Chapter 18

In October, 1896, I entered the Cambridge School for Young Ladies, to be prepared for Radcliffe.

In October 1896, I enrolled at the Cambridge School for Young Ladies to prepare for Radcliffe.

When I was a little girl, I visited Wellesley and surprised my friends by the announcement, "Some day I shall go to college—but I shall go to Harvard!" When asked why I would not go to Wellesley, I replied that there were only girls there. The thought of going to college took root in my heart and became an earnest desire, which impelled me to enter into competition for a degree with seeing and hearing girls, in the face of the strong opposition of many true and wise friends. When I left New York the idea had become a fixed purpose; and it was decided that I should go to Cambridge. This was the nearest approach I could get to Harvard and to the fulfillment of my childish declaration.

When I was a little girl, I visited Wellesley and surprised my friends by announcing, "Someday I will go to college, but I will go to Harvard!" When they asked why I would not go to Wellesley, I said there were only girls there. The idea of going to college took root in my heart and became a serious desire. It drove me to compete for a degree alongside girls who could see and hear. I did this despite strong opposition from many loyal and wise friends. By the time I left New York, going to college had become a firm goal. It was decided that I would go to Cambridge. That was as close as I could get to Harvard and to fulfilling my childhood declaration.

At the Cambridge School the plan was to have Miss Sullivan attend the classes with me and interpret to me the instruction given.

At the Cambridge School, the plan was for Miss Sullivan to attend classes with me and interpret the lessons for me.

Of course my instructors had had no experience in teaching any but normal pupils, and my only means of conversing with them was reading their lips. My studies for the first year were English history, English literature, German, Latin, arithmetic, Latin composition and occasional themes. Until then I had never taken a course of study with the idea of preparing for college; but I had been well drilled in English by Miss Sullivan, and it soon became evident to my teachers that I needed no special instruction in this subject beyond a critical study of the books prescribed by the college. I had had, moreover, a good start in French, and received six months' instruction in Latin; but German was the subject with which I was most familiar.

Of course, my teachers had experience teaching only students without disabilities, and I could communicate with them only by reading their lips. In my first year, I studied English history, English literature, German, Latin, arithmetic, Latin composition, and occasional essays. Until then, I had never taken a course of study to prepare for college. But Miss Sullivan had given me thorough training in English. My teachers soon saw that I needed no special instruction in English beyond a close study of the books required by the college. I had also made a good start in French and had received six months of Latin instruction. But German was the subject I knew best.

In spite, however, of these advantages, there were serious drawbacks to my progress. Miss Sullivan could not spell out in my hand all that the books required, and it was very difficult to have textbooks embossed in time to be of use to me, although my friends in London and Philadelphia were willing to hasten the work. For a while, indeed, I had to copy my Latin in braille, so that I could recite with the other girls. My instructors soon became sufficiently familiar with my imperfect speech to answer my questions readily and correct mistakes. I could not make notes in class or write exercises; but I wrote all my compositions and translations at home on my typewriter.

Despite these advantages, there were serious obstacles to my progress. Miss Sullivan could not spell out in my hand everything the books required. It was also very difficult to have textbooks embossed in time for me to use them. This was true even though my friends in London and Philadelphia were willing to speed up the work. For a while, I even had to copy my Latin in braille so that I could recite with the other girls. My instructors soon became familiar enough with my imperfect speech to answer my questions easily and correct my mistakes. I could not take notes in class or write exercises. But I wrote all my compositions and translations at home on my typewriter.

Each day Miss Sullivan went to the classes with me and spelled into my hand with infinite patience all that the teachers said. In study hours she had to look up new words for me and read and reread notes and books I did not have in raised print. The tedium of that work is hard to conceive. Frau Gröte, my German teacher, and Mr. Gilman, the principal, were the only teachers in the school who learned the finger alphabet to give me instruction. No one realized more fully than dear Frau Grote how slow and inadequate her spelling was. Nevertheless, in the goodness of her heart she laboriously spelled out her instructions to me in special lessons twice a week, to give Miss Sullivan a little rest. But, though everybody was kind and ready to help us, there was only one hand that could turn drudgery into pleasure.

