of Helen. I asked her if the little girl who had written about
the new dress was particularly pleased with her dress. "No," she
replied, "I think not; but children learn better if they write
about things that concern them personally." It seemed all so
mechanical and difficult, my heart ached for the poor little
children. Nobody thinks of making a hearing child say, "I have a
pretty new dress," at the beginning. These children were older in
years, it is true, than the baby who lisps, "Papa kiss
baby--pretty," and fills out her meaning by pointing to her new
dress; but their ability to understand and use language was no
greater.

There was the same difficulty throughout the school. In every
classroom I saw sentences on the blackboard, which evidently had
been written to illustrate some grammatical rule, or for the
purpose of using words that had previously been taught in the
same, or in some other connection. This sort of thing may be
necessary in some stages of education; but it isn't the way to
acquire language. NOTHING, I THINK, CRUSHES THE CHILD'S IMPULSE
TO TALK NATURALLY MORE EFFECTUALLY THAN THESE BLACKBOARD
EXERCISES. The schoolroom is not the place to teach any young
child language, least of all the deaf child. He must be kept as
unconscious as the hearing child of the fact that he is learning
words,AND HE SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO PRATTLE ON HIS FINGERS, OR WITH
HIS PENCIL, IN MONOSYLLABLES IF HE CHOOSES, UNTIL SUCH TIME AS
HIS GROWING INTELLIGENCE DEMANDS THE SENTENCE. Language should
not be associated in his mind with endless hours in school, with
puzzling questions in grammar, or with anything that is an enemy
to joy. But I must not get into the habit of criticizing other
people's methods too severely. I may be as far from the straight