(positive) Negative Findings

In the July, 2012 issue of Language, Speech, and Hearing Services in the Schools, there was a letter from the editor (Marilyn Nippold) titled, The Power of Negative Findings. This summer, I have been trying to focus my reading toward articles about early communicative development, more specifically gesture development in children with autism. But Nippold’s article caught my attention.

It is not a particularly lengthy article (and even if it was, I would still recommend investing the time in it). You can read it, or not. At first take, it seems as though, Nippold’s main audience is not clinicians, but rather researchers. This makes sense as she forms her argument for the importance of publishing negative findings (e.g., results of an intervention study that imply the particular treatment was not successful). As Nippold suggests, this allows us to further the science that drives our intervention practices.

As I think about it, this idea is also really important for clinicians. I think we consider negative results in the sense that we try a particular therapy technique, obtain data on how successful the kid is, and if it is not working, we know to move on to something else. This seems like one great way to think about an unsuccessful session (or series of sessions). When we find certain techniques or strategies or reinforcers that do not work, I think we are more closely approximating what will be successful. That feels positive to me.

This post reminds me of an earlier post. In it, I thought about the idea that we can use failure to get better at our chosen pursuit. I guess sometimes I need to be reminded that there is something in the negative space and in order to find it, I may have to shift my perspective just a bit. In doing this, I think I am becoming a stronger clinician and learning how to be a better researcher.

Receptive Language Disorders and Memorization

I recently wrote a post about supporting the receptive language of children who have language disorders. The last two ideas in that post are specific to a subset of children with language disorders that I find especially compelling: children who can readily memorize and recite lines from picture books and movies, but have significant difficulty with everyday language when they are trying to listen or express themselves.

Do you know these children? You hear them reciting memorized language (both at expected and unexpected times). When they are happy, they may walk around reciting their favorite show. When you ask them a question, they may not answer, but recite their favorite show instead. And when they are stressed, they might pull away from your interaction and...recite their favorite show. Their intonation is usually right on, although their articulation of speech sounds is sometimes unintelligible. Many are diagnosed with autism. You might call what they are doing "scripting," or "delayed echolalia," and you may have felt the way I once did - like it was a big problem. A loud, distracting, exhausting, inappropriate, unstoppable problem. A hindrance to social communication and interaction.

But I like to reframe things, and in my practice I have reframed the recitation of memorized language as a usable, available, robust, functional, unstoppable skill. What an amazing skill these children have! Memorizing whole episodes of TV shows and picture books, and reciting them with great intonation...these children have a fascination and enthusiasm for language that I love to see. The memorization skill makes this group of children highly motivated to pay attention to language that is repeated the same way each time. It makes them highly motivated to participate in language routines. They listen to and process intonation cues. Language is a source of pleasure for them, and they love to make an effort to recite things correctly.

The bold words in the above paragraph do are not generally used to describe people with autism and language disorders, but there they are. When we tailor our language output for these children who love to memorize and are often on the autism spectrum, we may gain the chance to communicate and socially interact with them in a way that helps them pay attention, participate, listen, process, and take pleasure in making an effort to be correct. Who could ask for anything more in a language learner?