It’s true: There’s no better way to learn a subject than through experience.

I was reminded most memorably of that truth as I searched the internet this week for significant events that occurred on Oct. 19, the publication date of this column.

It was 66 years ago, Oct. 19, 1959, that William Gibson’s play “The Miracle Worker,” premiered on Broadway starring Anne Bancroft as Anne Sullivan and Patty Duke as Helen Keller. Based on the true story of how Sullivan, who was severely visually impaired, taught the blind and deaf Keller to understand language and thus, herself and the world, it is particularly near and dear to my heart.

When I was a senior at Skowhegan Area High School in 1974, 15 years after the Broadway premiere, I played Sullivan in our high school production of the play and my friend and classmate, Marjory Russakoff, played Keller.

It was not a typical theater experience. Our director, English and writing teacher Sumner Hayward, explained at the outset we would be doing more than just learning the script, memorizing lines and rehearsing scenes. We would immerse ourselves in the characters to better understand who they were.

As a cast, we met in the auditorium and discussed the play, beyond what was typical. Hayward told us we would take part in special body movement, role playing and improvisation workshops during the time of rehearsals, right up until opening night.

One of the first exercises we did was spend hours during the school day with our mouths taped shut. We could not speak. Marjory also had to wear a blindfold, a task none of the rest us envied.

She and I also were instructed to write in a journal, every day, documenting not only our experiences and observations during rehearsals, but also our thoughts about the characters and what we were learning and discovering.

We learned sign language and most memorably, we boarded a bus and traveled to the Perkins School for the Blind in just outside Boston, where both Sullivan and Keller had studied.

We spent a day touring the school, meeting staff and students, listening to their stories and learning about their lives. A particular memory stuck with me, of a student in a small studio, playing classical piano as we peered through a small window in the door to watch.

Back in Skowhegan, the play, our character development, direction and rehearsals, took on new meaning. We better understood who and what we were portraying. Our work became more serious.

Marjory and I would leave rehearsals exhausted, both emotionally and physically. She, particularly, suffered the physical consequences of playing Keller who, as a blind and deaf child, is spoiled, crawls on the stage, out of control, and kicks and punches. Hayward wanted the scenes to be realistic, so Marjory bore plenty of bruises by opening night.

The final scene where Sullivan finally gets through to Keller in trying to help her understand the connection between the word “water,” which she spells into her palm, and the actual water itself, is both revelatory and emotionally wrought.

When we did the scene on closing night, pumping water into a glass pitcher, the pitcher shattered on the stage floor and Marjory, crawling around to touch it, actually suffered several small cuts to her hands.

Yes, it was real, all right — an experience we have never forgotten.

When we turned our journals into Hayward at the end of the production, he said they were so moving and personal, he could not grade them. Marjory and I have kept those journals, and a couple of years ago we exchanged and re-read them.

What I learned during those few weeks as a teen forever informed the way I would regard people who are blind, deaf or otherwise disabled. It was one of many lessons that taught me tolerance, empathy and compassion.

It also furthered my love of theater. Years later, I would serve with Hayward on the board of directors for the former Park Street Players, a small community theater group in Skowhegan. Acting brought me much joy and, as thespians everywhere understand, lends a great sense of belonging and camaraderie.

I ran into Hayward, of Winslow, recently at a book festival, after having not seen him in quite some time. I expressed gratitude for the invaluable lesson he gifted us, more than a half-century ago.

Teachers may not always know the impact they have on our lives, and I was happy to be able to say thank you.

Amy Calder has been a Morning Sentinel reporter 37 years. Her columns appear here Sundays. She is the author of the book, “Comfort is an Old Barn,” a collection of her curated columns, published in 2023 by Islandport Press. She may be reached at [email protected]. For previous Reporting Aside columns, go to centralmaine.com.