~and my life was made better by knowing her~
Sooner or later, just like it does in every school year that I have taught since 1979, the subject is going to come up. I never really plan to teach the lesson ahead of time, rather it simply lends itself to the moment at hand. It might be when a kid is struggling and finding something that we are learning too difficult to master. It might be when someone has heard of another person making fun of someone with a disability. Or it could even be for no real reason at all, perhaps only because the memory of a sweet and precious girl is tugging at my heart.
I come from a big family of 7 kids in all. We were spread out in age all the way from 1941 until 1957. One of those kids was an older sister named Janice. She was 13 years older than me and had left home and gotten married before I even started the first grade. One Indian summer day in the fall of 1969, Janice was killed in a car accident only a few miles from her home in the sandhill country of Harvey County, Kansas. She was crossing Highway 50 near Halstead when she was hit by a semi-truck pulling doubles as he sped along towards the east. Her 10-month old baby girl named Kimberly was seated beside her in a car seat that by today's standards would be something akin to what little girls' tote their dolls around in.
They say my sister died instantly but even in death her body protected little Kimberly as much as it could. By the time an ambulance arrived, Kimberly was still alive but in very critical condition. She would suffer massive head injuries as a result of the accident, ones that would render her to be an invalid for the remainder of her days. The massive trauma from the accident would sever the optic nerves and thus the little girl who used to have eyes that sparkled when they saw you, would never see again.
My folks, heartbroken yet determined to take care of their granddaughter, brought her home to live with us in the months and years that would lie ahead. Kimmie, as we called her at our house, was totally bedfast. She never learned to speak, except for a few phrases later on. She never sat up on her own, crawled, or walked. Kimmie was totally reliant on others to protect her and take care of her needs. Because our family had a restaurant and filling station business in our hometown, that little girl made her way to work each morning when we went to town. She's the first child I actually remember who was raised by a village, one that went by the name of "Haven, Kansas".
Miraculously my folks were able to care for her a total of 13 years until she became just too big for Mom or Dad to handle. In 1982 she went to live at the state hospital in Winfield, Kansas for the next 10 years. On November 3, 1992 she died in the ambulance on the way to Wesley Hospital in Wichita after running an extremely high fever. It was ironic that she finally succumbed from her injuries in the accident nearly 23 years to the day from when she was hurt.
I will tell my 5th grade kids all about her this year. They will know that she loved to drink Mt. Dew or tomato juice out of her baby bottle, and that she loved to throw baby bottles out of her crib in order to get us to come in and pay attention to her. It was about that time that Mom wisely made the decision to stop using glass bottles and switch to more durable plastic ones. I'll explain to them that even though she could not ever see us, Kimmie definitely knew who we were. She relied on her sense of smell to determine just which person who loved her had actually shown up at the side of her crib. She'd reach out and grab our hands and put them to her nose to sniff us. If it smelled like hamburgers and french fries, then Kimmie knew it was one of her aunts or her grandmother. If that hand had the odor of gasoline or oil, then it had to be one of her uncles or grandfather. She was very smart like that.
I believe that the most important thing I can teach my students about her is that she was truly happy in life. Even in her most dire of circumstances, Kimmie had the greatest of blessings.
A whole bunch of people loved her.
There is not much that I keep from my students. Building strong and healthy relationships requires the kids to know that their teachers are people too. I have seen heartache, much as many of them will have seen. I know what it feels like to lose a brother, sister, parents or grandparent and even friends. Those 5th graders of mine will know that I've worn plenty of hand-me-down clothes and that once when I was a little girl my heart was crushed because my parents couldn't afford to give me a special doll named Chatty Cathy for only rich little girls could have one of those special dolls. When they find struggles in math, it won't take their teacher long to explain that once she struggled as well with it.
The path of my life has taken me on many journeys in the 50 years since the accident happened and now the road has stopped in Kay County, Oklahoma. Somewhere out there are the boys and girls who will soon call me their "teacher". I have not met any of them yet, but the time soon will come. My prayer will always be that I make the most of each day with them, realizing of course how quickly yet one more year will pass by me.
We have plenty of lessons to learn and the most important of those are of life.
Kimmie will help me tell of one of them.
