Miles has his first speech therapy appointment on Thursday.
It’s a weird feeling, because it’s not a surpise. We knew this day was coming — it’s been clear as he gets older that he has some problem with his speech, though Andy and I have been woefully uncertain about what it is or how to approach it. Frankly, the nurse at the health department who told me who to call in the public school system is a godsend, because I don’t know that we would have been anywhere near as proactive without that information. I don’t think I’ve been very good at updating about this — partially because it’s been very up-in-the-air until last week — so, let’s recap for everyone playing along!
Last April I took Miles in for a standard evaluation, just so the school system could determine if he needed further evaluation. It was determined that yes, they wanted to take a closer look at his speech development and preacademics. We started some paperwork before the school year ended, and then took the summer off.
At the end of August we got back together, and Miles had two evaluations: one with the teacher for his preacademics, and one with the speech-language pathologist. He adored them both, and everyone was pleased with how eager he was to learn and work with the teachers. Now that Miles is potty-trained and of the right age, it was discussed that we might put him in preschool.1 Both women spoke really well of the one down the street I’ve been eying since he was two, but Andy and I decided it was best to wait to see how this whole thing panned out.
Last week we all met up again to discuss the results of the evaluation. It was determined that Miles’ preacademics are fine — there’s no concern there. He does, however, need some speech therapy. During her evaluation, the speech-language pathologist had told me that while he had great language and communication skills, his atriculation was clearly the problem. Specifically, that he doesn’t pronounce nearly any constants that come at the end of words, and that he makes absolutely no sounds that require a stream of air (fricative sounds, according to this sheet).
(If you’re curious, you can hear Miles at about 0:30 as he says, “Yes,” and a little after that saying, “Yes, it is.” I only just figured out that the thing he yells when he opens the book is “Gerald!”)
So, at the meeting we had last week, we went through his Individualized Education Program (IEP). It focuses on those two things. And it’s strange, because this is a year-long plan. (It can be adapted, I was told, if his language needs or strengths change over the course of the year, but still.) One of my major failings is that I’m terribly impatient, and with this it can only be a game of patience and cooperation. We cannot force Miles to wake up understanding “s” sounds, and we cannot rush his learning.
They meets once a week for three weeks, for half an hour each session; on the fourth week it’s an observation thing. I’m still not 100% as to what that entails. It sounds like it’s a bit flexible.
Still, it feels good. The speech-language pathologist and other teachers are all fantastic and kind, and they genuinely get along with Miles. We have a map and a guide, checkpoints, and we have goals for how we’re going to help Miles develop his speaking skills. (And once that happens, we’re all toast. Like the charistmatic little monster needs more tools to use against us.2)
1. I have always been enthuasiastic about putting Miles in preschool. He’s bright and excited and social, and I am of the wrong disposition to give him a really challenging, stimulating environment to actively learn in. (Is that the right way to say that I’m just really, really lazy and would rather watch TV?)
2. She said, with the utmost adoration.
