The information provided to me by various professionals who have repeatedly assessed my daughter is the biggest problem I face in my life. In order to solve my problem I need to explore whether my problem depends on the professionals and the assessment process, or on the fact that I do not want to accept that my child is disabled. My six-and-a-half-year-old daughter Malia began showing signs of delayed development at the age of eighteen months. His speech began to regress and there were also behavioral signs significant enough that I sought advice from our doctor. When I wasn't worried to the point that I was, I contacted the Multnomah County Department of Developmental Disabilities and asked that they evaluate Malia. They agreed that these were delays and referred them to Portland Public Schools' early intervention program for special services such as speech therapy, occupational therapy and other early learning resources for children with disabilities. I also placed Malia with a pediatrician who immediately referred her for a full-scale evaluation at Oregon Health Sciences University (OHSU), where they have an evaluation clinic for children with disabilities. At that point Malia was two and a half years old and this is where I started to question the assessment process. The trial consisted of a one-day period in which up to twelve doctors, psychologists, speech pathologists, audiologists, and occupational therapists each spent thirty minutes with Malia, evaluating her based on standardized tests. After six hours with Malia, the professionals gathered and discussed their findings. After the discussion, they called me and Malia. They told me their diagnosis was “mild bilateral conductive hearing loss, speech impediment, and borderline intelligence.” This was all the information they gave me, other than telling me that Malia's pediatrician would receive a report and follow up accordingly. No special suggestions or support were offered to me or Malia. I didn't know the exact meaning of "borderline intelligence" at the time, so I took it to mean that his intelligence was not above average but not below average either. Two years later, during his second evaluation, I found out that it means low intelligence, bordering on mental retardation. I followed up the hearing loss with an ear, nose and throat (ENT) doctor and Malia had her tonsils and... middle of the paper... examiners have a more complete understanding of the child. Another idea I listed was for the professional to spend more time exploring the child's strengths and possibilities to help design a special program in which the child would thrive. I've spent the last four years getting angry at the OHSU clinic. I can truly say that all this channeling and exercise (PMI and APC) has helped me better understand why tests are the way they are, how they affect us, and most importantly, that a closed mouth doesn't get fed. If I want changes, I now understand that I need to speak up and talk to someone who can do something about it. Now that I have more clarity on the process, I can offer something positive to help other families avoid the pain and anger I endured. Knowing this and feeling good about the road ahead is a great place to start for me. The most important realization for me is that Malia is still Malia, regardless of whatever label they put on her. Bottom line, whether or not I make a difference in changing the evaluation process, I know that Malia is and will always be the same wonderful little girl she has always been..