Two of Us: He can talk the talk

When Andrew was two years eight months, I had him evaluated for speech therapy. I studied linguistics in college, and as a result I knew enough about speech acquisition in toddlers to know that he was well behind his peers. When he and his friends were two, most of them were unintelligible most of the time. By two and a half, most of them were intelligible most of the time. Because he wasn't, I knew it was time to have him tested. In fact, it was a little early; school districts won't assess until the child is three. I went to a private clinic, and they decided he was old enough to evaluate. The speech and language pathologist diagnosed him with a severe articulation problem.

Here's what I wrote just after learning Andrew would need speech therapy:

Got Andrew's speech evaluation report. Articulations issues are severe. He is significantly behind his age level. I knew it, but it's hard to see it in print. I just want to help him. Luckily his prognosis is excellent due to his age.

He has the easiest issue to correct, which is articulation. Comprehension, language, expression -- all normal. So if it had to be something, this is the one to have.

I am emotional at the thought of anyone making fun of him. That's not unique to speech, of course. And the kids in his class won't do it yet because they don't know how. But in a year to 18 months, I think they'll all know how. I can't protect him from life. I just wish I could.

This is how Andrew sounded right around the time he began therapy. Now, remember, he was just over two and a half, so his speech was a little off anyway.

Tut it in dur tottet. (Put it in your pocket.)
No tittures anynor. (No pictures anymore.)

I nunning deh-dy daas. (I'm running very fast.)
Did do day da tittures an da noonie? (Did you take the pictures and the movie?)
Daas eye-nen. (That's I-10.)
Nannell (Campbell [a main road near our house])
Nay I tee da noonie? (May I see the movie?)

And then there's the ABCs. Or the ADDs, as Andrew pronounced them.

The week before Christmas, Andrew began therapy with Holly Cottrell Murphy, aka Ms. Holly. She was wonderful. She worked with him Mondays and Tuesdays for 30 minutes, and she held his attention for each minute. He loved her games, especially anything involving fake poop or barf (Ms. Holly has the humor of a little boy), and he worked really, really hard. Progress was slow but steady.

Andrew's speech fascinated me. Fascinated. His errors weren't random; they were patterns. In technical terms, he dentalized every consonant. That's science talk for: he made every consonant into a T, D, or N. He did some other "phonological processes" (science talk for errors) as well, none of which were nearly as interesting to me because they were pretty common.

Click here for a very nice, basic description of phonetics to complement the following paragraphs.

T, D, and N are made by placing the tip of the tongue behind the teeth. They are identical in form; the difference is the voicing. T is voiceless, meaning the vocal chords don't vibrate. D is voiced, meaning they do vibrate. And N is a nasal, meaning the air comes from the nose. So, you can imagine how FRIGGING COOL it was to discover that he used T in place of any voiceless consonant (P, K, F, TH, S, SH, and CH), D in place of any voiced consonant (B, G, V, DH [as in "the" and "though"], Z, ZH, and J), and N in place of the other nasal sounds (M and NG). The liquids (L and R) were a little trickier, but for the most part, he used N for those, too. He was cool with vowels and glides (W and Y). But there were other rules to his speech patterns. If another consonant in a word was a nasal (N, M, or NG), that sound would trump the initial consonant, and he would pronounce both consonants as N. As you can hear in the second video above, running became nunning and Campbell became nannell. Friend became nen.

K and its voiced counterpart, G, were by far Andrew's kryptonite. It took months for him to get them, probably because they are formed exactly the opposite from his beloved T and D. The front of the tongue is raised and the back is lowered for T and D; the front is lowered and the back is raised for K and G. His little muscles had a lot to unlearn and learn. Grape-flavored tongue depressors were involved. He was a fan.

By the time he turned 4, Andrew was 99% finished with speech therapy. He was just polishing at that point. Two months later to the day, he graduated, complete with cupcakes and ice cream.

Here's what I wrote then:

All told, Andrew was in speech therapy for 17 months, and he worked so hard. He mastered every sound that he should for his age, and maybe one or two more than that. I have no doubt that his growing ability to be understood beginning in early 2011 fueled his self confidence, which in turn fueled his speech. My most heartfelt thanks and admiration go to Holly Cottrell Murphy, who gave my little boy his voice back.

And this is that voice the day before he turned 4. I love this video because he talks a lot and because he's talking to two of the cutest dogs ever to trot the earth -- his buddies Maggie and Molly.

Holly has become a close friend, so I know she'll stay in our lives. Andrew loves her and asks to go to her office periodically. It might be to play with her toys, but I choose to believe it's to play with her.

Without further ado, I give you the Speech Star.