Susan Senator

Jen sent me this article and I was intrigued and moved by the story. Over the years I have heard about autistic people learning to communicate via keyboarding, and I have heard the accompanying criticisms about it, the facilitated kind of typing. People have made FC seem like Ouija board of autism therapies, where you don’t know if it is the student’s actual thoughts or is it the teacher guiding his hand. I have discounted FC for this reason.

That kind of doubt is understandable, of course, but what about the cases where the child learns how to type on his own, like DJ in the Ralph Savarese book, Reasonable People? Clearly this is an approach that warrants another look, not because it “de-auticizes” people (NancyBea’s term), but because it gives people a medium for expression. As I sit here typing on Precious and my own thoughts and feelings are exploding through my fingers, I am wondering how I could have dismissed this. And I am wondering how to start working on it with Nat. Nat hates typing. But, Nat already types very well; he sends me emails regularly from school. At first reading, it is hard for me to believe that these are his thoughts, however, because they are so orderly and the grammar is excellent:

Dear mom
Today I went to music
I sang a maroon 5song.
I had fun.
Love
Nat

But now I’m thinking that perhaps he can compose his thoughts better in the writing mode than in the speaking mode. Of course!! Didn’t I learn this in Communication 101, back in college? Certain modes of communicating are more natural and fluid than others for different people. Some function well in the sociogestural mode; some, in the mathematical-lexical; etc. Why is it so hard for me — of all people — to believe that writing is an easier mode of communication than speaking for Nat? Because he never types willingly.

But maybe that is because he needs to do it more intensively, more than 20 mins every other day at school, to make the leap that this is a desirable thing. So many things have been like this for Nat. He doesn’t realize, for years, that something we are trying to teach him is ultimately for his benefit, i.e., will improve his life and his happiness. Like learning to play basketball. It took two years before it made him really, really happy to play. Being able to communicate, period, will certainly improve Nat’s quality of life.

So this means — I should find a person who can teach him this in our home, who doesn’t mind getting hurt sometimes. Because he will resist this. Ah, there’s the rub. Er, pinch.