Each day, Miss Sullivan went to classes with me. With endless patience, she spelled everything the teachers said into my hand. During study hours, she had to look up new words for me. She also had to read and reread notes and books that I did not have in raised print. It is hard to imagine how tedious that work was. Frau Gröte, my German teacher, and Mr. Gilman, the principal, were the only teachers at the school who learned the finger alphabet to teach me. No one understood better than dear Frau Grote how slow and inadequate her spelling was. Even so, she kindly took the trouble to spell out instructions for me in special lessons twice a week. She did this to give Miss Sullivan a little rest. But though everyone was kind and ready to help us, only one hand could turn drudgery into pleasure.

That year I finished arithmetic, reviewed my Latin grammar, and read three chapters of Caesar's "Gallic War." In German I read, partly with my fingers and partly with Miss Sullivan's assistance, Schiller's "Lied von der Glocke" and "Taucher," Heine's "Harzreise," Freytag's "Aus dem Staat Friedrichs des Grossen," Riehl's "Fluch Der Schonheit," Lessing's "Minna von Barnhelm," and Goethe's "Aus meinem Leben." I took the greatest delight in these German books, especially Schiller's wonderful lyrics, the history of Frederick the Great's magnificent achievements and the account of Goethe's life. I was sorry to finish "Die Harzreise," so full of happy witticisms and charming descriptions of vine-clad hills, streams that sing and ripple in the sunshine, and wild regions, sacred to tradition and legend, the gray sisters of a long-vanished, imaginative age—descriptions such as can be given only by those to whom nature is "a feeling, a love and an appetite."

That year I finished arithmetic, reviewed my Latin grammar, and read three chapters of Caesar's "Gallic War." In German, I read partly with my fingers and partly with Miss Sullivan's help. I read Schiller's "Lied von der Glocke" and "Taucher," Heine's "Harzreise," Freytag's "Aus dem Staat Friedrichs des Grossen," Riehl's "Fluch Der Schonheit," Lessing's "Minna von Barnhelm," and Goethe's "Aus meinem Leben." I took great delight in these German books. I especially loved Schiller's wonderful lyrics, the history of Frederick the Great's magnificent achievements, and the account of Goethe's life. I was sorry to finish "Die Harzreise." It was full of cheerful wit and charming descriptions of vine-covered hills and streams singing and rippling in the sunshine. It also described wild regions, sacred to tradition and legend, the gray sisters of a long-vanished, imaginative age. Only people who feel that nature is "a feeling, a love and an appetite" could give such descriptions.

Mr. Gilman instructed me part of the year in English literature. We read together, "As You Like It," Burke's "Speech on Conciliation with America," and Macaulay's "Life of Samuel Johnson." Mr. Gilman's broad views of history and literature and his clever explanations made my work easier and pleasanter than it could have been had I only read notes mechanically with the necessarily brief explanations given in the classes.

Mr. Gilman taught me English literature for part of the year. We read "As You Like It," Burke's "Speech on Conciliation with America," and Macaulay's "Life of Samuel Johnson" together. Mr. Gilman had a broad understanding of history and literature, and his explanations were insightful. He made my work easier and more pleasant than it would have been if I had simply read notes mechanically, relying on the necessarily brief explanations given in class.

Burke's speech was more instructive than any other book on a political subject that I had ever read. My mind stirred with the stirring times, and the characters round which the life of two contending nations centred seemed to move right before me. I wondered more and more, while Burke's masterly speech rolled on in mighty surges of eloquence, how it was that King George and his ministers could have turned a deaf ear to his warning prophecy of our victory and their humiliation. Then I entered into the melancholy details of the relation in which the great statesman stood to his party and to the representatives of the people. I thought how strange it was that such precious seeds of truth and wisdom should have fallen among the tares of ignorance and corruption.

