9
The New Year—Encountering Difficulties
The days subsequent to Christmas went slowly by. The old year, eighteen hundred and sixty-nine, silently, at the still hour of midnight, passed from the stage of being forever. The following morning, when the inmates of the institution awoke, they were conscious that the old year was dead and that a new year, bearing the title, “Eighteen hundred and seventy,” was established in his place. Did they mourn for the dead year? No! The mind, in childhood, is inclined to enjoyment and not sorrow. It looks forward into the future, rather than backward into the past. Instead of lamenting the departure of the old year, they set themselves to work preparing to give the new year a pleasant reception.
After the gas jets were lighted on this first evening of the new year’s reign, the boys were formed in line along one side of their large study room and stood awaiting the entrance of the girls. Presently in they marched, demurely, and formed in a long line on the opposite side of the room. Thus they stood for some moments until some of the more courageous and independent among the boys ventured to leave their places in the ranks and, crossing the room, solicited the pleasure of some particular maiden’s company. Others soon followed their example. A few performed the civility of asking company with creditable politeness and grace; but the majority, having never studied etiquette and feeling rather shy and ill at ease, no doubt, stalked up to the girl of their choice and unceremoniously said, “Come with me.” In some instances this invitation was promptly and peremptorily declined. Presently a quadrille was formed and danced successfully, even gracefully, by these silent people, without music or prompting. Waltzes were also danced, the dancers keeping time without the aid of music, as before. Meanwhile, those with quieter tastes had established themselves in cozy nooks and corners for games of authors, checkers, etc. Still others, of a romantic or talkative turn of mind, could be seen seated in some quiet place busily engaged in conversation and apparently oblivious of what was going on around them. As the evening advanced, games of “Blind Man’s Bluff,” “Snatch Partners,” “Clap Out and In,” etc., took the place of dancing.
Following this was a laughable exhibition given by several boys. They were furnished with large coffee sacks, into which they thrust themselves up to their waists, and, thus impeded, they all strove to see who could first reach a certain goal. The prize for the victor was nothing more than a large apple, yet the competitors all put forth their best efforts and strove with might and main to reach the goal first. But in the first attempt, all tumbled to the floor before the goal was reached. The competitors, however, got up and renewed their efforts until one sturdy fellow succeeded in winning the prize.
The fun and frolic continued with unabated zeal until the clock struck the hour of ten p.m. Then the superintendent announced that the entertainment must come to a close. This announcement brought out some expressions of dissent; but, in obedience to an order, the boys ranged themselves on one side of the room and the girls on the other. As there were some who could not reach the front ranks, the superintendent mounted a chair at one end of the room so all could see him. Attention having been secured, he asked, “Have you had a pleasant time?” The waving of many hands conveyed a hearty assent as the answer to this question. “Then,” said he, “we must return thanks to God, who has made it possible for us to enjoy ourselves.” All now stood gazing in reverent silence at him while he closed his eyes and, in the voiceless language of signs, offered up to God a prayer of thankfulness for his many blessings and his kind provision of means whereby the lives of the deaf and dumb are made happy and useful, and then he pleaded for continued blessings upon all. The prayer ended, good-nights were said, and with tired bodies but happy hearts all retired to rest, feeling secure beneath God’s care.
The following day witnessed the return of those few who had been privileged to spend their holidays with loved ones at home. Among others, Carrie Raymond returned; and it was evident from her happy expression of countenance that she had enjoyed her visit home. The holidays now being over, all resumed their school duties with renewed vigor.
Carrie found her new duties rather difficult. She had to rely much upon herself and exercise her mental powers freely. Her teacher, Miss Mayhews, was in the habit of giving her pupils short stories to commit to memory, after which they were required to write them on the large slates ranged around the room for correction. This was no easy task for those with poor memories; but, with few exceptions, the pupils went into the work with hearty goodwill that promised success. After the completion of these stories—which were learned during the evening study hour and written in the morning—the class had a lesson in spelling. These lessons did not differ greatly from the spelling lessons in schools where the children can hear and speak, the only marked difference being that the teacher made the sign for some word instead of pronouncing it, and the pupil then spelled it by means of the one-hand deaf-mute alphabet instead of orally.
