31

Persons and Organizations

The number of deaf-mutes who had been admitted to the privilege of the institution this term was greater than ever before, and consequently several new teachers had to be added to the corps of instructors. The articulation teacher, who had at length given up his attempts to teach articulation, or oral language, was appointed to teach one of the regular classes by the sign method. Two deaf persons, who were graduates of the academic department, had also been appointed as teachers. No particular changes were made in the daily routine, but the work was taken up and carried forward in much the same way as it had been during the last term. Those pupils who had passed the annual examination creditably the previous term were advanced one grade.

Under that arrangement, Carrie Raymond found herself in the class only one grade below the academic. Her teacher, Dr. Latimer, was an active, bustling old man with hoary hair and beard. He was genial and kindhearted, but of a rather nervous temperament. In moments of sudden excitement—which were not of infrequent recurrence—he would dash his eyeglasses violently down upon his desk. He more than once broke one of the glasses in that way. On one occasion, when he met with a repetition of the disaster, he grimly remarked that he had to pay fifty cents to have them mended every time he broke them.

Carrie’s studies for that term were a continuation of United States history, geography, arithmetic, composition, and Scripture lessons. Dr. Latimer adopted the question and answer system as the means by which to have his class recite their lessons. He wrote the questions where all could see them, and the pupils simultaneously wrote the answers. With crayon and ruler in hand, Dr. Latimer would proceed briskly from one pupil to another, correcting the mistakes made in composing the answers, sometimes adding a pleasant word of encouragement, making some witty remark, or playfully tapping someone with his ruler.

He had been a doctor, by profession, before he began the work of teaching the deaf and dumb, and the sign by which he was known to the inmates of the institution was that made by placing the fingers on the pulse in the manner that a doctor does when examining a patient. The signs by which others in the institution were known cannot be so clearly described in words.

A few weeks after the opening of the term of school, a Sunday school was organized to take the place of the Sunday afternoon lectures. The throng of silent children who were to compose this Sunday school could not, of course, sing beautiful songs of praise to God as other Sunday school children do; still, the idea of having a Sunday school was gratifying to them, and the fact that it must be conducted in silence throughout did not mar their happiness. So every Sunday when the hour for Sunday school came round, they filed into the chapel, where they were soon joined by the superintendent and teachers. When all were seated, the superintendent or one of the gentlemen teachers would advance to the center of the platform, stand in reverent silence gazing upon the assembly for a moment, then slowly extend his hands with the palms open and turned upward. At this signal everyone in the chapel would rise and stand silently gazing at him while he offered up, in signs, a prayer; then bringing the palms of his hands together and moving them slowly downward, the assembly would resume their seats.

At a proper signal one class after another arose and marched out of the chapel, proceeding to their respective schoolrooms, where they were soon joined by their teachers. A few of the classes, with their teachers, remained in the chapel. The Bible lesson studied during the morning study hour was recited. In some of the classes this was done by the teacher asking questions and the pupils answering them; in others, the teacher himself recited the lesson, explaining to the class anything that was not clearly understood. After about three quarters of an hour spent in this way, all once more returned to the chapel, where a limited number of Sunday school papers were distributed. Another prayer followed, and the Sunday school closed.

The exercises were sometimes varied by having some of the pupils learn portions of Scripture, which they would recite the following Sunday.

A debating society had also been organized to meet every two weeks. Its design was to stimulate the mental powers of the pupils and encourage original thought and productions. Mr. Vance was elected president of that society, and Miss Katie Wynn, who had graduated the previous term and was this term elected a teacher, was the “critic.” It was, we think, during her connection with the debating society that she wrote the following poem:

I AM DEAF

Bright and beautiful forms of earth

Are moving round and round me;

Playmate, alive with youthful mirth,

Ever loving and kind I’ve found thee.

The very air in which I move

Seems to be an atmosphere of joy;

All around me are the ones I love;

All seems pleasure, yet ‘tis mixed with alloy.

Though I live and move in this fairy scene,

And play an active part with hearty will,

Yet over my hearing there is a screen—

Sweet sounds, to me, are forever still.

The stillness of this gladsome air

Is like a dead calm on the ocean’s wave;

Around me all is bright and fair,

Yet sound is hushed—all is silent as the grave.

I list, but cannot hear the sweet birds sing,

Nor hear the breezes that make the forest wave;

I cannot hear the joyous sounds of spring—

All, all is still and silent as the grave.

K. W.

These lines reveal something of the writer’s lighthearted, joyous nature. She was not simply a lighthearted, joyous human being, however, for she had a deep love and sympathy for those afflicted like herself and delighted in making them happy. In the plans for the amusement or gratification of the pupils she took an active part, and her pleasant, sunshiny disposition had a genial influence upon many with whom she was brought in contact. Her mission seemed to be to cheer and gladden other lives. And those who were privileged to associate with her were, I am sure, made better by her influence. God’s spirit seemed to reign in her heart, purifying and beautifying her life.

One Saturday evening she came tripping into the girls’ study room, where she found them all congregated. Some were talking, some dancing, a few mischievous ones were playing little tricks off upon others of their schoolmates, and others were reading. “Do you not want some music?” she asked of the girls near the door. Upon this question being asked, they looked at her in surprise, being, of course, puzzled to know why such a question should be propounded to deaf persons. One of them, however, playfully answered, “Yes, yes.” Miss Wynn then tripped away down the hall, passed through the folding doors, and disappeared from view. In a few minutes, however, she again made her appearance, followed by several other teachers and the steward. They ranged themselves all in a row and very gravely began a mock concert by making motions as if playing on different musical instruments. That mimic music delighted the girls more than real music could have done under existing circumstances.

Soon the performance came to a close and the teachers all returned to the library, but only to devise means for further amusements. Presently they returned once more, this time to act out a charade for the girls to solve. After more charades and other like amusements, in which some of the girls took part, they bade them all good night and went back to the library.

Miss Wynn had not always been so cheerful under her misfortune. She related how, when she was a little girl, sometime after she became deaf, she would sit in her little rocking chair and cry and cry because no one would talk to her, not knowing that her deafness proved a bar to the intercourse which she so much longed for. Now, when her own mind had been lifted from the darkness of ignorance into the light of knowledge, and she was enabled to enjoy much that before she could not, she did not forget how lonely and sad she once felt; and she longed to make others, who might feel just as lonely and sad as she once did, happy.

In her endeavors to do that she was also conferring a benefit by keeping little hands, and feet, and eyes, and minds away from mischief’s ways. The saying, “An idle mind is the devil’s workshop,” is just as true in the case of the deaf and dumb as in that of hearing persons, and if they are allowed to grow up in ignorance, how much more applicable it will become!