I had known for a long time that the people about me used a method of communication different from mine; and even before I knew that a deaf child could be taught to speak, I was conscious of dissatisfaction with the means of communication I already possessed. One who is entirely dependent upon the manual alphabet has always a sense of restraint, of narrowness. This feeling began to agitate me with a vexing, forward-reaching sense of a lack that should be filled. My thoughts would often rise and beat up like birds against the wind, and I persisted in using my lips and voice. Friends tried to discourage this tendency, fearing lest it would lead to disappointment. But I persisted, and an accident soon occurred which resulted in the breaking down of this great barrier—I heard the story of Ragnhild Kaata.

In  1890   Mrs.   Lamson,   who   had   been   one   of   Laura   Bridgman's   teachers,   and   who   had   just   returned   from   a   visit   to   Norway   and   Sweden,   came   to   see   me,   and   told   me   of   Ragnhild   Kaata,   a   deaf   and   blind   girl   in   Norway   who   had   actually   been   taught   to   speak.   Mrs.   Lamson   had   scarcely   finished   telling   me   about   this   girl's   success   before   I   was   on   fire   with   eagerness.   I   resolved   that   I,   too,   would   learn   to   speak.   I   would   not   rest   satisfied   until   my   teacher   took   me,   for   advice   and   assistance,   to   Miss   Sarah   Fuller,   principal   of   the   Horace   Mann   School.   This   lovely,   sweet- natured   lady   offered   to   teach   me   herself,   and   we   began   the   twenty- sixth   of   March, 1890.