Story Time

I am the best grandmother in the whole wide world.

Okay, if you want to be picky, I am not really a grandmother. My son’s intended has a four year old son from a previous marriage, whom my son refers to as his “steppish” son. Little Ace calls me Nonna (and sometimes Nonnie) and seems to have accepted me, and my husband, and my son’s dad and stepmother, into his life without fuss. A few days ago I even got a package in the mail: artwork from his daycare that I could put on my refrigerator.

Okay, that’s what other grandmothers do, perfectly nice, loving grandmothers who bake cookies, and read bedtime stories and may even be raising their grandchildren for all I know. The world is filled with wonderful grandmothers.

But how many of them scan their grandkids artwork onto the computer and then use Hyperstudio to turn it into an interactive ebook with sound and animation? Probably more than I think, given that there are a lot of former and current teachers and therapists out there who are grandmas, but I digress. 

Since one of the pieces of art was a painted and cut-out boot, I made the storyline about a lonely boot who can’t find his other boot. A traced circle became the sun, a flower became a lot of flowers, and a painting of tall plants became a jungle that was home to a tiger who decided that the protagonist “tastes like an old boot”. The story has a happy ending of course.

I emailed it to my son and hoped for the best. 

Ace loves it! I got a call on FaceTime to thank me, and he insisted on reading it with me (my son reading while Ace described the pictures and made comments). Then he wanted to read it again. It’s becoming a bit of a problem because my son needs the computer to work on. So maybe I am not the best grandmother in the world after all.

The page first shows without the eyes and frown showing.
They pop up on a timer. They weren't on the original boot.

Ace had drawn an outline of a flower and the rough circle that became the sun.
I made multiples and added the colors.
There's an animated boot that crosses the page to the tune of "Boot Scoot Boogie"

The tiger says, "This tastes like an old boot" in a voice that sounds a lot like mine.

I don’t know where I get this compulsion to tinker with technology. Back when we first got a video camera where I worked, I set out to do a project called the WHY-ME TV News with all my little clients. Only 6 or 7 of them appeared in the video, but others got to help make backdrops while we all discussed the questions words “who, what, where, when, why, how” in lessons designed to improve grammar, practice target sounds, elicit expressive and receptive language, and for one child, practice using an augmentative device. The weather girl (whose segment was a description of what makes up weather) had a dad who had just returned from the first Gulf War, and he agreed to be interviewed for the news segment by a young man who was working on speech fluency. Other segments included a video game review, a health segment on the four food groups (which tells you how long ago this was), a sports report by a child who played baseball, and an “ad” for the center by our spokesmodel, who needed to practice her /s/ sounds.

I was prescient in choosing the call letters WHY-ME. But they all had fun, and to wrap up the project, my husband and I made everyone copies of the video and then took them out for pizza. A local motocross group had donated some old trophies, so everyone got one of those, too.

All those children are at least in their mid-twenties by now. I think of them often and hope they are doing well. I hope they learned something from the video project, not just how to roll their r’s and speak in correct sentences and speak fluently, but also how to elicit fun from the mundane tasks of everyday life.

As for me, I probably learned the most of all. Now my steppish grandbaby is getting some of the benefit.

Things I Learned from the Evil Girl Scouts

I did a brief stint in the Girls Scouts back in my girlhood in the 1950’s. I was reminded of this yesterday, when I ignored common sense and went to the Strawberry Festival in Pontchatoula wearing my beloved white jeans. Whenever we go to the Strawberry Festival, we always have strawberry shortcake. I was as careful as I could be, but nonetheless got a spot of strawberry topping on the leg of my freshly washed pants.

Not to worry. I remember from my Girl Scout days how to remove fruit and fruit juice stains from cotton. You stretch the fabric over a bowl or basin, and pour boiling water through it. Stain gone. Yes, it’s true that it probably would have disappeared if I had simply washed the pants in warm water with bleach, but if any of it had been left, the cold rinse cycle might have set it. I was taking no chances.

What else did I learn from the Girl Scouts? I learned how to set a table properly (properly = not how my husband does it.) Forks on the left with napkins to the left of the forks. Spoons and knives on the right. Glasses on the right above the knife. I would drive my mom crazy not putting the fork on the napkin. I would later grow up to drive my mom crazy by moving to the South and calling her “mama” in good Southern girl style. Good Northern girls are expected to drop that last vowel (or even the whole syllable) sometime around toilet training. I was a big disappointment to my mama.

I drive my husband crazy with my table setting, too. He also prefers the fork on the napkin, unless he places the fork on the right and the knife on the left. He does try, though. Lately he has been placing both on the left, but with the fork to the left of the napkin.

I also sold cookies, pulling them from door to door in a red wagon borrowed from a friend. Since I had to do this after school, it meant I was usually out until dusk. I don’t know if we kids were really any safer going door to door at dusk back in the 50’s or if our parents just thought we were. Most of the Girl Scout cookies we have bought have been purchased from coworkers whose daughters were supposedly selling them, or else purchased from a table set up in front of Walmart. I think that’s wise.

I learned other things: green serge is not my best look, berets are hard to balance on your head, a square knot is tied “right over left and left over right”. 

The most important lesson came from a troop member in a wheelchair. She had cerebral palsy and couldn’t talk or walk, but her parents wanted her to have the Girl Scout experience. Since our troop leader had had polio as a child and walked with a slight limp, our troop was seen as a suitable place for her. (We never went in for camping much.) We all accepted her, but thinking back on it, we probably didn’t interact with her as much as we could have. In defense of us girls, I should add no one tried to teach us how. Nowadays she would have some sort of augmentative communication device to help her ask “Would you like to buy some cookies?” and help her quote prices as she sat at a table in front of Walmart, but back then we were all in the dark about those with disabilities. I commend her parents for finding a troop for her, and our parents and leaders for impressing on us that we had better be nice.

My life has a way of repeating itself. For 36 years, I worked at a rehab facility that started out being exclusively for children with cerebral palsy and expanded to take care of children with all disabilities. I arrived there shortly before the passage of Public Law 94-142, The Education of All Children Act. I saw the computer revolution that allowed us to give non-verbal children devices to help them talk. So yes, I was able to help children, verbal and non-verbal, practice asking, “Would you like to buy some cookies?”

And I never forgot how to get fruit stains out of my jeans. 

May Is Better Speech and Hearing Month

Or as ASHA puts it, Better Hearing and Speech Month, but this is my blog and I'll write it in the order I want.

The story of how I became a speech/language pathologist is a study in serendipity.  Back when I was 14 years old, I had a crush on a boy in my English class, although looking back on it I can't imagine why.  Anyway, my English teacher wanted us each to give a short speech on what we wanted to be when we grew up.  I borrowed the neighbors' encyclopedia, which had a section on Careers, and looked for something that would be suitably exotic to impress Crush Boy.  Somehow I settled on audiologist, and although nothing ever came of the crush, the career idea stuck.

When I got to college I discovered that even people who hear can have speech and language problems, and decided I was far more interested in speech pathology than audiology.  So here I am, 40 some odd years after our career day, teaching children how to roll their "r's" and put words together into sentences.  Whereas if I hadn't been trying to impress a classmate, I might have ended up in secretarial school.  

And then years later, when computers and word processing came along, I would have had to learn software, which might have led to my taking computer science classes, and I could have ended up making some real money.  But it doesn't do to be bitter.

Happy Better Speech and Hearing Month, everybody.