I come from a big family of 7 kids in all. We were spread out in age all the way from 1941 until 1957. One of those kids was an older sister named Janice. She was 13 years older than me and had left home and gotten married before I even started the first grade. One Indian summer day in the fall of 1969, Janice was killed in a car accident only a few miles from her home in the sandhill country of Harvey County, Kansas. She was crossing Highway 50 near Halstead when she was hit by a semi-truck pulling doubles as he sped along towards the east. Her 10-month old baby girl named Kimberly was seated beside her in a car seat that by today's standards would be something akin to what little girls' tote their dolls around in.
They say my sister died instantly but even in death her body protected little Kimberly as much as it could. By the time an ambulance arrived, Kimberly was still alive but in very critical condition. She would suffer massive head injuries as a result of the accident, ones that would render her to be an invalid for the remainder of her days. The massive trauma from the accident would sever the optic nerves and thus the little girl who used to have eyes that sparkled when they saw you, would never see again.
My folks, heartbroken yet determined to take care of their granddaughter, brought her home to live with us in the months and years that would lie ahead. Kimmie, as we called her at our house, was totally bedfast. She never learned to speak, except for a few phrases later on. She never sat up on her own, crawled, or walked. Kimmie was totally reliant on others to protect her and take care of her needs. Because our family had a restaurant and filling station business in our hometown, that little girl made her way to work each morning when we went to town. She's the first child I actually remember who was raised by a village, one that went by the name of "Haven, Kansas".
Miraculously my folks were able to care for her a total of 13 years until she became just too big for Mom or Dad to handle. In 1982 she went to live at the state hospital in Winfield, Kansas for the next 10 years. On November 3, 1992 she died in the ambulance on the way to Wesley Hospital in Wichita after running an extremely high fever. It was ironic that she finally succumbed from her injuries in the accident nearly 23 years to the day from when she was hurt.
I will tell my 5th grade kids all about her this year. They will know that she loved to drink Mt. Dew or tomato juice out of her baby bottle, and that she loved to throw baby bottles out of her crib in order to get us to come in and pay attention to her. It was about that time that Mom wisely made the decision to stop using glass bottles and switch to more durable plastic ones. I'll explain to them that even though she could not ever see us, Kimmie definitely knew who we were. She relied on her sense of smell to determine just which person who loved her had actually shown up at the side of her crib. She'd reach out and grab our hands and put them to her nose to sniff us. If it smelled like hamburgers and french fries, then Kimmie knew it was one of her aunts or her grandmother. If that hand had the odor of gasoline or oil, then it had to be one of her uncles or grandfather. She was very smart like that.
I believe that the most important thing I can teach my students about her is that she was truly happy in life. Even in her most dire of circumstances, Kimmie had the greatest of blessings.
A whole bunch of people loved her.
There is not much that I keep from my students. Building strong and healthy relationships requires the kids to know that their teachers are people too. I have seen heartache, much as many of them will have seen. I know what it feels like to lose a brother, sister, parents or grandparent and even friends. Those 5th graders of mine will know that I've worn plenty of hand-me-down clothes and that once when I was a little girl my heart was crushed because my parents couldn't afford to give me a special doll named Chatty Cathy for only rich little girls could have one of those special dolls. When they find struggles in math, it won't take their teacher long to explain that once she struggled as well with it.
The path of my life has taken me on many journeys in the 50 years since the accident happened and now the road has stopped in Kay County, Oklahoma. Somewhere out there are the boys and girls who will soon call me their "teacher". I have not met any of them yet, but the time soon will come. My prayer will always be that I make the most of each day with them, realizing of course how quickly yet one more year will pass by me.
We have plenty of lessons to learn and the most important of those are of life.
Kimmie will help me tell of one of them.
One of the most precious of pictures with my mom and Kimmie. They had a love between them that you just cannot even begin to imagine. Mom was unselfish, caring, loving, and devoted to raising Kimmie up as best as she could.
This is the only picture that I ever saw of Kimmie prior to the accident. Her eyes saw the whole world then. Such a sweet little girl!
27 years ago at the Winfield State Hospital when she needed some consoling and Aunt Peggy gave her a hug. My life was made better by loving her.
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