This is the time of year in our city when thoughts turn toward fundraising activities for St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital in Memphis, Tennessee. We have a long history of giving to St. Jude's and it always amazes me how much money is raised every year - whether the economy is doing well or not. Our city, Minden, Louisiana, consistently gives more per capita than any other city in the nation - that's pretty impressive for a population of about 14,000. Unfortunately, we also have a high number of children in our community who are, or have been, patients at St. Jude's. So, it's those children who are on our minds when we dream up creative ways to raise funds which go, not only to research, but to the treatment of these children in our community.
Today, I'm reminded of a student I taught in the early 1980's. She was the first of my students who became a St. Jude’s Hero. Martha Harris was her name and her all-too-short life still impacts mine today, nearly 30 years later.
From 1981-1985, I taught a Non-Categorical Preschool Handicapped Class - one of only two such programs in our school district at that time. My students ranged in age from 15 months to 9 years old. Instead of having separate classes for each type of disability, or “Category”, my classroom was the generic melting pot for students with a wide range of special needs. Some of my students were blind; others were deaf. Some of my students were profoundly mentally disabled; others were gifted but had rare physical challenges. That classroom was both a challenge and a joy.
Some of my students had been diagnosed with medical conditions that I had only read about in college texts – conditions my professors had never seen in person either. Treacher-Collins Syndrome, Arthrogryposis, Apert's Syndrome, Anencephaly, Pituitary Dwarfism, Hydrocephaly, Microcephaly, Aphasia, and Cancer are only a few of the many syndromes and “_isms” that I learned about first-hand in that classroom.
There was one particularly difficult year when we had five terminally ill children under the age of five in a classroom of 28 students. It was frightening to read their medical reports and to hear their doctors attempt to reassure me and my staff. Their standard comment was, “Don’t feel guilty if he/she dies in your classroom. There is nothing you or anybody else can do for them even if they were in the hospital at the time.” None of the doctors could explain how we were supposed to go about doing that and I am thankful that we didn’t have to find out through experience. (Their stories are for another song on another day.) But nothing prepared us for our little Martha being diagnosed with a type of leukemia.
When I first met Martha, she was a two-year-old toddler; just 3 months shy of her third birthday. Martha, a Christmas Eve baby, came along late in her parent’s lives and was born with Down’s Syndrome. All of her siblings were already grown, married and had families of their own. Martha was definitely the darling of the family and was “spoiled rotten,” as all the members of her family would tell you. (I have to admit to being a contributing factor to that “spoilage”.) Her little dresses were always the height of toddler fashion – perfectly pressed, pleated and ruffled. She rarely wore pants or shorts. Her hair most often was coifed in 4 braids – one on top, one at the back and one over each ear. Her chocolate colored skin was buttery soft and she had an infectious giggle. She lived life to the fullest.
Martha was mischievous too – one of her favorite things to do was to escape from the classroom and go exploring down into other classrooms in the K-5th grade school. Baby gates didn’t prevent her escape – she’d just climb over them. You would think that one teacher and three paraprofessionals would be able to keep track of all the children in the classroom, wouldn’t you? We also had an occupational therapist, a physical therapist, a speech therapist and an adapted physical education teacher who frequently took students out of the classroom for activities or therapy, so it was never unusual for several students to be out of the classroom at any one time.
Because there were so many adults and 25-28 children in the classroom, we had developed a pocket chart that helped us know where each student was at all times. There were columns for each service provider across the top of the chart and a row of children’s names down the left-hand side. We used wooden ice cream sticks, the kind that are shaped like spoons, and glued foam circles to the top which were then painted to resemble each child. Some of the children were able to move their own sticks to the appropriate column when they left the classroom. The adults were responsible for making sure the others were moved correctly. At any moment, we could glance at the chart and know where all of our children were. Well, that’s the way it was supposed to work anyway.
Martha knew how to move her stick, and she had an uncanny knack of knowing exactly when all of us would be distracted just enough for her to escape. There was one memorable morning when one of the Kindergarten teachers came into the classroom holding Martha with one hand and a Little Tykes shopping cart with the other. She said, with much exasperation I might add, “Do these belong to you?” Having Martha escape to the classroom next door would have been bad enough, but the Kindergarten classrooms were nowhere near our classroom. We were the first class by the office. To get to the Kindergarten classes, one had to go all the way down the first wing, hang a left and go all the way down to the end of another wing. Apparently, our little escape artist had “shopped” her way this teacher’s classroom. We learned later that she had wandered into every open door and had visited with quite a few classes along the way. I still don’t understand how she got so far away and visited so many classes without somebody catching her and bringing her back sooner. When we scolded her for leaving the classroom without an adult, she simply batted doe eyes at us and giggled. Soon we were giggling right along with her.
