She had lost her sight and hearing before she was two years old, but actually she never lost her sight from learning...
Taking this from books "Lets Write English", first time i read it, i feel i want to write it in my blogs, because the story really give me an inspiration to not to stop to learn...^_^
Well this is the story:
"The morning after Miss Sullivan came to Helen Keller's house, she led Helen into her room and gave her a doll. When Helen had played with the doll for a little while, Miss Sullivan slowly spelled into her hand the word "d-o-l-l". Helen was at once interested in this finger play, and she tried tioimitate it. When she finally succeeded in making the letters correctly, she was flushed with childish pleasure and pride. Running downstairs to her mother, she held up her hand and made the letters for doll. She didn't know that she was spelling a word or even that words existed, she was simply making her fingers go in monkey-like imitation. In the days that followed she learned to spell a great many words in this uncomprehending way. But Miss Sullivan had to be with her several weeks before Helen understood that everything had a name."
Helen autobiography, Diary of Helen: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 contrasts between the two lives which it connects. It was the third of March, 1887, three months before I was seven years old.
On the afternoon on that eventful day, I stood on the porch, dumb, expectant. I guesses 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...
I felt approaching footsteps. I stretched out my hand, as I supposed, to my mother. Someone took it, and I was caught up and held close in the arms of her who had come to reveal all things to me, and, more than all things else, to love me.
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, I was flushed with childish pleasure and pride. Running downstairs to my mother, I held up my hand and made the letters for doll. I did not know that I was spelling a word or even that word existed. I was simply making my fingers go in monkey-like imitation. In the days that followed I learned to spell in this uncomprehending way a great many words, among them pin, hat, cup and a few verbs like sit, stand and walk. But my teacher had been with me several weeks before I understood that everything has a name.
One day, while I was playing with my new doll, Miss Sullivan put my big rag doll into my lap also, spelled "d-o-l-l", and tried to make me understand that "d-o-l-l" aplied to both. Earlier in the day we had a tussle over the words "m-u-g" and "w-a-t-e-r". Miss Sullivan had tried to impress it upon me that "m-u-g" is a mug and "w-a-t-e-r' 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. I became impatient at her repeated attempts and, seizing the new doll, I dashed it upon the floor. I was keenly delighted when I felt the fragments of the broken doll at my feet. Neither sorrow nor regret followed my passionate outburst. I had not love the doll. In the still, dark world in which i lived, there was no strong sentiment of tenderness. I felt my teacher sweep the fragments to one side of the hearth, an I had a sense of satisfaction that the couse of my discomfort was removed. She brought me my hat, an I knew I was going out into the warm sunshine. This thought, if a wordless sensation may be called a thought, made me hop and skip with pleasure.
We walked down the path to well-house, atrracted by the fragrance of the honeysuckle with which it was covered. Someone was drawing water, and my teacher palced my hand under the spout. As the cool stream gushed over one hand she spelled into the other the word water, first slowly, than 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 "w-a-t-e-r" meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free! There were barriers still, it is true, but barriers that could in time be swept away.
I felt the well-house eager to learn. Everything had a name, and each name gave birth to a new thought. As we returned to the house, every object which I touched seemed to quiver with life. That was because I saw everything with strange, new sight that had come to me. On entering the door, I remembered the doll I had broken. I felt my way to the hearth and picked up the pieces. I tried vainly to put them together. Then my eyes filled with tears, for I realized what i had done, and for the first time I felt repentance and sorrow.
I learned a great many words that day. I do not remember what they all were, but I do know that mother, father, sister, teacher were among them---words that were to make the world blossom for me, "like, Aaron's rod, with flowers." It would have been difficult to find a happier child than I was as I lay in my crib at the close of that eventful day and lived over the joys it had brought me, and for the first time longed for a new day to come.*