When I graduated from A.T. Still University’s Occupational Therapy program in 2014, I never imagined that one of my proudest moments as an OT would take place at my neighborhood park. But that’s exactly where my training, my values, and my voice came together—right in the heart of my community.

Before becoming an OT, I worked as a special education teacher. I’ve always loved working with kids with special needs, but after a few years in the classroom, I realized it wasn’t sustainable. The workload and pay made it difficult to continue long-term. One day, I saw the occupational therapist at my school working with students, and I thought, that looks fun and engaging. I started researching the profession and found A.T. Still University—only 20 minutes from my home in Arizona. Enrolling at ATSU turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

During my time at ATSU, I was fortunate to be involved in many service opportunities that helped shape who I am as a clinician and community member. I organized the university’s first service-learning trip to Guatemala, participated in OT programs in Hermosillo, Mexico, and led multiple fundraising efforts on campus. That spirit of advocacy stayed with me. Today, I serve on the Advisory Board for the Department of Occupational Therapy, regularly give guest lectures, and mentor fieldwork and capstone students from ATSU and other universities. In 2022, I was honored to give the keynote address at the ATSU Master of Science in Occupational Therapy (MSOT) pinning ceremony. Being able to give back to the program that gave me so much fills me with joy and gratitude.

In 2022, the City of Phoenix announced plans to replace the playground equipment at our neighborhood park—just a short bike ride from our home. This park was one of the reasons my husband and I chose this neighborhood in the first place. My kids loved playing there. It wasn’t perfect, but it was full of features they could climb, explore, and enjoy.

When the new playground was installed, I was heartbroken. Almost the entire structure consisted of monkey bars—about 40 feet of them—plus a slide and a single linear climbing feature. The monkey bars were so high, my young kids couldn’t even reach them. And if a child couldn’t or didn’t want to do monkey bars, there was almost nothing left for them to play on. As an OT, I immediately recognized how inaccessible and developmentally inappropriate the new structure was—not just for my kids, but for many others. Families stopped coming. The park became quiet, and I knew I had to speak up.

I reached out to my city councilman, the Parks and Recreation Department, and even the playground manufacturer—no one followed up. Someone told me, “Most people would’ve given up by now.” But that wasn’t me.

I leaned into the advocacy and research skills I developed as an OT. I consulted friends in politics, a disability rights attorney, and eventually filed a formal ADA complaint. I also gathered support from neighbors, who helped flood the city with complaints. Finally, I got a call—from one of the top directors at Parks and Rec—inviting me to a meeting at the park.

I showed up with a group of neighborhood moms, including a child development specialist. The city showed up too—with ADA auditors, a landscape architect, the playground manufacturer, and others. We introduced ourselves, and I explained that I was both a pediatric OT and a parent. As we talked, city officials watched neighborhood children try and play on the equipment, and they realized just how inaccessible the new playground was.

The Parks team acknowledged what they hadn’t been able to see on paper. Within 24 hours, crews arrived to lower the bars. Within weeks, new equipment was ordered. Eventually, the city added a major ADA-accessible expansion to the playground. The park came back to life, with children of all abilities playing together again.

That project changed how I see my role as an OT. It reminded me that my skill set and voice matter—not just at work, but in the community. We’re trained to analyze environments, advocate for access, and help people engage in meaningful activities. That doesn’t stop at the clinic.

My hope is that other OTs will see themselves in this story. We all have the ability to use our expertise to make change, even in unexpected places. I’m so thankful for my education at A.T. Still University—for preparing me not only to be a great clinician, but to be a changemaker, too.