...THE STORY OF MY LIFE By Helen Keller With Her Letters (1887-1901) And Supplementary Account of Her Education, Including Passages from the Reports and Letters of her Teacher, Anne Mansfield Sullivan, By John Albert Macy Special Edition CONTAINING ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS BY HELEN KELLER To ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL Who has taught the deaf to speak and enabled the listening ear to hear speech from the Atlantic to the Rockies, I dedicate this Story of My Life. CONTENTS Editor's Preface I. THE STORY OF MY LIFE CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII CHAPTER IX CHAPTER X CHAPTER XI CHAPTER XII CHAPTER XIII CHAPTER XIV CHAPTER XV CHAPTER XVI CHAPTER XVII CHAPTER XVIII CHAPTER XIX CHAPTER XX CHAPTER XXI CHAPTER XXII CHAPTER XXIII II. LETTERS(1887-1901) INTRODUCTION III: A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT OF HELEN KELLER'S LIFE AND EDUCATION CHAPTER I. The Writing of the Book CHAPTER II. PERSONALITY CHAPTER III. EDUCATION CHAPTER IV. SPEECH CHAPTER V. LITERARY STYLE Editor's Preface This book is in three parts. The first two, Miss Keller's story and the extracts from her letters, form a complete account of her life as far as she can give it. Much of her education she cannot explain herself, and since a knowledge of that is necessary to an understanding of what she has written, it was thought best to supplement her autobiography with the reports and letters of her teacher, Miss Anne Mansfield Sullivan. The addition...
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...The Story of my Life I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I died I was born I went to school I worked I...
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...know what was happening, or why I was going there. All that I remember about that day is that an old man with grey hair, a long scruffy beard, and a long-sleeve flannel shirt. I assume that he was my grandfather, but I still haven’t been able to confirm that. Some of the days while I was in the orphanage seemed to drag on for weeks at a time. The orphanage was really big; it was shaped like the letter E, if it was looked at from the sky. While some children played on the well designed play areas, the other children slept in beds for a majority of the day. If any child got up out of their bed, they would get the slipper on their bottom. As any child would do, I kept testing the staff that was in charge of the children sleeping. I was the only one getting the slipper and the other children would be laughing at me. This sometimes would go one for the whole day, but then I realized that it was not getting me anywhere. The children only ate breakfast and dinner; sometimes you wouldn’t get anything if you were very bad. In addition, the only thing that I did not know was that I was going to be adopted. When a mother and a father, about the age of forty to forty-five, came to the orphanage and asked if they could meet me and young boy who was name Sasha. Little did I know that Sasha was my brother. The mother and father told me that he had come to the orphanage when he was about two or three years of age. The main reason that this couple was at the orphanage was to adopt Sasha and me...
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...I remember when life was simple, and all that mattered to me was watching the Rugrats or Spongebob. As a baby, many people would say I looked Like Tommy Pickles. As I grew a bit older, I began to change, not only physically, but mentally and ethically. I began to learn my how things progressed and learned about the many new rules of life. An important one at the time was washing your hands every time you use the bathroom and brush your teeth each night before you go to bed. I also had many priorities at my age in that point of my life. A very important one was watching the newest episode of Pokemon each Saturday morning or beating that next level in any game on my Game Boy. But now as I see myself growing older, my priorities have shifted in a different direction. I now have to constantly update my status on the social networking site known as Facebook or check my Iphone for that text message from my closest friends. Time progressed and as I grew, I began to think about my past, present, and future. I remember my childhood, and live my life in the present, always moving forward. But thinking about my future is something that was a bit challenging to me. I began to ask my self many questions like “What’s going to happen in a few years? Where will I be? What will I be doing?”. As time went on, would look in the mirror, and I’d ask my self who I see. I see the person I am now. I see the 17 year old young man, who is preparing to take the next big step in his life. A young man filled...
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...respect each other. Unfortunately, we don't live in that world. My laws of life story is about respect, it's about how I disrespected a random stranger on the phone, for not knowing about the brownies I made. Let's go back and relive the situation. It was near the end of seventh grade. My friend Olivia came over. I wanted to make brownies so we agreed to make some. After we put them in the oven I started to get bored. “Let's go on a walk to the graveyard”. I said to Olivia She was cautious at first but decided it might be fun. The neighborhood I live in has a graveyard beside it, and beside the graveyard is the Green Local...
