Chapter 2- Tessa
Despite the bleak news for any possible future students of Hope School, I’m still happy for those who call it home. And I never give up hope that one day we might be able to help all the children who need us.
As I continue opening more letters about disadvantaged kids in unfortunate circumstances, I think about how relatively lucky I am. Sure, it’s been a struggle to start and build this school, and I’ve faced more than a few mountainous obstacles along the way, but at least I have the ability to pursue my dreams.
I’ve never forgotten my grandpa Maynes’ oft-repeated wisdom: Life ain’t easy. It ain’t supposed to be. But no matter how hard life gets, you’re supposed to do everything in your power to be the best person you can be and to help others.
I’ve spent my entire life getting this idea hammered into my belief system.
Thankfully, I’ve been fortunate enough to live a life that is easier than most. I was never poor, or hungry. I’m not missing any body parts, and I’m exceptionally healthy. It’s because of my fortunate life I decided that I would help others who weren’t dealt a hand as lucky as mine.
Yes, my parents had degenerative diseases and sadly passed away when I was a teenager, but before they died, they encouraged me to show empathy and care for children with disabilities whether that disability be physical, mental, or both. When they were alive, their passion for life and for others inspired my life choices and still does.
After I got some experience volunteering at a hospital in high school, I discovered that my passion, my vocation, was to help others. Aided by some friends I picked up through the years and a hefty sum of money loaned to me by my family, I opened a non-profit daycare center for children with developmental disabilities, which I’ve since expanded into a school for all ages.
The journey was a bit rougher than I was hoping, but as Grandpa Maynes taught me, life ain’t easy, right? From the certifications, to the permits, to the faculty and staff, it was all a struggle, but one I knew would ultimately be worth it. In only three years, I’ve achieved my goal. And it was just as perfect as I’d always imagined and dreamed.
The children we interact with and teach all have varying levels of disabilities, and they’re all amazing. Every single one of them, and they’re more eager to learn than most students well above their grade level. It’s as humbling as it is refreshing.
I handpicked the staff to make sure the children would get the attention, care and education they deserved and needed. There are so many horror stories out there about developmentally disabled children who are abused by their caretakers. It sickens me that anyone would treat the most vulnerable of us in such a horrid manner.
Thankfully, that’s not something we have to worry about. I’ve screened my staff well and protect our kids from any danger while they’re under our care.
One of my closest friends and most respected staff members is Devyn Winthrop. She pushed me to pursue this dream, and now she’s my right-hand woman and life coach to these kids.
Not a life coach like an adult would have. “Life coach” is just a title I gave the teachers since they help these kids with more than academic learning. They help them prepare for all aspects, opportunities and challenges life will throw at them.
The faculty comprises teachers/ life coaches, therapists, two janitors, three volunteers, and myself. I’m sort of a principal. I sit in on lessons every chance I get—as well as pretzel in on yoga lessons, of course—and I make sure things are running as smoothly as they can.
Once I’ve read all the letters, I place them in a folder and in the morning, I’ll pass them through the scanner. Next, I almost mindlessly write down some supplies the life coaches will need in the coming weeks. I’m halfway through the list when I hear the fire alarm go off.
Instinctively, I jump out of my chair and run into the hallway. Behind me, I see four classroom doors opening and the respective life coaches poking their heads out to see what caused the fire alarm.
They look mostly curious and only mildly concerned, which allows my mind to slip into a mixture of hope and denial.
I try to tell myself that a child has unintentionally or intentionally pulled the alarm, which has happened before—many times. Or maybe this is a fire drill just like ones the fire department have arranged in the past. Maybe they somehow forgot to give me advance warning this time. Perhaps they have a new method of surprising people with drills to make sure their systems are down pat.
But, no, I smell smoke, and I hear people scream, “Fire!” Many of our non-vocal or non-ambulatory kids are covering their faces and rocking or crying.
I run down the hallway and see that the fifth classroom door on my right is entirely engulfed in flames. The fire is raging so loudly that the shrill screams from the children trapped in the classroom are barely audible. I look back to see who the life coaches behind me are, and sure enough, Devyn isn’t among them. She’s trapped, too.
Somehow my beloved school is on fire, and my best friend is in danger along with many of our precious students.
What started out as a day full of small regrets about failing to properly decorate has turned into the unluckiest day of my life. This is the stuff of nightmares. I’m so determined to rescue Devyn and the kids that I’m not sure I’ll survive, and I don’t care.
Getting my students to safety is all that matters now.