Euphemisms

One of Alex’s first evaluations was with an audiologist to test his hearing. Even though we knew that Alex’s hearing was excellent and probably overly sensitive, his pediatrician thought we should have his hearing assessed because of his language delays. Essentially, this evaluation was worthless, as Alex apparently would not cooperate with the audiologist; she would not allow us to be present during the testing. Perhaps she lacked experience with children, especially those on the autism spectrum, but she seemed to lack an understanding of how to deal with Alex. She focused upon issues other than his hearing, which she could not test accurately because he refused to wear the headphones, due to his tactile sensitivity. Instead, she told us that he was “very immature” and had “an odd gait.” Considering he had just turned four, I’m not certain what she was expecting in terms of maturity. Moreover, his odd gait was also related to his tactile defensiveness, as he exhibited the toe walking often common in children with autism. Since she was sending a report to Alex’s pediatrician, she could have mentioned these observations to him and allowed him to pursue them in greater depth with us.

On the other hand, maybe she recognized some of the classic symptoms of autism and wanted to make certain we were not in denial about Alex’s developmental delays. When she brought up these non-hearing related concerns, I assured her that we had scheduled a full battery of testing through the school system as we suspected he had autism. Her demeanor had no sense of sympathy or compassion; she acted as though we had wasted her time. This experience, though frustrating, taught me a lesson about how to talk with parents about their children. As a middle school teacher who often works with special education students who are mainstreamed into my class, I have learned how to write reports and make comments during IEP conferences that focus on the child’s strengths and suggest ways to improve any areas of weakness. I think all parents deserve that kind of compassion when it comes to discussing their children, and I wish that audiologist had considered the impact of her words when she described Alex only in negative terms. As a parent and a teacher, I would offer the following suggestions for professionals when describing children, especially special needs children.

In the words of the old adage, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” Surely, all children have some positive qualities that should be accentuated first, such as being pleasant, polite, or hard working. Professionals need to start their assessments on a positive note, finding kind words that they can say about the child.

To quote poet Emily Dickenson, “Tell all the Truth but tell it slant…” While certain truths may need to be revealed, choosing words carefully, even in the form of euphemisms, will make parents more receptive to hearing about any issues. For example, a child who is hyperactive could more positively be described as “energetic.” In talking about a child with attention deficit disorder, the professional could mention that the child needs to be engaged and interested to gain focus instead of accusing the child of simply not paying attention. Kind words prove more effective than harsh ones when talking about children.

Finally, a former principal in a faculty meeting once told my colleagues and me to treat our students the way we would want our own children to be treated. In this teachers’ Golden Rule, he reminded us that our students are someone’s beloved children, and our words have the power to encourage them to achieve.
If professionals remember that carefully chosen words—both positive and negative—have meaning and impact, perhaps they will consider focusing upon strengths and kindness to bring out the best in both parents and the children they love so dearly.

“Worry weighs a person down; an encouraging word cheers a person up.” Proverbs 12:25

Files

This past week, I have been sorting through the files and records we have kept on Alex over the years: medical, educational, home school, and various therapies. Although I did not keep up with recording data in his baby book, as I explained in my earlier blog “Milestones,” I have kept carefully assembled files detailing Alex’s early years with autism. In going through his special education individualized education plans, or IEP’s, from ages four to six, I was reminded how strong his early reading and math skills were. His preschool teacher described his reading skills at age four as, “exceptional as he reads and spells many words.” She also mentioned that he would spell words aloud; we knew he did this to make sure he was understood because he was aware that his speech wasn’t always clear. Addressing his math skills, she wrote, "Information that is sequential has always fascinated Alex, and he organizes his routines and information this way. He is particularly interested in the calendar and numerals.” In a later report, I gave the following example of Alex’s ability to sequence at age six. During a V-8 vegetable juice commercial, Alex turned to me and teasingly asked, “V-9?” When I suggested W-9 instead, he thought for a minute and responded, “V-8, W-9, X-10, Y-11, Z-12!” This early preference for sequences and numbers has continued through the years, since Alex’s favorite subject, as well as his strongest, has always been math.

In reading through the evaluation reports, I recalled how clever Alex was about controlling situations to his liking, despite his limited language. In his first evaluation at age four, the educational diagnostician noted that Alex ignored the toys in the room and simply wanted to look at the books. She explained, “He was not interested in any other activities and, in fact, tried to discourage other activities by repeating, ‘Bye, bye’ whenever they were offered.” She went on to state that in order to test him effectively, she had to follow routines that Alex insisted upon and “taught” her. For instance, Alex needed to have his words repeated back to him so that he was sure the listener had understood him. To get the diagnostician to repeat what he had said, he would put his hand on her lips after he had spoken to indicate that she was to say what he had said. In addition, she commented that he bumped his knee at one point during testing and wanted her to rub his sore knee. She further explained what she did next: “When the examiner then kissed her own hand and touched Alex’s hurt knee, he kissed the examiner’s hand.” Apparently, Alex was satisfied that she had learned the lessons he wanted to teach her. In another later evaluation, the school speech therapist also discovered his need for control. She noted, “He often insisted on saying all the words he could see written on the test materials, rather than following directions.” In addition, she was none too pleased that he was reading the answers, which were written upside down on the bottom of the test page, even though I had warned her beforehand that he could easily read words in any position. Not surprisingly, these test results were not terribly valid because Alex had found a way to outsmart the system.

Besides the academic and evaluation reports, the comments in these files that others made about Alex reveal his strengths. For instance, his beloved occupational therapy assistant described five-year-old Alex in her report, stating, “Alex comes easily to the therapy room and is pleasant and generally cooperative.” A few months earlier, I had said in the IEP conference report that his private speech therapist had praised Alex in a written report to me by remarking, “I just love working with Alex—so loving and cooperative. Excited at most all we do—I love the happiness.” In that same conference report, I shared that his pediatrician had told us when he was four, “When Alex starts talking, it could be kind of scary because he’s so smart.” His pediatrician—like his private speech therapist, occupational therapist assistant, the educational diagnostician who first tested him, and others who have been perceptive about Alex—realized that behind the autism lies a child with much to offer. Those who see Alex for what he is, instead of focusing on what he is not, gain a glimpse into a special soul who takes delight in the world around him.

“At the Lord’s direction, Moses kept a written record of their progress. These are the stages of their march, identified by the different places they stopped along the way. “ Numbers 33:2