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...I sat on my bed, staring at my overstuffed duffel bags, wondering if I had packed enough belongings for the trip I was about to endure. “Well, if I am forgetting something, someone else is sure to have it”, I said to myself as I curled up between my many pillows and fuzzy blankets to settle down for a good night’s sleep. After waking up from a night filled with dreams of soaking up some sunshine on sandy beaches, I turned to my alarm clock to see what time it was. The blinking screen read 5:53 AM, June 3, 2017. So I rolled out of bed, and got dressed in some comfortable clothes. I was filled with excitement and nervous energy while I devoured a nutritious breakfast of blueberry oatmeal before proceeding to finish getting ready. “Abby! C’mon! We have to go or you’re gonna be late!” yelled my mother, who is a tall woman in her forties with short, flaxen hair and greenish-gray eyes. “I’m brushing my teeth! Be down in a minute!” I called...
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...I was 12 years old when a purple satin dress changed my life. My middle school choir was not unique in our watching of West Side Story in class- most anyone whose parents sign them up for choir at that age are subjected to the Romeo and Juliet of musical theater. Typically, this rite of passage is used as a tool to teach kids that dancing and theater can tell stories that they can relate to in the same way that English teachers will try to tell you that Shakespeare is just like a “hardcore dope rap”. In short, it makes kids cringe, and I was not unique in my eye-rolling at this movie. We were unique, however, in that the local theater was putting on a production of West Side Story, so we all got to take an afternoon off school to go and tour the set, ask questions, and then attend a performance at Drury Lane. We were a poorly behaved group of kids, if I remember right- we giggled and hit each other when people fell in love, we cooed like a studio audience the first time Tony sang to Maria. Good theater kids would’ve sat quietly, enjoyed the music, and be swept away by real actors singing and dancing. Clearly, I was not a good theater kid. But then, Anita swept onstage in her purple satin dress. And I was...
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...Verse 1 - Harry Written in these walls are the stories that I can't explain, I leave my heart open but it stays right here empty for days. [Liam] She told me in the morning she don't feel the same about us in her bones, It seems to me that when I die these words will be written on my stone. Pre-chorus - Zayn And I'll be gone gone tonight The ground beneath my feet is open wide The way that I been holdin' on too tight With nothing in between Chorus - Harry The story of my life I take her home I drive all night to keep her warm and time… Is frozen (the story of, the story of) [All] The story of my life I give her hope I spend her love until she's broke inside The story of my life (the story of, the story of) Verse 2 - Niall Written on these walls are the colours that I can't change Leave my heart open but it stays right here in its cage [Liam] I know that in the morning now, I'll see us in the light upon a hill Although I am broken my heart is untamed stillx Pre-chorus - Louis And I'll be gone gone tonight The fire beneath my feet is burning bright The way that I been holdin' on so tight With nothing in between Chorus - Harry The story of my life I take her home I drive all night to keep her warm and time… Is frozen (the story of, the story of) [All] The story of my life I give her hope I spend her love until she's broke inside The story of my life (the story of, the story of) Bridge - Zayn And I been waiting for this time...
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...well at. The difference is, I’m stronger in my writing skills than my reading skills. The reason for this is that when I’m writing I get so into my words and imagination to where my hand with the magical pencil does the talking. My skills in reading only depend on one thing, if it catches my attention or not. Stories have to get me involved with the story somehow in order for me to get interest. If it’s not catching my attention, I’m not reading it. But most importantly, critical thinking is what ties reading and writing together. I am very picky about the books and articles I read. Stories for me have to have a mystery or even sometimes a sappy love story. Of course I’m going to love romantic books because I’m a girl, right? Yet again, some love stories bore the living hell out of me because it’s a “typical” love story. Reading books just all depends on how the author grabs his reader’s attention and how he plays the story throughout the book. When I find a book that I’m interested in, I will read the entire novel. Or even something that is scary will keep hooked on the story. Scary stories are my favorites because the story just keeps my suspense in play. Celebrity gossip is definitely something that I get into reading. There is always something new with these celebrities. Since these celebrities are well known, their lives are somehow interesting to us. We love the celebrity gossip because they’re famous and any juicy story about a celebrity will catch our attention...
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...Fiction and the Work Environment Paper When reading a short story, poem, or even novel the author often attempts to provide the audience with some type of personal connection to a variety of components to the reading. An author may select very personable, hardworking, and unselfish characters to allow the audience to connect in some way with the main or subordinate characters; or the author may elect to provide a common type of setting to provide the readers an additional way to connect to the literature. Mona Simpson’s short story entitled “Coins” (Scheckner & Boyes 2008) is a story which provides many opportunities for the reader to make some type of personal connection by providing a story of an untraditional family setting. Simpson’s story provided a few important lessons that people need to keep in mind as they go about their daily lives. The short story sheds light to what should be important in a person’s life; what should be a priority, the lessons taught to children through hard work and love. After reading Simpson’s “Coins” I was face to face with the lessons that the story presented, forcing me to take a look at my priorities and family, thus allowing me a moment to reflect on what I truly cherish in my life, which is the love for my family and the importance of teaching my children the qualities of hard work in order to appreciate all that we have. The story of Lola, the housekeeper/nanny, was one that I was easy to make personal connections to and provided...