Burke's speech taught me more than any other book on politics I had ever read. My mind came alive with those exciting times. The figures at the center of the two nations' struggle seemed to move before me. As Burke's masterful speech continued in powerful waves of eloquence, I wondered more and more about King George and his ministers. How could they have ignored his warning that we would win and they would be humiliated? Then I explored the sad details of the great statesman's relationship with his party and the people's representatives. I thought how strange it was that such precious seeds of truth and wisdom had fallen among the weeds of ignorance and corruption.

In a different way Macaulay's "Life of Samuel Johnson" was interesting. My heart went out to the lonely man who ate the bread of affliction in Grub Street, and yet, in the midst of toil and cruel suffering of body and soul, always had a kind word, and lent a helping hand to the poor and despised. I rejoiced over all his successes, I shut my eyes to his faults, and wondered, not that he had them, but that they had not crushed or dwarfed his soul. But in spite of Macaulay's brilliancy and his admirable faculty of making the commonplace seem fresh and picturesque, his positiveness wearied me at times, and his frequent sacrifices of truth to effect kept me in a questioning attitude very unlike the attitude of reverence in which I had listened to the Demosthenes of Great Britain.

Macaulay's "Life of Samuel Johnson" interested me in a different way. My heart went out to the lonely man who endured hardship in Grub Street. Yet amid hard work and cruel physical and emotional suffering, he always had a kind word for the poor and despised. He also lent them a helping hand. I rejoiced in all his successes and closed my eyes to his faults. I did not wonder that he had faults, but that they had not crushed or diminished his soul. Macaulay was brilliant and had an admirable gift for making ordinary things seem fresh and vivid. But his certainty sometimes tired me. He also often sacrificed truth for effect, which kept me questioning him. That was very different from the reverence I had felt while listening to the Demosthenes of Great Britain.

At the Cambridge school, for the first time in my life, I enjoyed the companionship of seeing and hearing girls of my own age. I lived with several others in one of the pleasant houses connected with the school, the house where Mr. Howells used to live, and we all had the advantage of home life. I joined them in many of their games, even blind man's buff and frolics in the snow; I took long walks with them; we discussed our studies and read aloud the things that interested us. Some of the girls learned to speak to me, so that Miss Sullivan did not have to repeat their conversation.

At the Cambridge school, I enjoyed the company of girls my age who could see and hear. It was the first time in my life I had experienced this. I lived with several other girls in a pleasant house connected to the school. Mr. Howells used to live in that house. We all enjoyed the benefits of living in a home. I joined the other girls in many games, even blind man's buff and play in the snow. I took long walks with them. We discussed our studies and read aloud the things that interested us. Some of the girls learned to speak to me, so Miss Sullivan did not have to repeat their conversations.

At Christmas, my mother and little sister spent the holidays with me, and Mr. Gilman kindly offered to let Mildred study in his school. So Mildred stayed with me in Cambridge, and for six happy months we were hardly ever apart. It makes me most happy to remember the hours we spent helping each other in study and sharing our recreation together.

At Christmas, my mother and little sister spent the holidays with me. Mr. Gilman kindly offered to let Mildred study at his school. So Mildred stayed with me in Cambridge, and for six happy months we were hardly ever apart. I am happiest when I remember the hours we spent helping each other study and enjoying our free time together.

I took my preliminary examinations for Radcliffe from the 29th of June to the 3rd of July in 1897. The subjects I offered were Elementary and Advanced German, French, Latin, English, and Greek and Roman history, making nine hours in all. I passed in everything, and received "honours" in German and English.

I took my preliminary exams for Radcliffe from June 29 to July 3, 1897. I took exams in Elementary and Advanced German, French, Latin, English, and Greek and Roman history. The exams took nine hours in all. I passed every subject and received "honours" in German and English.