Naptime was always a challenge with Martha. The classroom had baby beds for our smallest and most disabled students. Older students had mats on the floor; but Martha had a playpen. It was one of the square types with 2 drop-down sides and a hinged board in the bottom. This was before the Pack-N-Play of today. The playpen had a foam pad on top of the board and we put blankets down to make it more comfortable for her. Once all of the children were down for nap, the adults would gather at the back of the room for our own lessons. Sometimes we learned Cued Speech or Sign Language taught by the Deaf Ed Coordinator for the parish. Other days we would learn positioning, feeding, or lifting techniques taught by our occupational therapist. I also worked on learning to read and write Braille so that I could teach our blind student to read. Soft music always played in the background and it didn’t take long for most of the children to fall asleep. Martha always fought going to sleep in creative ways. She would sing or talk to imaginary friends. She would jabber at us to indicate that she wanted to be picked up or at least let out of the play pen. When her eyes started to get heavy, she would take off both shoes and throw them as far as she could. (We learned to position her play pen so that she couldn’t hit any children with flying shoes.) After the shoes came off, the blankets would be dumped over the edge of the playpen followed closely by the foam pad. When Martha had everything out of the playpen, she would take off her socks and poke them through the hand cutouts in the board. Only then would she lie down and fall asleep.
Not only was Martha the last to fall asleep, she was the first to wake up. Sometimes she would sit in the play pen and entertain herself quietly. Most of the time, she would perform another form of daring escape. She could climb over the edge of that play pen in total silence. Before we knew she was awake, she would be at our sides jabbering to be lifted onto our laps. She was very difficult to resist – one look at her big brown eyes and your heart would melt. On the occasions that we resisted, she would become more and more frustrated until the only word she ever learned to speak would fly out of her mouth. It wasn’t a nice word – (it was an alternate word for “poop”.) It’s a wonder she recognized her own name because she heard, “No! No!” so frequently.
In the spring of that year, we noticed Martha didn’t have as much energy as usual and we were very concerned about the dark bruises that appeared on her arms and legs. She began losing her balance and started falling when she tried to walk or run. Her parents were so concerned that they took her to the doctor. We were stunned to hear the diagnosis of leukemia. We knew about St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital in Memphis, Tennessee. Many of us had been involved in fundraising efforts for St. Jude’s through various civic clubs in town. One of our paraprofessionals joined the group of Jaycees that literally pushed an ambulance gurney all the way from downtown Minden to the front doors of St. Jude’s in Memphis. That was one of the most creative, and exhaustive, fundraising efforts ever! (The gurney is still there.) We had such hope as Martha went to St. Jude’s for evaluation.
After spending only a brief time at St. Jude’s, Martha was back home and back in our class. Tearfully, her mother told us that there was nothing St. Jude’s could do for Martha. There was a chemo protocol which had been discovered at St. Jude’s which would have cured her form of leukemia; however like many children with Down’s, Martha had a heart defect. The chemo which would cure the leukemia would instantly stop her heart. Her family was told the only thing they could do was to keep Martha comfortable until God called her home. We knew her time on earth would be short.
Martha’s parents could have chosen to keep her at home for her last months, but she loved coming to school so much. They decided to allow her to remain in school for as long as possible. We provided a summer program for our students, so Martha joined us at school most days. As the summer waxed, Martha waned. It was heart wrenching to watch her fade away before our eyes. Dark circles underlined her dull eyes which no longer sparkled with mischief. She no longer climbed. She no longer escaped. She no longer giggled. Somedays, she didn't have the energy to sit up.
We had a brief two-week break between the summer and fall semesters. All of us wondered whether Martha would be able to come back once school started again, but she did. By October though, Martha was too weak to come to school anymore. Every day we wondered if that would be the day when Martha would “earn her angel wings.” We stayed in contact with her parents and we knew time with her was growing very short.
Just a few days before her fourth birthday, our Martha went to sleep here and woke up in Heaven. I can still see her lying in the all-too-tiny coffin with her arms around her favorite Raggedy Ann doll. Yet, I knew she wasn’t really in the coffin. She was running alongside the River of Life giggling, climbing, and even escaping whenever she could.
Through the years, far too many children from our city and the surrounding area have become Heroes at St. Jude’s. Sometimes there are miracles – one such young man is serving in Afghanistan today. Others, like Martha, earn their wings when their healing is completed in Heaven.
For St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital to continue saving lives and researching new treatments, there must be adequate funding. You can help by donating. February 3rd-6th, 2011 is the annual Minden St. Jude Auction. If you live in this area, you can come by the Civic Center to see the various raffle items and donated items. To find out more about the Minden St. Jude Auction, please join us on our Facebook page.
Or click this link www.mindenstjude.com for the Minden St. Jude Auction website. Click on the donate/raffle tab to see the list of items which will be auctioned or raffled. You can donate or bid on items by calling 318-377-1100 or via website. You’ll also find a link on the home page to watch the auction on live streaming video. Every little bit you give adds up to cures. Won’t you join us? Do it for Martha. Do it for your own children and grandchildren.
UPDATE POSTED 2-11-11 The Minden St. Jude Auction raised a total of $951.228.00 for St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital over the 4 days. Approximately $75 per person. Pretty amazing for our community! Many thanks to all who gave of their time, talents and money!!!
UPDATE POSTED 2-11-11 The Minden St. Jude Auction raised a total of $951.228.00 for St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital over the 4 days. Approximately $75 per person. Pretty amazing for our community! Many thanks to all who gave of their time, talents and money!!!
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