Words Don't Always Say What You Think They Do

I’ve written regularly that my son Charlie is “minimally verbal” and can’t talk too well. I realize this gives the impression that he is mostly silent and that our house is quiet. The reality cannot be farther from the truth and not just because Jim and I are something of “big talkers.” Sound, including the sound of his voice, fills our house. Not always English, not always full sentences (rarely, actually); words and not always full words.

The title of one of Dora’s posts, Just Because I’m Quiet Doesn’t Mean I Don’t Understand with a slight revision---”Just Because I’m Not Responding Doesn’t Mean I Don’t Understand”---comes often into my mind. Another variant would be “Just Because I Use a Word It Doesn’t Necessarily Mean What You’re Expecting.”

When he was younger and got very upset, Charlie often mentioned things he liked very much: burgers and fries, sushi, Gong Gong Po Po (my parents). This was very confusing and teachers, therapists, and Jim and I alike often responded by telling him that he could have X when he was calmer. But often he only got more upset even when he got the requested item. Teachers would ask if he were hungry and offer Charlie food that he inevitably did not want.

It might be suggested that we were giving him some item---”reinforcing” him, to speak a bit behaviorally---before he was really calm and really giving him what he wanted for having a tantrum. But it was only gradually that Jim and I realized, Charlie saying the words for those preferred items was often a sign that he was, indeed, very upset. He wasn’t hungry and, when sometimes given some food item, he often only seemed even more upset afterwards.

Jim and I being the language-dependent individuals people that we are, it was at first quite a mystery to figure out what was going on. Gradually we could see patterns. We know that Charlie adores my parents, but why did he he cry when he first saw them at the airport? We slowly realized that this was a sign of a deeply emotional response on his part, with Charlie in part anticipating how he would feel after my parents left again and he missed them. This whole situation was a bit difficult on my parents, but they’re ultra-accommodating (actually, they’re generally just fabulous, not to get too gushy) and made it clear, they were ok with Charlie crying when they first showed up, as they knew he loved them. Often, within an hour of their arrival, Charlie would be all smiles.

Of course we try to teach Charlie as many words as we can. Speech therapists have gone back and forth about him having “problems with word retrieval.” I’ve come to suspect that he often does: He may well know all the words directed to him, and have many more in his head to say, but connecting what he wants to say with the motor activities involved in saying the word can be a lot to process. I suspect that, at such times, Charlie does what I’ve done when speaking (trying to, that is) in a foreign language: He uses the word that’s the closest equivalent he can think of, or that he’s most used to saying, or that first comes to mind.

These are some of the reasons that I’m not always sure what Charlie means when he says “no.” Sometimes he really means “no” as in “no.” But other times (based on what Charlie’s done afterwards), “no” is more of a “no not yet” or “no I’m still thinking about it” or “maybe.” Or something else entirely. Often we try to suggest other things that Charlie could say, but when Charlie is stressed and not sure what to do or what he wants, having him talk more is placing yet one more demand on him.

We want to take Charlie at his word and not assume that he has no idea what he’s saying. What I’ve tried to suggest here is that there’s a bit more of gray area to understanding Charlie’s speech. After all, many words for many of us mean much more than they might commonly denote, and certain words may have special associations that are part of highly personal, deeply meaningful memories that get lost in the translation.

Image from hemmy.net.