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.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1hrGiXoIJj
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.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnVcymNFBId
So did her kindness.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwD6FMd0LMh
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.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc2lP6otOIw
It was the kind where you had to push a button in the palm to make it grip things.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpUtjXV4xpW
It matched her skin tone perfectly—sleek, futuristic, and functional.
To a kid like me, it was part miracle, part machine… and all courage.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYtxzcfBg6K
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I stayed at Pettit Park and in Miss Kirkpatrick’s class until third grade.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu6EXA6wjoN
That year, I had to repeat the grade.
It wasn’t easy to hear, but I was determined.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcGJNWz4bRG
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.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuqT7Yv0hwz
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.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYyHYaiHno3
They were lifelines.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFYLA51Jgos
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.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDWn7UroXAi
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.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3hQgg6DDPs
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.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRgRkW2BDXu
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.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc8UWYanvHu
He was a legend—not just a teacher, but the guy who made the large-print math software I used back in fourth grade.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡam87y8jWBS
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?68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbjsPjS4VJT
He read Narnia to us for an hour after lunch.
And honestly, that was some of the best time I had at school.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlZqoSKSMXw
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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.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9kWJtyrmch
Students hated me.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxK48poA4PI
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.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNiU43zSdCH
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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.68Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyaf2eoAPuu
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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