the most important day I remember in all my life is the one on which my teacher, Anne Mansfield Sullivan, came to me. I am filled with wonder when I consider the immeasurable contrast between the two lives which it connects. It was the third of march,1887,three months before I was seven years old.The morning after my teacher came,she led me into her
room and gave me a doll.When I had played with it a little while,Miss Sullivan slowly spelled into my hand the word "d-o-l-l."I was at once interested in this finger play and tried to imitate it.When I finally succeeded in making the letters correctly,Iwas filled with childish pleasure and pride. Running downstairs to my mother,I held up my hand and made the letters for "doll." Idid not know that I was spelling a word or even that woeds existed;I simply made my fingers go in monkey like imitation. In the day that followed,I learned to spell in this uncomprehending way many word,among them "pin," "hat." "cup." and a few verbs like "sit." "stand." and "walk." but my teacher has been with me serveral weeks before I understood that averything at a name.