In previous blog posts I have highlighted different strategies that I feel are critical to making AAC a success for the individual.  This post is no different.  Here I’ll examine the strategy of to listening to the consumer’s ideas to make AAC a success for the individual. Consumers know their bodies the best, so their thoughts for implementing a device should be heavily considered. Therefore, the question needs to be asked, “Does a consumer have an idea to operate his/her AAC system in a unique way so that their life can be made easier even though it might not be in the textbook?” 

For instance, an AAC user might feel that he/she can type faster with toes if a speaking device is mounted on a wheelchair’s footrest. However, my experience tells me that this idea might be in conflict with adamant, traditional convictions of some speech-language pathologists (SLPs). Some SLPs learned that scanning is the only viable access method for consideration if hands aren’t an option. In this case the SLP doesn’t want to abandon the education received and might think that typing bare footed seems hideous. However, the user cares more about how fast a message can be generated than looks, and that should prevail.

I enjoy referring to my childhood even if it doesn’t relate to AAC directly. While elementary school was filled with hours of frustration spent in therapy doing things that I couldn’t perform physically, home life was fun. Once my mom got me off the school bus, she stripped my bulky, heavy braces off me so that she was able to lift me in my walker that my dad built. However, it was everything except a traditional walker. Rather, it was my toy car. I chased after my neighborhood kids on their bikes and trikes. I literally ran in my car – something that the school frowned upon because I ran on my tiptoes instead of flat-footed. Although it wasn’t considered traditional therapy, I was glad that my parents broke with tradition. Furthermore, I couldn’t understand the logic behind using braces to only stand in them when I could run without them. 

Here is another unconventional idea that brought success. Because I could barely communicate with only my mom and a couple of close friends, my dad overrode my occupational therapist’s futile attempts  to try using an arm brace to strike keys on a typewriter with a wooden stick in my right hand.  I always dropped the stick. My parents and I knew that the best parts of my body were above my shoulders. At home I ran my Lionel electric train by moving its control levers with my chin. After seeing a newspaper clipping of a woman who wore a head pointer for typing, my dad brought home a typewriter to see if I might be able to type by holding a stick in my mouth. Although I dropped it due to poor lip closure, I immediately zeroed in on the keys that I wanted to press. I was excited when he said that he was going to make a head pointer like the one he saw in the newspaper. I had no doubt that it would work. Sure enough, I typed my name with the head stylus for the first time at 15 years of age. The poor therapist at school had no choice, but to withdraw her criticism, when I succeeded in breaking down my first barrier.

Indeed, success comes from listening to the individual and from critics withdrawing when they see a person achieve something that was previously thought to be impossible, regardless if a method is out of the box. In my case, I used my head – in more ways than one – and I continue to do so. 

Although these situations might be different than those you encounter, are there any situations which come to mind when a customer’s, patient’s or student’s preferences were not considered to the degree that you now feel they might have been?  What was the outcome?