I went to school this afternoon to get head shots of the kids in David’s class. After I had completed taking the pictures, I was heading to the reading literacy classroom to get pics of the three kids that were not in class at that time.
As I walked across the courtyard I saw one of the secretarys running with a student. Many more staff were converging at the door to the Special Ed Teacher’s class. Mr. H’s aide was yelling trying to get the kids out of the classroom. They had just witnessed their teach collapse, and the aide didn’t want them to see anymore. I tried to help her round up the kids and get them relocated to another classroom.
Then I hear “Call 9-1-1″ screamed by several people. I grabbed my cell and told the operator we had a teacher down and was not breathing. It seemed, in that open courtyard, that we could all hear the sirens out in the distance before I could even hang up. As I listened to the sirens it seemed they weren’t getting any closer. Meanwhile staff members gave the teacher CPR. Still no ambulance. More sirens in the distance, but no help, as yet had arrived.
“Dear God, please be with him, keep him safe until help arrives. Lord, please be with those who are trying to keep him alive, guide their hands and keep them strong…please God, please God”
Medical personnel arrive and take over the fight to keep Mr. H alive. Reports trickle out of his room. “They shocked him and got his heart beating, but only for about a minute.” More medical people arrive. We, myself, staff, and the faculty who didn’t have classes at that time, all cluster around waiting for news.
The PA system crackles to life announcing to the whole school that we are in a safety lockdown. Teachers and students are to stay in their communities until further notice. Poor kids who were in the bathroom at the time of the announcement, wander out and are pounced on by teachers and staff trying to get them to class to avoid traumatizing them.
We all stand around and silently hope and pray for the best. My hopes were shattered when a saw them roll Mr. H out of his class room on a gurney with a fireman straddling him continuing to perform CPR. It was so hard to see this incredibly sweet, vibrant man fighting for his life. I’m afraid. Afraid for his students that witnessed this. Afraid for those special children who wouldn’t have the opportunity to benefit from his love and skill. Afraid that the world would be a darker place without him in it.
Say a prayer for Mr. H.
****Update – Mr Heinicke did not make it. It breaks my heart. I didn’t get to really know him until last year. When he needed to have some one-on-one time with one of his students, he would bring the student into the 2nd grade community. He would get on their level and walk them through his thought process. He could get through to his students. You could see his love for his students in how he dealt with them. I don’t doubt that his was an incredibly hard job, but also a very rewarding one. Talk to anyone at Lummis and you will find that everyone felt about this man as I do. He will be sorely missed.
Filed under: In Memorium, School
