The Vagaries of Language

We are a bilingual family that encounters some form of cultural and linguistic translation on a daily basis. All of our kids have varying levels of understanding of both Japanese and of English. So we think about and talk about words more than most folks might.

But on top of that, Sky has a pragmatic language delay and an auditory processing disorder. I can't tell you what that means exactly other than that words and the way they are communicated are very different for him than they are for the rest of us. For one thing, he is quite literal, and while his vocabulary rivals most adults, his ability to hear something, process it, and make sense of it lags behind his peers considerably.

This can sometimes lead to funny, interesting, and seemingly deadpan conversations like these:

Me: What'd you do at school today?

Sky: We had a math test.

Me: Really? What was it on?

Sky: Paper.

*****

Me: You can't say f**k because it's not a nice word and it makes people feel yucky when you say it.

Sky: That doesn't make any sense. It's just f, u, c, k. What's wrong with those letters?

*****

Me: I want you to eat a snack, do your homework, and put your laundry away. Then, you can watch TV.

Sky: I don't know what you're saying.

Me: First, snack. Second, homework. Third, laundry. Fourth, TV.

Sky: Ok. Now I get it.


Now that we know he has these delays, communication has gotten a lot easier. We no longer assume he understands something. We try to keep lecturing and verbal explanation to a bare minimum, and we don't assume he is ignoring us just because he seems to have tuned us out. But, remember, we didn't know about any of this two years ago, so for the first six years of his life, Sky got in trouble at home and at school often because he didn't understand what we were saying or what we meant. So even now, when Sky is not certain about how to express himself, he will panic in fear that he's about to get into trouble.

Besides the "holes" in verbal language, Sky also has problems reading nonverbal social cues as well as a sensory processing disorder. The combination of these three things makes school very difficult for him. Sometimes his hypersensitivity to sounds, smells, and visual cues makes it almost impossible for him to stay focused. Other times, he completely misreads social cues.

Take the other day, for example. The teacher passed out a math worksheet, but she didn't explicitly tell the students to start working, so Sky didn't know he was supposed to start. He didn't pick up on any of the nonverbal cues such as the fact that her giving him the paper meant he was supposed to do it or the fact that everyone else had started working on theirs. Instead, not wanting to waste time, he took a book out and started to read it. Thinking he was ignoring the assignment, the teacher took the book out of his hand and put it on her desk, where it stayed. He didn't understand why she was mad, why she took his book, or what he needed to say to get it back. Of course, he didn't tell any of this to me. Instead, all he said the next morning when he resisted getting out of bed and getting ready for school was, "I don't like school. I always get into trouble, and everyone is so mean." And it was only after considerable prodding and asking the right questions did I learn what had happened. To quell his anxiety, I had to go into school with him that morning, explain the misunderstanding to his teacher, and encourage Sky to talk to her directly about his concerns next time.

Each year, Sky gets better at recognizing and covering for the various gaps in his understanding of what's happening around him, so I have no doubt that, eventually, he will learn to function quite well in the world. For now, though, every day when I drop him off at school, it feels a little bit like I am throwing him to the sharks.

And that's the thing about being the parent of a highly functional kid with ASD. As much as it pains you, you have to keep sending him out into the world to get his heart broken and just pray that his ability to compensate will outpace his anxieties and fears.

Curses!

You remember how just last post I mentioned the importance of being on top of Sky's friendship circles because he is easily influenced and that can be dangerous for a kid who learns by modeling?

That's because even when we are careful, things like this happen:

In case you're wondering, this is the back side of Sky's behavior log. Sky's teachers provide me with one of these daily since Sky often fails to understand why he got into trouble and/or can't explain it when he does. The teacher or Sky will write a short subject-less sentence explaining any problematic behavior: "hit friend," "blurted inappropriate words during test," etc. And the teacher will usually include a sentence or two about good choices he made during the day.

As you can see from today's report, the teacher needed more room, so she had to write on the back.

In case you can't read the handwriting, the memo says:

"Kept repeating the word 'hell' during indoor recess, when other children told him it was wrong. [Sky] and I spoke about this at length. Also, he was using rhyming words, 'suck, duck, f---.' A child told him it was wrong to say that and [Sky] continued on."

Crap! Now we're f**ked. I mean, I managed to get him all the way to the age of 8 believing the worst words you could use were "poopy" and "stupid," (which was not easy, by the way). Now, after today's recess, he knows that "hell" is a bad word and that he should never, ever say "f**k."

Awesome.

Don't get me wrong, he's accidentally said all sorts of inappropriate words all his life (link), but I've never made a big deal out of them. Why? Because if I tell him something's a bad word, he'll want to know what it means. And, if I tell him he can't know what it means, he'll want to know why it's such a big deal. And if I tell him it's a big deal because people really don't like to hear that word, he'll want to know why a word exists that no one wants to hear. And, if I tell him the "why" is not important, but he should never, ever use that word at school, he won't be convinced. After all, he learned the word at school!

Oh, and the best part of this? When Sky's stressed or out-of-sync, he experiences a bit of echolalia, and the words he repeats are often the "bad" words that he knows: "poopy, stupid, ha ha ha." So what do I envision? I envision him dancing around saying "f**k, f**k, f**k" while his speech-delayed little brother studies him intently and then imitates him, making "f**k" one the few words he can produce. Then I envision all three of them holding hands, dancing around in a circle, singing "f**k, f**k, f**k" while grown-ups stare gaping wondering just what kind of parents we are.

It's going to be awesome.