over. When she finished eating, Helen tossed her napkin on the table. Annie made
her pick it up, fold it, and place it beside her plate. A moment later, Helen flung the napkin to the floor. Annie made her get out of the chair, pick
it up, and fold it again. Helen was sobbing, but she would not give in. Neither would Annie. At last, the napkin remained on the table, folded neatly.
Only then did Annie unlock the door and le Helen out.
That night, Annie cried herself to sleep. She hated being harsh with Helen. She really loved the child, and wanted to be her friend. But first, she knew,
Helen would have to depend on her. Only then could the real learning begin.
The battle of wills went on. But each day was a bit easier than the day before. One morning, Helen brought her comb to Annie for the first time. The next
day, she let Annie get her ready for bed, then tuck her in for the night. And she was learning, too, to sew an apron for her doll, to crochet, to string
beads, to (say) new words in finger talk.
Annie was delighted. At last, Helen liked her and trusted her. Yet there was something missing. Helen learned to make the words in finger talk, but she
didn’t know that they were words. She didn’t know how to use them the way other people did.
Then, one day, Helen and Annie found the key that opened the door to the world for Helen Keller! It was April 5, 1887.
Annie described the moment of discovery in a letter to a friend. She wrote: (We went out to the pump house, and I made Helen hold her hands under the spout
while I pumped. I spelled w-a-t-e-r in to her free hand. ‘’’ The word coming so close upon the sensation of cold water rushing over her hand seemed to
startle her. She dropped the mug and stood transfixed. A new light came in to her face. She spelled water several times.)
Then Helen reached down and touched the ground. Annie spelled g-r-o-u-n-d in her hand. Helen looked excited and pointed at Annie. Annie spelled t-e-a-c-h-e-r.
Helen understood. And from that day on, she always called Annie Sullivan by the name, Teacher.
Now Helen pointed to herself. Annie spelled h-e-l-e-n K-e-l-l-e-r. Helen trembled with joy. She had a name, too!
Helen grabbed Annie’s hand, and they flew into the house together. They found Mrs. Keller. Helen burrowed into her mother’s arms, while Annie spelled m-o-t-h-e-r
on her hand. Helen understood, and she nodded her head. Tears of thankfulness spilled from Mrs. Keller’s eyes.
Helen couldn’t learn enough to satisfy her thirst for words that day. She moved quickly around the house, touching things, learning the word for each one.
Years later, Helen wrote, (It was as if I had come back to life after being dead. ‘’’ Delicious sensations rippled through me, and strange sweet things
that were locked up in my heart began to sing.)
Helen was up with the sun the next morning, ready to learn more. She woke Annie with a hug and a kiss—and a tug of hands that said, (Hurry! Get up!)
It took a while for Helen to get dressed, but not because she made it a battle. As she put on each piece of clothing, she wanted to know all about it.
Now she knew she wore a dress, and that it had sleeves, a skirt, buttons, buttonholes, a collar, a belt.
That was just the beginning. Words poured into Helen. She touched trees and grass and stones, and learned their names. She held an egg in her hand and
felt a baby chicken break through the shell and hatch. Then Annie’s finger told her all about the miracle of life she had felt.
Her teacher taught Helen to hop and skip and jump, telling her the word for each action. They did the same thing with foods, people’s names, animals, flowers,
furniture—everything in the world around them.
Annie wanted Helen to feel free and happy. So they spent most of their days outside, doing their lessons under a big tree in the garden. Helen learned
geography by making maps with wet dirt. She shaped mountains and valleys, islands and rivers, even whole continents. She learned the shape of the Earth
by holding an orange. Annie could hardly keep pace with Helen’s endless desire for (more words.)
If Helen could read, Annie decided, she would learn much faster. So Annie taught her to read Braille. This is a way of printing words by using raised dots
on paper. It was invented by Louis Braille in 1829, so that blind people could read by touch.
Annie had Helen feel the Braille letter A with the fingers of one hand, while A was finger-spelled in to her other hand. Then B ‘’’ and C. Helen mastered
the Braille alphabet right away. Annie brought her books written in Braille. Helen loved them so much that she always slept with one in her bed.
Next, Annie taught Helen how to write in Braille. Before long, Helen was writing stories, notes to Teacher, and letters to the blind children at the Perkins
Institute.
Mr. and Mrs. Keller were thrilled at Helen’s progress. (You have worked a miracle,) Mr. Keller told Annie.
(The miracle is Helen,) Annie insisted. (She can learn anything. Why, right now, we are working on ordinary writing. You will soon be reading her letters
yourself.)
Helen wanted to learn, learn, learn. Annie did her best, but she could see that Helen needed more than she could give her. So, in the spring of 1888, they
took a train to Boston. There, at the Perkins Institute, Helen went to a real school for the first time.
