Reading and writing one, read the chapter and answer the following questions. The story of my life, Helen keller, chapter four the most important day I remember in all my life is the one on which my teacher and 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 eighteen eighty seven, three months before I was seven years old. On the afternoon of that eventful day, I stood on the porch, dumb, expected, I guessed vagary from my mothers signs and from the hurrying to and throw in the house that something unusual was about to happen. So I went to the door and waited on the steps. The afternoon sun penetrated the mass of honeys cycle that covered the porch and fell on my upturned face. My fingers linger almost unconsciously on the familiar leaves and blossoms which had just come forth to greek, the sweet southern spring. I did not know what the future held of marvel or surprise for me. Anger and bitterness had preyed upon me continually for weeks, and a deep ler had succeeded this passionate struggle. Have you ever been at sea in a dense fog when IT seemed as if a tangible White darkness shut you in and the great tense and anxious grope her way toward the shore with plump and sounding line and you waited with beef heart for something to happen? I was like that ship before my education began. Only I was without compass or sounding line and had no way of knowing how near the harbor was light. Give me light was the wordless cry of my soul and the light of love shown on in that very hour. 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 at all. The little blind children at the perkin's institution had sent IT, and Laura bridman had dressed IT. But I did not know this until afterward when I had played with IT a little while, miss Sullivan slowly spelled into my hand the word DOLL. 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 letter 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, ms. Solvin put my big red doll into my lap, also spell DOLL and try to make me understand that DOLL applied to both. Earlier in the day, we had had a tussle over the words MUGNWATER. Miss Sullivan had tried to impress IT upon me, that MUG is mug and that WATER 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 loved the doll in the still dark world in which I lived, there was no strong sentiment or tenderness. I felt my teacher sweep the fragments to one side of the heart, and I had a sense of satisfaction that the cause of my discomfort was removed. SHE brought me my hat, and I knew I was going out into the warm sunshine. This thought, if a wordless sensation may be called, the thought made me help and skip with pleasure. We walk down the path to the warehouse, attracted by the fragrance of the honey cycle with which IT was covered. Someone was drawing water, and my teacher placed my hand under the spoilt as the cold stream gushed. Ed, over one hand SHE spelled into the other, the word water. First slowly, then rapidly, I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the motions of her fingers. Suddenly I felt a myc consciousness as of something forgotten, a thrill of returning thought. And somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that WATER meant the wonderful call, something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave IT light, hope, joy, said IT free. There were barriers. Still IT is true, but barriers that could in time be swept away. I left the warehouse, eager to learn everything, had a name, and each name gave birth to a new thought. As we return to the house, every object which I touched seemed to quiver with life. That was because I saw everything with the strange new site that had come to me on entering the door. I remembered the doll I had broken. I felt my way to the heart and picked up the pieces. I tried vainly y 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 in sorrow. I learned a great many new 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 iran'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 eventually day and lived over the joys that had brought me and for the first time, longed for a new data come.