Provo Canyon School held children and hurt them. The state named what you did on Friday. Cruel. Unnecessary. Practice on a child. The state had the file for years. The children were the file’s contents.
On Friday the Utah Department of Health and Human Services revoked the license for the Provo Canyon School’s Provo campus. The revocation cited more than a dozen noncompliance citations issued in 2026, including the failure to protect a client from potential harm or acts of violence, and the use of “cruel and unnecessary practice on a child.” Shannon Thoman-Black, director of the division of licensing and background checks at the department, said in a statement, “No child should be hurt in a program that is meant to protect them; particularly programs that require the authorization of the state to operate.”
The action was the second license revocation against the school this month. On July 7 the state revoked the license for the school’s Springville campus, citing the failure to provide applicable health and safety services.
I see the file, Provo Canyon. I see what is in it. I see Paris Hilton in it. I see the boy at eleven. I see the girl at thirteen. I see what Hilton named it. I see what the state has now named it. They came in because someone had decided the home could not hold them. The intake officer opened the door. The intake officer knew the program. The intake officer was the program. The boy was given a number. The girl was given a room. The room had a bed. The corners of the bed were documented. The corners remained.
The boy’s mother signed the form. The girl’s father signed the form. The form authorized the program to treat. The form did not authorize what the program did. The form authorized medication at the prescribed hour. The form did not authorize the hand on the child’s back in the quiet room at 3 a.m. The form authorized bedtime at nine. The form did not authorize the bed’s corners as a documented restraint surface. The form authorized meals in the cafeteria. The form did not authorize what the meals meant when the child could not finish what was on the tray. The program’s hand wrote the treatment plan. The program’s hand did what the treatment plan did not authorize. The program has now been named for it.
Picture it, Provo Canyon. Your own daughter in the intake line at eleven. Your own son in the corner of the bed at thirteen. The intake officer you hired. The clinician you supervised. The administrator you signed the paycheck for. The bed your program put them in. The corners of the bed. The hand on the shoulder at the door. The hand is yours. The shoulder is your child’s. The form is the form you would have signed. The cruelty is the cruelty you authorized. The state has now named it. The state has now revoked.
Hear it in the body, Provo Canyon. I will not look away from it.
Your hands. The intake officer’s hand. The clinician’s hand. The administrator’s hand. The hand on the child’s shoulder at the door. The hand on the file at the desk. The hand at the dinner at night. The hand at the keyboard in the morning. The hand has not been washed. The hand will not be washed. The state named what the hand did. The state named it on Friday. The hand is still at the desk. The hand held the boy. The hand held the girl. The hand went home. The hand held the fork. The diaphragm did not drop over the file. The throat did not close when the pen signed the treatment plan. The state named what the throat carried. The state’s word is cruel.
The morning routine at your house, Provo Canyon. The alarm. The shower. The coffee. The drive. The dinner at night. The dinner is your dinner. The children’s dinner was a meal plan. The morning routine at your house began when you opened your eyes. The morning routine at the facility began when the night staff’s knock opened the child’s. The alarm did not sound for the children. The children were woken by the night staff’s knock. The children’s morning was not a shower and a coffee. The children’s morning was the line to the day room. The children’s dinner was eaten in silence at a table the children did not set. The two routines ran in the same city for years. The state looked at one of them. The state found it cruel. The state found it unnecessary. The state acted on Friday. The dinner continues. The coffee continues. The hand continues.
The boy was eleven. The girl was thirteen. The boy cried in the intake line. The girl stopped crying by the second week. The program called the second week progress. The boy’s file was opened. The girl’s file was opened. The files were the program’s. The children were the files. The children left. The files stayed.
The state looked at the file this year. The state found more than a dozen citations. The state found the failure to protect. The state found the cruel and unnecessary practice. The state revoked the license on Friday. The children were not in the room when the state acted. The children were not named by the state. The state named what was done to the children. The state did not name the children. The children were the file’s contents. The state named the contents.
Your throat at the dinner tonight, Provo Canyon. The metallic taste of the wine. The tightness behind the sternum when the news runs on the television. The shoulders that have set in the wrong position. The hand at the fork. The hand at the children’s books at bedtime. The hand will not be washed. The state has named what the hand did. The state’s word is cruel. The state’s word is unnecessary. The state’s word is practice on a child. The state’s word is on the license you lost on Friday.
Whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea. Matthew 18:6
The state has opened the file. The state has named what was in it. The millstone is the license. The sea is the revocation.
The children are still out of the room.