On top of his lack of speech, Ronan had some vision issues.  Trying to eliminate extra barriers affecting vision, while also encouraging him to come to us to tell us what he wanted, had to be factored in.  Ronan needed something that would grab his attention, be pleasant to the eye and be something he’d gain immediate feedback.  I could make something that fit 2 out of those 3 needs.

Knowing Ronan can read, and that he enjoys spelling many words, I made a keyboard for him.  It wasn’t an electronic keyboard though.  It was much simpler.  I added letters, numbers and his name.  Then I thought, well, he does have some basic words he uses that would be easier to point to than type out.  With how exhausted he gets, Ronan will sign that he’s tired or sad while asking for a break. I thought I’d add some of those words (prompts) as well.  As unsophisticated as it was, what I made was shaping up to be a useful tool. 

The only thing I couldn’t provide for Ronan with this project was the ability to make his personalized keyboard interactive until…. I realized I could be his voice output device!  I’m the one spelling the words he signs to me.  I’m the one he immediately goes to for help.  I’m the one who can get that cookie or open the door to the playroom to play Wii, or get that iPad I’ve put away until after lunch is over.   

It wasn’t the best solution as I am not always with Ronan (when he’s in school and when he’s in his therapy sessions), but it would be a temporary fix that would hopefully bridge to another communication opportunity we learned was around the corner.

Experimenting with color of the paper, font size and color, I created paper “keyboards” for Ronan. Ronan’s had already memorized where the letters are having had plenty of opportunities to type with me on our home computer.   Opening up 27 youtube video screens when Mom’s not looking sure beats the effort it sometimes takes for Ronan to type a message.  Our home computer has other fun features that get in the way of staying with a typing activity.  We needed just a keyboard and the means to make his words come alive. 

These would do the trick:  

While using these, and gaining speed and confidence knowing a request would be granted soon after, I went back to searching for keyboard-only electronic devices. Holy price gauging.  They were just not going to be an option for us.  But, our speech therapist, who is always looking out for Ronan, knew that he’d needed something more advanced than just a piece of paper with letters and a handful of words.  She started looking for output devices and narrowed down a few for me to check out.  Making sure it would carry him through the years with a rich vocabulary, we found one.  We made sure to stick with one that our insurance would cover because all devices come with big price tags.

We continued to use the paper keyboard at home and in some therapy sessions.  I kept one in the car had one at home.  A few months later, we got news that a device would finally be available to Ronan.  Knowing that the device also had features that typically distract Ronan, I’d have to learn how to hide them while Ronan got used to using it to communicate.  In time, we’ll slowly introduce the other prompts and features so as to compliment the vocabulary he has and to hopefully expand it as well.

Using his right thumb and left pointer finger to navigate the keyboard, Ronan has successful transitioned to the output device.  It wasn’t an overnight success and took some redirecting, but Ronan can go to the device unprompted to get my attention. 

We’re creating a new pattern and a useful habit—use the device to get what you need. Use the device to tell me what you want.  Use the device to ask to play with one of your other devices.  The night it all clicked so beautifully was when Ronan asked for his iPod.  It happened right after dinner a few days ago and deserved a photo (he spelled ‘I od’ initially, so I had him go back while listening to me sound it out loud. Ronan’s a quick learner and got it right the second time.)

Highlighted in the blue box is a full sentence Ronan typed on the device.  Here he is waiting patiently for me to put the camera down to go get him the iPod.

We did the happy dance.  The siblings jumped for joy.  They too wanted a turn typing some words for Ronan, but one of his cute younger siblings, who shall remain nameless, accidently masked all the keys on the keyboard causing them to temporarily disappear causing this mom to freak out. 

OH NO!  His words! His voice!  Gone! NO!!!!!!!!! 

But, with a little bit of pushing this button and tapping that one, I unmasked the keys we needed and Ronan was again on a roll.  We now have a new rule in the house:  the sibs have to be supervised until they too learn how to navigate the device.  They are honoring that rule and are cannot wait to have conversations with Ronan and so they can quiz him with words they want him to know. 

It’s very exciting to witness this breakthrough, but we’ve a long way to go to have Ronan “fluent” with the device.  As he learns we do still encourage Ronan to sign and to write when he’s able.  Signing takes extra effort on the days his energy level is very low.  Writing does too.  But, I snap pictures of his messages because I am so very proud of him. 

Ma, I want some eggs!

Wii yes The kid loves to play!

We had told Ronan we were going out for French fries one day. Ronan wrote down that he was ready to go.  J

Being able to communicate is innate, but that skill was robbed from Ronan.  Over time, his behavior became his communication—both positive and negative behavior.  When negative behaviors became the norm, we had to do something to give Ronan his voice back.  Now that Ronan can calmly, and oh, so politely ask for things, his behaviors have reduced.  I don’t have to compete with aggression when Ronan simply wants a snack or to play a game. 

What I sometimes still compete with is Ronan’s music.  While I have my alt-rock station on, and as he plays song after song after song on his iPad playlist, I could easily turn up my music to drown out his.  I won’t do that.  Just like I find peace and calm in my music, so does he.  I’m grateful he has that outlet and respect that it helps soothe him. 

When he calm and ready to ask for something else, Ronan types it on his new device.  He wows us with words we didn’t know he had.  As more words and thoughts spill out of that amazing child of mine, I can’t help but feel that his future is looking a little brighter.

 Cathy Jameson is a Contributing Editor for Age of Autism.