Anne Sullivan

Hello! My name is Anne Sullivan. You might know me as the teacher of the famous Helen Keller. I was born on April 14th, 1866, in Massachusetts. My family was very poor, and life was not easy. When I was just five years old, I got an illness called trachoma, which made it very hard for me to see. Things became even more difficult after my mother passed away. In 1876, my younger brother Jimmie and I were sent to live in a place called the Tewksbury Almshouse. It was a sad and lonely place, and my heart broke when my dear brother died there. With my eyesight getting worse, I felt trapped, but I held onto one powerful dream: I wanted to go to school and learn.

Living in the almshouse was challenging, but I was determined not to give up. I heard stories about a wonderful school in Boston called the Perkins School for the Blind, and I knew I had to go there. My big chance came in 1880 when a group of important men came to inspect the almshouse. I gathered all my courage, walked right up to one of them, and begged him to let me go to school. To my amazement, it worked! Soon after, I was on my way to Perkins. I was already 14 years old, much older than the other students, and I felt out of place because I didn't know how to behave like them. It was hard at first, but I was so hungry to learn everything I could. While I was at Perkins, I even had operations on my eyes that helped my vision improve. My hard work paid off, and in 1886, I graduated at the very top of my class.

After I finished school, the director of Perkins offered me a new and difficult job. He told me about a family in Tuscumbia, Alabama—the Kellers—who were looking for a teacher for their young daughter, Helen. When Helen was just a baby, an illness had left her unable to see or hear. I understood what it felt like to be stuck in a dark and quiet world, so I knew I had to help her. I accepted the job, and on March 3rd, 1887, I arrived at the Keller's home. Helen was a very smart child, but she was also wild and frustrated because she had no way to communicate. To help her learn, I moved with her into a small cottage on their property. There, we could be alone, and I could begin to teach her.

I started by teaching Helen letters, using my fingers to spell words into the palm of her hand. She was quick to copy the shapes I made, but she didn't understand that they were words with meaning. Then, on April 5th, 1887, a miracle happened. I took Helen outside to the water pump. As I pumped the cool water over one of her hands, I spelled the letters 'w-a-t-e-r' into her other hand again and again. Suddenly, I felt her stand perfectly still. A look of understanding washed over her face. She finally connected the feeling of the water with the word I was spelling. That one word opened up the entire world for her. She was so excited, and I knew in that moment that our journey was just beginning.

From that day forward, Helen was filled with a need to learn the name for everything around her. I stayed by her side for the next 50 years, not just as her teacher but as her friend and constant companion. I helped her learn to read, write, and even to speak. I was with her when she went to college at Radcliffe, and I watched with pride as she graduated in 1904. Together, we traveled all over the world, sharing our story with others and fighting for the rights of people with disabilities. We wanted to show everyone that with enough determination and a little bit of help, nothing is impossible.

My own eyesight faded over the years, but the light I helped to shine in Helen’s world never went out. I lived to be 70 years old, passing on in 1936. Today, many people remember me as 'The Miracle Worker,' but the title I am most proud of is 'teacher.' I always believed that every person deserves the chance to learn and connect with the world. My life with Helen showed that patience, understanding, and love can help unlock the incredible mind that lives inside every one of us.