During the afternoon school hours the time was mostly spent by the pupils in endeavoring to improve in their penmanship. Carrie had now determined to learn to write well with her right hand, and bravely did she persevere in her efforts to accomplish this end. Sometimes the pupils were required to write little original stories from subjects given by the teacher. This was always a difficult undertaking to most of them—the proper construction of written sentences being to the deaf and dumb one of the most difficult parts of the naturally difficult task of acquiring an education. The chief difficulties arise from the fact that many of them are born deaf, or become so at a very early age, and therefore have no clear ideas of either spoken or written language. Their only language upon entering school, in most cases, consists simply of a few natural gestures. Not only are they compelled to begin at the very bottom rung of the “ladder of knowledge,” but they also have to be awakened to the advantages and importance of spoken and written language. Everything taught must be conveyed to the pupil’s mind through the eye or sense of touch. On account of these circumstances, an intermediate language that appeals directly to the vision must be employed to prepare the mind for the reception of knowledge, and thus they are to be led into a comprehension of spoken and written language. To meet that need, the language of signs previously spoken of is employed. That language is used by pupils almost wholly in conversation, even after they have learned the art of expressing their thoughts in spelling or writing. For these reasons the tendency is to write sentences much as they would express the same thoughts by means of signs.
In order that the reader may more clearly understand the nature of the sign language, so commonly used among deaf-mutes, let us take an example from a group of boys on the playground. They have learned the signs for various words in school and are now using them in a connected form of their own to express ideas. “Look!” a boy signs as he steps quickly to a companion’s side, touches him on the shoulder, and points up at some object on a tree. “Bird little tree on see,” he says in signs. Another just now notices a train of cars moving on the railroad some distance away, and says, “Cars go swiftly.” Another, at whom someone has playfully thrown a snowball, says, “Ball-snow throw me stop!” Another has just peeped in at the bakery window and announces to his companions, “Pie-apple dinner,” meaning, “We will have apple pie for dinner.”
From the above it can be seen that the object present to the vision takes precedence over the other words of the sentence. This might naturally be expected when the first knowledge of a new language is conveyed to the mind through the organ of sight instead of that of hearing.
There is another peculiarity of the deaf-mute’s mind which cannot be so readily accounted for. That is, the tendency to use the indefinite articles a and an in a wrong connection! Often they do not seem to be able to comprehend that a ought not to be used in connection with such words as bread, water, milk, etc., or that an should be used only in connection with the names of objects or qualities commencing with any one of the five vowels (a, e, i, o, u)! Thus such sentences as, “I eat a bread”; “a large horse drink a water”; “a bad boy steal a apple,” are, during the first few years, constantly being written, even by those whom the teacher would expect to know better. When the mistakes are pointed out, the pupil’s reply almost invariably is, “Oh, I forgot.”
When Mr. Brown, who had hitherto taught his pupils only words, began the task of teaching them to write simple sentences, he did so without being aware of these mental peculiarities of the deaf and dumb. His first step in the direction of teaching sentence building was to explain the relation of various qualities to objects. This he did in the following manner without encountering any serious difficulties: Writing the phrase, “an old book,” he took a tattered and soiled book, and holding it up so all could see it, he pointed to the words written. Next he wrote the phrase, “a new book,” and held up a new book, pointing to the written phrase. Next he wrote, “a small boy,” and placed a small boy in front of his desk. Then under this he wrote, “a large boy,” and summoned a large boy to a place beside the small boy.
In order to give the pupils a knowledge of colors, he secured articles of different hues, and selecting an article of the color he designed to explain, he wrote the name of the article and the color of it. He then held up the article so that all the class could see it, and he pointed to the color and name written on the large slate. Next he selected another article of a different color and treated it in the same way as the previous article; and so on until all the colors of the rainbow, and others besides, were represented. Form, size, etc., he soon found could be taught in much the same manner.
He now went a step further. Writing, “I touch an old book,” at the same time performing the action. He then asked, in signs, “What did I touch?” The pupils, who now readily understood the sign language, answered, “old book.” He then wrote, “I open a new book,” performing the action. Then he asked, “What did I open?” “Book new,” or “new book,” came the silent reply from various members of the class. After a few more examples of this nature had been given, he passed the box of crayons around and directed each one to write a few sentences upon subjects chosen by himself. The result looked so unpromising to him that he went to consult some of the more experienced teachers on the matter. In compliance with his request, two of them left their own work and followed him into his room. After reading some of the sentences written, one of the teachers said, “Oh, those are very common mistakes, and the pupils will do better by and by. It will require much perseverance and repetition on your part to enable them to effectually overcome some of the errors.” Mr. Brown now began to realize more fully the difficulties of his work, and although driven at times almost to despair, he continued his attempts with commendable zeal and energy.