Decoding Speech

Every parent has been there. One of the greatest joys for any parent is when their child utters that first word. We all wait in anticipation of that wondrous milestone. What will it be? Mama? Dada? Juice? Dog? Some parents are rewarded early, five or six months. Others wait years.

Such was our case. Vic didn’t start talking until he was almost five years old. In fact, his lack of speech was brought up at every doctor’s appointment from the time he was six months old. He made all kinds of noises, so we knew he had the ability to speak, but he made no attempt at meaningful, verbal communication.

When he was four years old, the provincial government adopted a program called Early and Intensive Behaviour Intervention, or EIBI. Part of this program is called Pivotal Response Treatment, or PRT. The simplest explanation of this treatment is that the “trainer” (who could be anyone involved with the child: parent, sibling, teacher, support worker …) uses concrete incentives to elicit speech from the nonverbal child. It is designed to teach children with delays to use speech to communicate.

We were fortunate to be selected to take part in the pilot program. We were the guinea pigs. We were part of that very first group, where not only families, but the professionals who would carry on this program, received training from the institution that developed it. It was very exciting, and a little overwhelming. We were all learning, side by side. Mornings were spent recording on video various people interacting with the child, implementing the strategies we learned. Afternoons were spent in a conference room with all the other parents and professionals, reviewing and discussing each family’s video. We gave our input, our critiques, offered suggestions on how to improve. It was amazing to see the support from so many people, as we championed and cheered every participant. To see these young children struggle to understand what was being demanded of them, rise to the occasion, and in most cases, speak their first words. We were all caught up in emotion.

Vic’s progress was truly amazing. This happy-go-lucky, grinning child of mine had never before tried to say one single word. Not even a syllable. By the end of that very first week, he had gained several words! A new chapter had begun.

But there was still much to learn. Yes, he had finally begun to use the words he had bottled up inside him. But it was learning how he made sense of language that proved difficult. It didn’t help that he tended to condense words and phrases. We had to figure out that “tupsick” meant turn up music. Time, dedication, and a lot of patience proved to be the key.

We worked tirelessly with his support team. Autism support worker, occupational therapist, early interventionist, speech pathologist. His teachers and EAs at daycare. Grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins had to be instructed on how to communicate with him, what was acceptable, what was not. How and when to reward him for using his words. We used pictures with words on them. Holding them up in front of him, we asked Vic to tell us what the picture was. Much to our surprise, this also taught him to read! We were thrilled and astonished the day we realized that a picture had been picked up, but was covered by fingers. Vic told us what the picture was by reading the word. Thinking this must be a fluke, we tried several more cards. Then we moved on to cards with words, but no pictures. No doubt about it, this child could read!

As the weeks and months went by, we slowly demanded more and more of him. A single word was no longer acceptable. In order for him to get what he wanted, he had to offer more. A request for juice went from juice to want juice. Which eventually led to want juice please and later May I have juice, please? It was frustrating at times, for him and for us. But we stuck to our guns. Little by little, my little man increased his speech and communication skills. I had yet to realize just how far he had come.

I had taken him to Dairy Queen for a treat one day before school started up again. As we sat outside at the picnic table, he looked around, taking in his surroundings. Suddenly, he looked very intently at me and said, “Today’s story is Speckle and the Beautiful Painting.”

What? What just happened here? My smart little cookie, who up until that moment had only used words to offer single-word replies to questions or to ask for food, just made an unprompted, complete sentence!! But what did it mean?

Speckle, in case you are wondering, is a character on the PBS Kids program, Clifford the Big Red Dog. Whenever Emily Elizabeth reads to Clifford, it’s a Speckle story, since that is his favourite. Every book she reads has a title like, Speckle and the Birthday Cake, Speckle Gets Well, or Speckle and the Windy Day. I thought maybe there was an episode I had missed. I simply repeated what he had just said to me. He was not going to be put off, though. He kept repeating, “Speckle and the Beautiful Painting” over and over again.

And then, it clicked. Ten feet from where we sat, there were some men on scaffolding painting the building! I was elated! Amazed, speechless. For the very first time, he had something he wanted to tell me. He made an observation about the world around him, and he shared it with me. I said, “Yes, buddy!! Yes, those men are painting the building! Speckle and the Beautiful Painting!”

That was not the last time Speckle has made an appearance in conversation. Over the years, Vic has used Speckle countless times to relate to something around him. On stormy days, we have heard Today’s story is Speckle and the Windy Day (or rainy, snowy, sunny …). Speckle and the Really Good Book. I think my all-time favourite is Speckle and the Disappearing Cookie when he wanted maple cookies for his snack.

Many children with autism struggle with “appropriate” speech. It makes perfect sense to them, but the rest of us are left trying to decode their message. It is very difficult for them to initiate conversation. Not only is the speech aspect very demanding, but they often have poor social skills. I remember when I was part of workshop for parents of nonverbal children, one mom told us the story of her little guy wanting to make friends with another child at the playground. Most youngsters would simply walk over, say hello and ask their new friend if they would like to play. Her child’s foray into the world of friend-making? “Greetings! My name is Buzz Lightyear, and I come in peace.”

To some people, these phrases may seem strange or unusual. But to us, the parents who have waited so long to hear our child’s voice, it is the most beautiful sound on earth.