Lisa McCarty

In the Fall of 2022, I stood barefoot on my deck, phone in my ear, brown leaves gathered around my feet, listening to my daughter’s fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Barlow.  “I think there’s something going on with Ella,” she said gently.  My stomach dropped, as I’d had my own suspicions for years. I’d often seen her staring blankly at the lengthy math equations, unsure of what to do. She…