The way we see things

Part 2 in the 3-part series “Chimps, Fingertips and Polyglottery: 3 Takes on Language Acquisition. Read part one here.

“It is a terrible thing to see and have no vision.”  Helen Keller

Blindness can be relative. Idioms in English referencing this nuance include, “There are none so blind as those who refuse to see”, “to turn a blind eye”, “to blind with science” as well as the one used in the title of this article. Love is said to be blind, perhaps the result of a few too many blind dates, or maybe because we all have a blind spot? But I’m kind of flying blind here.

The relativity of deafness, too, can be seen in English idioms. Again, we find the metaphorical equivalent about the blind: “There are none so deaf than those who refuse to hear”, clearly the result of information “falling on deaf ears”, which in turn, may well be the result of a listener willfully “turning a deaf ear to” the speaker.   

An overarching idea in the figurative expressions cited above is one of choice. Essentially, somewhere along the way, a choice has been made. Unlike with the literal, physical impediment; the metaphors tell us that we are as blind and/or as deaf as we choose to be, have been tricked into to being, or are out of ignorance. It is being informed that ultimately opens the “eyes and ears of our minds”.

Indeed, of the five senses, sight and hearing are the two most often associated with the acquisition and sharing of knowledge and information. It is therefore somewhat ironic that Helen Keller’s deafblindness may have in fact enabled her to perceive, interact with and contribute to the world in ways far beyond most of us who literally “see” and “hear”. Keller was voted one of the most admired people of the 20^th century in the 1999 Gallup Poll; her courage, optimism and strength in the face of extreme difficulty have inspired millions of people, abled and disabled, across the globe.

The 1962 movie about Helen Keller’s early life, “The Miracle Worker”, is one of my all-time favorite films – perhaps because I saw it as a young child, and surely thanks to my early exposure to deaf students through my mother’s work as a speech therapist in the 1960s.

When I became a mother, I wanted my son to see the movie at an equally impressionable age. Before watching the film, I explained the storyline and the tragedy of Keller’s illness and subsequent “disabilities”. My 8 year-old’s reaction was spontaneous and without affect: “Cool. No distractions. She could just think. Can I go out and play now?” I was a bit taken aback; this was not an angle on Helen Keller’s story I had ever contemplated.

But it was a fair, if novel, point of view. Deprived of her 2 primary senses, Helen had both fewer tools and fewer “distractions”. Would Keller have become a prolific writer (12 books and several articles), tireless advocate for economic justice, activist for the rights of women and people with disabilities, respected lecturer, world traveler (she visited 39 countries), Oscar winner (1955) and student of foreign languages (she studied Latin, Greek, French, German) had she not lost her sight and hearing? Possibly. However, it is also possible that the absence of sight and sound allowed Helen to develop her own “seeing” and “hearing”, free from the distractions to which fully functioning eyes and ears can expose us.

So how was deafblind Keller able to learn her native language, not to mention foreign languages?

Part of the answer is Braille, the system of raised dots representing words, which allows non-sighted people to read by touch. Helen Keller would eventually accomplish the monumental feat of becoming the first deafblind person to graduate from Radcliffe College through the use of Braille.

But before Braille could be introduced, Keller needed to understand the concept of a “word”.

It was Anne Sullivan, Keller’s gifted teacher, who brought language within Keller’s reach – quite literally in this case. The hand alphabet Sullivan painstakingly taught Keller was the key that eventually unlocked the door to language for Keller. It also allowed her mind to access the language she had been exposed to until her illness at 19 months old, during which she lost her hearing and sight.

Anne Sullivan and Helen Keller recall the turning point in their writing. First, Sullivan:

April 5, 1887.

I must write you a line this morning because something very important has happened. Helen has taken the second great step in her education. She has learned that everything has a name, and that the manual alphabet is the key to everything she wants to know. 

[...] We went out to the pump-house, and I made Helen hold her mug under the spout while I pumped. As the cold water gushed forth, filling the mug, I spelled "w-a-t-e-r" in Helen's free hand. The word coming so close upon the sensation of cold water rushing over her hand seemed to startle her. She dropped the mug and stood as one transfixed. A new light came into her face. She spelled "water" several times. Then she dropped on the ground and asked for its name and pointed to the pump and the trellis, and suddenly turning round she asked for my name. I spelled "Teacher." [...]

P.S.— [...] Helen got up this morning like a radiant fairy. She has flitted from object to object, asking the name of everything and kissing me for very gladness. Last night when I got in bed, she stole into my arms of her own accord and kissed me for the first time, and I thought my heart would burst, so full was it of joy.

Keller recalling the same moment:

“Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten - a thrill of returning thought; and somehow the mystery 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 swept away." 

The above citations are taken from The Story of My Life by Helen Keller and can be found on the American Foundation of the Blind’s website at www.afb.org.

The pivotal scene at the water pump dramatized in the 1962 film is largely accurate, according to Sullivan’s correspondence and Keller’s recollection.

Did I mention that Anne Sullivan was blind? Not entirely, but almost. She graduated valedictorian from the Perkins School for the Blind in Boston, Massachusetts. Yes, the blind can and do lead the blind. And the literally blind can and do lead the figuratively blind.

Thank you, Anne. Thank you, Helen.