Page 282 - The Story of My Lif

You see, my mind is undisciplined, full of skips and jumps, and here and there a

lot of things huddled together in dark corners. How I long to put it in order!

Oh, if only there were some one to help me! I need a teacher quite as much as
Helen. I know that the education of this child will be the distinguishing event of

my life, if I have the brains and perseverance to accomplish it. I have made up
my mind about one thing: Helen must learn to use books-indeed, we must both
learn to use them, and that reminds me—will you please ask Mr.

Anagnos to get me Perez’s and Sully’s Psychologies? I think I shall find them
helpful.

We have reading lessons every day. Usually we take one of the little “Readers”
up in a big tree near the house and spend an hour or two finding the words Helen
already knows. WE MAKE A SORT

OF GAME OF IT and try to see who can find the words most quickly, Helen
with her fingers, or I with my eyes, and she learns as many new words as I can
explain with the help of those she knows. When her fingers light upon words she

knows, she fairly screams with pleasure and hugs and kisses me for joy,
especially if she thinks she has me beaten. It would astonish you to see how
many words she learns in an hour in this pleasant manner. Afterward I put the
new words into little sentences in the frame, and sometimes it is possible to tell a
little story about a bee or a cat or a little boy in this way. I can now tell her to go
upstairs or down, out of doors or into the house, lock or unlock a door, take or
bring objects, sit, stand, walk, run, lie, creep, roll, or climb. She is delighted with
action-words; so it is no trouble at all to teach her verbs. She is always ready for
a lesson, and the eagerness with which she absorbs ideas is very delightful. She
is as triumphant over the conquest of a sentence as a general who has captured
the enemy’s stronghold.

One of Helen’s old habits, that is strongest and hardest to correct, is a tendency
to break things. If she finds anything in her way, she flings it on the floor, no
matter what it is: a glass, a pitcher, or even a lamp. She has a great many dolls,
and every one of them has been broken in a fit of temper or ennui.