I shared earlier this week how I print low tech version of Nathaniel's talker symbols. (Read here.) Just as a reminder, Nathaniel uses Speak for Yourself. The symbol set is called Smarty Symbols and I use Custom Boards to create printables. Most of the time, that has worked flawlessly for me. Occasionally, I can not find the correct symbol on Custom Boards. I have asked some questions behind the scenes of both SFY and Smarty Symbols folks and learned that yes, some symbols used when SFY was originally developed are not currently available. I use the following options when I am unable to find the SFY symbol on Custom Boards.

Vani, a speech therapist from Australia, emailed to ask how I print high quality low tech versions of Nathaniel's talker symbols. Hope this helps explain how I create and use them. Bonus! A free printable of some Speak for Yourself transportation symbols that fit in the Cariboo game, is included at the bottom.

Nathaniel uses the app Speak For Yourself (SFY). The symbol set for Speak for Yourself is Smarty Symbols. We use low tech versions of these symbols to drill our five weekly words, to offer a visual of word combinations, and for Nathaniel's visual schedules. The photo below shows a variety of these uses. This week's words on the the left, the other photos show some visual schedules.

It was during the second session of developmental language group that I realized another layer of complexity because of Nathaniel's inability to produce any audible noise with this vocal cords.

He can not scream to protect himself from others or get help.

Two years ago today we gave Nathaniel an iPad mini with an augmented communication app. He was twenty months old. There was much we did not know at the time. We knew very little about augmented communication or Nathaniel's long term communication needs. We did not know about key guards or child friendly cases or stands or modular tubing to hold the device at an easy access point. In some ways this might have worked in our benefit. In all our not knowing, we did not know how unusual it was to give a twenty-month old a high-tech, voice output device. We wanted to give our son access to words. Lots of words. All the words he would need to be fully twenty months old

When Nathaniel was fourteen months old, our then speech therapist asked if he was pointing at things. She expressed the importance of pointing and joint attention in language development and stressed that these were precursors for further language growth. She advised that I should place Nathaniel, who was still new at sitting up, in the middle of the room with everything desirable out of reach. "Unless Nathaniel points to the object, do not let him have it. No toys until he points to them."

Nathaniel was perfectly content to sit quietly for full days without toys.

I realized something new in our quarterly AAC consultation earlier this month. We were discussing Nathaniel's ownership of his device and the need for him to have it with him at all times. I've been honest with the team and on my blog that I struggle with this idea. He is three, little for his size, and his device is a full size iPad. It is cumbersome even in the lightest case. I know he needs his words available. I dislike putting the responsibility on him to carry them or wear them at all times.

I brought up messy play. "Nathaniel shouldn't have to give up messy play because he is wearing his words..." I said. We use our water table daily three seasons of the year. On warm summer days, it is my son's "afternoon at the pool" experience. His words and device are exchanged for water, sand, shaving cream, cooked and dyed spaghetti noodles, mud, and rocks.

Nathaniel is taking a college class! Well, not really. Nathaniel is a college class. He has been accepted into a preschool level Developmental Language Group (DLG) at a local university. This summer he attends for two hours two mornings a week. The program is offered through a hands-on clinic where students enrolled in a Masters of Science in Speech-Language Pathology program work with patients under the supervision of university faculty members. For the summer session, three clinicians and an instructor are working with six children. Nathaniel is the only AAC user. He is learning to navigate play and preschool programing alongside peers capable of speaking.

POOP
PEE
POTTY
UH OH!
I NEED TO GO POTTY!

We started potty training a few weeks ago. Day one my focus was just on the task. Running to the potty, resetting the timer, running to the potty again fifteen minutes later. I signed TOILET to represent this process and I suspect this will be Nathaniel's first way to communicate the need. But I quickly realized we need potty language on the talker. Speak for Yourself (SFY), the speech generating app that Nathaniel uses, had TOILET pre-programmed. That will be helpful in years to come, so I made the word available. We may use it from time to time in modeling. But TOILET is not age appropriate language for all the stuff little ones learn about through potty training.

At our last augmented communication team session, one of the therapists asked me how Nathaniel does with books. "Oh," I thought to myself, "we're doing great here. They will be so impressed!" Out loud I said, "Really well! We read ten to fifteen books a day. We get books from the library. We have set times through out the day when we read. And we use the talker while reading too!" They asked for further explanation on my last point.

I have read to Nathaniel since his first day home. Shared moments of reading between parent and child is foundational to my understanding of child rearing. My mother read to me. My Aunt Beccy kept stacks of books in her car for her children and other young riders. My mother's cousin was an elementary school teacher and gave me most of her classroom library when she retired. I was nineteen. I had children's books before I had children. Through our years of homeschooling, reading books aloud has been a pivotal aspect of our curriculum and our family's day.