Annie sat next to her in every class, spelling out the teacher’s words in Helen’s hand. Helen learned geography, zoology, Latin, German, Arithmetic, English,
Greek, and French. She didn’t have to study all these subjects, she wanted to!
From eight o.c in the morning until six o’c at night, Helen went to classes. She stopped only for lunch and for an hour of play with other children in
the gym. It was very tiring for Annie, who never left her side, but Helen thrived on it.
When Helen was ten, she read about a blind, deaf girl in Norway. That girl had learned to speak words out loud. Helen wanted to do the same thing. Annie
took her to the Horace Mann School for the deaf in Boston. There, a teacher named Sarah Fuller began working with Helen. First, Helen placed her hand on
Miss Fuller’s mouth. She felt the way words are formed. Then Helen tried to copy this with her mouth.
Helen could not hear her own voice, so she could not know if her words sounded the way they should. Annie worked with her, day and night. Their reward
came when Helen said, (It is warm,) in a clear voice. And when they went to Tuscumbia for summer vacation, Helen’s family received a beautiful surprise.
The Keller’s were waiting at the train station. Helen, prettier than ever, stepped down to the platform. Very proudly, she said, (Mother, I am not dumb
now. Mildred, I love you. Father, I am glad to be home.)
This was a moment the Kellers would never forget. It was a wonderful summer vacation. Then Helen and Annie returned to school in Boston. And this is how
they spent each year as Helen grew into her teens.
One day, Helen told Annie of a new goal she had her heart set on. She wanted to go to College. Some of her friends felt College would be too hard for Helen,
and that she would be crushed by failure. But Helen refused to give up her dream.
She studied tirelessly for the entrance examinations. Her hand printing was slow, so Helen learned to use a typewriter. And she typed her answers through
a nine-hour preliminary exam, plus a full-day final exam.
Helen did brilliantly. She won honors in English and German and was given credit in advanced Latin. Now her friends had to believe in her dream!
Helen attended Raddcliffe College in the fall of 1900. During her four years there, she found her life’s work: to help others. She would tell the world
her story. She would show every one that the deaf and the blind can learn. Helen wanted to bring hope to the handicapped. Her life was proof that everyone
deserved a chance to learn.
In the years that followed, Helen wrote many books and magazine articles. She traveled around the world, speaking to people of all nations. Until Annie
died, in 1936, she was with Helen every step of the way. Polly Thompson, a young Scottish woman, took Annie’s place at Helen’s side. And together they
carried on Helen’s work.
During World War II, Helen visited soldiers who had been blinded in battle. She gave them courage and faith in the future. After the war, she worked with
blind and deaf children. (I cannot stop to grow old while there is so much work to do,) she said, (and so many children to help.)
Until her death, on June 1, 1968, this most remarkable woman continued to give love, hope, and inspiration to thousands of human beings.
An Awesome Story of Humanity
At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never
be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:
'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection.
Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do.
Where is the natural order of things in my son?'
The audience was stilled by the query.
The father continued... 'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize
true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'
Then he told the following story:
Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball.... Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' I knew that most
of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a
much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.
I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing
by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'
Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The
boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.
In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.
In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to
be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.
In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again.
Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?
Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much
less connect with the ball.
However, as Shay stepped up to the
plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly
so Shay could at least make contact.
The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.
The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay.
As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.
The game would now be over.
The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman.
Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.
Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates.
Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first!
Run to first!'
Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base.
He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.
Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!'
Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.
B y the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball . the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero
for his team.
He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high
and far over the third-baseman's head.
Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.
All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'
Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third!
Shay, run to third!'
As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!'
Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team
'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into
this world'.
Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his
Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!
AND NOW A LITTLE FOOT NOTE TO THIS STORY:
We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate.
The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.
We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the 'natural order of things.'
So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice:
Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?
A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.
be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:
'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection.
Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do.
Where is the natural order of things in my son?'
The audience was stilled by the query.
The father continued... 'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize
true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'
Then he told the following story:
Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball.... Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' I knew that most
of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a
much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.
I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing
by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'
Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The
boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.
In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.
In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to
be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.
In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again.
Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?
Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much
less connect with the ball.
However, as Shay stepped up to the
plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly
so Shay could at least make contact.
The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.
The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay.
As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.
The game would now be over.
The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman.
Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.
Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates.
Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first!
Run to first!'
Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base.
He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.
Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!'
Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.
B y the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball . the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero
for his team.
He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high
and far over the third-baseman's head.
Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.
All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'
Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third!
Shay, run to third!'
As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!'
Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team
'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into
this world'.
Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his
Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!
AND NOW A LITTLE FOOT NOTE TO THIS STORY:
We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate.
The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.
We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the 'natural order of things.'
So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice:
Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?
A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.
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