a teacher in this very school. Or that she had eaten dinner at my house. Perhaps she thought motherhood had addled my brain. She patiently explained how in Montessori school the teachers show but they don’t tell. Because most kids find words distracting, the teachers prefer to operate like a troupe of mimes. They couldn’t make an exception for Sara. The director recommended that I make an appointment with a certain psychotherapist who was also a speech therapist. “I think you and Sara are too attached,” she explained as she handed me the therapist’s card. “Aren’t small children supposed to be attached to their mothers?” I asked. Yes, she responded, but sometimes these intense attachments cause separation problems. The therapist was a tall elegant woman who suffered from a stuttering problem. Displayed on her desk was a framed photograph of her handsome son, who also stuttered. She explained how speech problems were often psychological. Even though she had never met Sara, she had a theory that when my daughter was an infant, she suffered from “failure to thrive.” Since Sara had been a plump baby, I found this hard to believe. At our next appointment, I showed the psychotherapist cum speech therapist a photograph of a chubby one-year old Sara sitting in her bouncy chair. The therapist was surprised but undaunted by this conflicting evidence. A few weeks later the therapist observed Sara at the Montessori school. She brought a large baby doll with her. That evening, Sara told me how a strange lady had followed her all over the classroom and tried to get her to talk to a doll. “I think it was a trick,” my daughter said. “That lady didn’t even know it’s against the rules to bring toys to school.” At my next meeting with the school’s director, she wanted to discuss the separation theory proposed by the therapist. I pointed out how Sara’s discomfort at school did not seem to stem from being away from me. She seemed upset rather because she couldn’t find a way to master the tasks, to make herself understood, or to join in the other children’s games. I felt the director underestimated how confused Sara was, how she couldn’t find her away around and how their showing-but-not-telling approach wasn’t working with her. My words were met with pity, a clucking of tongues. Now I sat on the same side of the table as my father had sat with Mr. McKinnon, and my selfrighteous anger must have been the same that rose in him. No wonder he lashed out at the principal who had made such unfair claims. I also realized something else I had never fully understood before. Once a professional
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