I used to sometimes have my freshman English students read William Gibson’s remarkable play “The Miracle Worker.” The play was derived from Helen Keller’s autobiography, “The Story of My Life,” and it aired originally in a 1957 “Playhouse 90” production. In 1959, Gibson adapted it for the Broadway stage, and then again in 1962 for the famous movie starring Anne Bancroft as Anne Sullivan and Patty Duke as the young Helen Keller.
The title came from Mark Twain, who once described Anne Sullivan, Helen’s teacher, as a “miracle worker.” Twain was an admirer of both women, and although he had some personal financial problems, he helped arrange the funding of Keller’s Radcliffe College education, along with his friend, financier and industrialist Henry Huttleston Rogers.
In 1904 Helen Keller graduated from Radcliffe, proving wrong those who said that she couldn’t possibly hope to compete with sighted and hearing students. In reality, her determination and her amazing memory made her an excellent scholar. While she was still in college, she wrote “The Story of My Life,” in which she detailed the amazing events of her young life.
When Helen Keller was 19 months old she contracted scarlet fever and was left blind and deaf. She had not yet begun to speak and was not now able to hear others speak, so she was basically rendered mute as well. Born in 1880, at a time when blind/deaf people were usually consigned to poor houses or asylums, Helen Keller went on to live a fuller and more adventurous life than many before or since, primarily because of the work of her dedicated teacher and companion, Anne Sullivan. Sullivan was half-blind herself but she was blessed with fanatical dedication and devoted her life to Keller.
“The Miracle Worker” is a wonderful story, filled with inspirational messages about determination, dedication and trust. Helen Keller could never have become the amazingly successful woman she became without her undivided trust in others.
Sometimes I’d conduct an experiment with a couple of students. I’d ask for a volunteer who would be willing to go through part of a school day blindfolded, to at least partially experience what Helen Keller must have gone through in her life. My volunteer obviously was not going to be deaf, blind and mute, just “blind” for the day. And my volunteer could choose a classmate whom he trusted to be his companion, his Anne Sullivan, so to speak. And “trust” here was a key. At Wayland, students moved from building to building for various classes, and there were many stairs and sometimes slippery sidewalks to maneuver. The companion was vital to the success of the experiment.
The rest of the students in the class were assigned to write an essay in which they imagined what it might be like to lose their sight. The volunteer and his companion were assigned to write about their respective experiences during the day of blindness. These essays would be shared the next day in class.
You can probably imagine the problems and frustration of my “blind” student as he went through the day and how much he had to rely on his companion. Everything was a challenge: managing stairs and trying to pay attention in classes, eating lunch in the cafeteria, interacting with students who might try to pick on him because of his “disability.” The expression “blind trust” became a reality that day.
Someone once said that trust is like a vase, which, once broken, can be repaired, but it will never be the same. For the relationship between my “Helen” and his companion to be successful, trust was essential. They found that trust and cooperation are the foundation of a good and strong relationship. The success of their task depended upon that. They were able to overcome the mental, physical and emotional stress of the experiment and were able to share their experiences with the class the next day. The blindfold helped them to “see” things in a different light.
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