One of the most unforgettable people I met during this chapter of life was my teacher, Miss Holly Kirkpatrick.
She only had one arm, but I knew better than to ask why.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm0lUTftYdV
Something deep down told me—that’s not polite. That’s her story to tell.
Eventually, another student did ask.
And Miss Kirkpatrick, calm as ever, told us:
“I lost it in a car accident when we escaped Bolivia.”
That answer stuck with me.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvPIqtoKpt4
So did her kindness.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcNSDC1za7s
She even invited me over to help with schoolwork. She didn’t have to—but she wanted to. That meant something.
Later, she got one of the first generation robotic arms.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA9WGwyN4pJ
It was the kind where you had to push a button in the palm to make it grip things.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡftJt4OPtQg
It matched her skin tone perfectly—sleek, futuristic, and functional.
To a kid like me, it was part miracle, part machine… and all courage.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGgNGc0Z8Rd
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I stayed at Pettit Park and in Miss Kirkpatrick’s class until third grade.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRNYwoJ9xiB
That year, I had to repeat the grade.
It wasn’t easy to hear, but I was determined.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOqHhA4DRHC
And even though Miss Kirkpatrick wasn’t my classroom teacher anymore, she was still my tutor.
Some Saturdays, we’d have long study sessions.
Sometimes we’d head out to Dairy Queen—just the two of us, sharing a bite and talking about life.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4bei6AQtAM
Other times, she’d make Manwich—sloppy joes from the can, but they tasted like a five-star meal when you were in good company.
Afterward, I’d hit the books again, working on my lessons.
Those weren’t just study sessions.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ22xsrAJ0ue
They were lifelines.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2S3VpyuGmG
Moments of care, patience, and encouragement from someone who never gave up on me.
Looking back, I can see how God used people like Miss Kirkpatrick to carry me forward when I felt like I was falling behind.
And that’s how Chapter 4 closes—not with a dramatic twist, but with grace on a paper plate and kindness in every lesson.
The reason I had to retake third grade wasn’t really my fault.
We moved halfway through the school year, so I had to repeat it.
My new special ed teacher was Miss Carter — a good lady who tried to help.
But the art teacher, Miss Shannon? She did not like me.
She thought I was totally blind and didn’t want to deal with me.
Grandma wasn’t having any of that.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaxXMrAfeYO
She told Miss Shannon straight up,
“You don’t keep my kid away from his fellow students.”
So I stayed at Carol Elementary through sixth grade.
So that’s how I ended up at Carol Elementary, where I stayed through the end of sixth grade.
Fourth grade was with Miss Lytle—a sweet, motherly kind of teacher.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEXVLmXhLu7
She was the kind who made you feel safe, even when a girl named Lyndsey kicked me in the shin.
Miss Lytle wasn’t having any of that.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAJuhrq9Hal
She told Lyndsey,
“If you’re caught kicking, we have a kicking contest—and I get to do the kicking.”
Let’s just say, Lyndsey didn’t try that again.
Fifth grade was Mr. Kratz.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiJaHnCGbP1
He was a legend—not just a teacher, but the guy who made the large-print math software I used back in fourth grade.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡttaZjGPWtc
Every time the program started, it flashed “KratzGraphics” before the math app kicked in.
Sixth grade brought Mr. Winningham—a cool dude, but not quite as cool as Mr. Kratz.
Because Mr. Kratz?59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4Hyj6DSKTT
He read Narnia to us for an hour after lunch.
And honestly, that was some of the best time I had at school.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhEtUwUZZ3y
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Then came the dark times.
My grandparents didn’t want me going to CCMHS or Carol County Middle and High School, so they sent me to Delphi Community Middle School instead.
Middle school there was maximum suckage.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv1DCni5k81
Students hated me.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH3yfE2teQM
Teachers hated me.
On the very last day of the school year, I got detention—and I skipped it.
The next year?
I begged and pleaded with Grandma and Grandpa to let me go back to the Indiana School for the Blind for seventh grade.
I just wanted out of that nightmare.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ54hfySuDzD
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Why was middle school at Delphi Community Maximum Suckage?
Because Mr. Wilson—the history teacher—accused me of cheating.
He even told my grandparents,
“That kid belongs in a deaf and dumb school.”
My grandpa fired right back,
“He’s not deaf and dumb, he’s blind.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡU696kyqv4U
And if you had any common sense, you’d know better.”
But the torment didn’t stop there.
Some students even spit chocolate milk down the collar of my brand-new shirt, ruining it.
That was Delphi Community Middle School.
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