School Shootings and Children with Special Healthcare Needs

I Lost Someone in a School Shooting and Now I’m Fighting for Better Protection for My Son

In March of this year, I lost someone dear to me in a school shooting in Nashville. My friend, Katherine Koonce, was the head of the Covenant School. She was kind, with a dry sense of humor that made us kindred spirits from the moment we met decades ago as teachers at another school. She worked late in the night and on the weekends for years to get her doctorate that would allow her to take the position of leadership that moved her to Covenant.

Katherine was the first person to visit me in the hospital when my son Charlie was born. It was an unexpected and early labor. There were teams of people in the room and specialists whose specialties I could not pronounce. I did not get to touch, much less hold Charlie after delivery. I remember lying in my hospital bed and wondering if he was stable, if his hair was brown or blond, if he had my eyes. There have always been more unknowns than knowns when it comes to Charlie, but in that moment, even the most fundamental questions went unanswered. I wanted to hold my son. Enter Katherine. She sat in the stiff vinyl visitor’s chair and we shared a comfortable silence. There was so much to say and also nothing. Her presence was enough.

Katherine and I also attended the same church. When Charlie was finally home from the NICU and we were searching for a semblance of ordinary life, she would find me suctioning out Charlie’s tracheotomy in the hallway during the service and she take him and tell me to go, sit, rest. “Take a minute, I got this,” she’d say. This is who she was – a rock in the sea. She was steady like that.

If this violence had happened at Charlie’s school, I know Katherine would have been the first to shield him. And now that she is gone, I catch myself studying our lives, looking for areas where we need procedures in place that will stand in for what Katherine was: the protector.

Charlie’s current educational plan does not explicitly state what would happen in an emergency situation such as this. That needs to change. Charlie has limited mobility and is mostly nonverbal. I need it in writing who will be in charge of steering his wheelchair to a secure place in a lockdown or out an exit in case of fire or to a sheltered hallway during a tornado. I need the title of a person listed who will be required to get him to safety. Because in situations like these, it cannot be ambiguous. I cannot assume there will be another Katherine in the room.

As a parent of a child with special needs, I am used to coming at each situation from every angle in order to help Charlie live a healthy, happy life. But the loss of Katherine has shown me where I must advocate further. Even now she is protecting him.

Jamie Sumner is a special needs mom and author.

Jamie-Sumner.com
Author of the middle-grade novels:

ROLL WITH IT

TUNE IT OUT

ONE KID’S TRASH