Only Words

Sitting in the high school auditorium, I watched H proudly walk to the podium and hand over a small white index card with his name neatly printed. It was academic recognition night at the high school where he attended and he was about to receive his academic letter. The school administrator took the card. H was halfway across the stage when his name was announced and unfortunately mispronounced. He stopped in his tracks, spun around and returned to the first podium and quietly stated his name. The administrator then announced his name aloud, this time with the correct pronunciation. Once satisfied, H went back across the stage to receive his letter. Accurate language is important and when you put in the effort, you want everyone to know your name.

 

Our conversations however aren't always so direct. H has changed the way I use language, His literal interpretations allow me to see how abstract, confusing, or misleading language can be. Double meanings often escape him. Later that week we went out to eat to celebrate he and his brother’s academic achievements. The waitress looked at H’s grandfather and asked if anyone wanted to see the senior the menu. H quickly chimed in “I’m a senior”.  And, I thought, well he is, I’ll let the waitress explain.

 

Sometimes words create other words when they are spoken together, partnering up to create a new meaning. It can set up unrealistic expectations. Driving back home after a family gathering for H’s grandmother who had passed away H mentioned how sad he was but he could talk to his Grandmother on Thursday. I assumed he wasn’t grasping the concept of death. I began to gingerly talk about it when he piped in “but Thursday we go to awake”.

 

It makes me take pause and consider what the words literally mean. It has helped me examine how I teach. Are there other ways to interpret this instruction? Is it a metaphor? Did I include all pertinent information? Can my ELL students connect to what I am explaining? Literal clarity has taught me to consider inclusion in my speech, my instruction and my writing. And I've learned that just because H can speak doesn't always mean he can communicate. His ability to tell me he has pain is usually followed by a frustrating attempt to get answers about where exactly the pain is, what type of pain, when it started and how it may have happened. Getting details often takes patience to read his answers and determine what to ask next. It is like a puzzle that I am convinced I can solve with determination, patience and ingenuity. Sometimes anyway.

 

And, sometimes his language makes everyone take pause and adds humor to a long day. One evening he returned from an afternoon at the bowling alley with his PCA. After bowling, H loves to eat. As they entered the kitchen, H immediately went to the refrigerator. His PCA stopped him and said “What should we do before making dinner?” Without hesitation, H blurts out “We should wash our hands because we have been touching our balls all afternoon.”