The most important day I remember in all my life is the one onwhich my teacher，Anne Mansfield Sullivan，came to me．I anl filled withwonder when I consider the immeasurable contrasts between the two liveswhich it connects．It was the third of March，1887，three months before 1was seven years old．
On the afternoon of that eventful day，I stood on the porch，dumb，expectant．I guessed vaguely from my mother’S signs and from the hurr—ying to and fro in the house that something unusual was about to happen，SO 1 went to the door and waited on the steps．The aftemoon sun penetra—ted the mass of honeysuckle that covered the porch，and fell on my up—turned face．My fingers lingered almost unconsciously on the familiarleaves and blossoms which had just come forth to greet the sweet south—ern spring．I did not know what the future held of marvel or surprise forme．Anger and bittemess had preyed upon me continually for weeks and adeep languor had succeeded this passionate struggle． Have you ever been at sea in a dense fog，when it seemed as if a tan—gible white darkness shut you in，and the great ship，tense and anxious，groped her way toward the shore with plummet and sounding—line，andyou waited with beating heart for something to happen？1 was like thatship before my education began，only 1 was without compass or sounding—line，and had no way of knowing how near the harbour was．“Light！ Give me light！”was the wordless cry of my soul，and the light of love shone on me in that very hour．
I felt approaching footsteps，I stretched out my hand as I supposed to my mother．Some one took it，and 1 was caught up and held close in the arlns 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．The little blind children at the Perkins Institution had sent it and Laura Bridgman had dressed it；but I did not know this until after-ward．When I had played with it a little while，Miss Sullivan slowly spelled into my hand the word“d一0一I—I．’’1 was at once interested in this finger play and tried tO imitate it．When I finally succeeded in making the letters correctly 1 was flushed with childish pleasure and pride．Run—ning downstairs to my mother I held up my hand and made the letters for doll．I did not know that 1 was spelling a word or even that words exis—ted；1 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．i
One day，while 1 was playing with my new doll，Miss Sullivan put my big rag doll into my lap also．spelled“d一0一I—I’’and tried to make me understand that“d一0一I—I”applied to both．
Earlier in the day we had 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 mug and that“W—a—t—e—r’”1s water．but I persistedin confounding the two。In despair she had dropped the subject for time，only to renew it at the first opportunity．I became impatient at herrepeated attempts and，seizing the new doll，I dashed it upon the floor．1was keenly delighted when I felt the fragments of the broken doll at myfeet．Neither SOITOW nor regret followed my passionate outburst．I had notloved the doll．In the still，dark world in which I lived there was no strongsentiment or tenderness．I felt my teacher sweep the fragments tO one sideof the hearth，and I had a sense of satisfaction that the cause of my dis—comfort was removed．She brought me my hat，and I knew 1 was goingout into the warlll sunshine．This thought，if a wordless sensation may becalled a thought，made me hop and skip with pleasure．
We walked down the path tO the well—house，attracted by the fra—grance of the honeysuckle with which it was covered．Some one wasdrawing water and my teacher placed my hand under the spout．As thecool stream gushed over one hand she spelled into the other the word wa—ter，first slowly，then rapidly．I stood still，my whole attention fixed uponthe motions of her fingers．Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as ofsomething forgotten——a thrill of returning thought；and somehow themystery 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 sweptaway．
I left the well—house eager to learn．Everything had a name．andeach name gave birth to a new thought．As we returned to the house everyobject which I touched seemed to quiver with life．That was because Ieverything with the strange，new sight that had come to me．0n ente．ring the door I remembered the doll I had broken．I felt my way tO tlle hearth and picked up the pieces．I tried vainly to put them togetller．nlen 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 new words that day．I do not reInember what they all were；but I do know that mother，father，sister，teacher were a，nlOng 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 1 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 dav tO cOme．Porch n．廊，门廊，阳台marvel n．惊愕，奇迹，惊异
V．敬服，纳罕reveal V．暴露，揭示，现出despair n．绝望
V．失望fragments n．碎片，废墟，片段我的老师莎莉文
我的老师——安娜·曼斯菲尔德·莎莉文小姐来到我家的那一天，是我一生中最重要的日子。每当我想起正是那一天把我们两个截然不同的生命联系到了一起，心中就感慨万千。那是1887年3月3日，我还差3个月满7岁。
那天下午，我站在门廊上静静地等待着。从母亲的神情和一家人往来忙乱的景象中，我料想总要有点特别的事情发生，因此，我便跑到门廊前，在一沿边静候着。一片斜阳，穿过覆着门廊的一簇金银花，射到我仰望着的脸上，我的手指竟不知不觉摆弄着含苞初放，欣欣向荣的花朵，和茂密婆娑的绿叶。不知道未来会给我带来怎样的惊喜和奇迹。连续好几个星期，我总是受恐怖和痛苦的折磨，一种深深的倦怠已经战胜了我不懈地挣扎。
你曾在浓雾弥漫的海面上航行过吗？感觉自己像被关在切实的雾蒙蒙的黑暗中？大船紧张不安地用探测器测方位，摸索着寻找到达岸边的航线，而你的心怦怦跳着，紧张地等待着不知道要发生什么事情。在我受教育以前，和这只船有些相像，只不过没有指南针和测海锤，没有办法知道离港口有多远。“光明呀！光明来照临我呀！”——这是我心灵上无声的呼喊，就在那一刻，爱的阳光撒到了我的身上。
