Sirius Sunday: The Annie Sullivan Lesson
Written by Guest Writer - March 14, 2010 0 Comments
I’m a weepy person when I watch shows. I really get into whatever I’m watching, be it television or a movie or a play, and I have been known to scream and flail like an epileptic telepath when Important Stuff is going on in front of me.
People make fun of me, but I like to think that my involvement in the drama allows me to learn sympathetically. My inability to distance myself from the characters on stage allows me to learn lessons as they do. I don’t need moral recaps at the end of a piece; the lesson is imbedded in my psyche with all the lessons I’ve learned by trial in my own life.
Which, I feel, is kinda what theatre is supposed to do. Right?
Annie Sullivan: My Sister. Really! But Not, Like, Really Really
This weekend I got to go to a high school production of “The Miracle Worker,” a play by William Gibson about Helen Keller and the remarkable woman who taught her how to communicate (see title). The star of the show was my younger sister, who played Annie with an Irish accent (blame the director!) and a heartfelt intensity that nearly brought me to tears. It wasn’t my dorky little sister up there pretending to be Annie—for a little while I was watching a twenty-year-old young woman struggling with her past and a blind and deaf little girl who just wouldn’t learn.
I’ve never been a governess, but I have been a tutor, and I know what it’s like to work with a kid who’s blocked from learning. I was nodding as Annie lamented her inability to teach, as she bemoaned Helen’s separation from the world.
“I wanted to teach you, oh, everything the earth is full of, Helen,” Annie says. “Everything on it that’s ours for a wink. And what we are on it. The light we bring to it and leave behind in words. You can see years back in the light of words. Everything we feel, think, know; we share in words. So not a soul is in darkness, or done with even in the grave.”
Ah, man. Go back and read that again. It’s worth it! To teach, to communicate, to leave a legacy of experience in the words we craft . . . that’s why we write, isn’t it?
I won’t ruin the play by telling you the ending (for the few unlucky souls who haven’t seen it), but I will say that this story should give hope to those who might be frustrated with their work. Our work is not for nothing. Our writing is not just to pass the time. What you have to say matters, and even if takes years and years to get through to the people who need to hear it, in the end it will be worth the effort.
What We’ve Had to Say
It’s been a quiet week at Sirius; if you’re missing us pop over to Life’s Little Inspirations, our other hang-out. But don’t go before you’ve read the two fine articles that went up this week.
On Thursday Allison stood at the front of the store and handed out free code. Free code! You think I’m joking? The link is still live, my friends. She promised us a taste of real code and she delivered beautifully. Leave her a comment if you liked what you got. She certainly deserves it!
And then Wendi made me feel all warm and fuzzy on Friday by reminding us that sometimes it’s good to have a big mouth—but only when there are good things to say. There’s a good conversation brewing about when it’s right to advertise; don’t miss it!
And you should know by now how much we love hearing what you all have to say. Drop us a comment or contact us today! Inquiries, requests, remarks, or limericks, we love when you talk back just as much as Annie Sullivan did when Helen Keller learned to.
Not that y’all are blind and deaf . . . but feel free to prove it if you aren’t!
Want to learn how to conquer your fear of success and get back on track?
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