I grew up in a small town in Shelby County, Kentucky surrounded by rolling hills covered in bluegrass and full of saddlebred horses. Being a child in Kentucky is one of the most precious gifts God could have giv
en me. I spent summers barefoot and climbing trees, picking peaches, and catching lightning bugs. Summer days were long and summer nights were speckled with stars and the occasional breeze. Lord, my Kentucky summers were blessed when I was a girl. They were set in contrast to the white frozen winters in the Bluegrass. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, my hot July days would transform in Winter Wonderlands come December. Snow would blanket my little town and ice would make the trees look like the chandeliers I had seen on TV. And everything would be very very quiet. Of course, that silence would last only until my mother would bundle my brother, sister, and me up and let us loose on that pristine ivory snow. We would build snow men and make angels out of the white dust. One year, my neighbor built us an igloo that lasted nearly into spring. We would freeze out there and then strip down to our britches on the porch before being let in to have hot chocolate and cookies in the kitchen. Kentucky winters were blessed, too.
Against the backdrop of beautiful Kentucky scenery, I learned at a very young age what would become my purpose in life. I lived with autism. My sister was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder when I was five and she was four. After that diagnoses, the lives my family were changed forever. I have spent over 20 years living as a satellite to her needs and accommodating for her in the best ways that I could. It was challenging, heartbreaking, and the most validating experience that I could possibly imagine. Not very many people become a caregiver before kindergarten. But I have never known any different. My life with autism has shaped my past, my character, and my career. I realized in college that I was put on this earth not only to provide the best that I could for my younger sister but also to make a difference in the education and treatment all of people with special needs. I chose to become an educator to make a direct impact on the children and families that went through the same experiences that I did. My sister is my heart and soul. She is my home.
I moved to Lexington in 2011 to attend the University of Kentucky. Yes, that's right, I bleed blue. My freshman year was a combination of meeting new friends, losing old one, winning game after game in the basketball tournament, heartbreak, burning couches, and finally accepting my call to become a teacher. I don't recall one miraculous "eureka" moment that led to my decision to major in elementary education but I do remember how emotional it was. Prior to this decision I was Pre-Med, hoping to follow in my parents' footsteps and enter the medical field. I was miserable. I was depressed. I hated my classes. I couldn't close my eyes and picture myself in a hospital. But I felt that changing my mind would be letting down everyone around me. I was afraid that I would be disappointing my family and that changing my career path would somehow hurt my sister's future. But when I finally took an introspective look at myself, I realized that in order to fulfill my goal to make a difference in the lives of people with special needs, teaching would be the most hands-on, direct, and relationship-based means to do so. The decision was a spiritual liberation of sorts. I have never regretted going into the education field. Teaching makes me feel alive and happy and useful. The University of Kentucky has become a home for my dreams, a place for them to be dreamt and fulfilled. The community and support that I have found in the College of Education has been immensely motivating and provided me with the opportunity to teach abroad in Thessaloniki.
Preparing to go to Thessaloniki in a few weeks reminds me of summer camp as a child. Do you remember as a child excitably packing your car up and setting out to drive into the hills to camp? Bouncing up and down to get your parents in the car? Buckling the backseat with a giddy kind of feeling? But I was on that long drive between home and camp that all of these questions arose. Will I make new friends? Where will I sleep? Will the food be weird? The anxiety would stamp out the excitement that you had as you packed up the car and applied your sunscreen and bug spray. What about home? Will it be the same when I get back? What if something important happens? What if I miss my family? It's the same kind of feeling now as an adult. I am leaving my home, my family, my friends, my community to go on a strange adventure. Will I meet new people? Will my apartment be safe? What about home? What will I be missing while I am away? Then I remind myself of camp as a child. Within a few minutes of my parents pulling out of the gravel parking lot I would find myself surrounded by friends. We would laugh and play games. My fears and anxiety would melt away and leave me prepared for new adventures. My comfort zone would become a distant memory. And home? Home would still be there when I got back. Maybe a little different. But I was different too and that was okay. But then the seasons would change just as they always had. My sweltering Kentucky summers would turn crisp and cold. The snow would blanket my sweet little town and melt and grow into a new summer. This would continue even after I left for college and watch my little sister grow from a girl with autism to the Bluegrass Beauty that she is today.So as I prepare for my new life in Thessaloniki, I am realizing that I am not leaving my Old Kentucky Home behind. I am taking it with me...far away.
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