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Progress in Lip-Reading was Slow

N THE summer I attended the meeting at Chautauqua of the Association to Promote the Teaching of Speech to the Deaf. Here it was arranged that I should go to the Wright-Humason School for the Deaf in New York City. I went there in October, 1894, accompanied by Miss Sullivan. This school was chosen especially for the purpose of obtaining the highest advantages in voice culture, speech, and training in lip-reading. In addition to my work in these special subjects, during the two years I was in the school, I studied Arithmetic, Physical Geography, French and German.

Miss Reamy, my German teacher, could use the manual alphabet, and after I had acquired a small vocabulary we talked together in German whenever we had an opportunity, and in a few months I could understand almost everything she said on ordinary subjects. Before the end of the first year I read "Wilhelm Tell" with the greatest delight. Indeed, I think I made more progress in German than in any of my other studies. I found French much more difficult. I studied it with Madame Olivier, a French lady who did not know the finger language, and who was consequently obliged to give her instruction orally. I could not read her lips easily; so my progress was much slower than in German. However, I managed to read "Le Medecin Malgrè Lui" again. It was very amusing; but I did not like it nearly so well as "Wilhelm Tell."

My progress in lip-reading and speech was not what my teachers and I expected and hoped it would be. It was my ambition to speak like other people, and my teachers believed that this could be accomplished; but, although we worked hard and faithfully, yet we did not quite reach our goal. I suppose we aimed too high, and disappointment was therefore inevitable. But, although these disappointments caused me great depression at times, I pursued my other studies with unflagging interest, especially Physical Geography. It was a joy to learn the secrets of Nature: how, in the picturesque language of the Old Testament, the winds are made to blow from the four corners of the earth, how the vapors ascend from the ends of the earth, how rivers are cut out among the rocks, and mountains overturned by the roots, and in what ways man may overcome many forces mightier than himself.

Preparing to Enter Radcliffe College

WHEN a very little girl I had visited Wellesley College and surprised my friends by the announcement: "Some day I shall go to college -- but I shall go to Harvard!" When asked why I would not go to Wellesley I replied that there were only girls there. The thought of going to college took root and became an earnest desire, which impelled me to enter into competition for a degree with seeing and hearing girls, in the face of the strong opposition of many wise friends. When I left New York the idea had become a fixed purpose; and it was decided that I should go to the Cambridge School for Young Ladies, to be prepared for Radcliffe College. This was the nearest approach I could get to Harvard.

I entered the Cambridge School in October, 1896. The plan was to have Miss Sullivan attend the classes with me and interpret to me the instruction given.

Of course, my instructors had had no experience in teaching any but normal pupils, and my only means of conversing with them was to read what they said by placing my fingers on their lips. My studies for the first year were English History, English Literature, German, Latin and Arithmetic, Latin Composition and occasional themes. Never before had I taken a course of study with the idea of preparing for college; but I had been well drilled in English by Miss Sullivan, and it soon became evident to my teachers that I needed no special instruction in this subject beyond a critical study of the books prescribed by the college. Moreover, I had had a good start in French and had received six months' instruction in Latin; but German was the subject with which I was most familiar. In spite, however, of these advantages there were serious drawbacks to my progress. Miss Sullivan could not spell out in my hand all that the books required, and it was very difficult to have textbooks embossed in time to be of use to me, although my friends in London and Philadelphia were willing to hasten the work. For a while, indeed, I had to copy my Latin in Braille, so that I could recite with the other girls. My instructors soon became sufficiently familiar with my imperfect speech to answer my questions readily and correct mistakes. I could not make notes in class or write exercises; but I wrote all my compositions and translations at home on my typewriter.

Each day Miss Sullivan went to the classes with me and spelled into my hand with infinite patience all that the teachers said. In study hours she had to look up new words for me and read and reread notes and books I did not have in raised print. Frau Gröte, my German teacher, and Mr. Gilman, the principal, were the only teachers in the school who learned the finger language to give me instruction. No one realized more fully than dear Frau Gröte how slow and inadequate her spelling was. Nevertheless, out of the goodness of her heart she laboriously spelled out her instruction to me twice a week, to give Miss Sullivan a little rest. But, though everybody was kind and ready to help us, there was only one hand that could turn drudgery into pleasure.