Perhaps an explanation of the method that was in use when I took my examinations will not be amiss here. The student was required to pass in sixteen hours—twelve hours being called elementary and four advanced. He had to pass five hours at a time to have them counted. The examination papers were given out at nine o'clock at Harvard and brought to Radcliffe by a special messenger. Each candidate was known, not by his name, but by a number. I was No. 233, but, as I had to use a typewriter, my identity could not be concealed.

Perhaps I should explain the examination system used when I took my exams. Students had to pass sixteen hours of examinations. Twelve hours were considered elementary and four advanced. Students had to pass five hours at a time for them to count. The examination papers were handed out at Harvard at nine o'clock and brought to Radcliffe by a special messenger. Each candidate was identified by a number rather than a name. I was No. 233, but my identity could not be concealed because I had to use a typewriter.

It was thought advisable for me to have my examinations in a room by myself, because the noise of the typewriter might disturb the other girls. Mr. Gilman read all the papers to me by means of the manual alphabet. A man was placed on guard at the door to prevent interruption.

It was considered best for me to take my exams alone in a room because my typewriter might disturb the other girls. Mr. Gilman read all the exam papers to me using the manual alphabet. A man stood guard at the door to prevent interruptions.

The first day I had German. Mr. Gilman sat beside me and read the paper through first, then sentence by sentence, while I repeated the words aloud, to make sure that I understood him perfectly. The papers were difficult, and I felt very anxious as I wrote out my answers on the typewriter. Mr. Gilman spelled to me what I had written, and I made such changes as I thought necessary, and he inserted them. I wish to say here that I have not had this advantage since in any of my examinations. At Radcliffe no one reads the papers to me after they are written, and I have no opportunity to correct errors unless I finish before the time is up. In that case I correct only such mistakes as I can recall in the few minutes allowed, and make notes of these corrections at the end of my paper. If I passed with higher credit in the preliminaries than in the finals, there are two reasons. In the finals, no one read my work over to me, and in the preliminaries I offered subjects with some of which I was in a measure familiar before my work in the Cambridge school; for at the beginning of the year I had passed examinations in English, History, French and German, which Mr. Gilman gave me from previous Harvard papers.

On the first day, I took German. Mr. Gilman sat beside me and read the entire exam to me first. Then he read it sentence by sentence, while I repeated the words aloud to make sure I understood him perfectly. The exam was difficult, and I felt very anxious as I typed my answers. Mr. Gilman spelled out to me what I had written. I made whatever changes I thought necessary, and he inserted them. I want to say here that I have not had this advantage in any of my examinations since. At Radcliffe, no one reads my exam papers back to me after I have written them. I have no chance to correct errors unless I finish before the time is up. Even then, I correct only the mistakes I can recall in the few minutes allowed. I note these corrections at the end of my paper. If I earned higher marks in the preliminary examinations than in the finals, there are two reasons. In the finals, no one read my work back to me. And in the preliminaries, some of the subjects I took were ones I already knew something about before I began at the Cambridge school. At the beginning of the year, I had passed examinations in English, History, French and German. Mr. Gilman had given me these examinations using previous Harvard exam papers.

Mr. Gilman sent my written work to the examiners with a certificate that I, candidate No. 233, had written the papers.

Mr. Gilman sent my written work to the examiners. He included a certificate confirming that I, candidate No. 233, had written the papers.

All the other preliminary examinations were conducted in the same manner. None of them was so difficult as the first. I remember that the day the Latin paper was brought to us, Professor Schilling came in and informed me I had passed satisfactorily in German. This encouraged me greatly, and I sped on to the end of the ordeal with a light heart and a steady hand.

All the other preliminary exams were conducted in the same way. None was as difficult as the first. I remember the day the Latin exam was brought to us. Professor Schilling came in and told me I had passed the German exam. This encouraged me greatly, and I hurried through the rest of the ordeal with a light heart and a steady hand.