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...Patrick Daniel Noonan, the father of my family tends to have the most intriguing stories to tell from his childhood and time living first in Baltimore and then Northern Maine. His life stories are very important on how they shaped him as an individual, and how they taught him life lessons that he would need in the future. I choose him because he has had a lot of unique experiences with sports, farming and many more that were told to me during this interview. My dad was born in Baltimore, Maryland on November 18, 1985 where he lived with his parents and partially his grandparents. By the time he was five and had just started kindergarten, he moved to Littleton, Maine. He grew up on a farm, and found himself working picking potatoes and doing...
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...others. For example, a person will advise another person, not to read My Antonia, because it is a boring drab story like most books written a long time ago, despite once being great and well-received (people’s interests change over 100 years). Furthermore, the person receiving this advice may be slightly stubborn and read the book anyway, and that person will find out for themselves how awful the book truly is. My Antonia was not a good book, it was in fact a very awful and boring book. At no point in the story did it ever become interesting or exciting (a common theme in many of these stories). Furthermore, the overall story of its completion is one of the most stupid and pointless story arcs ever. Also, the characters (another common issue I have with older literature) are not interesting at all. My Antonia was one of the worst books ever, and it should be burned in a fire for being so terrible. The first issue with My Antonia has been the level of interest to the story. The story is so...
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...Dear Reader The past few years of my life was spent in search looking for the gateway of dreams, I was lost for a good bit of time not knowing what to do with my life and even more lost on how to go about finding it. I found the path to the gateway of dreams with the help of my brother and the rest of my family. Po Bronson says "We are all writing the story of our life. It's not a story of conquest. It's a story of discovery. Through trial and error, we learn what gifts we have to offer the world and are pushed to greater recognition about what we really need." And the question that follows this had me thinking about my future, that question was “What Should I Do with My Life?” I really know how important it is for the introduction to any paper is. I want to make my essay introduction good by giving the reader something to think about as they read my story for epic technology, I want the reader be able to connect there thinking to the following paragraph, giving the reader something to think about is also a good way to get there attention-maybe some my readers can connect to (Every one at some point gets lost looking for there dream and some never find it) and this will lead into my next paragraph. Starting with the title of my story (The journey For Epic Technology) I will tell the reader about my journey and how I ended up on it and the places it will take me. I will also be telling my readers what I should be doing with my life, and the gifts I have to offer the world...
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...Who Moved My Cheese? Ever read a story that relates to your personal life? I just recently read the story Who Moved My Cheese? , By Spencer Johnson. I’m not much of a reader, but this story really made me think. This story makes you think about the way you live your life and how you deal with change in your life. The author could have easily just given the message in a few paragraphs, but he gave the messages in a story involving two mice and two little people stuck in a maze. They all are in search of “cheese”. The word cheese is another way of saying your goals in life and your security of how you live. I thought it made me think a little deeper since he gave the message the way he did. The story made me think of a specific topic I am dealing with in my life right now. It makes me think of me moving away for college. Recently I transferred schools. I originally went to The University of Northwestern Ohio, thinking I wanted to learn mechanics and have a career as a High performance auto mechanic. After a little over half a year of going to school there I decided that wasn’t what I wanted to do. So I transferred to IPFW to get a business degree. I have been out of ordinary classes like English, math, and science for some time now. The only classes I was taking at UNOH were mechanics classes. So coming to IPFW and jumping into math classes and general education classes were quite overwhelming needless to say, since I haven’t been in this type of school atmosphere since...
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...ENG125: Introduction to Literature (ADI1303A) Reader-response approach was the best way to look at The Story of an Hour. I connected on different levels with the story of a woman who fell out of love with her husband. The short story is written with two tones one of somber and one of joy. The writer goes between the two and shows how one event can span different emotions. The Story of an Hour is a wonderfully written short story that spoke to me. The two completely different tones of the piece drew me in. The story begins with a somber mood as the lady of the home is being told about the death of her husband. “She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance.” The tone in this sentence can be seen as somber, but it my also have a happy undertone. The loss of your soul mate should be a sad event, but perhaps that may not always be the case. As the story goes on the tone changes to one of elation as Mrs. Mallard begins to realize she is free from her husband. She begins to imagine her life without the burden of pretending to be in love with him. She makes her way down the stairs only to find her husband waiting at the end. Her heart condition gets the best of her and she dies on the spot. The last sentence brings the tone full circle and back to somber. The drama in this short story grabbed my attention, the tones changed fast. Reader-response approach looks at how a reader will connect with...
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