Senior sociology major Elizabeth Meejung Lee is an early riser. Because she is most focused during the early morning hours, she wakes at 6 or 7 a.m. so she has time to eat breakfast, shower and do some schoolwork before her 11 a.m. class. All of it is done without turning on the lights.

That’s because as one of the two students who apply for university assistance due to their blindness, Lee has no use for lights. The closed blinds of her window cast a dim light over her room, but Lee doesn’t notice. Almost four years after a violent incident took her sight, she relies on her memory, which she says God made particularly good, and careful attention to where she places her things to navigate around her Baltimore Hall apartment.

Lee is part of a small group of students who receive assistance from the university’s Disability Support Services, the office that provides specialized help for students with physical or mental disabilities. But for anyone accompanying Lee on a typical school day, it’s hard to see how she’s slowed down by her blindness.

Pushing a small button on the side of her wristwatch, a robotic voice sounds, telling Lee it’s 10:27 a.m. – eight minutes before she is to be picked up by a Para-transit bus that will take her to her morning class. She switches off the Christian music playing gently in her room, adds a few items to her laptop bag and heads outside, white cane in hand.

Because Para-transit bus drivers who drive specially equipped vehicles that transport students with disabilities are no longer to assist students like Lee outside the bus, Julie Rosa, a freshmen journalism major in Civicus and DSS volunteer, meets Lee at her door twice a week.

“Hey Elizabeth,” Rosa says, touching Lee’s arm lightly. The two slip their arms together, and begin chatting about their weekends as they walk off toward the bus.

Tragedy in Lot 6

Four years ago, Lee was a 20-year-old sophomore business major with dreams of achieving financial success in the corporate world. She didn’t love her major, but it was practical and would ensure a financially secure future, Lee says. She had her vision, and had never met a blind person.

That would change dramatically on April 26, 2003, when, after getting out of class, Lee walked through the sunny, springtime weather to her white Honda Civic parked in Lot 6, near Comcast Center. After sliding into the driver’s seat, and glancing into her rear-view mirror, Lee saw Ki Seong Kim, her 21-year-old ex-boyfriend and a sophomore at George Washington University, whip his black Volkswagen Jetta directly behind her Civic.

Her window down, Lee began talking to Kim, whom she had broken up with about a month before. Moments later, Kim fired a single shot into Lee’s temple, then fatally shot himself. Another student in the parking lot began screaming, and a nearby University Police officer responded, calling for help. Lee has no clue why Kim tried to kill her, but is thankful she has no memory of the incident after she got into her car.

‘This doctor’s crazy’

At the hospital, the doctors didn’t think Lee was going to make it. If she did, the doctors assumed, she’d have significant brain damage. That she was alive at all was a miracle, they said.

After multiple surgeries, and spending nearly a month on heavy medication, Lee’s doctor came to her room to talk to her about her blindness. But because of the medication and the trauma, and despite being conscious for much of the time, Lee was shocked to find out he was referring to her.

“It never struck me as strange that I couldn’t see,” Lee says. “So when he first mentioned it, I thought, ‘This doctor’s crazy, he’s absurd. What is this doctor talking about?'”

When the news that she would never see again did set in, Lee immediately looked to God for answers, she said. And a year later, she was well enough to return to school for a summer course.

She was returning as a different woman, however. Using support from the state’s Division of Rehabilitation Services, which trained Lee in the use of Braille and provided her with computer software designed to assist blind people, Lee enrolled in a SOCY100: Introduction to Sociology course. The class prompted Lee to reconsider her major.

It wasn’t financial security that was important any longer – it was helping people.

Back to class

Back on the Para-transit bus, Lee and Rosa chat about their summer plans. Lee is going to Japan to share her faith, something she also does on the campus as the president of Korean Campus Ministry. Minutes later, they walk into Tydings Hall.

“Elizabeth and I have perfected fitting into small spaces,” Rosa says, as she and Lee squeeze arm and arm through the building’s narrow doorway. Going up the stairs, Lee taps the front of each one with the end of her cane. Reaching the landing, Lee swings it in a half-circle to the left until it taps the front of the first stair in the next flight. There’s no hesitation. Lee and Rosa just casually chat the entire way.

Lee’s only class of the day, SOCY412: Family Demography, starts at 11:00 a.m., and after finding seats, Lee pulls out her Toshiba laptop, pushes the power button and it churns to life. She whips out a pair of earphones and plugs them into her ears. The laptop makes a noise, and Lee gets ready to take notes.

Like a computer science major who knows all the shortcuts, Lee uses a whirlwind of key combinations to pull up, name and save a new document. Then she starts typing:

Family Demography Notes #16. Enter. April 3, 2007. Enter, enter. Topics Covered:. Enter.

Lee’s cousin, junior English major Rebecca Lee, replaces Rosa to assist during class. Rebecca is especially useful in taking notes during professor Steven Martin’s slides featuring graphs, which Rebecca explains to Lee later.

Lee is mostly self-sufficient when it comes to taking notes. The software on her computer rapidly reads everything she types back to her through her earphones. Rebecca’s most frequent duty is to quietly announce, “next slide.”

Aside from taking meticulous notes throughout the class, Lee records everything on a small voice recorder. Five minutes before the class ends, her cousin says goodbye and heads out. Minutes later, Rosa is back.

“Hey, how was class?” she says.

An inspiring optimism

Almost four years after the shooting, Lee is only a little more than a semester away from graduating with a sociology degree, which she hopes will help her get a job helping others.

But in many ways, Lee’s story and determination is already doing that.

“Elizabeth is an awesome, awesome girl. She’s shown me how much a person with a disability like hers can do,” Rosa says. “It really is inspiring. She’s motivated me to do better, to work hard. She’s such a positive person, she always has a big smile on her face, she’s so sweet. I think that’s inspiring too.”

Lee’s cousin Rebecca agrees, adding, “I’m amazed at her strength, how she has the patience to do everything and is willing to learn.”

Lee blushes at such heaping praise, but says she likes to think that her situation – and her overcoming it – will help others deal with their own problems in life. She says most of her success comes from God’s help, which she sees in the support from family, friends and her church community at the First Korean Presbyterian Church of Washington.

“I’m hoping that others will be encouraged by my motivation,” she said, “but I don’t want to be pitied.”

Despite that shocking day almost four years ago, Lee said, she is now more optimistic than ever. Although at times there are difficulties – such as worrying about burning food while cooking because she also lost her sense of smell in the accident – Lee says her life is very fulfilling.

“I can honestly say I am happier now,” Lee says. “I am closer to God, my family and my friends. I’ve gained a lot more than I’ve lost.”

Contact reporter Kevin Rector at rectordbk@gmail.com.