The other day, I was on the bus with a student for an outing. We were going to a local convenience store, and on the way, I asked him what he wanted to get from the store. This was his first time riding the bus in a wheelchair. He adjusted the iPad on his lap and selected his favorite items, as he seemed to relax in the familiarity of the bus conversation. I offered to hold the iPad which he was balancing with both hands on his lap. It seemed uncomfortable, and my plan was to hold it within his reach, so that he could enjoy the bus ride. Previously on outings, he would put his iPad on the bus seat next to him as he watched the scenery, smiling as he looked out the window. With the wheelchair, he didn’t have anywhere to set it down. He pulled it closer and verbally said “uhn uh.” I left it with him of course, and smiled at his ownership of the device that has just developed over the past few months.
Once he had his “order,” he looked at his lap with his iPad, as he held all of his snacks in his hands. He wanted to be able to open and eat his snacks on the bus like he usually did. He looked at me, and I raised my eyebrows (He doesn’t love a lot of talking). He put his snacks in one hand to free his other, keeping eye contact with me the entire time. Slowly, he picked up his iPad and then hesitantly moved it towards me and put it in my hand. I held it near him, and he sat back then arranged his snacks on his lap. He glanced at the iPad a couple of times, and when it dimmed at one point, he reached over mid-chip to re-activate the screen. When we went over a bump, he held tighter to his snacks, looked at the device and then looked at me. I modeled “bumpy ride.” He smiled and turned back to his snacks and scenery. He was satisfied that his voice was in good hands.
Obviously, someone using Augmentative and Alternative Communication (AAC) can use the device to directly say, “I love you” or “I trust you.” Children tell their parents they love them, and it is one of those moments that brings tears to everyone’s eyes. In some cases, parents wait a very long time to hear those words from their child with complex communication needs (CCN), but people also show their feelings in the trust they give.
After the bus ride last week, I was thinking that people who use AAC have to put their voice into other people’s hands and trust that it will be safe. When that student, looked me in the eyes as he handed me his iPad, he couldn’t say, “Please be careful because if you drop that, I’m not going to be able to say what I want.” But by handing it over, he was saying “I trust that you know how important this is.”
When you really think about it, can you blame someone for being so protective of their voice? If there was a way that you could hand your larynx (voice box) over to someone, would you? If our ability to communicate could potentially be splattered on the floor, we would be selective about who we let handle it. Could you imagine the horror of someone flipping your larynx around, saying “I wonder what happens if I open this,” “Do you think this flap is really necessary?” or “Let’s move this part and see if she can still use it.”
When you’re working with students who rely on AAC, there are a few things that I think help to build trust.
1. Don’t grab a device from students (unless holding the device puts them in danger). Snatching a device out of someone’s hands or reach unexpectedly is startling.
2. If you’re going to add vocabulary, ask the student if you can have the device to add a word.
3. Stay near the student when you’re adding vocabulary. Give them input about where it should be on the page and what symbol they want to use.
4. Do what you say you’re going to do, and return the device.
5. Only touch the student’s device if you’re confident in your abilities. If you’re saying things like “This thing is so complicated. Why is it doing this?” you’re probably not exuding confidence to the person who relies on that “complicated thing” to communicate, especially if she has it figured out. Children know who “gets” AAC and who has no idea what they’re doing with the device.
Trust is necessary to build relationships. Many AAC users have spent some time without their devices, and they know what it’s like to be without their voice. It takes a considerable amount of trust to put your voice in someone else’s hands. If the AAC user(s) in your life willingly hand their devices to you, take a moment this Valentine’s Day and feel loved.
Leave a Reply