She told us Ella had reached her maximum potential. That at three years old it was not likely that she would talk or communicate. No amount of therapy would change that. Those were the words that we heard as Steve and I sat in Ella’s annual review meeting after her first year of pre-school. All because I asked if we could have speech increased from twice a week to three times a week.

It took me a minute to react. I must have blinked twenty times, took a deep breath, and looked at Steve. I was always a wild card at these meetings and I know Steve was nervous of what I might say. If he only knew then things were about to get so much worse. That comment wouldn’t be the one that nearly got me arrested for assault.

I glared at this woman, who looked like she has been teaching speech since the turn of the century, and questioned her credibility. I asked how at three years old, and undiagnosed, could she possibly know what Ella’s future would hold? How could she possibly know when, how, and if she would ever be able to communicate with us? She told me it’s rare that children speak after three and that Ella was hardly engaged during their sessions.

I remained calm and suggested perhaps Ella was not the one struggling to learn but rather she was the one struggling to connect with her. Having been a teacher myself I know if one method of teaching doesn’t work, you try another. That’s teaching 101. I asked if she had tried multiple ways, using specific examples of what was effective at home? I asked what time therapy was, thinking that maybe it wasn’t her ideal time to focus? She had an answer for everything. She pissed me off with her matter of fact attitude so finally I suggested that maybe she wasn’t doing things that Ella found engaging, or MAYBE Ella just doesn’t like her. I certainly did not.

It was then I saw her attitude shift even further and things escalated quickly. This so called “seasoned” therapist exited the chair she was sitting in across from me, violently pointed her finger across the table in my direction and said, “don’t you tell me how to do my job” in a tone of voice that was only filled with rage. My head immediately snapped in Steve’s direction and saw the oh shit look on his face. He knew. Things were about to get ugly.

Before I opened my mouth I scanned the room. The meeting room was filled with our district chairperson, the schools director, teachers, therapists, and Ella’s aide. Some had their jaws dropped. Some were so uncomfortable they couldn’t make eye contact with me, and some looked frightened. At that very moment I decided to rise above. I’m confident I could have made this woman cry. Instead I looked at the director, clearly shocked by this behavior, and asked her to get this woman out of the meeting and away from my child forever. She was dismissed, as well as all the other support staff, and we were left with our district chair and the school director.

I can’t remember exactly what was said but it wasn’t pretty. I do know that it was after she left that Steve decided it was time to unleash the beast within himself and it was ugly. We were told they had never seen a therapist react like that in a meeting before. The director agreed it was unprofessional and I told her unless we got a sincere apology I was going after this woman’s job. I also made it clear that this woman was no longer able to come near Ella or interact with her in any way. I was seething and knew I needed time to fully process what had just happened.

The meeting room was at the back of the school and walking out we could sense the tension. The school staff was already talking and bouncing around from room to room spreading the gossip about the meeting. People were apologizing to us on the way out and every person we saw told us to have a nice day. I can’t even imagine what my face looked like. I tried to keep it together until we got to the car.

The words that came out of my mouth when we left that building would have made anyones ears bleed. First you tell me my daughter will never be able to communicate at three years old and then you shove your finger in my face. Who the hell did this woman think she was? To this day I remember exactly what she looked like in that heated moment and pray I never have to see her face again.

Ella ended up getting the most amazing speech therapist after that, had her frequency increase to three times a week, and began communicating non verbally. We did get a very long, and not so heartfelt (IMO) apology from her old therapist, and decided as long and they could keep her away from us, and Ella, no further action would be taken. I was fighting enough battles and despite what happened, I am not in the business of ruining peoples lives.

It was the first time someone made us feel like they had given up on Ella. It stung, and despite having felt it again years later, the first time was by far the worst. We were new parents to the special needs education world and were so hopeful. The woman single handily took the wind right out of our sails. I vowed from that day forward to never again let myself feel the way this woman made me feel. People can be cruel in all walks of life but this hit different.

In a way this horrible excuse of a therapist ignited a fire in me. One that shines bright and will never be diminished. As long as I live I will never stop fighting and I will surely not let anyone else quit on Ella either. She is destined for amazing and wonderful things and I will be here to insure she has the right people walking beside her as she navigates her way.

Follow us @

• Instagram