Teacher KISSES Autistic Child – No Charges!
A North Carolina teacher caught kissing a defenseless 5-year-old nonverbal autistic child in a school bathroom faces zero consequences thanks to a broken system that failed to protect our most vulnerable.
At a Glance
- A staff member at Blythe Elementary School in Huntersville, N.C. was caught kissing a 5-year-old nonverbal autistic student in a school bathroom
- Despite the incident being witnessed and reported, the teacher was only reassigned but remains employed at the school
- Police closed the investigation without charges because the nonverbal child could not testify
- The child had shown behavioral changes and distress about attending school for months before the incident
- The mother, Elizabeth Szumski, is devastated and has lost trust in the school system that failed to protect her daughter
A Vulnerable Child Left Unprotected
Parents send their children to school expecting them to be safe in the care of trusted professionals. For Elizabeth Szumski, that trust was shattered when she learned a teacher at Blythe Elementary School in Huntersville, North Carolina, had allegedly kissed her 5-year-old nonverbal autistic daughter in a school bathroom. The incident, which occurred on March 28, was witnessed and reported by another staff member. But what happened next—or rather, what didn’t happen—exposes a disturbing failure of our institutions to protect our most vulnerable children from potential predators.
The most infuriating aspect of this case is how the school administration handled it—or rather, mishandled it. After being informed about the incident, school officials merely sent the teacher home for the day. They didn’t immediately contact police, they didn’t remove the staff member from the school environment, and most shockingly, they didn’t even remove the child from the classroom after the incident. Instead, they left her in the very environment where she had been violated. This isn’t just negligence; it’s a complete abdication of their responsibility to protect children.
A Mother’s Nightmare
For months before the incident, Szumski had noticed troubling signs that something was wrong. Her daughter, who cannot communicate verbally due to her autism, had been experiencing meltdowns and crying every day before school. When Szumski brought these concerns to school officials, they dismissed them, suggesting the issue was with the child’s ability to “acclimate” rather than investigating what might be causing such distress. It’s the kind of bureaucratic brushoff that makes your blood boil—adults passing the buck while a child silently suffers.
“Why has she been crying every day since she started this school?” – Elizabeth Szumski.
After learning about the bathroom incident, Szumski was forced to call the police herself when the school failed to do so. Yet even with law enforcement involved, justice remained elusive. The Huntersville Police Department closed the investigation without filing charges, citing the inability of the nonverbal child to testify about what happened. This creates a disturbing precedent: apparently, in North Carolina, you can victimize a child with a disability that prevents them from speaking, and face zero consequences. The message is clear—those least able to defend themselves receive the least protection under our system.
A System That Protects the Wrong People
The Charlotte-Mecklenburg School District has hidden behind the convenient shield of “privacy laws” to avoid discussing the case publicly. Meanwhile, the teacher in question remains employed at the school, merely reassigned rather than removed entirely. This reflects a pattern we see all too often in public institutions—protecting staff and avoiding liability takes precedence over the safety and wellbeing of children. The district claims to prioritize student safety, but their actions tell a different story.
“I said, ‘There’s nothing wrong with her. In the morning she wakes up very happy, but the moment she sees her backpack is when she has a meltdown. There’s clearly a problem here.’ And they kind of just brush it off.” – Elizabeth Szumski.
The anguish of not knowing the full extent of what her daughter may have experienced haunts Szumski. “What else has she endured?” she asked, voicing the nightmare that keeps her awake at night. For a parent of a nonverbal child, not being able to know what happened—or what might still be happening—in a place where your child should be safe is an unimaginable torment. Adding insult to injury is a system that seems designed to protect everyone except the victim. It’s a stark reminder that for all our society’s talk about protecting children, our institutions often fail spectacularly when it matters most.
