I was born in Wabash county, Indiana, and as far back as I can
remember, there was never a time when I did not stammer or
stutter. So far as I know, the halting utterance came with the
first word I spoke and for almost twenty years this difficulty
continued to dog me relentlessly.

When six years of age, I went to the little school house down the
road, little realizing what I was to go through with there before
I left.

Previous to the time I entered school, those around me were my
family, my relatives and my friends--people who were very kind and
considerate, who never spoke of my difficulty in my presence, and
certainly never laughed at me.

At school, it was quite another matter. It was fun for the other
boys to hear me speak and it was common pastime with them to get
me to talk whenever possible. They would jibe and jeer--and then
ask, "What did you say? Why don't you learn to talk English?"
Their best entertainment was to tease and mock me until I became
angry, taunt me when I did, and ridicule me at every turn.

It was not only in the school yard and going to and from school
that I suffered--but also in class. When I got up to recite, what
a spectacle I made, hesitating over every other word, stumbling
along, gasping for breath, waiting while speech returned to me.
And how they laughed at me--for then I was helpless to defend
myself. True, my teachers tried to be kind to me, but that did not
make me talk normally like other children, nor did it always